The Tropes That Never Grow Old with Clare London

November 3, 2016

The Tropes That Never Grow Old with Clare London

Today my book Romancing the Wrong Twin is released at Dreamspinner Press. This is maybe the most fun I’ve had writing a book for years! The inspiration for this story of identity swap came from the romantic comedies I’ve watched and read over the years – and I hope the readers get that feeling too.

The Dreamspun Desires line is an initiative at Dreamspinner to re-tell the popular Harlequin/Mills and Boon romance stories from a male/male point of view. It’s a chance to embrace the tropes we all know but still bring a fresh perspective. Many people think romance tropes, i.e. clichés, must be stale and tired after being reiterated time and again over the years. But as readers, we all know how a type of book can attract us, don’t we? We always want good writing, sympathetic and sexy characters, a plausible and often exciting plot. But we also have personal preferences, for example, a theme of ‘friends to lovers’ , ‘opposites attract’, ‘rich man/poor man’, or ‘mistaken identity’. Those stories will never grow old in our hearts, and every author brings their own special style to the telling.

So I hope you enjoy the series – and especially my own contributions, starting with Romancing the Wrong Twin. It was written for your entertainment, and shared by me as well!


 Check out Romancing the Wrong Twin today!


 Romancing the Wrong Twin by Clare London



How tangled can a romantic web get?

When gruff mountaineer Dominic Hartington-George seeks sponsorship for his latest expedition, his London PA insists on a more media-friendly profile—like dating celebrity supermodel Zeb Z.

Zeb can’t make the date, so he asks his identical twin, Aidan, to stand in for just one evening. Aidan, a struggling playwright, shuns the limelight to the extent people don’t even know Zeb has a sibling, but he reluctantly agrees.

When the deception has to continue beyond the first date, Aidan fights to keep up the pretense. Dominic likes his sassy, intelligent companion, and Aidan starts falling for the forthright explorer. But how long can Aidan’s conscience cope as confusion abounds? Will coming clean as “the other twin” destroy the trust they’ve built?

Buy links:

Amazon (your local store)
All Romance Ebooks


Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant.

She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic, and sexy characters.

Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter three stage and plenty of other projects in mind… she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.

Clare loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her here:

Google+ :



“I know you didn’t want to do this,” Aidan murmured.


The music was louder than when they’d arrived. Maxima was more club than restaurant and someone had upped the volume, but Aidan had no problem hearing Dominic over the background music.

“Go on this date. Be with me.” Aidan felt the devil rise up in him. “You said it yourself: we’re not much of a match. I expect your usual partners are far more impressed with your credentials.”

“My… what the hell?” Dominic looked genuinely surprised. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but I don’t set out looking for someone to impress. I want someone who’s good company, a strong character. Who’ll give as good as he gets.”

Aidan couldn’t help the wash of pleasure he felt at the indirect compliment. “No. I meant… well, you probably date bears like yourself, usually.”


Shit. Aidan knew he’d slid onto thin ice, but his stupid tongue wouldn’t stop blabbing. “Sorry. I just meant tough guys like yourself. Big. Burly.” Could he sink any further into the pit he was digging?

But it seemed to have broken Dominic’s introspective mood. He started to laugh uproariously. “Burly? Does that mean you think I’m hairy too?”

H-G. No! Dominic! Aidan gulped. What was he meant to say to that after he’d been sitting there, peeking at the dark hairs curling over the neckline of Dominic’s shirt, wondering how far down the rest of it went? Whether Dominic’s legs were as deliciously furred, whether there’d be a decent treasure trail down to his groin that a man could tangle his fingers and nuzzle his nose into, to smell the sweet warmth of male skin….

Hairy skin. Strong arms. Warm, muscular thighs. Oh fuck.

The goose bumps ran over every inch of Aidan’s skin.

“I am hairy, can’t deny it. You like that idea?” Dominic’s voice was low and growly. He couldn’t have failed to notice Aidan’s sucked-in breath, the tensing of his stomach muscles. “Do you want to check out my hairy credentials?”

Aidan stared at him. Was that a joke? Was Dominic really attracted to him? Aidan had never found his build much of an advantage. Yes, he and Zeb were blessed with excellent bone structure, and in Zeb’s case the grace of a dancer, but out in the bars and clubs Aidan always seemed to blend into the background.

Ah, but he was meant to be Zeb now, wasn’t he?

“I think you’ve misjudged me, Zeb.” Dominic’s voice was very close to Aidan’s ear now. He’d placed his hand over Aidan’s, pressing Aidan’s palm onto Dominic’s thigh.

“I—what do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t have thought you were my type, I admit. But there’s a spark between us, isn’t there?”

Oh God, yes. But Aidan couldn’t admit that, could he? He gulped, wishing he’d eaten three pies, if only to soak up the effect of the champagne. The warm, heady excitement from his newfound courage wasn’t as robust as he’d thought.

Dominic smelled really good: a mix of vanilla aftershave, or maybe just soap, and a breath of tannin from the wine. Aidan couldn’t help it; his lips opened slightly and his tongue slipped out to moisten them.

“Dear Christ in heaven,” Dominic said on a ragged sigh. “You’re really gorgeous.” He sounded shocked. Aidan remembered him saying it when they met at Dominic’s house, but now there was an extra rumble underlying his voice. “Say my name again. I like it. Most people call me Dom.”

“Dom… Dominic.” Aidan heard the words but barely registered speaking them aloud. He was fixated on Dominic’s mouth, not his own.

Their lips touched.

Aidan gasped. It was the lightest of touches, but like the heaviest bolt from the blue. It was as if Dominic had breathed a flame into him through his mouth. His whole body shivered with excitement: a trickle of pure, heated delight on his skin compared to the sweaty air of the club. Dominic rested his hand lightly on Aidan’s shoulder, at the junction with his neck. He slid his fingers to the front of Aidan’s throat and stroked the hollow under his Adam’s apple.

It’s not enough! Aidan wanted Dominic to slide his hand down under the T-shirts—remind him why he was wearing so many, none of which actually fitted properly?—and touch his skin. Properly, firmly, with need.

With a soft moan of pleasure, Dominic leaned in to take the kiss deeper.

Aidan responded very, very willingly. He slid his outer arm around Dominic’s waist and pulled them closer together. Dominic lifted his other hand away from Aidan’s and rested it on Aidan’s knee. Their lower halves were hidden by the table, and Dominic’s knee pressed very tightly against Aidan’s. His large hand squeezed gently, and then slowly, teasingly slid up between Aidan’s thighs. He nudged harder, trying to push Aidan’s legs farther apart.

Aidan’s head was swimming from the kisses. Dominic’s mouth was still on his, his surprisingly soft beard rubbing along Aidan’s jawline, his breath quickening. When Aidan twisted to get even closer, he felt the heat from Dominic’s groin and Dominic’s solid erection against his hip. He wanted to climb onto his date’s lap, however ridiculous or rash that seemed. Instead he ran his free hand behind Dominic’s neck and leaned in, excited despite himself at making out in a semipublic club. Dominic had cupped Aidan’s cock and balls, trapped inside Zeb’s skintight jeans. Now Aidan was aroused too; the seam of the jeans was pressing against his flesh, causing a strange, awkward, intoxicating pain. He half closed his eyes, relaxing into the embrace, enjoying Dominic’s firm caresses under cover of the table. It had been a long time since Aidan did anything like this, a long time since he’d wanted to do it, in fact.

He wanted more, needed more. Ached for more—

And that was the exact moment a camera flash went off in his face.


Newsletter Quickie: Hug by Clare London

September 5, 2014

“Hug,” said Harry, arms thrown wide.


“Hug!” Harry demanded, his head tilted to one side, his eyes wide. “That’s what you need! Come here and make it happen.”

“For God’s sake.” Spencer grumbled. “What am I, your kid brother? It’s not like a hug is going to make any bloody difference.”

“You know that for a fact, do you?”

Spencer frowned. Harry was always so … bold. So challenging. “You know what I mean. Look, it’s just been one of those days. I can sort things out myself.”

“Let me help, Spence.” Harry took a couple of steps forward. His arms were still wide open, there was sympathy in his eyes. He was close enough for Spencer to feel the warmth of his body heat. “Don’t be the stupid arse everyone else thinks you are.”

Spencer opened his mouth to protest and in that moment Harry slipped his arms around him and hugged him firmly. His head rested against Spencer’s temple and he sighed, gently. “That’s better, see?”

Spencer stood rock still for a second. Harry was such an idiot. Such a play actor. Such a … Spencer’s frustration gave a small shudder inside him and morphed into something very different. Very deliciously different. Harry’s chest was tight against him and he could feel the steady heartbeat. Harry’s arms were strong but surprisingly comforting. His breath was brushing at Spencer’s ear.

Then Spencer lifted his own arms and slid them around Harry. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but it seemed the right thing to do. It seemed to make them fit better. And it felt really, really good.



“There’s no way I think of you as a kid brother.”

Harry’s voice was muffled but Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders, heard the hesitancy in his voice. He smiled. “I know.”

“No way.” Harry seemed to think it needed more emphasis. “Never. In fact …”

“I know.” Spencer repeated. He smiled again, though now his head was nestling into Harry’s shoulder and knew his friend couldn’t see it. His best friend. His much-more-than-best-friend. Turning his head, Spencer pressed his lips to Harry’s neck and felt the goose bumps rise under his touch.


“Yes,” Spencer whispered in answer to an unspoken question. As Harry turned his head as well, Spencer kissed him on the mouth. It was a bit clumsy, it was a bit crooked, but … oh God … it was the best thing ever.

“You’re right,” he murmured. “This is better.” And he tightened his arms around Harry.


Clare London took her pen name from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy.

Winners of Flying Colors

October 9, 2013

Thanks to everyone who joined me earlier this week on the release of Flying Colors, and who may have enjoyed the chat and the excerpts.

The 3 lucky commenters who win a FREE copy are:

Paul Fahey

Congratulations and thanks again for joining in! I hope to have the prize copy transferred to your DSP bookshelf soon :)


Clare London … Writing Man to Man


Real Life and Romance … oil and water?

October 7, 2013

From Clare London:

Have you ever read a book and thought – When did he get to do his washing? What did he make for lunch? Doesn’t he ever get harrassed by spam emails? Doesn’t he ever get a spot on the end of his nose? How come he got a parking space so ****** easily when it takes me three circuits of the block to find one? etc.

That is, how does Real Life weave its way into a Romance story? Or *can* it?

I’ve started lightheartedly, but I admit I like my books nowadays to reflect reality as well as romance. To me, they’re not mutually exclusive. When I wrote the story of Red De Vere and Carter Davison in Flying Colors, I wanted to reflect less of the melodrama of their friends Miles and Zeke’s courtship (True Colors), and more of the depth of feeling and respect of two men developing from friends to lovers.

So Red De Vere is a playboy hero, rich, handsome, bold – and living down an outrageously embarrassing event in the first chapter! But he also works hard, cooks pretty good scrambled eggs, gets caught in the rain, likes garlic dough balls, calls his Mum late at night… all the things we all might do.

And Carter is a quiet, serious kind of hero, who works too hard, forgets to shop for food, takes too much sugar in his coffee, has occasional nightmares, isn’t much good at woodwork, argues with his best friend … you get the picture :)

It’s when these apparently commonplace things come together that an author has a chance to bring in the dash of passion and chemistry that certainly make the whole much more than the sum of the parts.

Carter is taking a sabbatical from his engineering job to help launch a youth centre where he’s been doing a few part-time sessions. He’s excited by the young people and their energy, and their need for a safe and stimulating club of their own. Red’s on an enforecd sabbatical of his own – forced on him by his father/boss, after that aforementioned embarrassing event *g* – and he’s clever enough to see that this is a way he can get closer to Carter. His first attempts to help are clumsy and misconstrued – it’s only when he thinks more carefully and surrenders his ego to a common cause that he starts to connect. And Carter – who needs a similar nudge to come out of his shell and stop judging Red in the same shallow way as the paparazzi – begins to blossom with Red’s company and attention.

There are no explosions, mad car chases, creepy stalkers, gore or gratuitous violence – I’m not putting you OFF am I? :) – but there’s a slow burning, amusing, sometimes torturous relationship building up between them. And *I* think they’re cute together! I hope that you do too.

How do YOU feel about the balance of Real Life and Romance?
Have you experienced something mundane that’s been transformed by a romantic gesture?
Have you found romance in the most ordinary of places? Been proposed to in the middle of the supermarket?
Or have you experienced an embarrassment like Red’s, or a joke – only to have it lead to something rather special in the end?

Remember, I’ll choose THREE winners from the commenters on ANY of my posts today, to win a FREE download of Flying Colors.

FLYING COLORS: True Colors: Book Five

While Red yearns for something real, Carter has some sweet, sexy secrets that might surprise even Red. If Carter dares emerge from his shell, and Red pursues a more rewarding path, romance could spark. Then there’s no telling what might happen.

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And in evening news …I’m afraid this is my last post tonight. I’m off work sick today and not fit for much more posting, even to celebrate my new release! :( . The UK is signing off soon.

But the contests are open until Wednesday, so take your time to read and enjoy. And join me tomorrow on Twitter if you can – I’ll need people to talk to :)

I’ll finish with another excerpt from Flying Colors. You saw it here first! Thanks for joining me today :) .


Red could hear voices in the corridor, and so he stuck his head through the open doorway. He could see Carter at the entrance to the center, chatting to a group of half a dozen or so young people. They were all dressed in the usual jeans and jersey tops, but were a mix of ethnicities and ages. Zeke was standing with Pam, halfway between the door and the room where Red was. Two of the youngsters stood in front of the group, as if they were the spokespeople. Curious, Red wiped more sawdust off his hands and stepped out into the corridor.

“We was just passin’.” The young man at the front of the group was dark-skinned, from Asian Indian heritage, with short dark-brown hair and large eyes. He wore narrow-leg jeans, low on his hips, boots with a slight heel, and several layers of T-shirts. He was thin, and the clothes had a chain-store look, but he wore them with an innate style that impressed Red. He’ll be handsome when he grows into his body—and loses that constant scowl on his face.

“Workin’ at the weekend, Carter?” one of the other lads asked, a tall, rangy young man with shaggy chestnut hair and a very freckled face.

“So what’s going on?” one of the girls said, peering over the freckled lad’s shoulder.

“You were all just passing?” Carter asked with a wry smile. There was a babble of laughter and protests. It seemed that the young people were itching with curiosity to see what was happening to their youth center.

The dark-skinned boy looked over Carter’s shoulder and caught sight of Red. “There’s another guy here. Which one’s y’ boyfriend, Carter?”

Continue reading “Real Life and Romance … oil and water?” »

A series? Where did that come from?

October 7, 2013

From Clare London:

FLYING COLORS is subtitled “True Colors: Book Five“.

So when did that happen, Clare? I thought you didn’t write series?
(don’t they say the first sign of madness is talking to yourself? Or is that when you *answer* yourself? LOL)

The story started with Zeke and Miles in True Colors. Then I brought out the set of three short stories – Ambush, Payback and Switch – where Zeke and Miles play sexy games with each other, and the reader has a glimpse into how their life together is progressing.

But still there was the feedback for Red and Carter from the original novel:

“I hope Clare will gives us a sequel on the flamboyant Red and the responsible and solid Carter. These 2 characters are equally if not more appealing!”

“Miles’ friend, Red, is fabulous. I would love to see him and Carter get together and really hope we get to see more of them in the future.”

“Another plus was the budding friendship/attraction between Red and Carter, as others have expressed, I hope Ms. London writes a story for them, I found them compelling as well.”

Well, since you asked so nicely … :)

And so I decided to keep writing in the True Colors world. I felt happy there, I was familiar with the characters’ voices, I had a lot more to tell about them all. But it doesn’t feel like a series, at least not intentionally. It feels like a self-indulgent treat where I can stay in their world and see what happens. Heavens, I can *write* it! LOL. So maybe that’s how it happens? That works for me!

What do YOU think as a reader about series? What are the themes you like to follow? Do you fall in love with the characters starting from book#1, or maybe you’re transported to a wonderful new setting each time? Do you like the epic series where a family business or estate is followed through the generations – like the Barbara Taylor Bradfords I read years ago – or do you prefer a group of friends in contemporary times, all getting a slice of the limelight for their personal tale, like JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series? Let us know!

I’ll choose THREE winners from the commenters on ANY of my posts today, to win a FREE download of Flying Colors.

FLYING COLORS: True Colors: Book Five

While Red yearns for something real, Carter has some sweet, sexy secrets that might surprise even Red. If Carter dares emerge from his shell, and Red pursues a more rewarding path, romance could spark. Then there’s no telling what might happen.

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And to follow the progress of Red and Carter’s romance in Flying Colors, here’s the scene where their friendship starts the gentle slide over into something much more…

EXCERPT ~~~~~~~~~

Carter let them both into his flat, yawned, apologized absentmindedly, then yawned again. Red wasn’t sure if it had been a good idea to come back with him that evening. But was he really meant to resist the opportunity to have more private time with Carter? He took a firm grip on the bags of takeaway they’d collected at the restaurant down the street, and stepped inside at Carter’s heels.

“I’ll get plates,” Carter said.

“No problem, we can eat from the containers. Look, Carter, if you’d rather just wash up and call it a day—”

“I don’t want to call it a day.” Carter’s interruption had a hoarse thread to it. “I’m fine. I wanted you to come back with me, Red. For supper. For… company.” Carter smiled, but even that looked tired. “Not that I’ve been much company in return, have I? Snapping your head off at the center. Napping in the car.”

“You’re fine.”

“Yeah, right.” Carter grimaced. He seemed agitated. “Um… did I… was there any…. I mean, sometimes I talk in my sleep. Apparently.”

Red resisted the urge to ask who’d told him that, when had they told him, and why the hell were they in his bedroom? “No. You were snorin’ of course, but I just turned the radio up. That discordant, freaky jazz stuff you like is excellent for drownin’ growls.”

Carter snorted. “Charmed, I’m sure. I do feel odd tonight, though. Maybe it’s that flu virus going around.”

And maybe it’s your own stupid internal slave driver. But Red said nothing aloud.

Continue reading “A series? Where did that come from?” »

Flying Colors releases today …

October 7, 2013

From Clare London :

Good day from the UK to you all. I was up with the lark today and over-excited from minute#1 with the release of Flying Colors! Today I’ll be chatting here on the blog, with some background info that I hope you find interesting, about me, the book and the characters. I’ll also offer a couple of giveaways and plenty of chances for you to ask me whatever you like about the guys I’ve come to love – and hope you have too. And, of course, there’ll be oodles of reading matter in excerpts :) .

Red De Vere appears to have everything—good looks, a prestigious job, attention from the paparazzi, and a choice of lovers. But one day he takes an outrageous step too far at a formal embassy dinner, and the press turns on him. Shocked, he realizes it’s time to find something better in life than partying. He envies the love that his friends Miles and Zeke have, and when he dares to consider that possibility for himself, his hopes and desires rest in his quiet, serious friend Carter Davison.

Carter loved a man who cheated on him, then died violently, and he refuses to make himself vulnerable again. He knows Red is interested; Red has been supportive and admiring since they met. And Carter’s honest enough to admit he’s attracted to Red. But Carter can also think of nothing worse than being the lover of someone in the public eye. Playboy Red must stay an attractive friend, that’s all.

While Red yearns for something real, Carter has some sweet, sexy secrets that might surprise even Red. If Carter dares emerge from his shell, and Red pursues a more rewarding path, romance could spark. Then there’s no telling what might happen.

 photo button_buy_now_home_zps26ea5419.png FLYING COLORS: True Colors: Book Five


I never thought when I first released True Colors with Dreamspinner in 2009 that not only would readers enjoy the story of the cool businessman Miles Winter and the volatile, outrageous artist Zeke Roswell but that I’d get requests to see more of the secondary characters – Miles’ playboy friend Red De Vere and Zeke’s protective brother-substitute Carter Davison. Red and Carter met in True Colors as follows:

Carter turned around to say goodbye and found Zeke staring at a man on the other side of the street. The man was watching them. He didn’t look like a stalker and he wasn’t hiding. In fact, he looked like he’d been on the way over but had hesitated, waiting respectfully for them to finish their conversation. The man’s eyes flickered between the two of them, and settled on Carter.

Carter felt unsettled.“Who is it, Zeke? Someone for you?”

“You met him once, Carter, at the first show. It’s Red De Vere—Miles’s friend, Mr. Rich Playboy. And I think it’s you he wants to see.”


The traffic stopped and Red was now striding purposefully over toward them.

Zeke pressed Carters arm once. “Be good, huh?” Then before Carter could reply, Zeke had gone, dodging a group of office workers on their way home and cutting through the line of cars and taxis to get across. He was grinning all the way, not bothering to hide that from Carter.

Red De Vere paused in front of Carter, smiling slightly. “Mr. Davison? Sorry to butt in. I called around at your flat with a note, but the man in the downstairs room said youd be here at the bar. It wasn’t far…. I thought I might catch you before you moved on elsewhere.”

Called around with a note? Carter was puzzled. What on earth did he want to send me a note for?

“I wanted to meet you,” continued Red, obviously seeing the surprise on Carter’s face. For the first time he looked uncomfortable. “Dammit, I thought itd be too easy for you to turn me down on the phone. I wanted to explain what I think we need to discuss. Wanted to see you face to face, I guess.”

Carter stared at him. De Vere was as tall as him, though fuller in figure. A stunning man, Carter noted. Striking, classically handsome features; light blond hair cut short over his ears, but longer over the forehead and into the nape of his neck. Wide shoulders. He carried himself very confidently. Yes…. Carter noted again, albeit rather unnecessarily, Red De Vere was a gorgeous-looking man, dressed to perfection in dark linen trousers and shirt, under a well-cut raincoat and finished off with soft leather boots. Footwear like that must have cost a fortune; the clothes even more so. Carter wondered, bemused, why he was considering the economics of another mans clothes. It wasn’t as if he had much interest in fashion. He felt a little disorientated.

Heads turned as the crowd ebbed and flowed around them on the pavement. The admiration was all for Red, of course. Carter looked back at the mans face, and saw amusement sparking in the large, pale eyes. It masked the flicker of uncertainty that had been blossoming there.

“Will you have a drink with me? Since Mr. Roswell has now left?”

“Here?” asked Carter, bluntly.

Red shrugged. It was an elegant, attractive gesture, and Carter suspected that he knew that well enough. “Beer tastes the same wherever, I find. Id sure appreciate your company.”

“Is this to do with Zeke? Is that why you want to see me?”

Red bit at a full, soft lip. “Partly. You have a most direct way about you, Mr. Davison. I must admit I have a quaint distaste for discussin my personal business on the pavement….”

Carter nodded. Fair enough. He appreciated honesty in return, didn’t he? “Im sorry, Mr. De Vere. I must seem very rude. You just caught me by surprise. Lets go back inside and have a drink. Unless youd rather reconsider the venue?”

Reds eyebrows rose very slightly. He looked across at the entrance to Martys, appraising the dull windows and the thick paneled wooden door, and probably smelling the slight aroma of stale beer on the breeze. He looked back at Carter.

Carter smiled, slowly. “Not your usual setting?”

But Red didn’t look either insulted or annoyed. He smiled back, his eyes searching Carters. Despite himself, Carter felt something stir in his gut—something that piqued his curiosity.

“Marty’s will be fine,” Red said. “Lead the way.” His smile was easy and charming, though maybe a little cautious. “And you can buy the first round.”


And the rest, as they say…

While Miles and Zeke fought through their romance with argument and fierce passion, Red began a slow but determined pursuit of the quiet, introverted Carter. They were in the background then. They’re in the front of house by now! If you’re interested to see where that intitial spark took them – how on earth the socialite Red could ever find common ground with the serious, withdrawn Carter – whether all that unresolved sexual tension would ever find its own outlet…?!

Well you’ve come to the right place! Settle back and ENJOY!

~~~Clare London~~~

Sexy Six Anniversary Short – A True Colors Anniversary by Clare London

May 31, 2013

“What’s going on?” Miles paused in the doorway of the lounge, his newspaper under his arm. He was due a haircut, but hadn’t had time to arrange an appointment. It meant that a stray lock of his thick dark hair fell forward over his forehead and kept getting stuck in the arm of his reading glasses. Every time he brushed it back, it knocked the glasses askew on his long, straight nose.

It had been a weary, hot, and distressing week at work, finished off with a weary, hot and distressing journey home. He’d refused the offer of a cab at the end of the day: after all, he was only a dozen or so stations away from his city flat. But a wildcat strike by the train drivers meant only one in three trains was running. He’d been jostled and squashed on the platform by frustrated commuters, turned borderline psychotic by impatience and ill-equipped air conditioning. Then some hooded youth who obviously had a death wish tenacious beyond belief, had knocked into Miles -­ twice -­ and made him drop his much-needed frappuccino onto the tracks below. Before he’d taken even one sip.

The youth had apologised profusely, but Miles was in no mood for any further problems, at work or home. He looked into the lounge and frowned. The glasses slid a little further down his nose.

Zeke uncurled himself from a comfortable position on the sofa and peered over the back of it. “So I’m guessing you don’t need any further stress,” came his long, slow drawl. “I’m a sensitive, new age male. I can see that. Something about the way your fingers are welded to the handle of your briefcase. Something about the homicidal gleam in your eye.”

Miles peeled the remains of the newspaper from where the afternoon’s heat had stuck it to his palm and dropped it on to the side table. There was newsprint all over his hand but he was past caring. He carefully unwrapped the fingers of his other hand from their pseudo-rigor mortis around his case. Then he moistened his dry, pursed lips, preparing his carefully balanced response.

“Love it when you do that,” Zeke murmured. “Purse your lips like that. For me.” His eyes looked wide and innocent but his mouth smiled wickedly, licking around his words as if they were nuggets of something luscious and inevitably chocolate-flavoured. “But I guess you know that.”

Miles tried to ignore the way that Zeke’s mouth moved. Sometimes it promised delights that couldn’t be bought or begged anywhere this side of Paradise. Sometimes it meant ­- most definitely -­ further stress, though of a different kind. Miles sighed. And sometimes he never really knew what it would bring. That thought brought fearful delight. It stimulated him beyond belief. And he had no doubt that Zeke knew that.

He took a couple of steps into the lounge. “What’s going on?” he repeated. Quite calmly, and – he reckoned – in his most measured tone.

“Nothing much,” Zeke replied, in such a way that the opposite was patently true. “Just thought you needed to chill out. Hey, just listen to the strain in your voice. This deal has been hell for you. Every day, into the city centre, fighting with lawyers and accountants, and every journey a struggle through a sweaty, seething mass of humanity.”

“I never actually phrased it like that,” Miles said, dryly. “And I’ve enjoyed being involved in a new merger.”

“But maybe not as much as before.”

Miles grimaced. Did Zeke really see that in him? “True. I’ve spent a couple of months working mainly from home, and I suppose I’ve been spoiled. The change back just takes getting used to.”

“The clamour, the travel, the backbiting, the politics…”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “And that’s just at the coffee shop.”

Zeke’s smile grew wider, the skin crinkling at the outer edges of his eyes. “It’ll be finished in another month or so, and you can work from here again. I like us both working from home.”

“Your idea of us working from home has a rather different agenda than my need to earn money,” Miles said, but he could feel his smile venturing out to join Zeke’s. “Your career aspirations for us tend to involve over eighty per cent of my time – our time -­ in bed. I find it difficult to create due diligence checklists from that – those – angles.”

Zeke was laughing now. He stood up gracefully from the sofa and went to the side table, where he poured out and offered to Miles a glass of something pale, and full of what looked like unashamedly luxurious bubbles. The sides of the glass shimmered with chill condensation. Miles gazed back at his lover, seeing so clearly the similarity between man and Moet.


Zeke shrugged with a gentle, sensual grace. A trickle of liquid ran down the side of the glass and over the edge of his thumb. After Miles took the glass from Zeke’s hand, Zeke lifted that thumb up to his mouth and pressed it slowly between his lips, absorbing the drop of cool water.

Miles watched every movement; his hand felt numb around the stem of the glass. His groin ached with a heat that had nothing to do with the lack of air conditioning in public transport. “Have I forgotten a birthday or something?”

“No need to think you’re at fault. It’s just a day. Just special because it’s us.”

Miles wasn’t fooled. Spending time with Zeke kept him on his toes in more ways than one; kept him continuously alert to mood and nuance; kept him sharp and suspicious in the most delicious of ways. Living with Zeke had only honed those skills over the course of…

…a year.

“It’s a year,” he said, rather too sharply, but then his back was still hurting from a buggy that some woman had chosen to park against his kidneys for all of three stops. “A year that we’ve lived together. At the gallery, at my house. Here in town.”

Zeke’s eyes widened a little further. “Is it really?”

Miles started to laugh. His gaze ranged over the room-­ the drawn curtains; the subdued lighting; the extra cushions on the couch. The warm, meaty aroma of something cooking in the kitchen. The ice bucket perched carelessly on the low table; the soft chink of the cubes inside it shifting as the warmth of the room began to melt them.

“You wanted to celebrate it. Should I have asked to leave work early?”

Zeke took a step forward, right up against him, sliding his hand around Miles’s waist, and pressing his mouth to Miles’s neck. “Maybe.”

Miles arched back, baring the skin of his throat, feeling moist from the sweat of his journey, warm with the throbbing pulse of his excitement. “Much earlier?”

“Very…” Zeke hissed, “very, very much earlier.” He nibbled at the skin under Miles’s ear, his hands slipping down to cup the cheeks of his lover’s arse through his heat-creased pants.

Miles leaned forward into the harbour of Zeke’s body, nestling his head on the other man’s shoulder, running his own hand down the sinewy planes of Zeke’s back. The skin was very warm there and his fingers followed Zeke’s spine, a ridge of sharp bones and tight flesh. The small dip at the bottom smoothed down into the curve of his arse. The skin there was also warm; also delicious to touch; also goose bumping under the path of Miles’s fingertips…

Zeke sucked in a breath and moaned.

Miles slid his hands back up to Zeke’s shoulders and pushed him gently to arms’ length. “I like this welcome look,” he said. He was slightly breathless.

Zeke smiled, his eyes now heavy-lidded and decidedly less focussed. “The glass of champagne look?”

Miles tutted. He ran a finger slowly -­ tortuously slowly -­ down the trail of hair between Zeke’s nipples, watching them spring back gently against their natural line.

“Ohhh,” Zeke sighed. “You mean the nude look?”

Miles let his eyes run hungrily up and down the naked man in his lounge. “Yes. The nude look.”

“No problems with accessorising. Goes with everything.” Zeke panted, nudging himself back against Miles. “Let me demonstrate.”

“No,” Miles said, startling Zeke. “Let me.” He removed his glasses, folding them carefully and putting them aside. He took a full mouthful of his champagne and put the glass back on the table. He didn’t swallow the drink. Instead, he sank down to his knees in front of the other man, his hands supporting himself as he went, running firmly down the taut skin of Zeke’s waist, Zeke’s hips, Zeke’s thighs…

“Fuck,” Zeke sighed, as if he breathed a particularly precious poem.

Miles smiled with closed lips and then slid his mouth carefully over Zeke’s rearing cock. The champagne was still cool, still fizzing. Miles felt the hot, thick flesh of Zeke’s arousal thrust through the bubbles towards the back of Miles’ throat. Miles steadied himself with a hand on Zeke’s shaved groin, and felt Zeke’s shudder run all the way down to his toes.

“Love it when you do that,” Zeke moaned. “Like that. For me. Did I say that before?”

Miles mumbled something that was part agreement, part pleasure. He’d spent too long in conference with work colleagues this week to worry about it at home as well. He moved his head slowly, letting Zeke’s hand in his hair just follow the movement, not directing. Again and again, back and forth, in against Zeke’s groin then back up to the tip, the champagne warming and the bubbles melting in with Miles’s saliva, lubricating his mouth, bathing the thickening cock as he sucked.

“Gonna…” Zeke gasped loudly and tensed up.

“Do it.” Miles opened his mouth and took a quick gulp of air before going back down.

“It’s your anniversary gift.” Zeke was very flushed. One of his hands clutched the back of the couch and the other gripped cruelly into Miles’s scalp. It seemed to be the only way he could stay upright at the moment of climax. “Don’t mind… no cute gift wrapping?”

Miles chuckled, scraping his teeth lightly over the crown of Zeke’s cock. “This is cute enough for me.” You always are, he nearly said, but then his mouth was filled with a spurt of thick, sticky come, a hot new burst in amongst the warmed alcohol and his own juices. He gagged but welcomed it, sucking harder than he’d meant to, but desperate to take all he could. His hands tightened on Zeke’s thighs, his fingers making pink penny-shapes in the pale flesh.

Zeke cried out as he came, babbling some nonsense words in the back of his throat that included both cursing and pleading. His back arched as his cock spat out its satisfaction, and he leant back against the sofa for support. When Miles got to his feet, slowly licking his lips, Zeke leaned back into Miles’s arms, holding tightly until his body stopped shivering with pleasure shocks, and he seemed firmer on his feet again.

Miles stood there patiently, listening to the excited beat of his own heart. When Zeke reached fumbling fingers to his chest, he let him peel the shirt up over his arms. Miles savoured the stretch, his body tired of clothes and the pressures of a week’s work.

“Look at that,” Zeke said, throatily. “Today’s news, hot from the flesh. How tasty.” He dipped his head and licked at a line of smudged newsprint along Miles’s bared wrist. “Miles. Don’t feel bad at forgetting today. It’s not like it made the national papers.” He started to lick along Miles’ skin.

Miles shivered at the flickering tongue, teasing at the sensitive areas under his arm and across his shoulder. “Who said I forgot?”


He smiled at the bemusement in Zeke’s voice. He took a step away, breathing heavily, the movement in his broad chest stirring new trickles of sweat. He flipped open the straining button of his trousers, then reached for Zeke’s hand and slid it down inside his boxers.

Zeke’s eyes opened even wider. They glinted like a switchblade unfolding. He whistled, appreciatively.

“Guess where my gift wrapping is,” Miles said. He felt Zeke’s hand tangle in amongst his sweaty hairs, and his palm close possessively around Miles’s fiercely erect cock. Gotcha!

“You wore this all the way home?”

Miles nodded.

“At this tension?” As Miles nodded again, Zeke’s expression softened. He smiled, his expression both lascivious and loving. “God, you’re hard.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

Zeke chuckled, then sighed, almost reverently. He pushed Miles’s trousers to the floor and helped him kick them to the side so that he was as naked as Zeke. Miles saw the sweat on their skin shining in the dimming light. His limbs ached with anticipation and he nudged against Zeke, impatiently. And so Zeke gently peeled off the slim, tight leather band around Miles’s cock and balls, releasing him.

Miles’ cock throbbed against Zeke’s hand, damp desire at its tip, slicking the fingers that caressed it. He groaned with almost inexpressible delight. The journey home had, indeed, been a nightmare. “I reckoned the occasion should be…”

“Celebrated?” Zeke finished, nodding. “Love it when you do that. For me.” He was breathless again and his cock was bobbing encouragingly between his legs. “I really – really – like to see that on you.”


“Uh-huh. Restrained, and desperate for release. And best of all, knowing I’m the one can offer that release.” He leaned against Miles and their mouths met greedily. “Am I right?”

“You’re right. It’s been a good time. Together, I mean.”

“Still is.”

Miles nodded and they both smiled, their lips tracing the shape of each other’s, knowing and desiring and understanding. Miles gripped Zeke again, rubbing their cocks together, his need so urgent that he felt it as a shock through his body.


“Use me,” Zeke hissed. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He stroked his hands down Miles’s chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement, mischief and impatience. Then he turned his back to Miles and bent forward over the seat of the sofa, resting his arms against the back cushions. He looked back over his shoulder, his legs apart and his arse presented high for Miles to see and touch. To Miles’ delight, it looked like he was already well-lubed and ready for play.

Miles smiled, his feelings deep, joyful and at peace. He moved closer, stepping between Zeke’s outstretched thighs, rubbing his swollen cock slowly with one hand and smoothing the other over Zeke’s muscled buttocks. “Happy anniversary, Zeke.”

“And? Say it, then,” Zeke whispered, grinning, sweating. “You know you want to.”

Miles laughed again, his gaze on the sensuous arch of Zeke’s body, his heart full of happiness at their shared humour, his lover’s eagerness, the plans they’d made for each other … the thoughts of the night ahead.

“I love it when you do that,” he said, no longer any strain left in his voice. “For me.”


Read more about Zeke and Miles in the True Colors series.

Compulsion by Clare London

October 29, 2012

Trusting Seve could put Max in danger. Running would be the end of their relationship. If only he knew how to decide which choice to make. Compulsion by Clare London, available from Dreamspinner Press.

The past always catches up with you. Max Newman should know—he’s been running from his ever since he dropped out of Uni and made a disastrous move to the seedier side of London. Now he’s returned to Brighton to lick his wounds. Though Max believes the club scene is better left behind him, one night he lets his friends drag him out dancing. And suddenly the simple life he’s tried to lead gets complicated.

At Compulsion, the Medina Group’s newest hotspot, Max meets Seve Nunez, a member of the Medina management and a man used to taking what he wants. The sexual chemistry between Max and Seve immediately leads to an intimate encounter in the backyard of the club—just the kind of dangerous behavior Max tried to leave behind. Despite that, he can’t help but crave more, and Seve seems just as eager.

But Max soon suspects that Seve may not be the scrupulous businessman he claims. Max has seen the Medina Group at work before, and what he saw got a good friend killed. He’s not sure what future he has with Seve, but he’ll have to decide whether to trust in Seve’s innocence or keep running. The wrong choice could land them both in mortal danger.

Length: Novel | Genre: Mystery/Suspense | Buy as eBook | Buy as Paperback


October 4, 2012

Dreamspinner Press celebrates Halloween in style!

During the month of October, we will be offering the following special discounts.

October 1-4: All eBooks in the Angels and Demons category will be 25% off.

October 5-7: All eBooks in the Shifters and Vampires categories will be 25% off.

October 8-11: All eBooks in the Fantasy, Fairytales and Other Paranormal categories will be 25% off.

October 12-14: All Yaoi eBooks and eBooks by our authors who are attending YaoiCon in Los Angeles will be 25% off.

Amy Lane, Mary Calmes, Nessa L. Warin, Shira Anthony, Lori Hawkins, Rhys Ford, Augusta Li, Eon de Beaumont, EM Lynley, Venona Keyes

October 15 – 18: The 2008 Advent set will be available for 44.99 through October 31. It will go out of print on November 1, so don’t miss your last chance to get it! All Christmas eBooks will also be 25% off.

October 19-21: All eBooks by authors attending GayRomLit will be 25% off.

Abigail Roux, Aleksandr Voinov, Allison Cassatta, Amy Lane, Ana Bosch, Andrew Gray, Anel Viz, Anne Tenino, Ariel Tachna, Belinda McBride, Brita Addams, Charlie Cochet, Christopher Koehler, Clancy Nacht, Clare London, Damon Suede, Devon Rhodes, Eden Winter, Edmond Manning, Ellis Carrington, EM Lynley, Eric Arvin, Ethan Stone, Felicitas Ivey, Hayley B. James, Heidi Cullinan, Isabelle Rowan, Jacob Z. FloresJamie Fessenden, Jana Downs, Jeff Erno, Jackson CorddJonathan Treadway, J.P. Barnaby, Karenna Colcroft, Kate McMurray, KC Burn, Kiernan Kelly, Kim Fielding, Lara Brukz, Lissa Kasey, Lori Toland, Lorraine Ulrich, Marguerite Labbe, Marie Sexton, Michael Murphy, MJ O’Shea, PD Singer, Piper Vaughn, Poppy Dennison, Rhys Ford, Rick R. Reed, Rowan Speedwell, S.A. Garcia, Scotty Cade, Shae Connor, Shira Anthony, SJD Peterson, Sue Brown, T.A. Webb, T.C. Blue, Thursday Euclid, Trina Lane, Venona Keyes, Xara X. Xanakas, Zahra Owens.

October 22-25: All Foreign Language titles and audiobooks will be 25% off.

October 26-31: All eBooks in the Ghosts and Spirits category will be 25% off.

In addition, watch our Twitter and Facebook for special flash sales and other fun opportunities to win prizes from us!

2012 Daily Dose Set – Time Is Eternity

June 2, 2012

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity.” ~Henry Van Dyke

Millennia, centuries, decades, years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds… if it’s a love for the ages, then past, present, or future has no meaning. In these stories, time travel—forward or backward, for an instant or for a lifetime—is the way to fulfilling romance. The Time Is Eternity Daily Dose package delivers 30 M/M stories (plus a bonus short!) about love conquering all through the ages.

Summer reading fun! Over 1,500 pages of fiction selling individually for a total $92.70. Beginning June 1, stories will be available individually as priced or as a bulk package for $64.99.

Buy as eBook