Trey! Ewan jerked completely awake, his hand falling back onto the armrest and his left foot scrabbling for purchase on the carpet.
Lillian Francis reveals the beautiful cover art of her upcoming book titled LOVERS ENTWINED.
It releases on August 03, 2015.
Ewan Matthews is one of Boston’s leading genealogy experts. When a would-be bridegroom comes looking for confirmation that there are no skeletons in his ancestral closet, Ewan considers turning the job down. Trey Capell is a jerk of the highest order and yet Ewan experiences an infuriating attraction that’s easy to justify. Trey’s exactly his type—a carbon copy of the man Ewan’s been looking for his entire life.
Harder to explain is the sense of recognition that leaves Ewan speechless the moment Trey steps into his office. Or the stomach-churning sensation at the thought of casting the job aside.
Trey gets more appealing by the day, leaving Ewan struggling with forbidden desire for his client. Desire not helped by strange voyeuristic dreams that have started to haunt his sleep. Dreams that appear to be an echo of the past.
Cover Art by Meredith Russell
Tristan glanced down at their joined hands and his lips quirked in amusement, causing his moustache to bristle, but he didn’t state the obvious. “Of course I do. Where I go, you go. Two can live as cheaply as one, we’ve proved that already with you sharing my officer’s rations, and it’s not as if we’ll need a big place.”
Owen lowered his voice to hardly more than a whisper. “It will need two bedrooms and I shall still need to call you sir, Tristan. For proprieties’ sake.”
“My Owen, always so proper.”
“I believe it is preferable to gaol, sir.”
“Nobody is going to prison,” Tristan said with conviction. Owen raised an eyebrow and shifted his gaze to their joined hands, but said nothing.
An awkward silence threatened to blanket the room and then Tristan spoke, with the same certainty, but none of the force of before. “There are jobs out there for officers, especially Battalion Quartermasters. If I can lay my hands on resources for a thousand men in a desert in wartime, then any job in trade or acquisitions should be a walk in the park.”
“Hmm.” Owen finally looked up, relief and amusement leaving fine lines in the corners of his eyes. “I think you might need to change some of your acquiring practices or you’ll be having your collar felt before we find a place to live.”
“Casting aspersions on a senior officer, Matthews?” Tristan’s lips quirked up in a smile that made his moustache quiver with a life of its own. “I could have you flogged for less.”
With his free hand, Tristan eased the glasses from Owen’s grasp and placed them on the small table next to his chair. He reached for Owen’s shirt, closing the fingers of his good hand into a fist around material and buttons.
Owen stiffened and his gaze shot up to the door at the far side of the room.
“It’s locked,” Tristan murmured and Owen visibly relaxed, letting a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth.
Tristan continued in a tone that must have helped get him anything he requisitioned during the war. “Luckily for you, I have my own unique form of punishment, especially devised to deal with smart-mouthed batmen.”
“Wasn’t I your first batman?” Owen smiled widely.
“There you go again. Insolent in the face of discipline.” Tristan tightened his fingers in the fabric and gave an experimental tug. His voice dropped a register, so that it was intimate and barely heard. “My first, my last, my only.”
* * * * *
Blinking blearily awake, pale-blue eyes hovered inches from Ewan’s face. Eyebrows, so light in colour that they were barely there, were pulled together in concern.
“Tristan?” Voice still thick with sleep, Ewan’s fingers itched to reach out and caress cheeks coloured by the desert sun.
“Who?” Surprise was quickly covered by a disparaging laugh, but it seemed a little forced to Ewan’s sleep-fuddled brain. The disjointed features shifted back slightly, coming more sharply into focus. Where he expected a straight nose and bristling moustache, Ewan found himself staring at a stretch of bare skin and a bent, slightly flattened nose, which seemed too big for Trey’s face.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lillian Francis. Author of gay romance. Happy Endings guaranteed. Eventually.
An avid reader, Lillian Francis was always determined she wanted to write, but a “proper” job and raising a family distracted her for over a decade. Over the years and thanks to the charms of the internet, Lillian realized she’d been writing at least one of her characters in the wrong gender. Ever since, she’s been happily letting her “boys” run her writing life.
Lillian now divides her time between family, a job and the numerous men in her head all clamouring for their stories to be told.
Lillian lives in an imposing castle on a wind-swept desolate moor or in an elaborate ‘shack’ on the edge of a beach somewhere depending on her mood, with the heroes of her stories either chained up in the dungeon or wandering the shack serving drinks in nothing but skimpy barista aprons.
In reality, she would love to own a camper van and to live by the sea.