Did you know there’s a ‘Smutfest’ running this weekend, where 40+ books are being offered either at a reduced price or for free for this weekend only? I have the link for you below.
I have a title in this collection, ‘The Mentor of Wildhill Farm’ was the first book I wrote when I decided to become Jackson Marsh, and it’s a far cry from what I am currently writing. (More news about the current Work in progress for you on Wednesday, and it’s exciting news, too.)
‘Wildhill Farm’ is probably the smuttiest book I’ve written, although ‘smut’ doesn’t seem quite the right word; sexiest, naughtiest, the one with the most erotic encounters in it… Something like that. When I set about writing it, I thought more about the characters and what they would get up to rather than a plot or similar. Unlike other Mentor books, there’s no villain, as such, and there’s no great storyline other than the one outlined in the blurb.
Camden Stevens, a forty-two-year-old writer with a passion for younger men, is invited to mentor four gay youths at an isolated farmhouse. His students are budding writers in their late teens, all keen to explore their creativity — and sex. Camden must mentor them in both, and expects them to work hard.
What he doesn’t expect is a youth like Gabriel, and what he doesn’t know is that the man who set up this fantasy-come-true has a motive of his own.
[Here’s the universal link to the book itself, currently available for free until Sunday night. The Mentor of Wildhill Farm]
To Chest or Not to Chest?
When you take a look at the list of titles in this weekend’s special promo, you’ll see an awful lot of bare chests. The book covers should come as no surprise, as they are classic staples of gay erotica and spicy romance genre cover images that we’ve come to expect. Bare chests (muscled, of course, have you ever seen a larger model on such a cover?), handsome face, usually young, chiselled features, braces, firemen, etc., and behind it all, some much-loved tropes and themes. MMM Straight to Gay. First time. BDSM. Vampires. Holiday romance. Age gap (like ‘Wildhill Farm’). Dark taboo… Everything you could want. Click the banner to find the Smutfest and fill your kinky boots with loads of free/reduced-price reading.
I’ve been tinkering with some ideas for another Clearwater Tales. This time, it would feature five characters from stories from Clearwater, Larkspur and Delamere, and a station master. So far, I have managed to write one complete story, and the prologue. I wanted to have this ready for Christmas, but I fear that it may be next Christmas, as another Delamere idea is starting to form, and I may have to work on that instead. So, I am dithering, and ‘1893’ is not progression, but it might.
That is currently where I am at with writing anything, pottering with bone and researching another. We have a trip coming up over Christmas so I will be away, and I will probably get straight back to the next story after that, and continue to potter in the meantime.
1892, The Clearwater Tales, Volume One
Five characters from the Clearwater, Larkspur and Delamere Mysteries find themselves taking the train to Cornwall for the 1892 Larkspur Hall Christmas Eve ball. To pass the time, they each tell a story from their past.
1892 can be read as a short, standalone novella, and there’s no need to have read the Clearwater, Larkspur or Delamere series to enjoy the story. However, you might gain more from reading 1892 if you already know the characters and their histories.
In the meantime, why not read the opening of Baxter’s tale (very much a first draft), and then have a browse through the promo at the bottom of the page, and after that, have a good weekend.
THE INVESTIGATOR’S TALE
That was the year of the dear Queen’s Jubilee, and I was sixteen. I’d not long been chucked out of me home by me dodgy parents, and it was a bit before me mum got done in and my dad went off the wrong end of mental. I’d got myself all set up with some, er, night work that we’ll say no more about, but thanks to that, I was able to afford a room in a court in Bluegate Fields.
Now then, that’s not an area for everyone. Well, you’d think it was an area for everyone in the flippin’ city, what with the rooms kipping ten bodies, and the kids at your feet like swarms of hungry ants. So many people crammed in, finding a room wasn’t easy, but I managed it. Yeah, so they called it a slum, and a couple of years ago that Booth do-gooder called us all “lowest class, vicious, and semi-criminal,” but there you go. Anyway, he didn’t know what he was talking about. We might have been low class and some of the Irish girls were vicious, but no-one was “semi” criminal. We were all good at what we did. Not only that, but we didn’t mind the noise and the stink; you got used to that in Shadwell. So, I moved in.
Thing was, the place was not far from St George’s church, and the bells kept me awake at first. Mind you, so did the fights downstairs.
Mrs Scratch, see, she’d somehow got the whole ground floor where she had a kitchen she let the others use. She rented out the rooms down there to a couple of Polish in with a German family, and Stalking Ken, the yard-docker who did the fencing, was down the other end, sharing with a horde of little whatnots he’d got from somewhere dreadful. France, probably. Oh, and her name wasn’t really Mrs Scratch. I never knew her real name, but she used to scratch herself around the madge area. Sniffy Sid, one of the whatnots Stalking Ken had taken in, he used to stand at her kitchen door all day watching her thump bread dough about, scratch her whatsit, sniff her fingers and get back to work. He was fascinated, young Sid. So fascinated, he came to think it was what every woman did when they were making bread, and when he was eight, he got himself a job sweeping the bakery floor. That’s the big one off Cable Street. Still there should you want to visit. They’ve stopped putting chalk in the flour now, so the bread’s almost acceptable.
Anyway, Sniffy Sid, he sniffed himself to work on his first day, sometime around three in the morning, I think, because I was just coming in from turning a few bob, and I wished him luck. Well, he didn’t have much of it, but then, he didn’t have much of a brain either, not Sid. There he was, sweeping up, when he sees one of the women has started banging her dough about, and that’s not a euphoniumism, I meant she was knocking back her bread. Seeing that her hands were covered in flour, Sniffy Sid gave a sniff and went into action. Knowing women liked to scratch down there when baking, and seeing as she couldn’t, he did it for her.
Next thing he knows, he’s dazed, bleeding, and out on the street. Poor lad, and all that before four in the morning. Some people, eh?
PROMO
MM Romance & Fiction Pure MM romance is on the cards with this select selection of titles from some old friends, such as Anne Barwell and Jem Wendel.
With ‘A Depraved Indifference’ now out there and available, I start to wonder, ‘What next?’
I am currently writing notes and drafts for another collection of shorts to make up a Clearwater Tales Volume Two, and have the prologue, half of one character’s story, nearly all of another’s, and no idea what the other three stories and the through-line will be. Also, I am talking things slowoy at eth desk for a while, thanks to various repateteive strain injuries. We’re going away on a trip in just over six weeks, so there will be a two week break over Christmas, a break from everything for a change. I am usual here on Christmas Day checking emails and sales, but not this year. I shall be elsewhere.
Meanwhile, though, the first review of ‘Indifference’ is in, and the reviewer was not indifferent at all.
The book is also currently #21 in LGBT + Mystery on Amazon, doing better than some books that have (allegedly) more than 24,500 star ratings. How does any book get that many, I wonder?
Talking of reviews, I found this one for Deviant Desire today, and I wish there was a way of replying to the reviewer. This is a great idea for another Clearwater prequel, though it would mean some intense research in naval procedures, ranks and all that, and a bit of imagination, but I am used to that.
Dear Mr. Marsh: I would love to read a back story prequel on Simon Harrington, the guy who was apparently All That and a bag of chips. Three men fell deeply in love with him, fought viciously over him, and two of them went insane because of him. That’s a story I’d love to read.
I shall have a think and add it to my list of possibilities for the future. Or maybe I could include the story in the next Clearwater Tales, the one I am tinkering with right now? There’s a thought… I’d better get writing.
PROMOS
Here’s today’s list of books for you to browse and consider.
LGBTQIA+ Characters in Romance (All Pairings Welcome)
General Fiction / LGBT, Romance, and Romance / LGBT
There are 62 titles in this collection of new books and old, with top-name authors taking part, such as Ann Lister, TL Travis, and, oh, me!
Here’s the link. One click and it’s free to browse.
Something simple today. The cover for the Delamere Files Book Ten, ‘A Depraved Indifference,’ as created by the wonderful Andjela K.
All being well, the book will be published this week, so keep an eye on your Amazon notifications and my Facebook page.
UPDATE: 29th October. The Kindle version of the book is now available. Click here.
If you have not yet subscribed to my newsletter, you can do so here and be among the first to receive news of my books and other authors’ work in special free-to-browse promos. Talking of which, I have another for you after the cover reveal, which I will do after reminding you of the blurb:
A Depraved Indifference
The Delamere Files Book Ten
Jack Merrit longs for a case more challenging than burglaries and missing jewels, and when someone finds a skeleton inside a pipe organ, his wish comes true. At first, the strange discovery in the church of St Clement Danes seems like a prank, but when Jack’s next call is to a crime within earshot of the bells of St Martin’s, an uneasy pattern emerges.
Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clement’s You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martin’s
And then, the murders start.
If the first is chance, a second becomes a coincidence, but a third? That’s a pattern, and these are no ordinary murders. They involve diabolical contraptions that kill seemingly random victims. Asked by both London police forces to investigate without being told why, Jack and his men embark on an investigation knowing where the killer will strike next, but not when.
When the killer invites Jack to join his game, a contest of intellect begins, and knowing failure will lead to disgrace, he pits himself against his most cunning adversary so far.
PROMOS
MM Romance & Fiction There are 22 MM titles here, some, like mine, you may already know, but there are others I’ve not seen advertised before. Plus, there are some new authors to explore and a variety of niches within MM romance.
LGBTQIA+ Characters in Romance (All Pairings Welcome)
There are all manner of pairings within the realm of queer romance. KC Karmine is doing things with tentacles, Ann Lister is Pitch Perfect, and I have the Mentor of Lonemarsh House in the list. It’s a trifle awkward that on the row below that book is another using the same model in the same pose (it’s the same stock photo). Strangely, the book is called ‘Without Respect,’ which I find strangely fitting for the placement of our two novels.
I have the blurb for ‘A Depraved Indifference’, the Delamere Files, Book Ten. The MS is with the proofreader, who has already attended to the blurb and author’s notes for me, and I am also talking to Scott about a map for the front of this one – so, as they say, it’s all go!
I also have another great collection of thrillers and mysteries to share with you, and I’ll put the link at the bottom of this post.
Meanwhile, here’s the blurb:
A Depraved Indifference The Delamere Files Book Ten
Jack Merrit longs for a case more challenging than burglaries and missing jewels, and when someone finds a skeleton inside a pipe organ, his wish comes true. At first, the strange discovery in the church of St Clement Danes seems like a prank, but when Jack’s next call is to a crime within earshot of the bells of St Martin’s, an uneasy pattern emerges.
Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clement’s You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martin’s
And then, the murders start.
If the first is chance, a second becomes a coincidence, but a third? That’s a pattern, and these are no ordinary murders. They occur in churches named in the rhyme, and they involve diabolical contraptions that kill seemingly random victims. Asked by both London police forces to investigate without being told why, Jack and his men embark on an investigation knowing where the killer will strike next, but not when.
When the killer invites Jack to join his game, a contest of intellect begins, and knowing failure will lead to disgrace, he pits himself against his most cunning adversary so far.
Thriller, Mystery & Suspense – Huge promo
You can click on either or both of these links; they will take you to the same place, but either James or Jackson will get the kudos (and score) generated by your click.
The 51 titles in this promo take us mainly into the world of straight adventure, mystery and thrillers. I had a look, and I think my ‘Finding a Way’ is the only gay and historical offering, but you never know, it might pick up some new readers.
The same goes for my ‘The Saddling’ which is in here. (Note: I must get Andjela to design me a new cover.)
I am very nearly at the end of editing ‘A Depraved Indifference,’ and will be sending it to be proofread and checked in a day or so. Meanwhile, I am waiting to hear from Adnjela about the cover ideas, and Neil is beta-reading it for me. His comments so far include, ‘This would make a great horror film.’ I know what he means, but it isn’t a horror story, though some of what takes place is horrific, as you will see. I have one major change to incorporate today, and about 30 pages to read through, but as I have very little else on my plate today, I should be able to round this one off and start thinking about the next one tomorrow.
It’s been an interesting ride. If I turn to my ‘A Depraved Indifference’ folder, I can see some of the research materials I have collected while writing the book. These include a cover of the Police Illustrated News from 1888, various articles from London newspapers of 1893, a map or two of the city with churches marked on it, a map of the Old Nichol rookery in Shoreditch, plans of various London churches, and a photograph of a now destroyed pipe organ.
I’ve shown you this before. It is where the investigation begins with the finding of something very unusual…
I hope to have a cover idea for you soon, and I am aiming to have the book out around the end of the month. Fingers crossed!
PROMO If you like a spicy MM read, then this promo is for you.
Spicy MM Books in Kindle Unlimited
All these titles fall under the ‘spicy’ heading, which means there’s nookie in them, and that’s fine. That’s what this promo of 55 books is focusing on. My Mentor of Wildhill Farm is in there, my spiciest novel outside of writing for the adult industry, and there are plenty of different niches, all with spicy MM romance involved.
I’m now onto draft two/three of this one, and Neil is about to start beta reading for me. I know I have some tidying up to do, and I must go through the entire thing again, all 100K words of it, before sending it to my lovely proofreader. Once that’s on its way, I will turn my attention to what comes next… Whatever that may be.
A Depraved Indifference has an open ending, as you will see, so it is definitely not the last Delamere File, but before I get to whatever comes next for Jack and Co., I was thinking about another small collection of short stories. My thinking cap is on!
Meanwhile, here’s a promo you can support:
Queer Romance Is Resistance
This promo is being hosted by the lovely Elle Keaton, who has appeared on my blog in the past. There are 45 titles to explore here, and covers suggesting firemen in love, daddies, dragons, mystical places, and good old MM romance.
This will be just a very quick update to let you know the first draft of ‘A Depraved Indifference’ is now complete. Phew! That was a fun one to work through. You will be in for an adventure in mystery. There’s no angst or love story, and not much personal difficulty in this story, not with my main characters. However, the villain is the one who carries the emotional through line, and that’s about the first time I’ve written that way, so that was interesting.
I am now about to start on my reading back. I should point out that when I say the first draft is finished, I mean I have reached the end of telling myself the story. As I have been doing that, I have also been going back and rereading, making changes, improving, and second-drafting chapters, so really, I am about to embark on my third draft, which is mainly a case of fiddling with, improving, checking, and saying, ‘What on earth did I mean by that?’
Meanwhile, I will send Andjela some ideas for a cover and think about an illustration. Does it need one? I can’t put in an image of the villain because I don’t know what he looks like, and anyone else would seem out of place. We’ll see.
The monthly newsletter should be out this morning with a freebie kind of attached (you find the freebie via a link), and I’ll tell you more about the promos I am in later in the month.
Here’s a quick update on Delamere ten, ‘A Depraved Indifference.’
When I stopped work yesterday, I was at 92,000 words and halfway through a climax, if you see what I mean. I had two of my heroes just about face to face with the villain (whoever he is), and they had just discovered what is about to happen, with time running out, and now have an impossibly situation to resolve without loss of life. They are also in the belfry of St Mary le Bow church, Cheapside, London, in the middle of the night. Why has all this come about? Because the villain has a depraved indifference to human life caused by other people’s indifference to him. It will all be explained in the story.
Meanwhile, here is a plan of the church, which is the only image to have joined my research folder in the last few days.
In my folder so far, I have a rare photo of the inside of St Clement Danes church, a photo of Morley’s hotel from the late 1890s (Trafalgar Square), some maps and other church floorplans. All this is based around ‘Oranges and Lemons,’ but the nursery rhyme has been twisted by my villain, as you will see, hopefully before this month is out.
New Month, New Promos
Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter if you want to get news on new promos. I have six this month, and will be sending out information about them on Saturday, when the newsletter comes out. Tell you what, I’ll give you a preview of the first one now.
MM Romance & Fiction
There are 22 MM titles here, some, like mine, you may already know, but there are others I’ve not seen advertised before. Plus, there are some new authors to explore and a variety of niches within MM romance.
Now, this is only an idea at this stage, but once I have finished ‘A Depraved Indifference,’ I may start on another volume of the Clearwater Tales. If I do, it will take the same format as volume one, with a few characters from Clearwater, Larkspur and Delamere meeting up en route to somewhere (Cornwall, probably, for Christmas), and each one telling a short story. The tales will then have to be linked by someone or something.
I made a start when I was between Delameres a few months ago, but then stalled because I wasn’t sure I’d chosen the correct five characters to meet by accident. I think I will have to ask readers which five they think should make an appearance…
Anyway, today, I thought I’d let slip a few words from this potential project so you can see what you think. Actually, see whether you can guess who the characters are. In this clip, Harry is the stationmaster, and there is a quiet lad alone in a corner of the station waiting room. The other two are big characters from one of the series, but can you guess who? (This isn’t complete or edited, it’s just a snippet, for fun.)
Chapter I
THE PROLOGUE, PART ONE
In which our players chance upon each other in a winter fog at a remote junction that was once a halt.
On Saturday, 23rd December 1893, the Morning Post reported: Exceedingly dull weather has prevailed at nearly every station, thick mist of fog being reported at a large number of them, both on the coast and inland…
(Later, in the remote, fog-bound station waiting room…)
One stood warming himself at the fire with his back to the room, and Harry was unable to see his face, though from his posture and clothes, he also took him to be on the young side. The other, on seeing Harry at his post, rose from the armchair he had taken and floated across the room. At least, that was how the approach looked, for the man was so… It was difficult to find the word at first, it hovered somewhere between captivating and frightening. Captivating because of his dark skin and eyes, his broad and open smile, and the precise manner in which he slipped off his gloves. He was frightening for the same reasons. The eyes held and refused to let go. Harry had not met many men with such tanned features, and the way he removed his gloves made him appear as if he was about to commit a strangulation. Despite all that, the word he settled on was regal.
‘Good evening.’ The dark man greeted him with a calm tip of the head, and in a voice as smooth as his skin. ‘May I trouble you for coffee? I see no menu.’
‘Evening, Sir. That’s right. The menu is whatever I have brought to share, but I always have tea, coffee and cocoa to warm my passengers.’ Now realising the man was a gentleman, Harry took him into his confidence. ‘I also have something a little stronger for the menfolk, but we mustn’t tell the magistrate.’
The stranger smiled. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You have my silence on the matter, Sir. Myself, I was brought up in a faith that forbids me from taking alcohol.’
‘I see.’
‘However, just because I was brought up beneath it doesn’t mean I allow myself to remain smothered. Therefore, if you have a shot of whisky, feel free to drop a splash in my cup. The largest you have, as I feel we may be in for a long wait. Correct?’
‘That you are, Sir,’ Harry sympathised. ‘I will make you as comfortable as I can for the evening. Take your seat. I will bring it across, and if there is anything else, just say. I have some hampers made up if you’re on a long journey, and I only charge cost price.’
‘You are kind,’ the swarthy stranger declared, and Harry preened at the compliment.
The new arrival at the fireplace had turned and now stood with his hands on his hips, parting his long overcoat and revealing a slim, some would say athletic body that was made statuesque by the not-quite-fashionable tightness of his clothing. Harry took no offence. He had once had such a physique, and comparing his now to his guest’s, decided the blond man was not yet married. What he was, however, was inquisitive, because he stared at the silent boy for some time before sighing, as if disappointed at not being noticed. From there, he watched the swarthy man at the counter, and all the way back to one of the fireside armchairs, before deciding where to sit.
He chose the opposite armchair, and as he sat with his coat and legs thrown open, his eyes never left the darker man. Harry raised an eyebrow at the provocative behaviour, while the other man smiled politely, and produced a newspaper from his luggage.
The samovar water had come to temperature by the time the two spoke, and with no other sound than the clock, the flames and the water burner, it was no trouble to hear their conversation, which Harry listened to out of concern for his passengers, and not to learn gossip. On a night such as that one, when there was a long wait, it also helped to pass the time.
‘Excuse me, mate…’ The younger, blond one opened the discussion. ‘Yeah… Hello?’
‘Good evening. May I be of assistance?’
‘Just passing the time, really. Fancy a chat?’
‘I am not averse to a conversation, Sir, but I may not be very interesting. Would you like a newspaper instead? Or a book?’
‘No thanks. Unlike you, I’m not a very good reader.’
‘Oh? You can tell how I read?’
‘I can tell you read fast, and you’re heading towards Cornwall, like I am.’
The darker man looked around his feet where his luggage stood, and then back at the blond.
‘I have no labels on my luggage… How?’
‘You’re reading last week’s copy of the West Briton and Cornwall Advertiser,’ the other replied. ‘Now, I got to admit that London’s my gaff, but I’ve been in this business a few months now, so I’ve got me nose in and out of a few riddles. From what I remember, that newspaper’s only printed in Truro. I dare say a few copies find their way to London and other places, but not immediate, like, if at all. I say that, ’cos if there’d been one out today, you’d have had a copy. Maybe. Just a guess, ’cos I don’t know where you’re coming from. Like I said, I’m passing the time.’
The second stranger seemed entertained and impressed. ‘Your deducement is correct, Sir. I am, indeed, on my way home to Cornwall.’
‘Yeah, alright. We’re going to be here for some hours, mate, so maybe we can do away with the Sir, business?’
The darker man was probably of Arabic extraction, Harry mused as he added whisky to the man’s coffee. The lighter one was from London, or nearby, south certainly, and yet, the Arab was better spoken. A prince, perhaps, he thought as he made up the tray, adding, for good measure, two glasses, some water, two slices of his wife’s fruit cake, and the half bottle of scotch. They could have it; he had plenty more. By the time he delivered the tray, and his guests had gratefully accepted his offerings, the men were on surname terms and chatting quietly.
