Amazon Bestselling Author

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Now Leaving Sugartown

I'm officially declaring this week International Awesome Blurb Week!
Remember when I said I didn't have a blurb Now Leaving Sugartown (Book #4 in the Sugartown series)?
Well, now I do!
There's no official release date for this baby, just yet, but you can whet your appetite with blurb below and be sure to check out the first chapter posted here. 

Pepper Ryan grew up the troublesome, spoiled child of a rock god. With her less-than-stellar parentage, and the bipolar disorder that has plagued her existence, to say this little firecracker is a handful would be the understatement of the century.

Sammy Belle spent more than half his life saving Pepper. He’d been her strength, her sanity, and the protective brotherly figure she never wanted to have.

And just when Sammy thought he had everything he wanted, Pepper ran.

Now twenty-three, Pepper returns to Sugartown, a failed tattoo artist with one too many screws loose who’s down on her luck, wielding an ice cream van as beaten up as her heart.

Sugartown’s most coveted bachelor has always been content with the quiet life he leads until Pepper, the hellion from his past, returns to test his strength, his patience, and perhaps even his sanity. But two can play at that game, and Pepper is about to learn that Sam can give as good as he gets.

Can this good country boy survive Pepper’s cruel city world, or will the whole thing be put down to a bout of temporary insanity?

One thing is for certain:

Warning: Intended for an 18+ audience.
Contains sexual content, oodles of profanity,
a firefighter so hot you may need a very cold shower,
and one pink-haired crazy Harajuku girl.

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Excited for Now Leaving Sugartown?
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Bitches love comments.

Saturday, October 11, 2014


So something interesting happened a little earlier this week.
Wanna know what?
Of course you do!

I announced I'd be releasing a new MC series titled: Savage Saints!
 Book one is titled KICK and follows the story of the lovable, yet extremely damaged, Daniel Johnson A.K.A KICK who we met very briefly in Welcome to Sugartown, and got to know--or who we thought we'd gotten to know--in Greetings From Sugartown.

KICK should be on e-readers and in paperback sometime in the New Year. There will be a cover reveal soon, I'll post the sign up here and on my facebook page
but in the meantime you can read the blurb now:

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Excited for more KICK?
Be a doll and let me know below.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Sydney Author Event Ticket Giveaway!

Hiya Bunnies!
Wanna know what I'll be doing on 29.11.2014?
Signing my little heart out at the Sydney Author Event!
And with any luck you will be joining me!
At the risk of sounding like Willy Wonka with his golden ticket (why does that sound so dirty?), I have in my posession one AM session ticket that I will be giving away to one lucky weiner!
All you have to do for your chance to win is fill out the Rafflecopter thing'a'majig below and follow the event organisers blogs, and my author page, on facebook!
Hurry though, entries close in SOON! 

Are you exited for SAE2014?
Be a doll and leave me a comment below! 

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Now Leaving Sugartown

Hiya Poppets,
So I've said before that there will be four books in the Sugartown series and seeing as Holly and Jack finally came to their senses in Enjoy Your Stay, and Greetings from Sugartown gave us the highly anticipated (and very dramatic) conclusion to Ana and Elijah's story, that really only leaves us with one couple left to read all about.
Yep, you guessed it!
Sam and Pepper!
Who knew that little Sammy Belle and Pepper Ryan would grow up into a pair of hellions hell bent on making one another's life, well ... hell!
Okay I did, but did you? And with a family like their's is it really any wonder?

Now Leaving Sugartown is the story I've been dying to write since this series began, so in celebration of the fact that I'm knee-deep in creating the little universe Sam and Pepper have carved out inside my head, you guys can get a sneak peek!
This baby doesn't have a blurb yet, or even a cover, but it has a first chapter, and you can read it below! 


Holy shit, it’s even worse than I remembered.
It’s funny the things you think when you’re staring down the bowels of Hell. I pull the van to a jerky stop on the shoulder of the road, and gawk at the tiny town spread out before me. It’s eight am, and it’s thriving with life. Cars bustle every which way, school kids are decked out in their blue uniform, chatting animatedly as they cross the road, and the traffic actually stops to allow them safe passage. The shops on Main Street are all freshly painted in pastels. Flowerbeds line the footpath, and brightly-coloured petunias pop out of the soil to greet you. It looks exactly like Stepford threw up. Twice.
Jesus Christ. I’m gonna need a bottle of Jack, and an entire prescription worth of anxiety meds just to get through five minutes in this shithole town.
I ease the car out onto the road—maybe ease is a stretch. What I mean to say here, is I slam my foot to the accelerator and fly down Main Street, doing sixty kilometres in a fifty zone. I would have gone much quicker, but I don’t need the cops riding my arse and asking questions about my newly acquired ride. Technically, if you factor in that my arse-wipe boss hasn’t paid me for a month, I do kinda own some of this van, like a tyre, or the second-hand freezer he installed last month. Though considering I probably owe him damages from punching him in the face, breaking his nose, and stealing his phone so he couldn’t call the cops on me, I guess this could still be considered theft.
It’s not like I set out to steal his ice cream van, but the slimy bastard had rubbed his greasy, chesty Bonds-covered beer gut against my arse one to many times. When his meaty hands slipped under my skirt, and boldly tried to go where no balding, impotent, bogan, fifty-year-old scumbag’s had ever gone before, I put those lessons Uncle Elijah had taught me to good use, and elbowed him in the face. I maybe could have done without the boot to the balls, but violence excites me, and it was a heat-of-the-moment type of thing. Of course, once I’d driven my stolen van home to the shitty Fitzroy apartment I shared with my soon to be ex-boyfriend—on account of him being an inconsiderate, selfish, but hot-as-fuck douche—the gravity of my situation sunk in. I had no money, nowhere to go, and a possible warrant out for my arrest.
Coop, my biological dad, is in LA, so even if I could get him to wire me the cash, it wouldn’t be here before night fell, and I needed a place to stay. I needed to get the hell out of the state. I needed to go home.
I supress the hysterical laughter that thought produces, and unscrew the cap on my meds. I empty two into my palm and throw them back with the remainder of my flat, warm can of Coke. God damn, do I wish it were mixed with something alcoholic.
I’m busy punching the buttons on the piece of crap stereo when I glance up, and some moron in a fluoro yellow vest and matching hat is standing in the middle of the road holding a stop sign. I hit the brakes. The van swerves and skids all over the asphalt, screeching to a stop just inches from the man, and a gaggle of horrified-looking children and their outraged mothers.
The lollipop man is tall. His wide shoulders barely fit in the fluoro vest, and the sleeves of his shirt strain against bulging muscles. His hair falls into a messy, blonde just-fucked shag around his face, and a set of gorgeous baby blues glare at me through the windscreen.
“What the hell, lady? You didn’t see the gigantic neon stop sign?” he shouts, holding his arms out to either side of him. He lost the sign about the time I imagine he thought I was going to plough into him. “You coulda killed me. You could have killed these kids!”
I ignore the fission of heat that spreads out from the centre of my belly all the way to my cock socket. I have a thing for the mean ones.
“Yeah, I saw it. About two seconds before I slammed on my breaks,” I scream back through the partially rolled down window. I unbuckle my belt that sits way too loose over my hips, because my lard-arse boss stretched it all out of shape, and throw open the door. It groans on rusty hinges. “So, little Sammy Belle grew up to be a lollipop man.”
“Do I know you?”
“You should,” I say slamming the door, folding my arms, and coming out from around the vehicle to see him better. “We used to bathe naked together.”
“Naww, you do remember me.” I bat my eyelids coquettishly, then give him a devilish grin.
Sam folds his arms, assessing me from my long pastel-pink hair right down to my calf-length leopard print Doc Martens. I don’t miss the way his gaze rakes over the ink sleeve on my right arm. Or the roses on my thigh playing peek-a-boo with my short skirt. His eyes flit back to mine with a grin.
“Huh,” he says.
I frown. “Huh what?”
“You grew up, is all.”
“So did you.”
“I’m six years older than you, darlin’. You would hope I’d have grown up by now.” And there it is, the reminder I spent my entire adolescent life trying not to hear: Sammy Belle is too old for me. Six years too old for me. You might not be thinking that’s such a big deal. Twenty year olds fuck men forty years their senior all the time. But most of those are money-grubbing whores and well, when you’re a horny fourteen-year-old girl lusting after a hot twenty year old, who’s only ever behaved the way a brother would, and you throw caution to the wind, remove your bikini top and hurl yourself at him? Yeah, trust me, you’re not ever going to forget something as insignificant as a six-year age difference. The memory of my humiliation comes unbidden into my mind, and I chase it away with an appraisal of my own.
Sam looks older. Good. But older. He’s tanned, and has lost that baby-faced boyish charm. He’s a man, and from the looks of the front of his jeans, he hasn’t forgotten that in my presence. I share a wry smile of my own, flicking the tiny Monroe piercing in my upper lip with my tongue. He clears his throat.
“You look good, Pepper,” he says, before checking himself, and shutting his face down into a stoic expression. “Now, if you’re done terrorising the neighbourhood, I gotta get back to work. Someone has to keep the kiddies safe from Harajuku nut jobs, intent on flattening them with their ice cream van.”
I clench my jaw. “You did not just call me Harajuku.”
“Run along, Sailor Moon,” Sam says, and winks. “Just be careful not to run anyone over, this time.”
And just like that, he dismisses me. Sammy fucking Belle, the lollypop man, the guy who took me to my year twelve formal, the guy who sat and made fun of all the other arseholes dressed in their tuxes and frilly pastel dresses while I wore combat boots, ripped jeans and a corset. The guy who told me not to give a shit that they were staring, because I was the most beautiful girl in the room, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me. The guy who I stole my first kiss from—that Sammy Belle, who’s a tanned, sunshiny real-life golden boy, dismisses me.
I laugh, humourlessly.
Run over? Oh no, Sammy. I’m going to run rings around you.
Jumping back in the van, I twist the key in the ignition, and feel a sense of pride when she sputters out a big black cloud of exhaust smoke. She backfires, and I know without a doubt that every single pair of eyes in that street is staring at me. I flip the switch on the dash and “Greensleeves” filters out through the giant speaker on top of the van. The kids’ mouths open in excitement, because no matter where you are in the world, and no matter what time of the morning it may be, that sound means one thing: ice cream.
An errant little boy escapes the clutches of his pink tracksuit clad mother, and heads right for me, shouting, “Ice Tweem!”
When he’s close enough to the window I roll it all the way down, hang out my head and hiss at him, which sends him scurrying off the road and back to his mother. Then I skid out and slowly, and very deliberately drive a dawdling circle around Sammy. He stands in the centre and follows me through the 360◦ revolution, eyes tight, face guarded, and arms folded against his broad chest.
Sam the lollipop man is pissed.
On the second drive-by, he just shakes his head, and I think I see a dry smile twist the corner of his mouth. I grin back, throw him a wink, and flatten my foot to the floor. The van lurches forward, and the gearbox protests as I grind it into second and zoom off in a cloud of black exhaust and squealing tyres.
Sugartown might be the absolute end of the earth, but now that I’m a little older, I think I might actually have some fun here.

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Are you looking forward to Now Leaving Sugartown?
Hit me with your comments below!

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Greetings from Sugartown is Released into the World!

 Hiya Bunnies, 
I'm a little late in posting this, seriously someone needs to tie me down and spank me for not updating this site often enough with #AllTheImportantThings. Well, belated posts or not books still get released, or maybe that's why my posts are always belated?
Anwhoo, book three in the Sugartown Series
Greetings from Sugartown
is finally out in the world!
With every book you write you're faced with a different set of challenges, and no matter how many books or stories I work on in the background (and trust me there's a bazillion all circumnavigating my brain, some that have been written already and others fighting to be heard over the noise that those Sugartown and Taint series kiddies create), with Ana and Elijah I can honestly say every second of writing their story has been a joy.
 Yes, even that one scene in Welcome to Sugartown. For the record let me say here that that scene hurt me as much as it did you guys! Also ... THEY WERE ON A BREAK!
But I'm digressing,
Greetings From Sugartown is the conclusion to Ana and Elijah's story, though it's not the end of the series. 

Life in Sugartown hasn’t always been easy, not for an ex-con like Elijah, and certainly not for Ana, who grew up desperate for a way out.

Meeting Elijah changed all that; Elijah changed a lot of things.

You’d think that after three years together and the worst behind them that life would be a walk in the park, but Sugartown’s sexiest couple may be about to face their biggest obstacles yet. Between failed marriage proposals, a trampy ex-lover and a tempting new biker, Sugartown is suddenly not so sweet.

They’re head-over-heels in love. It should be simple—but it rarely is.

Will they make it down the aisle to the happy ever after they deserve? Or are some relationships just destined to fail?

Intended for an 18+ audience. Contains explicit sex, violence, a crap-tonne of profanity, and naked encounters with disastrous outcomes.

Purchase Greetings from Sugartown here:

Elijah rolls on top of me, cradling my head between his hands, his forearms pushing into the mattress. He kisses the tracks the tears make down my face. “I love you. I don’t deserve you, I never have, especially not now.”
“Don’t say that—” I interrupt, but he quietens me with the press of his lips against mine.
“I tried, baby girl. I tried to lock it all up tight, to push it down and hide it, but I can’t. I wanna be the man you deserve, but I’m not him. I’m broken. Toxic. I’ll always be shit, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”
“Hey …” Elijah bows his head, and I place my hands on either side of his face and force his gaze up to meet mine. “You are none of those things. You’re good. You have the biggest heart out of anyone I know, and you love with every part of it. Sammy is a different kid because of you. Dad is different, Holly, Jack … I’m different. Yes, we’ve been dragged through a lot of shit, and some of that has been your fault, but you’re the one who pulls us safely through the other side. You’re the one who takes the darkness away, not the one who creates it.”
He laughs, but there is no humour in it.
“Ask me again,” I whisper, pressing light kisses to his neck.
“No.” Elijah shakes his head. “Not now.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask you.”


I need a drink. I need an antihistamine, but I don’t have time to go rooting around in the cupboard for that shit because Ana’s going to be home any second, and I have orgasms to deliver and a question to pop. I pull the champagne from the ice bucket and pour myself a glass, downing it in one go. I scratch, but the itch just spreads. It’s everywhere. My entire body is breaking out in this fucked up rash and … Jesus Christ, it’s like an inferno in here.
I haul my arse over to the window, throwing it wide and gulping in deep, heavy breaths of cold winter air. That’s when I hear the van’s door slam. I jack-knife from the window and hurry back to the table. I can’t stop scratching. I swear my skin is crawling with fire ants.
“Honey, I’m home,” a voice sing songs from the hall.
Fuck. That’s not Ana.
Before I have time to cover my junk, Jack and Kick are standing in my lounge room. A heartbeat passes, one in which we all just stare at each other like fuckwads, and then the laughter starts. I close my eyes, and squeeze my hands into fists to keep from ball-punching the both of them.
Kick leans towards Jack and whispers, “I think we’ll call him Jeeves.”
“Dude, when I said you could borrow my table I’d kinda pictured you doing something bad arse and kinky with it. Now I just wanna take it back.” Jack walks forward, and brushes his hands lovingly over the leather. “Don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s gonna take you home and put you to good use.”
“Don’t fucking touch it. I went through three cans of disinfectant to get that thing clean. I don’t want your herpes contaminating it again.”
“Herpes? Fuck you, cunt-burger. I’m definitely taking my table back now.”
“Speaking of herpes, what the hell is going on with your skin?” Kick says, eyeing me from head to toe. “It looks like you fucked a leper and your limbs are gonna start falling off.”

Well, what did you think of the conclusion to Ana and Elijah's story?
Be a doll and leave a comment below!