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Book Info

Barbara Elsborg
29 September 2022
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It’s not every day that a total stranger asks Tag if he’s…ahem…well endowed. Of course, he’s not going to say no. When he’s offered a life-changing amount of money to go to a party, he’s not going to say no to that either, even though he suspects sex will be involved. But sense prevails and Tag decides to stick to his principles and not go, except things take an alarming turn. Suddenly, he can’t say no. Not if he wants to see another day.

Tell no one. Trust no one. The unbreakable rules that keep Delaney alive. He’s got a role to play at this so-called party, but the cheeky upstart who’s supposed to be part of his cover, seems to be going out of his way to be as aggravating as possible. When Delaney finally registers that unlike the rest of the entertainment, Tag isn’t a willing participant, they join forces and set in motion a chain of events that leads to them both running for their lives.

Tag might be one of the most irritating guys Delaney has ever met, but his resolute cheerfulness and bravery begin to have an unexpected effect. Tag worms his way through Delaney’s defences and keeping him safe now seems the most important job Delaney’s ever had. Suddenly the operative who’s never trusted anyone, finds himself letting Tag into his heart. And wishing for a future that can never be.

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Tag carefully carried the plate of food over to the customer at the corner table. This well-dressed, well-spoken, well-built man in his forties looked as though he might be a big tipper. Then again, looking as if someone should tip a lot meant nothing. Sometimes the least likely looking person, who’d picked the cheapest item on the menu, tipped more generously than someone who chose steak and the most expensive wine.

“Here we go,” Tag said in his I’m a cheerful waiter voice. “Beer-battered fish, double cooked chips, petit pois and homemade tartar sauce.”

“Is it homemade?”

That’s what it said on the menu but Tag had seen the catering container in the kitchen. ‘No,’ he mouthed and said, “Absolutely. Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”

Sir wasn’t a word that fell easily from his lips, and in a pub like this, the sort of thing Tag might have got teased about, but this customer looked like he’d appreciate being called sir.

“Such as?” He raised one eyebrow.

“Vinegar, ketchup, another drink, more tartar sauce?” Tag smiled. “Maybe some bread and butter?”

“There is one thing.”

Tag waited.

The guy looked up at him. “Do you have a big cock?”

For a moment, Tag convinced himself he must have misheard. He took a moment to think what the man might have actually asked. Something about a rock? A sock? In stock? But when the guy glanced at Tag’s crotch, then looked up at Tag’s face, Tag decided his ears hadn’t been deceiving him. He’d never been asked that question before.

“I usually expect a bit more foreplay conversation-wise.”

Tag hoped for a laugh but didn’t get one.

“Do you?”

“Well, yes. Like—you have a lovely arse or are you doing anything later because I have something in mind or look how happy all of me is to see you.”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Do you have a big cock?”

Tag was fairly sure he was blushing. He hadn’t been hunting for compliments. This guy wasn’t his type. Shit, he wants an answer. Tag’s cock wasn’t huge, but it definitely wasn’t small. Oh fuck it. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’d like to invite you to a party. If you’d walked away in a huff after that question, then you wouldn’t have been suitable…a suitable guest. I’m looking for a good-looking young man with an open mind, a big cock and—a lovely arse— who’d like to make some money.”

“Too late with the arse comment.”

That did get him a laugh. Tag’s thoughts flashed onto exactly what this party would entail. Sex, probably drugs and…more sex.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you’re probably wrong.”

Tag was pretty sure he was right. Sex in some form or another. Young guys for older rich guys to fuck. Although he was flattered to be called good-looking, he wasn’t flattered to think that he looked like someone who’d fuck for money. Not going to happen. But he was still standing there, wasn’t he? He hadn’t flounced off feeling insulted.


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Barbara Elsborg lives in Kent in the South of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Volcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.

After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm) she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.

Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, and she hopes they are as much fun to read as they were to write.

Thirteen facts about me

1. I’m blonde, but after having spotted one grey hair - I now dye my locks with mixed results. I know I should read the packet but hey, what can go wrong? My nicknames – badger, skunk (purely the look!!), snowball and pinkie. Yes, that time it really did go wrong.

2. I hate milk. Can’t drink it, smell it or even look at it.

3. Writing. I really do love that. I started by making up episodes of TV series with me as the heroine. You name it, I’ve been in it. My range is from paranormal to suspense to contemporary to erotica but everything I write has a touch of romance and humor. Well, I think I’m funny. My family laugh at me all the time.

4. Former life – a sad cautionary tale. Started off as a government inspector – spying on people trying to cheat on their taxes. A short period as a media planner in an advertising agency. I fled that at dead of night. Several years selling cyanide – mainly to Sweden for the largest chemical company in the UK. Grand title of export manager. There was just me in the department. Had kids. Ughghghg. Then went to work as Government Inspector, spying on teachers. I was so popular, you can’t believe. Thank goodness I married well. (Married for money anyway)

5. No I didn’t, dear. Husband is financial whiz. Met at university when he was bringing a sack of potatoes to my flat mate. Romance is his middle name. Gifts to me include – supermarket vouchers, hedge trimmer and a hammer drill and reduced flowers past their wilt-by date. He spent most of his life in the aerospace industry making missiles. He’s atoning for his sins by doing my shopping.

6. Two children. Daughter a lawyer. Son has escaped to live in Texas. Enough said.

7. Books – I ADORE. I read at least one a day. I have thousands as I can’t stand to part with them. I read at lightning speed. 70-80 pages in 20 minutes. That’s fast? Right?

8. What do I do all day? Write. All day if I can. It’s my world and I love it. Start at 8.00 and finish late. Interspersed with journeys on the internet and satisfying needs of husband. No, not those sorts of needs. Really!! I was thinking of making coffee.

9. Worried about – possible visit from FBI. Research for one of my thrillers did involve some investigation into how a fetus would decay under a boat shed. Research into plastic handcuffs brought a deluge of porn. Well, that was my excuse and I’m sticking to it. I find I need to keep checking dubious sites. I might be addicted.

10. I’m very tall. 5’10 and a bit. I used to be very self-conscious about my height. Now I don’t care. I’m far more worried about other bits of me.

11. I won the prize at school for ‘Good Conduct and Example’ It was the worst day of my life. Well, one of them. I so want to be bad. Sigh.

12. I am incapable of telling right from left at crucial moments. Won’t be flying jets anytime soon.

I’m struggling now. I’m really not interesting.

13. Ohh, I was once kicked by a giraffe.

Phew, made it.



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