Ice
(The Salisbury Stories, Book 2)
by Chris Quinton & RJ Scott
Length: 297 pages
Genres: Contemporary, Gay (M/M) Suspense, Romance
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With millions in diamonds at stake, can Jon make Greg see that some things are not worth dying for?
Footloose adventurer Greg Drakowski used to live for the moment but these days shadows of grief and guilt cling to him. Recklessly following one lead to the next, Greg crosses oceans at the very hint of treasure, and doesn’t care that he rushes into danger.
This time his quarry is a cache of diamonds, hidden away decades ago. When the clues bring him to the ancient city of Salisbury, he knows he’s close to success.
Renovations expert Jonathan Ellis is part of Ageless Wood Restorations - three generations of knowledge and trade. Focused and hard-working, Jon finds value in recreating the elegance of the past with his own hands, and it will take something - or someone - extraordinary to break into his enclosed world.
When Greg drops into Jon's lap he finds it impossible to refuse him. Even when the bad guy appears and Jon isn't sure whom he can trust, he knows he has to stand by Greg, if only to save the idiot from himself.
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The quiet settled around him, as comfortable as an old coat. The silence wasn’t absolute, of course. The susurration of passing traffic and occasional raised voices from the street below formed a backing to the sounds of the Laurels itself as ancient walls and floors reacted to subtle changes of temperature. Jon smiled and stroked the uneven surface of the massive oak supporting beam that crowned the blocks of narrow bricks of the gallery’s inner wall. Lewis had told him a dendrochronology test showed that the tree had been felled in the autumn of 1398. And here it was in the twenty-first century, as solid as granite and undefeated by time, termites, or fire. In some ways it was a shame that it would soon be hidden by the paneling.
Jon turned his attention to the task immediately at hand, the construction of the next supporting frame. Each length of timber was fastened to the next with wooden pegs, no iron nails for this reconstruction.
“Hello?” The voice was barely audible over his sawing. It came from the kitchen. “Anyone around? Hello?”
“Hang on,” Jon shouted. “I’m coming down.”
The stranger had his back to the connecting door and was gazing around the kitchen when Jon entered. The man turned and offered a bright smile. “Hi,” he said. “Lewis Mandineau? I’m Greg Drakowski.”
He held out his hand and Jon shook it automatically, set off-balance by brown eyes beneath dark brows. Brown hair, close-cropped at the sides and a slightly longer fauxhawk over his forehead; a neatly trimmed beard; framed high cheekbones, and a sensuous mouth. A backpack hung from his shoulders, full of something angular and weighty by the look of it.
“Uh, hi,” Jon said, painfully aware the pause had gone on a little too long. So had the handshake. He released Greg’s hand at once. “I’m not Lewis. He isn’t here at the moment, or not available, at least. The restaurant isn’t open yet.”
“I know. I’d heard about the fire on the grapevine—you know how it is.” His smile was guileless, utterly charming, and his slight accent teased Jon’s senses. “I’ve not long finished a project in Alexandria and had to come back home for family reasons. That’s all settled now, and, well, to be frank I need a job. I was hoping I could join the reconstruction team. I have references, commendations and everything with me,” he concluded.
“What was the project?” Jon asked the second question that popped into his head. The second, because the first was entirely inappropriate.
The third one was, Is this coincidence too good to be true?
Jon turned his attention to the task immediately at hand, the construction of the next supporting frame. Each length of timber was fastened to the next with wooden pegs, no iron nails for this reconstruction.
“Hello?” The voice was barely audible over his sawing. It came from the kitchen. “Anyone around? Hello?”
“Hang on,” Jon shouted. “I’m coming down.”
The stranger had his back to the connecting door and was gazing around the kitchen when Jon entered. The man turned and offered a bright smile. “Hi,” he said. “Lewis Mandineau? I’m Greg Drakowski.”
He held out his hand and Jon shook it automatically, set off-balance by brown eyes beneath dark brows. Brown hair, close-cropped at the sides and a slightly longer fauxhawk over his forehead; a neatly trimmed beard; framed high cheekbones, and a sensuous mouth. A backpack hung from his shoulders, full of something angular and weighty by the look of it.
“Uh, hi,” Jon said, painfully aware the pause had gone on a little too long. So had the handshake. He released Greg’s hand at once. “I’m not Lewis. He isn’t here at the moment, or not available, at least. The restaurant isn’t open yet.”
“I know. I’d heard about the fire on the grapevine—you know how it is.” His smile was guileless, utterly charming, and his slight accent teased Jon’s senses. “I’ve not long finished a project in Alexandria and had to come back home for family reasons. That’s all settled now, and, well, to be frank I need a job. I was hoping I could join the reconstruction team. I have references, commendations and everything with me,” he concluded.
“What was the project?” Jon asked the second question that popped into his head. The second, because the first was entirely inappropriate.
The third one was, Is this coincidence too good to be true?
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My Rating: 5 of 5 stars
Ice hits the ground running with an exciting and emotionally charged intro that instantly draws readers into the story. Jon is a 'what you see is what you get' man who lives a simple life, working with his beloved uncle restoring woodworks and indulging his passion for creating new works of art during his down time. His world is rocked by the sudden appearance of Greg, a delicious brunette who shares many of his endearingly nerdy interests and is infused with a joie de vivre Jon finds unsettling, yet irresistible.
Together, they embark on an adventureful journey of sensuality and self-discovery that threatens to either make or break them. With any luck, they'll end up fitted together as perfectly as the handcrafted timber beams that steadfastly support the Laurels.
The Salisbury series weaves individual threads that represent inhabitants of the Laurels, a historic haven that has weathered the test of time with dignity and strength, into suspenseful, imaginative stories that are an enchanting treat best enjoyed in the order they are written.
Heat (Salisbury Book 1)
On sale for 0.99 cents for a limited time!
Chris Quinton started creating stories not long after she mastered joined-up writing, somewhat to the bemusement of her parents and her English teachers. But she received plenty of encouragement. Her dad gave her an already old Everest typewriter when she was ten, and it was probably the best gift she'd ever received – until the inventions of the home-computer and the worldwide web.
Chris's reading and writing interests range from historical, mystery, and paranormal, to science-fiction and fantasy, writing mostly in the male/male genre. She refuses to be pigeon-holed and intends to uphold the long and honourable tradition of the Eccentric Brit to the best of her ability. In her spare time [hah!] she reads, embroiders, quilts and knits. Over the years she has been a stable lad [briefly] in a local racing stable and stud, a part-time and unpaid amateur archaeologist, a civilian clerk at her local police station and a 15th century re-enactor.
She lives in a small and ancient city in the south-west of the United Kingdom, sharing her usually chaotic home with an extended family, three dogs, a frilled dragon [lizard] and sundry goldfish and tropicals.
RJ Scott is the bestselling gay romance author of over ninety MM romance books. She writes emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, millionaire, princes, and the men who get mixed up in their lives. RJ is known for writing books that always end with a happy ever after. She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn't with family either reading or writing.
RJ's goal is to write stories with a heart of romance, a troubled road to reach happiness, and most importantly, that hint of a happily ever after. The last time she had a week’s break from writing she didn't like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a bottle of wine she couldn’t defeat.
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