Review of This Other Country by John Wiltshire

By Sue Brown (also published on her blog)
I’m tired and a tad grumpy so I’ve been curled up on the sofa this weekend, reading This Other Country (More Heat Than The Sun#4) by John Wiltshire. I’ve just bought number 5 in the series as well, but I haven’t read it yet. I’ve actually re-read the whole series this weekend but I couldn’t remember if I’d read This Other Country.

Buylinks: MlrBooks | Amazon.com

Nikolas is the sanest, straightest, person he knows, so can anyone tell him, why he’s on a gay therapy course? Nikolas Mikkelsen could make a very long list of unpleasant things he’s endured in his life. Then order it from ‘nearly killed me’ to ‘extremely horrific and don’t want to do again’. And what did it say about his forty-five years that being hit by a tsunami would be a considerable way down this list? But nothing, not torture, imprisonment, nor starvation has prepared him for what he now has to endure for Ben Rider’s sake-attendance on a residential, gay therapy course. At least he has a new contender for the top spot on his ‘my awful life’ list.  

Review of the series: I have a love-hate relationship with this series, and This Other Country is no exception. I love the relationship between Nikolas and Ben, I love the banter, the hot sex, the angst, the secondary characters, the dog etc., but the plots drive me slightly insane, as it’s like reading James Bond meets Strike Back on crack. Honestly though, if I hang up my disbelief on the nearest peg, I’m hooked to every single word. I’ve bought every book and will continue to read it to the end, because even though it drives me insane I love More Heat Than The Sun. I think you need to have read the previous 3 books to have a clue what This Other Country is about and I’m not about to spoil the plot. So go buy the series. Now!

Excerpt:

“Come in, gentlemen, please. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
The doctor held the door for the two men who walked into his office from the plush waiting room. They both towered over him, although at five foot eleven he’d never thought of himself as short. They wouldn’t have struck him at first glance as either gay or a couple, and as his speciality was relationship counselling for gay men, he considered himself something of an expert. One of the men was incredibly striking: scarred with an aggressive, impatient air about him. Dressed in what the doctor immediately recognised as bespoke tailoring, he appeared the more dominant, coming through the door without apparently considering allowing his partner in first. He chose and took a seat without being asked, which in the doctor’s view was unusual in these circumstances.
The second man was extraordinarily beautiful. It was the only way anyone could describe him. He had wide-set green eyes in a smooth face with cheekbones that drew the gaze, until he smiled, and then that was the only place you could look. The doctor had counselled thousands of gay men, but he’d never had one so attractive in his office before. He shook himself slightly and noted more professionally that this man was some years younger than his partner and was dressed in ripped jeans and an old T-shirt that had clearly seen many washes. He was vaguely familiar, as were a lot of the doctor’s clients. Again, this went with the territory, given he ran, amongst other things, a counselling service for men in sexual crisis from one of the smartest addresses in London-he had a lot of celebrity clients. These men didn’t glance at each other as they sat opposite him, and he noted they leant slightly away from the other’s chair, as if mere physical presence were oppressive.
Given all these considerations, he decided he’d never met a more mismatched couple in his many years in the business, and that he had his work cut out for him. There was nothing like a challenge to start the day.
The scarred man was now studying the certificates and framed photographs on the wall, his hands relaxed in his lap. Trying to decide an appropriate opener, the doctor couldn’t get a reading off him at all. It was as if the blond giant were there in body alone: he exuded no discernable emotion whatsoever. The younger man was far easier to read. He was staring at his nails, picking at the side of one of them, his foot tapping on the carpet. The doctor decided to go with something very simple. “Gentlemen, to start with, I’ll outline how I like to work. This isn’t an easy process by any means, and it’s very important you’re both comfortable where we go on this journey and with the vehicle we choose to-”
“Please be concise, Doctor.”
His mouth still open a little from the interruption, attempting to untangle the heavily accented vowels, the doctor coughed to cover his annoyance with the blond-haired man who hadn’t even had the courtesy to turn from his examination of the certificates. “Yes, thank you. I’d like us to all talk together for a while, but then I think it’s always beneficial for me to speak with you one to one. It gives each partner the freedom to express-”
“I’m not comfortable with that.” The scarred face turned to him at last. The amber eyes were cold with remote calculation. The doctor raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t used to being challenged like this so early in his sessions. Most men coming for couples’ therapy were far more nervous and unsure of themselves. He coughed lightly again and glanced at his notes. “Mr Mikkelsen. I assure you, it-”
“We speak together, or we don’t speak at all.”
“Don’t answer for me. You’re always doing that!” The younger man shot the older one a furious glance then added a little contritely, “I think it’s a good idea to have a chance to speak separately. That way we can-”
The older man interjected a harsh, barked laugh. “That way you can tell him all the terrible things I do and say? I don’t think so.”
“Gentlemen, please. Can we focus for a moment on why we’re here? Put aside your anger. You’ve made an important first step by booking this appointment. It shows you’re trying to move forward. Let’s not waste this opportunity. I want you each to think about why you agreed to come here today and let the other know what you want out of this session. Ben, may I call you Ben? Perhaps you’d like to go first.”
“I just want him to-”
“Use his name, please.”
“I want Nikolas to decide what he fucking wants. I want a boyfriend-not an employer with an overactive cock.”
“Don’t swear at me. And don’t be crude.”
“You’re not my boss anymore! Stop telling me what to do!”
“Right. Mr Mikkelsen, Nikolas, perhaps you’d like to tell us why you agreed to come here?”
“I agreed to come here because if I didn’t I would probably not get laid tonight.”
Ben stood up. Folding his arms, he walked to the window. The doctor frowned deeply. “Ben, honesty is always good, even when something is just said in jest…”
“Who said I’m joking?” The older man crossed his legs and checked his watch. “I have another appointment in half an hour. Can we please speed this up a little?”
The young man turned. “Why don’t you just fuck off then? You’re not taking this seriously. You’ve never taken one thing seriously in the whole time I’ve known you.”
“As usual you exaggerate. I take your moods very seriously. I have to live with them, after all.”
Ben sat back down, seemingly a little recovered in nerve. “No, actually, you don’t. Why don’t you go back to your wife? You give her more respect than you’ve ever given me.”
The doctor leant forward, scanning his notes very quickly as he did so. “You’re married?”
Nikolas pursed his lips as if he didn’t like the conversation going this way or being put under the spotlight. The younger one laughed. “Yeah. Exactly.” He turned toward the doctor and explained bitterly, “He’s supposed to be divorced, but all of a sudden he’s decided he doesn’t want a boyfriend-a relationship. Says he’s not gay. Says he’s thinking of going back to his wife. Spends the weekends with her.” He actually used air quotes to underline his frustration.
The doctor leant back once more and steepled his fingers against his lips, tapping them. “This isn’t so uncommon. I’ve had many patients in your position, Nikolas. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He consulted his notes once more. “Do you live together?”
The younger man huffed. “Sometimes. When he’s not back shacking up with the corgi.”
“Please, Ben, try to speak more in terms of how Nikolas’s behaviour affects you rather than attacking him.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you exactly how it affects me. It pisses me off. I don’t want a part-time boyfriend.” He brushed his knee deceptively casually. “There are plenty of other guys more than happy to take on that role full-time…”
The older man glanced at him and sneered in a low voice, “Blackmail now, Benjamin? You’re behaving like a sulky little boy, and I’m tired of it. You’ve been more than happy to share my bed-and whore around on my money-when it suits you. Well it suits me to have you still in my bed. That’s why I agreed to come here today.” At that, he crossed his arms and seemed to emotionally withdraw from any further involvement in the session, staring once more at the wall of photographs.
The young man shrugged, picking at a thread in the torn knee of his jeans. He began to say something, but suddenly the other man rose and interjected abruptly, “Come, we’re going.”
“Wh-? But I want-”
“If you want a free ride then I suggest you come now. If not, you’ll have to make your own way back. Good day, Doctor. This session has been extremely illuminating.”
The doctor stood uncertainly, shook the offered hand and watched as the impeccably dressed man left. He stared at the younger one for a while who mumbled in obvious embarrassment, “I’d better go. I-I didn’t bring my wallet…”
The doctor watched him move towards the door then ventured, “Ben? My best advice? Consider finding yourself one of those other boyfriends you mentioned…”
The young man smiled weakly and headed out to the adjoining room. The older man hadn’t waited for him.
It was the first time Doctor Julian Wood had ever counselled a couple to split. But as he’d thought earlier, they were the most unsuited couple he’d ever met.
Unsuited for each other.
Perfect, perhaps, for his requirements.

 

COMING SOON: CAGES – CATHEDRAL CITY (PALM SPRINGS PI STORY 2) BY ALEX IRONROD

Blurb:

Dan’s BDSM past as a Marine threatens his relationship with Mark, his professional and leathersex partner as the two hunky young Palm Springs private eyes wrestle with the cages, real and imaginary, in the violence of mixed martial arts and in the human mind.

Set in the different worlds of the Marince Corps and mixed martial arts, “Cages – Cathedral City” is the second BDSM mystery involving buff Palm Springs private eyes and leathersex partners Dan and Mark.

Cages come in different forms – the ring for violent MMA contests, the iron-barred narrow cells for defiant captives, and the imaginary cages the mind creates to torment men. Dan and Mark will experience all three over time as the actions moves from Camp Pendleton, California to Berlin and back to the community of Cathedral City.

Will the darkness of violence and decadence overpower the light of determination and devotion?

Available at MLR Press

COMING SOON: RAINBOW CONNECTION BY ALEXA MILNE

Blurb:

Two men, one with a past, and one determined to give them a future, together.

Mick Flanagan has kept himself hidden since his only lover died three years ago. He works at night, keeps to his routine, has impressive facial hair, and avoids contact with other people. Enter Ceri Llewellyn, with his constantly changing rainbow-coloured hair, who seems determined to talk to him. Gradually, Mick tells his story and begins to trust Ceri, but Mick has a past that contains more than just a dead lover. Can Ceri show him that he deserves to be loved and, above all else, help him find his true self?

Coming soon from MLR Press

Today is Charlie Cochrane Day: Giveaway of Horns and Haloes

Today I have one of my favourite authors, Charlie Cochrane, on the blog. She is offering a giveaway of a copy of her book, Horns and Haloes, published by MLR Press. Charlie assures me school governors can be sexy! Leave a message with your email below to enter the draw. Do you remember the governors at your school? What were they like? The draw will be picked on Tuesday 15th April at midday GMT.

Horns_and_Haloes_1_16_2014

 

What do you do when finding a new boyfriend is like conducting a job interview?It’s Jamie’s idea of torture—a training course about selection and interviewing and on February the fourteenth! Everybody’s going to be full of romance and he’ll be playing gooseberry as usual. When Jamie finds himself sitting next to the gorgeous Alex, who seems to hate the day as much as Jamie does, will he turn out to be the ideal candidate for the vacant position of boyfriend?
Who’d want to be a school governor? No pay, little thanks, plenty of red tape. And yet they’d all volunteered to be on this course. Altruistic. Or gluttons for punishment. And on Valentine’s Day, just to rub things in.
“So just work with the person next to you.”
The tutor’s words brought Jamie back to the present with a bump. Work with the person next to you to do what?
“I hope you know the answers because I’m stuck.” The bloke next to Jamie — Alex, according to the hand written sticker on his shirt — grinned and brandished a worksheet.
“I do, but only because I’ve done this bit before, on another course.” Jamie returned the smile.
“You write the answers in, and I’ll read them and try to look intelligent.” Alex’s eyes twinkled.
Why weren’t there any blokes like this on the Cattlebridge Primary Governing Body, with brown eyes lively enough to make the interminable meetings worth sitting through?
“Deal. They’ll give us an answer sheet later, anyway.” Jamie scribbled down some key words, just so it wasn’t obvious that his mind wasn’t on the questions.
“I don’t think they’ll let me have one, punishment for sneaking in late.” Alex smiled again.
Jamie filled in some more answers, trying hard not to write “Do not flirt” on the page.
What point would there be in flirting, anyway? Alex was bound to be married, with two kids in school and one more to come. Typical parent governor. The handsome ones always were.


Excerpt:

“Direct or indirect discrimination related to protected characteristics is illegal at any stage of the recruitment process.”

“Protected characteristics.” Score one for the buzzword list. Jamie tried to keep a straight face, but it wasn’t easy.

“A candidate’s gender or sexual orientation is less important than the impact they’ll have on standards in your school.”

“Sexual orientation” and “impact on standards.” Two more phrases for Jamie to mark off his hypothetical card. If he got a full house, would he be allowed to shout “bingo”?

He took what he hoped was a casual glance around the room, to see if anyone else looked like they were feeling a bit cynical, but most of the other course delegates appeared gravely interested, as though showing any degree of ennui was itself discriminatory. There were the odd one or two who clearly disapproved of anything smacking of political correctness – you could spot them a mile off – but Jamie wasn’t in the mood for fighting them, even if he’d needed to. The woman leading the training had already administered more than one metaphorical slap to the wrist, so the dinosaurs would soon keep their heads down, with any luck.

Jamie decided he’d cut the non-dinosaurs a bit of slack, given that they’d probably not come across any of this stuff before, and people were getting very twitchy about possible court cases. His governing body had gone over some of the work when the Equalities Act came out, but it was likely to be all new and frightening to the other people on the course, especially when the terrible realisation struck that if they didn’t play everything absolutely straight, their school would be up in front of some sort of tribunal – worse still, all over the local papers – accused of prejudice.

Who’d want to be a school governor? No pay, little thanks, plenty of red tape. And yet they’d all volunteered to be on this course. Altruistic. Or gluttons for punishment. And on Valentine’s Day, just to rub things in.

“So just work with the person next to you.”

The tutor’s words brought Jamie back to the present with a bump. Work with the person next to you to do what?

“I hope you know the answers because I’m stuck.” The bloke next to Jamie – Alex, according to the hand written sticker on his shirt – grinned and brandished a worksheet.

“I do, but only because I’ve done this bit before, on another course.” Jamie returned the smile.

“You write the answers in, and I’ll read them and try to look intelligent.” Alex’s eyes twinkled.

Why weren’t there any blokes like this on the Cattlebridge Primary Governing Body, with brown eyes lively enough to make the interminable meetings worth sitting through?

“Deal. They’ll give us an answer sheet later, anyway.” Jamie scribbled down some key words, just so it wasn’t obvious that his mind wasn’t on the questions.

“I don’t think they’ll let me have one, punishment for sneaking in late.” Alex smiled again.

Jamie filled in some more answers, trying hard not to write “Do not flirt” on the page.

What point would there be in flirting, anyway? Alex was bound to be married, with two kids in school and one more to come. Typical parent governor. The handsome ones always were.

“Which school are you at?” Alex asked.

“Cattlebridge Primary. Community Governor.” Drafted in because his mother was pals with the Chair of Governors, a woman who was desperate to get some young blood on a board dominated by people who either wanted to bring back the cane or spend every meeting picking apart the three pound seventy five overspend on glue sticks. “You?”

“St. Paul’s, Heathfield. Foundation governor. The vicar put me in a half Nelson until I volunteered.” Alex reached across and picked up the worksheet. “Looks like you’ll get ten out of ten. Glad I sat here -I’ll copy off you.”

“Feel free.” Don’t flirt, Jamie reminded himself. Even if by some miracle he isn’t straight, he won’t fancy you. The nice ones never do.

Old bossyboots at the front of the room clapped her hands, as if she was addressing seven year olds.

“Sit up straight and behave,” Alex hissed out of the side of his mouth, “or else we’ll get detention.”

“We’ll just go through the answers,” Bossyboots said, brightly. “Sorry to be making you work so hard when you’d probably rather be out buying boxes of chocolates or receiving them,” she added, with a simpering grin.

“And if she mentions bloody Valentine’s Day once more,” Alex hissed again, “I’ll…”

Bossyboots giving him the sort of look which could have curdled milk at ten yards stopped Alex in his tracks.

“Detention for certain,” Jamie whispered, with a snigger.

Author bio:

As Charlie Cochrane couldn’t be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice–like managing a rugby team–she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she’s making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She’s even been known to write about gay werewolves–albeit highly respectable ones.

She was named Author of the Year 2009 by the review site Speak Its Name but her family still regard her writing with a fond indulgence, just as she prefers.

Happily married, with a house full of daughters, Charlie tries to juggle writing with the rest of a busy life. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby and a church service in the evening.