Today I’d like to welcome my guest, L M Somerton with her wonderful new release ‘The Lucky Cat’. I was fortunate ’nuff to read a preview copy and have included my thoughts below…
Book Title: The Lucky Cat
Author: L M Somerton
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Cover Artist: Louisa Maggio
Release Date: September 1, 2020
Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, thriller/suspense, light BDSM
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 60 343 words/ 241 pages
It is the first book in a new series.
Antiques and ammunition do not mix well.
The antique trade is not known for its life or death excitement and Landry Carran is happy that he has to contend only with furniture polish, woodworm and his irascible boss. He gets all the thrills he needs at his favorite BDSM club, Scorch.
Detective Gage Roskam is hunting stolen jewels taken from a Tokyo exhibition then shipped to Seattle. Mired in a deadly race involving the Yakuza, an enigmatic Englishman and too many indecipherable clues, he doesn’t have time to indulge in Dominant fantasies.
When their worlds collide, neither Landry nor Gage expects things to get quite as complicated—or dangerous—as they do. When Landry steps into the path of some powerful, ruthless people, it’s up to Gage to protect him. Along the way they might just discover what they both need.
The Lucky Cat is a delightful story, witty and warm with a twist in its tale. It has an atmosphere that evokes a 1960’s crime caper; pairing a kooky hero(ine) with a gruff alpha male along the lines of Charade. Landry and Gage may well have been Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant reimagined; their banter was one of my favourite things. The antiques shop itself was the other, depicted so wonderfully well I could almost smell the beeswax.
Landry’s inner-dialogue is a treat to read and I adored his observations and tongue-in-cheek takes on the other characters along the way. The antiques shop setting lends this story a charm as unique as Landry’s own. I adored the store and the foibles of its owner—the irascible Mr Lao—described with such incorrigible aplomb by Landry that his boss felt very present, despite the fact he wasn’t.
While I thoroughly enjoyed the mystery, the unfolding of the plot is p’raps more important than the solving of it. As the key to unlocking this story’s secrets is telegraphed from the start, I doubt that a reader will remain in the dark until its denouement. That said, discerning its location didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the book one bit. It was spending time with the characters that made this story hum along so well, rather than the cogs clicking into place aspect of it.
I’ve promised myself that my reviews will be honest, so I must confess two things:
1) My only quibble is something very specific to me. My catnip is intensity, so I suspect you could read this novel and wonder what I’m waffling on about. Nevertheless, it is the maple syrup that tickles my taste buds, so I feel its absence keenly. If only the intensity had been ratcheted up a tad—the passion made more passionate, the peril more perilous, etc—I would have given The Lucky Cat a five star review. My own proclivities aside, if you prefer a great caper to indulging your egregious emotions in a feel-fest, I highly recommend this story.
2) I am not the best judge of intensity levels. My base camp is the summit of Everest. If you’d rather embark upon an enjoyable adventure with great characters, this Lucky Cat will make an excellent addition to your collection.
Sometimes there were advantages to being vertically challenged. Landry, his ass sticking out from under a seventeenth-century folding card table, paused to contemplate other occasions when his five-feet-six-inch stature had been of benefit. Not when attempting to get served at his favorite leather bar, though getting squished between all those black-clad hunks was always bearable. He snorted. Not when reaching for his preferred brand of chips at the market, which were always on the top shelf. Put there, he was sure, by the snotty assistant manager as revenge for Landry turning down his offer of a quick blow job in the staff restroom. As if. Never at family meals when he got to sit between his older twin brothers like a blond munchkin between two extras from Vikings. He reversed, wiggling his back end to avoid a willow-patterned platter balancing on a brass coal scuttle. His knees ached and he’d banged his elbow on a cast-iron fireguard, but he had rescued the battered cannonball making an escape attempt beneath teetering piles of stock.
“Well, there’s a pretty sight.”
“Hey!” Landry went for indignant rather than flattered. He tried to get up too soon and banged his head on solid, woodworm-free oak. “Fuck me!” He finally made it to open air and scrambled to his feet, rubbing his already messy hair into further disarray.
“Is that a request?”
Landry looked up…and up…into a pair of twinkling pale-blue eyes. The customer, because that was who Landry guessed the newcomer must be, was drop-dead, my-ass-is-yours gorgeous and he was grinning. Well, smirking.
“Funny man. What can I help you with, sir?” Landry gritted his teeth and remembered that Mr. Lao, his boss, would swat him like a bug if he snarked at a potential patron. Though, on this occasion, it might be worth it to mess with the man.
“Another leading question.”
Landry rolled his eyes. Black hair, blue eyes and a stubbled, chiseled chin did not equate to a free pass. “The massage parlor is three doors down, just before St. Peter’s. You can get a full-body whatever then confess all in the space of an hour.” He made an ineffective attempt to brush dust from the knees of his ripped black jeans. Blue Eyes reached into his jacket and produced a wallet, which he opened to display a Seattle PD badge and ID card.
“Gage Roskam. Is your boss around?”
Landry was more turned on than intimidated by the badge. Cop plus handcuffs equaled sexy time. Every cop he’d ever met had had a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude and a natural bent for control—just the type of man Landry liked to mess with. He batted his lashes. “And what makes you think I’m not the boss?”
“You’re not a sixty-eight-year-old Chinese guy by the name of Jian Lao?”
“Very observant, Officer. All that training paid off.” Landry put an extra bit of swing into his hips as he walked toward the cash desk at the rear of the shop.
“Putting your tax dollars to work, brat.”
“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to call me sir, what with you being a public servant and all?”
“In your dreams, and you should show more respect for law enforcement.”
“Gonna make me?”
“You’re lucky I’m on duty or I’d bend you over the nearest flat surface and give you the spanking you’re begging for.”
About the Author
Lucinda lives in a small village in the English countryside, surrounded by rolling hills, cows and sheep. She started writing to fill time between jobs and is now firmly and unashamedly addicted.
She loves the English weather, especially the rain, and adores a thunderstorm. She loves good food, warm company and a crackling fire. She’s fascinated by the psychology of relationships, especially between men, and her stories contain some subtle (and some not so subtle) leanings towards BDSM.