Hello and welcome to the Blog Tour for Liar, Liar.
I have always aspired to amorality. Unfortunately, the evidence of a lifetime suggests that I just don’t
have it in me. Unlike Jacob, I’m an awful liar and a premature confessor. So it was fun, for Liar, Liar, to
put on the skin of professional fibber Jacob Archer. He might not be a stranger to the truth, but he does
hide around corners from it a lot.
It was a lot of fun to write, although he’d admit it’s a pretty exhausting way to live!
Anyhow, I hope you give Liar, Liar a go! I enjoyed writing it, and I think people will enjoy reading it. To
whet your appetite, here’s an exclusive glimpse at the characters just before the start of the book.
If Jacob had been planning to pick someone up, he’d have gone to a gay bar. He was a thief not a
gambler, he liked the odds to be in his favour. At The Hideout you had a better chance of getting good
chicken wings than good dick.
On the other hand, he wasn’t going to turn down a sure thing either. And the guy at the other end
of the bar, dark haired and good-looking (enough) in a navy t-shirt and slacks, had been eyeing him up
for the last twenty minutes, ever since his friends left.
Jacob licked grease off his fingers and returned the favour with a lazy appraisal. The guy seemed
like an asshole. Him and his friends had pestered the young server during their meal, all hands and smut.
From the dirty, teary look she was giving him as she cleared the table they’d been at, he’d not left much
of a tip.
Of course, Jacob wasn’t planning on spending a lot of time with him. He popped a last fry in his
mouth and washed it down with a mouthful of beer. There were pros and cons, but in the end…what the
hell. Jacob wanted to stumble back to his apartment smelling like sex for once, instead of cleaning
The waitress had already brought the check. Jacob left a couple of bills to cover it, including a tip,
and stood up. He stretched lazily, enjoying the flex of tendons and the mild fuzz of the booze in his brain, before sauntering over to the bar.
“Congratulations,” he said.
The guy gave him a surprised look. “What?”
“You’re celebrating right?” Jacob smiled easily as he stole the guy’s beer and looked him up and
down. He hazarded a guess. “New job.”
Well. Sort of a ‘guess’. He did do this for a living.
A smug smile curled his target’s mouth. “Close. Promotion.” He absently smoothed his shirt down
over his stomach before he gave Jacob an over-casual nod. “Harry.”
“Ben,” Jacob lied smoothly. Not like ‘Jacob Archer’ was his real name either, but he had to keep
Jacob around for a while. He couldn’t afford to shed him just to get rid of this asshole once he was done.
“Well, I’m sure you deserved it.”
He took a drink of the beer. Harry watched his mouth wrap around the lip of the bottle like he
could feel it on his cock. Sweat soaked the roots of his hair. He was already hooked. Jacob sprawled back
against the bar, his elbows braced against the top, and let Harry reel himself in.
It didn’t long for Harry to work up the nerve to ask, “You wanna go somewhere?”
Jacob rolled his head to the side, it made his bones crackle, and pushed himself off the bar. “Sure,”
he said. “Your place?”
With the promise of getting laid on the cards, Harry didn’t even object when Jacob interrupted him
paying the tab to snag a twenty out of his wallet. He passed it on to the waitress with a wink, and got
the first smile of the evening from her.
“My car’s parked down here,” Harry said once they got outside. He pointed down a narrow alley
that cut through to the main street. “It’s not far.”
Jacob grinned and pushed Harry into the wall. He shoved his hands up under the navy blue t-shirt,
his fingers splayed against the warm skin of Harry’s stomach, and kissed him roughly. The stomach was
nice, hard muscle clenched under Jacob’s fingers, and the kiss was ok.
“Harry? Harry. What the fuck.”
The angry interruption made Harry go rigid, and not in a fun way. He grabbed Jacob’s shoulders, his
fingers clenched hard enough to hurt, and shoved him roughly backwards.
“Get the fuck off me!” he yelled, one hand up to swipe the kiss off his mouth. “What the hell do
you think you’re doing.”
He swung a punch before Jacob could say anything. His fist connected with the point of Jacob’s chin
and sent him spinning to the ground. Jacob hit the concrete hard. His head was spinning and from the
taste of blood in his mouth he’d bitten his tongue.
“He followed me out of the bar,” Harry spluttered his way through his excuses. “Just jumped me
out here. It couldn’t be that cute waitress right?”
His voice cracked as he tried to turn it into a joke. Unfortunately his friends didn’t think it was so
Jacob tried to scramble to his feet but a boot to the gut put him back down again. Well, he
supposed, at least he’d been right about the guy being an asshole.
Check here to find the other extracts: www.nevertobetold.co.uk
Title: Liar, Liar
By TA Moore
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
For some people that means spreadsheets, and for others it’s stitching endless hems. For Jacob Archer a
day at the office is stealing proprietary information from a bioengineering firm for a paranoid software
billionaire. He’s a liar and a thief, parlaying a glib tongue and a facile conscience into a lucrative career.
He just has one rule—never get involved with a mark.
Well, had one rule. To be fair, though, Simon Ramsey is dark, dangerous, and has shoulders like a Greek
statue. Besides, it’s not as though Jacob’s even really stealing from Simon… just his boss and his brother-
in-law. Simon didn’t buy that excuse either after he caught Jacob breaking into the company’s computer
That would have been that—one messy breakup, one ticket to Bali booked—but it turns out that the
stolen information is worth more than Jacob thought. With his life—and his ribs—threatened, Jacob
needs Simon to help him out. Or maybe he just needs Simon.
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
TA Moore genuinely believed that she was a Cabbage Patch Kid when she was a small child. This was the
start of a lifelong attachment to the weird and fantastic. These days she lives in a market town on the
Northern Irish coast and her friends have a rule that she can only send them three weird and disturbing
links a month (although she still holds that a DIY penis bifurcation guide is interesting, not disturbing).
She believes that adding ‘in space!’ to anything makes it at least 40% cooler, will try to pet pretty much
any animal she meets (this includes snakes, excludes bugs), and once lied to her friend that she had
climbed all the way up to Tintagel Castle in Cornwall, when actually she’d only gotten to the beach, realised it was really high, and chickened out.
She aspires to being a cynical misanthrope, but is unfortunately held back by a sunny disposition and an
inability to be mean to strangers. If TA Moore is mean to you, that means you’re friends now.