Ally – Page 13 – A. L. Lester

Victorian Nurses in the British Army

The Quid Pro Quo is the second in the Bradfield trilogy, although it will stand alone. It’s set a few months after the end of The Fog of War and stars Sylvia’s friend Walter Kennett, and Simon Frost, a detective who comes to Bradfield to investigate a murder. It’s a gay, historical, paranormal, romantic murder-mystery with a m/transm couple set in rural England in 1920.

One of the things I researched when I was beginning to think about Walter’s background was exactly what training he’d have had as a nurse (or an orderly) in the British army. The answer to that question was ‘not a great deal’ in that Victorian army nurses seemed to have been expected to pick things up as they went along. Before the advent of Florence Nightingale and her cohort during the Crimean War in the mid-nineteenth century, nurses had all been men and they had been attached to individual regiments.

Outrage at the terrible conditions in the Crimea led to the development of a Medical Staff Corps in 1855, which recruited ‘Men able to read and write, of regular steady habits and good temper and of a kindly disposition’. This was renamed the Army Hospital Corps in 1857 and reverted back to being the Medical Staff Corps again in 1884*. Confusingly, the medical officers were known as the Medical Staff…and in 1898, the Medical Staff Corps and the Medical Staff were combined into Royal Army Medical Corps.

This is where Walter comes in.

In my head, he joins up as the two organisations are being merged together and he sort of slips through the gaps, staying hidden as a trans man with the help of the doctor who did his medical when he recruited him and possibly with a bit of a blind eye being turned by his army mates. He serves in the Boer War in South Africa and subsequently all over the British Empire before ending up at Sylvia’s hospital in France in World War One. By the time we meet him 1920, he’s forty and had served in the army for twenty-one years.

That brings me to a really interesting blog post about male nurses in the 1920s I found at This Intrepid Band-a blog dedicated to the history of military nursing. Nursing regulation was pretty slapdash until the end of the First World War. Hospitals trained nurses for between one and three years and gave them a certificate. But…anyone could call themselves a nurse even without that training.

After 1919, that changed. I won’t replicate all the qualifying criteria here, you can read it at This Intrepid Band if you want to…but Walter would have fallen under the ‘three years military experience’ criteria. However, as a man, he would have been singularly alone. Even in 1928, although there were forty thousand women on the new register, there were only two hundred men.

I don’t know whether there were any male nurses working at village practices in the early twenties; but I suspect it’s very unlikely. Most of the nurses in 1928 were in prisons or mental hospitals, presumably dealing with men who were considered dangerous and perhaps unsafe for women nurses to care for. Walter’s like Sylvia though, in that he feels that he’s done his bit keeping other people safe and looking after strangers. He wants to be part of a community and part of family as much as he can. So a small village, with his friends, suits him fine.

I hope you like his story!

The Quid Pro Quo

Village nurse Walter Kennett is content with his makeshift found family in tiny Bradfield. However, when a body is found floating in the village duck pond one midsummer morning, danger arrives too.

Between his attraction to detective Simon Frost, concealing Sylvia and Lucy’s relationship and not knowing how much to reveal about the paranormal possibilities of the murder, Walter is torn all ways.

The Quid Pro Quo is a 50,000 word romantic historical paranormal murder-mystery set in 1920s rural England where nearly everyone is queer and the main couple is m/transm.

Amazon : JMS Books : Everywhere Else

(Some of this post was published as a guest post at Addison Albright’s blog in November ’21)

Ofelia Grand and The Drunken Dog

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Ally, for letting me drop by again. I’m trying to remember when I was here last and what I talked about then.

Bragging was what I was doing 😁 (You’re always welcome anyway, Ofelia!)

I talked about how my alter ego, Holly Day, had written 12 stories in 12 months – we’re working on story number 18 in 18 months now. I submitted Holly’s May story – a story for World Naked Gardener Day, and it’s all Ally’s fault (This is actually true, sorry – Ally) – a few days ago, and I’m now working on the June story.

But just like last time I was here, I have a new story out, and it’s one of those either-or stories that JMS Books have every other month. This time the call was for either Sugar or Spice stories. I went with Spice.

In a way, I’ve messed up. Last time I was here, I talked about The Ruby Tooth, which was a Naughty or Nice story. This time I have The Drunken Dog. Both stories have shifters and fated mates, and both stories are named after pubs, but they’re not in a series. If I’d been thinking, I’d have turned them into a series, but I wasn’t thinking.

I have a super short story called Cup o’ Sugar. Cup o’ Sugar is a cafe where Sam works, and Sam happens to be Roarak’s mate. Roarak is the alpha of the Halfhide pack – a werewolf pack.

The Drunken Dog is about Zev, who also is a member of the Halfhide pack, though he’s not really a werewolf. The stories are very loosely linked, and I intend for all the stories I write about members from Roarak’s pack to be standalone.

In April, The Cake Shop will be released. It’s about York, another member of the pack, and The Cake Shop is a bakery. So, all the stories in this series are named after establishments, they’re all similar, and at a glance, you’d think The Ruby Tooth would be part of it, but it’s not.

I usually pride myself on having a plan, but… Hindsight is a bitch.

But enough about me nagging about what-ifs and regrets. Do you want to read an excerpt from The Drunken Dog?

I picked a part where Zev is at The Drunken Dog and talks to Otis, who is a vampire. I’ve thrown all kinds of monsters into these stories. Zev, for example, is a cú sídhe which is a mythological hound from Irish folklore. They’re huge moss-green beasts the size of a cow that bark three times – maybe I should’ve talked about that instead of ranting about titles LOL

Excerpt from The Drunken Dog

Zev pushed open the door to The Drunken Dog, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it mostly empty, but disappointment quickly followed. He’d hoped Otis would be here. The image of him twirling his glass and smiling at Zev had popped up in his mind more times than he could count, and he wanted to talk to him again, preferably without a crowd around. Otis wasn’t the only reason he’d come, though.
He grabbed the first stool he could find, placed his elbows on the bar, and rested his head in his hands.
It had been five days since he’d been there. It was the longest he’d been away since he’d found it, but today he needed a drink in the worst way.
He and Roarak had been building a carport when three wolves from the Bloodclaw pack who controlled the eastern part of the city had shown up. There had been taunts and posturing and when one of the Bloodclaws had threatened to take Sam—Roarak’s mate—the shit had hit the fan.
Roarak had clawed one of them, and Zev suspected there would be repercussions. When one of the Bloodclaws had gone for him, he’d flashed teeth. He hadn’t flashed teeth in years.
The way the wolf had backed away formed a knot in Zev’s gut. He shouldn’t have shown his teeth. Now he’d made their pack more of a target.
Roarak had clapped his shoulder and told him they had to go home to inform the others and set up a schedule to guard Sam. Zev always kept his distance from Sam, not because he disliked him, but Sam was a precog, and Zev feared he’d be able to tell things about him if he stayed close.
“What can I get you?”
Zev raised his head to meet Gerald’s gaze. “Whiskey.”
“Rough day?”
Zev sighed and eyed Gerald. Did he know about what went bump in the night? He most likely did. The way he’d told Zev he didn’t want any trouble made him think he did.
“The worst.”
Gerald tilted his head. “Anything I should know about?”
Ah, definitely someone aware of there being things going on in the city that didn’t show on the surface. Zev shrugged. “Nah, I think you’re fine.” He hoped.
The bar was in their area, or the area they considered theirs—the Bloodclaws didn’t agree.
“Internal or external problems?”
Zev grinned. “You surprise me, Gerald.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling. “There’s more to me than meets the eye.”
Zev snorted. “You’re human.”
“I am, but I’ve known Otis a long time, and I’ve owned this bar for a long, long time.” He poured Zev’s whiskey. “I should retire, but I worry.”
“About?”
“Otis. This is where he comes when he starts over. I don’t know where he’d end up if I closed.”
Zev frowned. Otis had lived far longer than Gerald had. “I’m sure he’d be fine.”
Gerald shook his head. “He doesn’t have anyone. He hides from other…” He looked around. “…of his kind, and—” He shook his head.
“And?” Hides? His heart beat faster. Was Otis in danger? He should come by more often just to make sure he was okay.
“I know he can take care of himself, he’s no fool, but he’s vulnerable.”
“You’re his dayman?”
“Dayman?”
“You’re not.” Zev took a sip of the whiskey.
“I don’t think he has one.”
“Then he is vulnerable.”
“Who is?” Otis swept in through the door and leaned against the bar next to Zev. Zev turned on his stool to invite Otis to come closer. “Good morning. You’re up early.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar. The sun had set ten minutes ago.
“I woke up thirsty. Rum, please, Gerald.”
Zev narrowed his eyes. “Should you start your day with alcohol?”
“You’re willing to donate something more substantial?”
For a second, Zev considered it, but one sip and Otis would know he wasn’t a normal shifter. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Otis pursed his lips. “But you’re not repulsed by it?”
Repulsed? “Why would I be?”
“Shifters normally are. Killing cute, innocent bunnies when running around as wolf is fine and dandy, but taking a sip from someone’s neck or elsewhere—” He wiggled his eyebrows. “—is appalling.”
Zev chuckled and shook his head. Heat shot through him as he pictured Otis’ mouth on him. “Nah, you’re fine with me.” He shouldn’t have said that. “Are you sure you should be drinking rum before breakfast? Don’t you have a donor on your payroll?” He’d believed all vampires had donors at hand.
“Are you my mother? I have no memory of her, but I find it hard to believe she’d look like you.”
Zev shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”
“No, I don’t think there ever will be one for me. We turn to ash, you know.”
Zev rubbed his forehead. He didn’t have the energy to keep up the banter.
Otis stiffened, and Zev instantly looked around the room in search of a threat.
“You smell wrong.”
“What?” Zev gave up on finding a threat by the empty tables and looked at Otis.
“You smell… Your scent is spicy or it was spicy the other day, now it’s woodsier.”
Stupidly, Zev pulled in a breath. “I’ve been working with wood.”
“No, that’s not it.” Otis’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been around wolves? Other wolves, I mean?”
“Well, yeah, I live with five of them.”

The Drunken Dog

Zev Nightfall has a secret. For two years, he’s been the beta in a loosely knitted werewolf pack, but he’s not a werewolf. He’s a crossbreed, part wolf, part fae, which is a death sentence in most packs. That’s not his only problem. One night he meets Otis, a vampire. Shifters and vampires aren’t friends, yet fighting is the last thing on Zev’s mind.

Otis Miller is in the middle of rebuilding his rockstar persona. Again. A hundred years ago, all he had to do was to move when people started noticing him not ageing. With cameras and social media, it doesn’t work anymore, and he isn’t sure he has the energy to start over. Then there is the shifter coming to the bar where he’s singing. He makes Otis want to jump off the stage and never look back.

Zev knows he shouldn’t get involved with a vampire; he has enough problems as it is. But Otis is alone and vulnerable, and it tugs at Zev’s heartstrings. Normally, Otis stays away from other supernatural beings, but something about Zev makes him want to curl up on his lap and forget about the world around them. But how would two people from enemy species make things work, and will Zev’s pack ever accept not only a crossbreed but a vampire as well?

JMS Books

Amazon

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About Ofelia

Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes romance, contemporary, paranormal, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.

Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.

When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from her husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods…if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.

Find Ofelia on social media

Blog :: Newsletter :: Instagram :: Facebook Page :: Facebook Profile :: Goodreads :: Bookbub :: Pinterest

Jaymie Wagner: Interview and her debut release, Orphan’s Cry

Today we welcome debut author Jaymie Wagner to the blog. Jaymie, welcome! Thank you so much for visiting. Do you have any particular reason for popping in today?

I have my first novel, Orphan’s Cry, being published by JMS Books at the end of February! Even better, it’s the first book in a trilogy, so I’m pretty excited about going from 0 published novels to 3 by the end of this year.

More importantly – I’m doing this because I love these characters and their story, and I am hoping that you will too.

What started you writing?

I loved stories as a kid, and my parents taught me to read at a pretty early age so they could share their love of books with me.

I started writing down the stories I came up with as soon as I learned how to, and I’ve never really stopped since.

Where do you write?

I have a beautiful old wooden roll top desk that I inherited from my grandparents, who got it from my great grandfather. It’s nearly 150 years old and I have so many good memories of watching my grandmother using it when she was writing letters, or my grandfather using the computer they eventually kept in it to check his golf league scores.

Every time I sit down with it, I get a big hit of nostalgia and love, and it helps kickstart my writing.

Before I got the desk, I would keep my laptop with me and basically write wherever I was when I felt the inspiration to do so – or write notes to myself on my phone when I didn’t have it with me!

(I think the best story I can tell you was when I got the idea for a short story while hiking in Appalachia, and I literally sat down on a rock and wrote the first ~1000 words on my phone then and there because I didn’t want to lose it!)

What do you like to read?

Fantasy and Sci-fi books were my first love, and will always have a special place in my heart, but I’ve gotten fascinated by non-fiction works that dig into why people do things, and how we are shaped by our communities, environments, and intersectional factors.

I read an amazing book recently called The Alchemy of Us by Ainissa Ramierz that talks about how the things we create and shape also shape us in turn, and it was fascinating!

What are the three books you’d take to a desert island? Why would you choose them?

An omnibus edition of Lois McMaster Bujold’s Vorkosigan Saga. As someone who was born disabled, Miles Vorkosigan was a hero I could see myself in when I started reading the books as a kid, and as I have gotten older they still resonate deeply. When I transitioned, I chose my new middle name (Delia) in honor of Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, who I think is a great role model for the woman I want to be when I grow up.
The Hobbit. When my family took our first “big trip” together that didn’t involve driving to see my grandparents, my dad bought the BBC radio audio drama of the unabridged Hobbit (six tapes!) and we listened to it as we drove from our house in Ohio to a vacation in Virginia. I have a lot of good memories of listening to those tapes, and it was one of the first books I read cover to cover by myself.
Every Tool’s A Hammer, Adam Savage’s biography. I was a huge fan of Mythbusters for both the explosions and the problem solving, and I ended up following Adam on social media and his Tested video channel where he continues to share builds, tools, talks through problem solving and shows off the neat stuff he finds. I love how inspired and energetic he can be about the simplest things, and hey, if I’m stuck on a desert island, I bet he’s got some plans for a duct tape house in there…

Writing is an intrinsically solo occupation. Do you belong to any groups or associations, either online or in the ‘real’ world? How does that work for you?

I really enjoy both writing and reading fanfiction, so I’m in a few different discord servers here and there for both authors and fandoms I enjoy. It can be fun to fangirl, vent, or just sit around and bitch / brainstorm there and see what happens!

I’m friends in real life with some wonderfully talented authors (Lucy A. Snyder, Sarah Hans, Gary Braunbeck, and more) and I like getting together physically or virtually to just hang out and have fun too, but I am not part of other groups – yet.

Once the novel is released I will qualify for SFWA and RWA memberships, so I’ll apply for those as well. It never hurts to have more resources at your disposal!

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

Oh goodness. So many things!

I paint miniatures as a hobby, particularly Battletech, and love to build Gundam models, hence my collection of tiny giant robots. I live with two cats, Mr. B and Rocket, who are respectively a massive asshole and a ginger himbo. My partners, Dee and Katherine, have their own place which they share with five cats, Dee’s support dog, Timbit, and a hedgehog named Swirl – Timbit has basically adopted me, the hedgehog enjoys climbing up into my hair while Dee’s younger spawn cleans her tank, and the cats have deemed me tolerable, which I will take. 🙂

I love to cook, even though my disability sometimes makes it more difficult than I would like, and I enjoy lots of different shows and movies on Netflix, Hulu, and other services. Dee in particular is a big fan of disaster movies, and I love watching her watching them!

As far as learning something new, my parents used to make me do violin lessons when I was a kid, which I eventually stopped as I got older. Early in 2020, a friend bought a new electric violin and I was struck with an urge to play one, so I ended up getting back into the art with a local teacher who could do video call lessons, and I performed a solo piece for a recital last November!

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it? How long did it take to write? What did you enjoy about writing it? What did you hate?

Orphan’s Cry is the tale of Leah, a Royal Mail letter carrier who was bitten by a werewolf a year and a half before the book begins, and has been trying to hide her condition ever since.

To her great surprise, it turns out that she’s nowhere near the only werewolf in London, and that she was hiding so well that she never realized there was a whole community out there able to help her!

I enjoy messing around with tropes and conventions, and it’s fun to tilt things on their head and see what happens from there.

(One of the best pieces of writing advice I ever got was to create a character that you love, and then figure out what the worst thing you can do to them is. Bang! Instant plot ideas!)

I brainstormed the general shape of the story with a few friends at the end of 2016 and started writing it in 2017. When I finally finished with the stories I wanted to tell at the end of 2019 it was a 200k word monster, and it took another year or so of editing and rewriting to shape it into a trilogy of books. The first one focuses on Leah, another on her friend (and eventual lover) Amélie, and the final book ties all the threads I’ve woven into them together with a focus on their pack leader and girlfriend Amy – and the prophecy that all three have a part in.

(Oops. Did I say too much there…? I guess you’ll have to read and decide what you think!)

I loved writing the dialogue in the story. Leah’s status as a fish out of water means she’s going to need to learn a lot of things over the course of the first book, and I needed to keep that interesting! Thankfully I had a lot of character voices to work with, and more than a bit of good old fashioned smartassery I can rely on in a pinch.

I think the only thing I hated during the course of taking this from an idea to a published book was the inevitable rejections when I started to put it out there. With them came a lot of useful feedback that I was able to use to make the eventual result better, but it’s never fun to pour your heart into something for several years and then be told it’s not what they’re looking for.

Orphans Cry

Six months ago Leah Corbyn was bitten by a “dog.” Two weeks later, the full moon’s rise revealed she’s now a werewolf.

After spending six months trying to hide her secret in the city of London, Leah is about to learn she isn’t alone … but that knowledge comes with new responsibilities, and new dangers.

As Leah finds solace in her girlfriend’s arms, she must find her place among the wolves of Londinium, but can she prove herself in time?

Amazon

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Find Jaymie

Twitter : Goodreads : Email

The Flowers of Time: Deleted Scene

Look what I found! I’ve been trying to organise my documents folder a bit–don’t laugh, I bet you’ve all been there–and I found this deleted scene from the the first draft of The Flowers of Time.

The Flowers of Time. A determined lady botanist and a non-binary explorer. Mystery, suspense, monsters and romance in England and the Himalayas in 1780.

My first draft was a mess, honestly. I wrote it over a long period, some of which was during the three weeks I spent in a specialist hospital unit trying to get my seizures sorted–and there were quite a few repeated scenes and double-ups that eventually got chopped out.

Sometimes taking things out is fine, I can see the story will run more smoothly and effectively and I have no emotional attachment to the words I’m deleting. And sometimes I can see that things need to come out and it still really hurts to pull them. This was one of the latter.

Here Edie, our plucky botanical-artist heroine is well on the way to becoming a seasoned traveller. I wanted the physical journeys the characters made (to England for Jones and to India for Edie and then on over the mountains together) to reflect their character growth. There were a lot of strands to plait together and I said quite a few things more than once and had a lot of scenes in there that didn’t move the story forward. This really slowed things down–it’s basically an info-dump about Edie’s initial experience of India, which is interesting if you’re a history nerd (raises hand) and in love with Edie (raises other hand) but less useful to a reader who wants to find out what’s going on for goodness sake! rather than read a history book.

So here we have a deleted scene…part of Edie’s journey.

Despite their father’s occupation as a navy captain and two of her brothers following the same profession, and despite her mother’s early married years taking place on the oceans on board her father’s ship, Edie had never left dry land before this adventure. It had been a terrifying and amazing journey. The cramped quarters and frankly noxious living conditions had been a revelation. She had much more sympathy with her father and brothers now she had lived for a few months in the way they did their whole lives. It had taken seven months from leaving Portsmouth on the Athena to their arrival in Bombay. She had spent the time sewing rough hessian and linen in to bags that would hopefully help to keep alive the plant specimens she planned to send home by retaining moisture round the roots.

When they finally arrived at Bombay it had been a feast to her sense-starved self. The sea-voyage had been magnificent, but the ship was so confining. She wanted to be off seeing the countryside, drinking in all the new experiences she could.
She had left the practical travel arrangements to Bennett and Henry since they seemed to wish to be busy and were dismissive of her assistance. They had procured good quality square tents, one for each of them, a folding camp bed each, some stools and chairs that also folded and the various bedding and cooking accoutrements that were necessary. There were conical tents for the servants and Carruthers’ assistants to sleep in and some mules and camels to carry everything. All in all there were a couple of dozen in their party, which included a handful of Company Lieutenants that were both to assist Carruthers in his geographical and astronomical measurements and serve to protect them.

She had refused to travel in a litter around the city or on their journey like the few other British ladies. Most of them thought her peculiar. Why take up the time of four men though, when she could just as well ride her own horse? She found the handful of ladies married to the East India Company men a little tedious, if she was honest with herself. The whole of the John Company, really. They were very concerned with keeping up standards as though they were in London and had seized on her the moment she had crossed the pounding surf in the small boats that ferried passengers and goods from ship to shore, wanting to know the latest gossip and fashions.
More interesting were the ladies who were not quite ladies, married to some of the soldiers and lesser Company employees.

There had been a pair of sisters on the ship who had been going out to join their cousin. Because Edie had left her maid at home, she had engaged both of them to help her with her toilette aboard ship. Their cousin was married to a soldier and ran a millinery shop. Both sisters were hoping to find husbands. One was a seamstress who would to join her cousin’s business and the other was a baker who was hoping to open her own patisserie near the Company accommodations. There were a number of women in equivalent trades in the small British community and to Edie, their way of life seemed much more sensibly geared to the foreign heat and customs than that of the greater ladies who strove to maintain British manners.
That aside, Bombay was fascinating. A swirl of heat and noise and color and dust and smells that turned her head inside out and round again . They had stayed in the city for three weeks preparing for their onward journey to meet Miss Jones and her party at Srinegar in late May in order to travel over the Himalaya to Leh before the monsoon came in July.

You can find The Flowers of Time at all the usual ebook retailers (yadda yadda yadda!) and it’s available in paperback and audio too.

The Flowers of Time

:: A determined lady botanist : a non-binary explorer : mystery, suspense, monsters and romance : England and the Himalayas in 1780 ::

A determined lady botanist and a non-binary explorer make the long journey over the high Himalayan mountain passes from Kashmir to Little Tibet, collecting flowers and exploring ruins on the way. Will Jones discover the root of the mysterious deaths of her parents? Will she confide in Edie and allow her to help in the quest?

It’s a trip fraught with perils for both of them, not least those of the heart.

“…an enjoyable escapist story, with magic, romance and adventure. The characters were eminently likeable, and I wanted to spend time with them”- The Lesbian Review

Amazon : Audible : Everywhere Else

Interview: C. H. Clepitt on what began their writing, and their sapphic retelling of Red Ridinghood

Today C. H. Clepitt has popped in to chat about what started their writing, answer intrusive questions and tell us about their sapphic 1980s FBI retelling of Red Ridinghood! Welcome, Claire!

To begin with, what’s your reason for popping in today?

I don’t get out much…

What started you writing?

I’ve always written, as demonstrated by this beaut my parents dug out of the attic! They say lots of writers start with fan fiction…

Where do you write?

Well, funny you should ask. Recently I have had a bed related mishap (wasn’t doing anything exciting, sadly) and my bed collapsed from under me. Offending bed frame disposed of in the tip, there is currently a mattress strewn across the bedroom floor (I tried standing it up against the wall and the cat took umbridge) – so, I really have no access to sit in the bedroom (what’s that you say? Why not sit on the mattress?)

Well, I will tell you. Cass found it so upsetting that there was a mattress up against the wall that he flung it forcefully to the ground decapitating a lamp and trapping the vacuum. For some reason the mattress (bought from the same place as the amazing collapsible bed, so no surprises) has no handles and cannot be moved alone, so for now it remains strewn. Fortunately I have a sofa bed, so I have somewhere to sleep until they can deliver me a new one (it takes 6 weeks apparently). So, in short (maybe you’ll want to edit this answer) at present I am writing on the sofa bed as I can’t access anywhere else to sit…

What do you like to read?

I’m quite eclectic, as long as it’s well written I’ll give it a crack, but I will not read animal cruelty. That makes me put a book down and never come back to it. I’m looking at you Stephen King.

What are the three books you’d take to a desert island? Why would you choose them?

Good question. I think I’d take The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. I started Sherlock Holmes over lockdown and I love it! Lady Molly of the Yard – I’ve just bought it and a desert island seems like a great opportunity to read something new – wait, am I stuck on the desert island? I’d better bring how to escape a desert island – is that a book?

Writing is an intrinsically solo occupation. Do you belong to any groups or associations, either online or in the ‘real’ world? How does that work for you?

I used to but since lockdown I’ve become more isolated and struggled to interact, even interacting online is more difficult, I don’t know why. I’m in your author group and I occasionally prod you!

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?

I work really long hours trying to keep a small local charity afloat after lockdown. I’ve recently started playing netball again which has dramatically improved my mental health, and obviously I have Cass, my wonky cat. Follow me on Twitter to be bombarded with photos of him.

Tell me a little bit about your most recent release. What gave you the idea for it? How long did it take to write? What did you enjoy about writing it? What did you hate?

My most recent release is book 3 in my Magic Mirror collection and it’s a queer retelling of Red Riding Hood set in 1980s USA. I’ve really enjoyed mixing historical fiction with changing up fairy tales (the series is set in different periods of the 20th Century). I liked researching it (watching lots of ’80s shows and films to get a feel for the period) and building the relationship between Clara and Red. I didn’t really hate anything. I wouldn’t write if I didn’t enjoy it!

Wolf Killer

“Honey, it’s the ’80s. You need to find yourself a woman who can hold your hand in public, not one who calls you her ‘friend’ and keeps you away from her boss. You don’t need that kinda heartache. You think it’ll be OK, but it won’t, trust me. It starts to eat away at you.”

FBI Agent Clara Hunter might not be girlfriend material, but as Red soon discovers, if you have a serial killer on your heels she is just the woman you want in your life!

Book 3 of the Magic Mirror collection takes Red Riding Hood, and tells it in a way only C H Clepitt can!

Buy Wolf killer

Find C. H. Clepitt

My website is currently dead, Jim! But I have a makeshift landing page to sign up for my newsletter here.

You can find me on Facebook and on Twitter and if you join my author group on Facebook you get a free book! Exciting!