#AmReading

#AmReading, Ally is reading.

This week, alien/human, d/s, m/m (with tail-sex); m/m guardian spirit cop pines after falling apart young man; and a tentative sapphic slow-burn with menopausal werewolves.

Claimings Series by Lyn Gala
Claimings, Tails and Other Alien Artifacts by Lyn Gala

This is a five books series top and tailed (geddit?!) by  a free prequel and a collection of short stories. I was a bit nervy about dipping my toe into the universe to start with…the relationship between Ondry and Liam is a sub/dom one, which would usually put me off picking up a book because they are rarely, in my opinion, done well. However…it’s Lyn Gala, so big plus. And it turns out to be an unusual and satisfying take on the dynamic. I found myself sucked right into the universe, the love story between the human and alien MCs and the alien psychology. The world-building is brilliant. It’s a lovely, absorbing series and I really recommend having a look.

His Mossy Boy by R. Cooper
His Mossy Boy by R. Cooper

I guess I should just start a weekly homage to R. Cooper spot on the blog. This is part of the Beings in Love series and it’s the first one I’ve read. It’s a sweet story about misfit Martin, who controls his misery with booze and drugs. Somehow though, Ian, the town’s quiet, unassuming deputy is always there to collect him up and put him on his feet again, sometimes literally. You’ll have to read the story to find out who or what Ian is. I think I’d have benefited from reading Treasure for Treasure first, but I’m looking forward to reading that next!

Silver Moon by Catherine Lundoff
Silver Moon by Catherine Lundoff

I’m having a re-read of this before I plunge into the recently released sequel. For some of the women of Wolf’s Point, menopause not only comes with hot flashes, it comes with lycanthropy. And to cap it all, Becca’s husband dumps her and she starts to have feelings for another woman. Becca is just so normal–bemused, annoyed and frightened. She struck a chord with me because I feel like that about the change even without the werewolf thing. No arguments about whether or not you can have the window open if you can transform into a tall, clawed, furry monster. It’s got elements of thriller as well as a tentative romance and none of the stuff about fated mates or anything like that. The women are chosen by the land as guardians. Hard recommend.

That’s the lot!

Why the 1920s?

Sylvia Marks is coming soon! A 1920s lesbian romance. With magic and suspense. And tea. The first of a new trilogy set in the Border Magic universe.

It may have come to your attention by now that I like to write in the 1920s! So, what inspired me to do that and why do I keep coming back to it?

My first foray into the decade was Lost in Time, and that was a sort of incidental kind of period piece. I began writing as the hundred year anniversary of World War One was marked and I was doing a lot of thinking about my grandparents. My father’s father was the only survivor of a tank crew; and my mother’s great-uncle was a runner between the trenches who was killed before he hit twenty.

I began thinking about how our experiences a hundred years later contrast with the experiences of that earlier generation. Those thoughts grew into Lost in Time, with Lew from 2016 bringing his modern lens to bear on the 1919 world he found himself in.

At that point in my writing I really didn’t have a plan. I discovery-wrote Lost in Time without any idea of what I was doing—I was just telling the story. It’s a happy-for-now rather than a happy-ever-after and Shadows on the Border was a natural extension that allowed me to explore the happy-for-now a bit more; and then I ended up needing a resolution for Will and Fenn, so The Hunted and the Hind came about. Once I began the story in book one, I just had to carry on until I got to the end. And of course, people’s stories don’t end when they begin a relationship, quite the opposite. That’s always something I’ve found difficult in my writing and my reading too.

In the meantime I was writing a serial for my newsletter subscribers. I had written a short-story called The Gate, set in 1919 as an introduction to the world before Lost in Time was published. It was short and full of paranormal stuff, but the relationship resolution was very tentative and I wanted to know what happened afterwards. That became Inheritance of Shadows. That’s a rural story, with a lot inspired by the old farmers I remember as a child—the ones who’s names are on the local war memorials as serving in the First World War.

These four books concentrate on men and the male experience of the war and what happens afterwards, when you come home.

With The Fog of War I’ve done various things a bit differently.

Firstly, it’s a book about women. Dr Sylvia Marks is a minor character in Inheritance of Shadows. I loved her when I wrote her and so did my editor, who encouraged me to write more about her. I think she was envisaging a kind of village doctor solves cosy mysteries kind of series, but it appears that I am congenitally unable to write long stories that don’t contain some sort of paranormal shenanigans. So here we are.

I began reading around women doctors and how they contributed to the war effort and I came across Dr Elsie Inglis and the Scottish Women’s Hospitals and Dr Flora Murray and Dr Louisa Garrett Anderson, who ran the Endell Street Military Hospital. The institutions were staffed almost entirely by women and additionally, Flora Murray and Louisa Garrett Anderson were together as a couple.

I then remembered my grandmother telling me about a local lady doctor who would visit her mother in the pre- and post- World War One years and hitch her skirts up and sit on the kitchen table, smoking and chatting. I have a friend who is part of that family and I asked if her husband could remember anything about her. She passed on that he remembered her from family gatherings in the 1960s and she was a tough old bird who smoked like a chimney. My friend, who is, handily, an archivist, also mentioned she had wind of another lady doctor who served in France but then came home and gave up the profession, got married and had children.

It was all grist to my mill.

Plus, the snappy dialogue and the Dorothy L. Sayers vibe I can bring to it makes it fun to write. I read a lot of 1920s and 1920s detective novels…The Toff, Miss Marple, Miss Fisher…what’s not to like?

So to answer my own question, I began with one idea and it’s all snowballed from there. I keep finding more and more interesting snippets from the 1920s that I want to explore.

The Fog of War will be published by JMS Books on 16th August 2021.

Flowers Under My Pillow – Guest Post by Nell Iris

Hi everyone, I’m back! Thank you so much Ally, for inviting me to your blog to talk about my brand new release, Flowers Under My Pillow, a contemporary story infused with some of the Midsummer magic of the olden days.

The idea for the story came from old Swedish folklore. In olden times, Midsummer was considered a time of magic. Its proximity to the summer solstice makes it one of the brightest nights all year because the sun barely (or never) sets, and it was believed to be one of the most magical nights of the year. The boundaries between the human world and the paranormal were blurred, and anything could happen.

Plants and herbs with healing powers were believed to be extra powerful during this night, so people picked them and dried them to preserve the power of Midsummer all year. Walking barefoot—or rolling around naked—in the morning dew supposedly helped keep you healthy and strong during the year, and people also collected the dew and added it to bread and beer to help leaven and ferment. They also used the dew for medicinal purposes.

People also believed you could predict the future on nights like this, and this is where the idea for my story came from.

If a young lady wanted to know who she was going to marry, all she had to do was pick seven kinds of flowers on Midsummer’s Eve and put them underneath her pillow and she’d dream of her future husband. There are variations to the tradition; in some places, you had to pick nine kinds of flowers, and in other places, you needed to jump over the corresponding number of fences before putting your bouquet under the pillow. And if you didn’t do it in silence, you broke the magic and it didn’t work.

So I took this idea and adapted it to suit my purposes. I threw out all the heteronormative crap and made a man dream about a man because this is the 21st century and even old folklore needs to be more inclusive, amirite? 😊

Traditional Swedish folklore tells you that if you pick seven kinds of flowers in silence and put them under your pillow on midsummer's eve, you'll dream of the man you'll marry. Flowers Under My Pillow available now!
Excerpt:

“You’re certainly beautiful enough to be a hallucination,” he murmurs. “Are you some kind of forest spirit, here to lure me into your lair?”

His thumb strokes, strokes, strokes my lip, but his words make my breath stutter. Make my words stutter. “Wh-wh-what did you just say?”

“I asked if you’re a forest spirit, here to captivate me and hold me prisoner for the rest of eternity.” His smile tells me he’s joking.

“I can’t believe you said that.”

“Why?”

“My mom calls me her forest spirit son. She has a mad scientist daughter and me. The forest spirit.”

“So you are here to abduct me.” He runs his finger along my hairline and then twists an errant lock around his finger. “I can totally believe it. What’s happening here is too surreal; you must be some kind of sprite.”

I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I come willingly. I’m yours; do what you want with me.” He tugs lightly on my hair, his brown eyes twinkling like stars in a night sky.

Whatever I want?” I let my gaze fall to his mouth; the darkness of his beard surrounding his full lips makes them shockingly red, like sun-ripened strawberries.

“Yeah.”

I run my finger along the seam of his mouth and my skin buzzes at his touch, as though one of the bees had gotten stuck between my digit and his skin. His eyes darken and hypnotized, I trace the outline of his lips. Then I skim my fingers down his beard, careful to not disturb the blossoms. “Every year, I pick the same flowers as I did that first year. And now, you’re wearing them.” His beard looks wild, wearing my bouquet. The cow-parsley is sprawling everywhere, the forget-me-nots and buttercups are dainty and almost disappear among the thick strands, the daisies take up too much space, and the cornflowers are so blue against the dark hairs they’re almost too bright to look at. It should be crazy, but it’s amazing and I can’t take my eyes off him.

“May I take a picture of you?” I ask.

“Of course.”

I take out my phone, and he smiles at me as I snap several photographs of him before stuffing my phone back into my pocket, my hand returning to his face like a magnet, my finger softly ghosting over his lips.

What would kissing him feel like? Would his beard scratch and prick me? Or would it be a gentle rasp, drawing my blood to the surface, arousing me? I squirm at the thought.

His brown eyes burn into me and his grip strengthens on my hand. “Anything,” he whispers.

I move closer to him, crane my neck until our noses nudge. I let my eyes fall closed and wait for a heartbeat, giving him the opportunity to pull away if he wants to, but he doesn’t. So I rub my nose along his, feeling the first tickle of his beard against my clean-shaven cheek. It provokes a shudder and spurs me on. Unable to wait a nanosecond longer, I lean in, and hum when our mouths touch.

It’s a chaste kiss, so light and fleeting I wouldn’t have believed it was real if it hadn’t been for his beard tickling my lips, inviting me to press a little harder. My heart hammers so hard in my chest, I’m certain he can feel it pulsing through my lips, certain it reverberates through the forest like some ancient, shamanistic drum. The kiss is everything I’ve ever dreamed of and I want more. I need more.

Flowers Under My Pillow
Flowers Under My Pillow by Nell Iris

Smiling brown eyes. A dark beard. Dandelions. Sunny, happy dandelions.

For thirty years, Frode’s had the same dream. Every Midsummer’s Eve since he was a kid accompanying his sister to pick flowers to put under his pillow, he’s dreamed of the same man. A dream he never shares with anyone, that makes him wish for impossible things…like true love.

“It’s you.”

Then one Midsummer’s Eve, the man of Frode’s dreams stands before him in the flesh. Both men recognize each other despite never having met in real life. Both men are instantly drawn to each other and want to know more.

“Who are you, Viljar? Are you even real?”

Their questions are many but do the whys and the hows matter? Or should they allow the Midsummer magic that brought them together to lead the way into each other’s arms? Into each other’s hearts?

Traditional Swedish folklore tells you that if you pick seven kinds of flowers in silence and put them under your pillow on Midsummer’s Eve, you’ll dream of the man you’ll marry.

M/M Contemporary / 17 477 words

Buy Flowers Under My Pillow: JMS Books:: Amazon :: Books2Read

About Nell

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bonafide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.

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Publishing Delays

wood desk laptop office
Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

As those of you who follow my newsletter know, the last couple of weeks have been a real nightmare here at Lester Towers.

Littlest had an accident at school and broke her nose, which has caused all the fuss you’d expect, plus worry that she’d have to have it re-broken and re-set to ensure it’s still possible to naso-gastric tube her in the future if necessary. This has, thankfully, turned out not to be the case, but it’s taken ages for ENT to decide. I’ve had a visit to hospital for a minor procedure which was more tedious than worrying, Talking Child has been stressed about school and her sister and me. And finally Mr AL has put his back out lifting Littlest, which has caused our whole family raft to list alarmingly to one side.

So, we’re struggling, basically. Writing itself and my somewhat intermittent early morning writing sprints with my Office Colleagues, Ofelia Grand, Nell Iris and J. M. Snyder have been what’s keeping me going.

The cherry on the top of the disaster-Bakewell tart however, has been that my dear friend and editor has been hospitalised with covid. She is home and recovering now, which is an enormous relief, but as everyone knows, it’s a long haul.

The result of all this non-writing stress is that we are pushing the release of The Fog of War back until 16th August. I’m very sorry about it, but there it is, people are more important than stories when it comes down to it. The Starling story (which still doesn’t have a name, this is clearly my brand) is puttering along but again it’s all a bit up in the air.

School breaks up for summer in the last week of July, so I have no idea what my writing schedule will be over the weeks after that–last year I did quite well getting up before everyone else and getting on with it. The plan is to release the Sylvia trilogy three months apart, and I’m still hoping that will work, although I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve over-faced myself. Time will tell!

Anyway, that’s it. We’re all okay, but it’s been a tough few weeks. I hope you’re all doing all right too in these uncertain times.

Find LGBTQ+ books for Pride

opened white book
Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com

It seems to be The Week Of Promo ™ this week, so I thought I’d do a little blog post on all the different bundles, bookfairs and books giveaways I’m involved in.

They all end at the end of Pride Month, so you need to have a browse before 30th June 2021. There’s a good mix of giveaways, audiobooks, ebooks, sapphic and gay romance here, so hopefully you can find something you like!

You can join my newsletter for a free story and for regular pointers towards new-to-you authors and releases.