Love, Isidor by Nell Iris

Hi! *waving happily* Thanks for inviting me to your blog, Ally, it’s always a pleasure to be here.

After we finished our Naked Gardening Day project, we wanted to work together again because it was so much fun, and after some back-and-forth about what theme to pick, we settled on World Letter Writing Day because who doesn’t like letters, right? 😍

I do, so I voted enthusiastically for a letter theme when we decided, and I was certain I’d write a proper epistolary story because I absolutely adore them. Instead, one of my friends unknowingly gave me another idea. She’s French and she told me a story about her grandparents, and how they were separated because her grandfather was sent to a forced labor camp during WW2. They wrote letters to each other when he was away, and many years later, the family found the grandfather’s letters in a box. My friend told me that she cried when she read them, and that she could feel the pain of the separation in them.

Saved letters, in a box, or tied with a pretty ribbon, is far from a new or unusual thing, but my friend’s grandfather’s letters stuck with me, and a box of letters snuck into my story.

Cover of Love, Isidor and a letter saying Dear Henri, don't go, don't don't go. Love Isidor. Available now! Second chances, epistolary, class differences, hurt-comfort.

Love, Isidor

Dear Henri, there was a man at the restaurant this evening who looked so much like you that I winked at him and laughed.

One letter from his ex, Isidor, is all it takes to turn Henri’s world upside down. It’s been a decade since they broke up, a decade since they couldn’t make their long-distance relationship work despite their best efforts.

Do you ever think back on the decisions we made and wonder if we could’ve tried harder?

Isidor was the one that got away, the one who’s impossible to forget, and Henri still questions the decisions they made back then. Could they have fought harder for what they had?

My darling Henri. I still dream of you after all this time.

Is ten years apart too long, or will old feelings reignite when Henri and Isidor meet again?

M/M Contemporary / 15111 words

Buy links: JMS Books:: Amazon :: Books2Read

Cover, Love, Isidor

About Nell

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males. She published her first book in 2017.

Nell is an author with a day job that steals too much time from her writing, her reading, her gardening, and her crocheting. She’s an introverted tea drinker who loves her family, her books, and her home in the Swedish countryside.

Find Nell on social media: Newsletter :: Webpage/blog :: Twitter :: Facebook Page :: Facebook Profile :: Goodreads :: Bookbub :: Bluesky

Excerpt:

“Did you expect me to reply to your letter?”

“I hoped, but…” He shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d write me an actual letter. I would have thought an email, or maybe a phone call asking ‘What the hell, Isidor?’ but your letter…it surprised me.”

“Good or bad surprise?”

“Good. I figured you’d just throw away my letter and go on with your life if you didn’t want to speak to me again. And you wouldn’t suggest our spot if you weren’t at least a little interested.”

He’s right, of course. Can he know me still, after all these years? Haven’t I changed at all? “Back to my first question that you ignored. Tell me something about yourself that I need to know.”

He doesn’t reply for several minutes, but I’m in no hurry; it’ll take several hours for us to reach Uppsala, which means I have a lot of time to take him in, to memorize all the new things that weren’t there when I saw him last.

Like the lines radiating from the corners of his eyes; they’re thin and fine, as though he doesn’t smile a lot, and his mouth, serious and somber, confirms my theory. The hint of stubble on his face and neck says he shaved before bed yesterday instead of this morning. I used to love it when he’d rub his stubbly face all over my body making me squirm and pant and hard.

But he’d also tease my ticklish spots, making me squirm for completely different reasons. His eyes would shine with mirth, and he’d laugh at me when I tried to wriggle away from him, begging for mercy.

He was always a serious person, but he’d let go when we were in bed. He allowed himself to be romantic and sentimental, but also silly and nonsensical. Has he allowed himself to behave like that since we broke up? Did he find another guy he could tease with his stubble and tickle to death with his thick fingers?

Jealousy flares up in my chest at the thought.

“I wrote you letters,” he says, yanking me out of my study of him. “Before this one, I mean, I wrote you many letters. But I never sent them. I couldn’t. They’re still in a box in my closet.”

“Wha…” My chin threatens to wobble, and I look away for a moment, forcing breath into my lungs so I can finish what I was going to say. “What made you send this one?”

“It was that guy in the restaurant I wrote to you about. My heart did this weird…” he gestures for his chest as though he’s trying to show me, “this weird…jump…when I thought it was you. After all these years, I wanted to rush over to you, him, whatever, and fucking beg you for a second chance if I had to. I didn’t expect such an…intense reaction. I thought I’d gotten over you.” He clenches his teeth. “Or hoped, is the more truthful word, I guess. And I hadn’t written a letter to you in years, so I thought I’d broken the habit. I hadn’t planned on sending this one either, but…somehow…I found myself putting it in the mailbox. As though I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Do you regret sending it?”

He glowers at me, not deigning to a verbal reply.

“Would you let me read the unsent letters?” My voice is so thick, I can hardly interpret my own words.

“Yes. Of course. They’re yours.”

Buy links: JMS Books:: Amazon :: Books2Read

Holly Day: Vampire Food

Holly Day has a new release today! Celebrate National Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor’s Porch Day with a magic user, a vampire, and a mountain of zucchini!

Cover: Vampire Food by Holly Day

Vampire Food

MM Slow Burn, Hurt – Comfort, Size Difference, Found Family, Vampire, Magic User

  • Author: Holly Day
  • Editor: Lourenza Adlem
  • Release: 5th August 2023
  • Price: $4.99
  • ISBN: 9781685505202
  • ASIN: B0CD5LQ3TM
  • KU:      No
  • Wide:  Yes
  • Buy: AmazonJMS BooksUBLGoodreads

A former blood slave. A strapping vampire. More zucchinis than any man could eat.

Rue Yarrow was rescued from a blood bar and taken to a gated community of supernaturals. Haunted by nightmares and memories, he does his best to avoid people. His only solace is his garden, where he uses his magic to grow an abundance of vegetables. But one day, it isn’t the zucchinis greeting him, but a severed human head.

Noah Caramine wants as little drama as possible, and interfering with a vampire clan’s business is never a good idea. He’s never met a magic user and is curious about Rue, but he fears there will be consequences for stealing the blood slaves.

When body parts start popping up inside the walls, Noah doesn’t know if someone is trying to frame them for murder or distract them from keeping the blood slaves safe. Rue never believed he’d go near a vampire again, but when threats are drawing closer, he turns to Noah. Who better to keep him safe from vampires than a vampire?

A former blood slave A strapping vampire. More zucchinis than any man could eat! Out now!

About Holly Day

According to Holly Day, no day should go by uncelebrated and all of them deserve a story. If she’ll have the time to write them remains to be seen. She lives in rural Sweden with a husband, four children, more pets than most, and wouldn’t last a day without coffee. 

Holly gets up at the crack of dawn most days of the week to write gay romance stories. She believes in equality in fiction and in real life. Diversity matters. Representation matters. Visibility matters. We can change the world one story at the time. 

Connect with Holly on social media: Website :: Facebook :: Twitter :: Pinterest :: BookBub :: Goodreads :: Newsletter :: TikTok

Excerpt from Vampire Food

As he rounded the house, he came to a stop. The back side was bigger than the front. Damn.
Half a second later, someone walked into him from behind. Without thinking, he dropped the spade, reached around, and grabbed them, ready to tear their throat out.
Rue stared wide-eyed at him. “Sorry.”
Noah gentled his grip. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I was watching the trees. Not paying attention.”
Noah glanced at the trees. Apple and plum trees on this side of the garden. “The plums are almost ripe.”
Rue looked at the trees again.
“When you’re done feeling him up, can we get started?”
Rue stiffened at Asher’s call, and Noah let go of him in favor of giving Asher the finger, but he only got a grin and a wink in reply. Fucker.
“Right, let’s get to it.”
Gertrude moved to stand next to Rue. “Should we tell them to take their shirts off? We should have drinks and popcorn.” She bumped her shoulder against Rue’s.
Noah pretended not to listen but held his breath as he waited for Rue’s response.
“I should get back to the beans.”
No request to take his shirt off then. He hadn’t expected one.
“Let’s see if this rolling thing works first.” Gertrude crossed her arms over her chest.
Noah put the spade into the lawn and stepped on it to cut through the grass. Then he moved a blade length and did it again, and again, and again until he’d cut a line to the end of the garden. Then he did one more about a foot from the first line until he got a strip.
“The moment of truth.” He smiled at Rue and pushed the spade in under the grass edge. After a few tries, he got the edge to let go of the soil below. As he rolled, the grass separated from the ground.
“Oh, cool, it works.” Rue rushed forward. “I can do it, and you do another line.” He fell on his knees next to Noah, who let go when Rue touched the grass.
He got to his feet and reached for the spade. Before he started cutting the next line, Gertrude gave him a nod and a smile. “I’ll go help Chaton.”
Rue’s head whipped around. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”
“Not to worry, dear. I tried to save you from getting your hands dirty, but I see it was all in vain.” She grinned at him and walked away. Rue looked after her, some tension bleeding into his muscles, but then he shook his head and got rolling.
Asher worked at the other end of the lawn while Noah kept even steps with Rue. The roll grew rapidly, and soon Rue had to stand to roll it. They reached the end, only to start over again. After a few times, sweat was pearling and Rue was out of breath.
“Want to switch?” Stepping on a spade didn’t take too much effort.
“Yeah, maybe.”
They did one strip, but when they got about one-third into the second, Rue stopped. “There is something here.” Rue rammed the spade into the ground without any greater success. “It’s crunchy. I can’t get the blade down.” He hit the spade against the lawn again. Noah frowned as he took in the patch of dead grass. Strange.
“A stone maybe. Should I cut around it?”
Noah got to his feet, and Rue handed over the spade. There was something hard underneath, and the ground looked as if it had been disturbed, but only in a small space. Noah cut around it and pushed the spade in under the dried grass edge. As he got it loose, he grabbed it and pulled.
There, buried in the soil, was a mostly decomposed head. His gaze locked on the hair. It was dirty and mattered, but not dirty enough for him to miss the long blond strands with purple highlights. Fuck. “Gertrude!”
The stench of decay crawled into his nostrils, and he grimaced.
Rue gagged, and Noah reached for him. To his surprise, Rue turned into him, hiding his face against his chest. “Is that… is that…”
“A head, yes.”
“Madeline.”
Noah stared at the face. It was too decomposed to make out any specific features. Gertrude appeared by his side, followed by Chaton, who hissed.
“Madeline.” He turned to Rue, who was resting his forehead against Noah’s chest. “Did you kill Madeline?”
Rue shook his head, his entire body starting to tremble.
“Who’s Madeline?” Gertrude spoke in a low, soothing voice, but both Rue and Chaton were shaking their heads.
Asher looked at the head, then at Noah. “Where’s the rest?”
Oh, fuck. Were there more body parts hidden in the garden?

Buy Vampire Food: Amazon - JMS Books - UBL 

Ellie Thomas visits with her new box set, Gentlemen in Love!

 Thank you so much, lovely Ally, for having me as a guest on your blog today. (You are most welcome, Ellie, I’m sorry I’m late posting!) I’m Ellie, and I write MM Historical Romance novellas. My first box set of previously published Regency stories is now on release, so I’ll be chatting about the six stories comprising Gentlemen in Love.

There are various settings in my collection of Regency romances. One Summer Night is set in Regency London. The story involves the politics of the ton and the weight of power in Whitehall, as civil servant Martin falls for aristocratic Will, after a heated chance encounter.

Then there’s the popular scene of the Regency country house party. Two of my stories, A Christmas Cotillion and A Midwinter Night’s Magic share that backdrop in contrasting ways. In A Christmas Cotillion, my MC Jonathan gradually comes to terms with past heartbreak as he considers the opportunity of a new relationship with farmer’s son, Nick.

A Midwinter Night’s Magic centres on forced proximity, where long-parted lovers, Matthew and Crispin, are stuck together at a country house party over Christmas due to snowfall, despite mutual hostility. To add insult to injury, they’re expected to engage in a recital of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It takes a bit of Shakespearian magic from Puck for these two to reconcile, which was a lot of fun to write with my copy of the play to hand!

There are more countryside settings in A Marriage for Three, which takes place in the Wiltshire country town of Marlborough and rural Worcestershire. Charlotte, an independent-minded young woman, is pressed to consider a practical offer of marriage from a close family friend Anthony, despite his long-term romantic involvement with his steward, Simon. I enjoyed exploring the ties of family and mores of country life in this story, together with three likeable characters.

Fashionable resorts are always a popular setting for Regency stories. As I grew up close to some of these in the West of England, it’s hardly surprising that I would pick familiar destinations. Shore Leave has a slightly earlier setting in the latter years of the 18th century, which coincides with Bath’s heyday. It was a delight to navigate the elegant streets and Assembly Rooms of Bath, where Jacob and Sebastian meet and gradually fall in love.

Again, I chose Regency Cheltenham for The Thrill of the Chase, Adrian and Guy’s story. It’s set in 1813, slightly before the building boom and the elegant terraces so familiar to us today. At that stage, apart from a few speculative developments and several spas, Cheltenham mainly consisted of the High Street, which makes it even more difficult for shy Adrian to avoid embarrassing confrontations with Guy, the forceful object of his unfulfilled desires.

Gentlemen in Love

Gentlemen in Love Box Set cover

In Regency England, whether about their daily business in London, attending a country house party or visiting a fashionable spa town, an array of gentlemen meet their match and attain a happy ever after.

Some couples find new love, while others rekindle a long-lost spark in this collection of six light-hearted MM Regency romances from Ellie Thomas, containing the following stories:

A Christmas Cotillion: Thirty-year-old Jonathan Cavendish has long given up any thought of romance. He grudgingly accompanies younger cousin Freddy to a Christmas country house party, as Freddy is infatuated with the lovely Belinda.

To his surprise, Jonathan catches the eye of Nick, a local farmer’s son. The initial attraction seems to be mutual, but can Nick break through Jonathan’s defences and teach him to love again?

A Marriage for Three: When Anthony Wallace proposes to Charlotte Grenville, she is shocked. Lottie has always seen him as an older brother, and she is also aware of his romantic devotion to his Anglo-Indian estate manager, Simon Walker. Should she accept this financial arrangement merely to support her ailing family? And will her growing attraction to Simon be a threat to all their happiness?

A Midwinter Night’s Magic: Matthew Lewis is trapped at a Christmas country house party by snowy weather and forced to take part in a reading of a Midsummer Night’s Dream. To make things worse, his lost love Crispin Marley, to whom he has sworn undying hatred, is among the guests. Can some fairy magic from Puck help the estranged couple to make amends for once and all?

The Thrill of the Chase: In 1813, when modest Adrian Lethbridge visits fashionable Cheltenham to help launch his young cousins into society, to his surprise, he catches the roving eye of Captain Guy Ransome. The ex-army officer is everything Adrian yearns to be; devilishly handsome, experienced and confident. So Adrian is in disbelief that the attraction is mutual. But can he summon the courage to act on his desires?

One Summer Night: After a passionate encounter with a stranger in an alleyway one summer night in 1801, Whitehall clerk Martin Dunne is shocked when he encounters the object of his desire at a society function, complete with a powerful father and a pretty bride-to-be. Is his seducer not to be trusted? And have Martin’s dreams of future encounters and possible romance crumbled to nothing?

Shore Leave: Jacob Longley, Naval Lieutenant, is all at sea in the fashionable Bath Spa. As he attempts to steer his younger sister Letty through the social whirl with a close eye on her reputation, his striking looks can’t help but catch the attention of the exquisite Sebastian Fforde. Will either man break through the other’s reserve? And could their mutual attraction blossom into love?

Buy Gentlemen in Love

Excerpt from A Christmas Cotillion

Mr Hammond’s chance came when Jonathan was on the dance floor, already partnered for the next dance. Belinda, for once, was unaccompanied but still standing up, as though eager to join in. Mr Hammond was near her, but unfortunately looking in the other direction.

Jonathan glanced over in helpless frustration, not wanting to abandon his young dance partner in the middle of the floor just as the music was about to start. As he again looked from one to the other, he caught the eye of the handsome farmer’s son. He was serving refreshments amongst those who had taken part in the last set of dances. He followed his direction of Jonathan’s scrutiny clearly with a sharply raised eyebrow.

As if receiving intelligence, he nodded at Jonathan decisively, put down his tray on a side table and eased the few yards through the gaggle of couples approaching the dance floor and tapped Mr Hammond on the shoulder.

Luckily, just then the music started and Jonathan saw his expressive face indicating a social dilemma. He nodded towards Belinda and then pointed to the momentarily abandoned tray as if explaining why he could not partner the young lady for himself. When all had been made clear to Mr Hammond, he received a grateful smile from the young man, as though Mr Hammond was doing the favour. He then turned back to collect the tray and offered the contents to the thirsty crowd.

It was neatly done, with Mr Hammond now obliged by his very good manners to ask the young lady to dance. Mr Hammond braced himself and made his way to Belinda, face flushed with embarrassment as though expecting a rebuff. Instead, he received her hand and a warm smile. Jonathan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until the couple reached the floor, unimpeded.

After a hectic country dance, Jonathan and his puffing partner retired from the fray. He was satisfied to see Mr Hammond and Belinda remain on the floor for the next set of dances, now conversing with apparent ease. As he looked at this with a feeling of pleasure, a glass of sparkling wine was placed in his hand with a murmured, “That was a good notion.”

He looked around in surprise to see the farmer’s son right next to him. Close up, his eyes were very blue indeed and his wide mouth was curved in that increasing familiar smile. Jonathan felt as tongue-tied as Mr Hammond had been previously in Belinda’s presence as he stiffly thanked the young man for his assistance. He seemed unfazed by Jonathan’s constraint.

“Just call me Cupid, or rather Nicholas, or even Nick, if you prefer,” he said with another dazzling grin, before turning gracefully to serve refreshments to the guests behind Jonathan.

Buy Gentlemen in Love

About Ellie

Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.

Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Website : Facebook : Twitter : Goodreads : Bookbub

Interview: Ashton K. Rose talks about the Southern Magicks trilogy!

Today we welcome Ashton K. Rose to the blog to talk about their new release, the first in the Southern Magicks trilogy and tell us a bit about themselves. Welcome, Ashton! (Ashton is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. You can join the Rafflecopter draw here!)

1. Why are you doing this interview? (A new book? A new website? A re-release? Just for fun?)

At the end of August, I released my debut novel, The Southern Magicks, which is the first book in an LGBTQIA+ Urban/Paranormal Fantasy and Mystery series I’m writing.

2. What started you writing?

I dabbled with creating stories my entire life, but I didn’t start writing fiction regularly until I was thirteen because I became a serious poet at eight. (Editorial comment: EXCELLENT!)

3. Where do you write? (Office, bed, garden, mountain, coffee shop, in a pool, at the dining table?)

It’s not that interesting. I have a small corner in my room with a desk and my computer.

4. What do you like to read?

Mainly any type of speculative fiction or mysteries about amateur/private detectives. My favorite genres are Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Gaslamp Fantasy. I was drawn to reading indie and self-published novels because there hasn’t been a lot of traditionally published queer speculative fiction for adults until recently. I really enjoy reading books by Gail Carriger, K.J. Charles, Jordan L. Hawk, Derek Landy, Drew Hayes, K.D. Edwards, Benedict Jacka, Ben Aaronovitch, Agatha Christie, Allie Therin, Joanna Chambers, Alexis Hall, and David R. Slayton.

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

Soulless (Parasol Protectorate, #1) by Gail Carriger is the book that made me realize adult fiction could be fun, and it’s one of my favorite books.

The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant. I’ve read this book several times since I discovered the series in 2017, and it’s always an enjoyable book to come back to.

I have a complete hardcover edition of Sherlock Holmes stories, so I’d bring that as well.

6. 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?

A few years ago, I used to be part of a fantastic in-person writers’ group in my small town. A group of older ladies who taught me more about writing than I learned from the handful of classes I took during university. The group ran on a weekday afternoon and didn’t really attract a large amount of new people, so numbers slowly dwindled because of life events. I took over running the group for a couple of months to keep it alive, but I had to start a new job. Since then, I’ve only really been in online writers’ groups. I’ve found a great space within the queer indie writing community on Twitter with other writers who are working on their first few books. Because of the platform changes on Twitter, I’ve ventured out into other groups, joining a popular Facebook group managed by the hosts of a writing podcast I listen to.

I enjoy writers’ groups because I love interacting and learning with/from other writers, but I’m not sure about large groups like the nearest one in my city because I’m worried it will lack the conversation and personal interaction that originally attracted me to attending a writers’ group.

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

I’ve always enjoyed reading and playing RPG and simulation games like the Sims series, Dragon Age, and Fallout. This year I started learning watercolor painting and drawing so I had a hobby that got me away from my computer. I pretty much only read ebooks, and I felt a lot of eyestrain and fatigue spending most of my free time looking at a screen.

8.  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?

The Southern Magicks is an LGBTQIA+ Urban/Paranormal Mystery series for adults set in Australia starting in 2018. Apart from the supernatural aspects, it’s set in a world pretty much identical to ours, only the pandemic doesn’t happen. I found it depressing and difficult to write that event into the series, so I stopped trying and found I could write this story again.

My main character Dexter is a trans man whose grandmother secretly taught him how to see and control ghosts. After he is saved from an attack by a demon/monster, Dexter is forced to work for the coven of mages who control local magic users through their wealth and positions of power. Dexter’s abilities are part of a branch of magic known as Death Magic, which is very useful for an exorcist in an old town.

I’ve been writing stories set in the Southern Magicks Universe since late 2017 when Dexter walked into my head almost fully formed. Between 2018 and early 2021, I slowly uploaded a condensed version of the first three books as a web novel.

When I had the money to publish, I separated the main three storylines to extend each of them to novel length. My new release, The Southern Magicks (Book One of The Southern Magicks Series), is the first of these. I’m currently editing books two and three, which I hope to release during 2023 if my budget allows. I’ve planned for the series to be around twelve books, and I’ve written drafts for almost half of the series.

The Southern Magicks #1

How do you prove your innocence when you don’t even remember whether you did it or not?

After a demon attack reveals Dexter’s secret – that his Gran taught him magic – the twenty-three-year-old librarian is forced to work for the local magical law enforcement agency in order to prove his loyalty, and hopefully save his grandmother from execution.

However, when someone tries to frame him for crimes he doesn’t remember committing, Dexter realizes he’ll have to start an investigation of his own. Joined by his beloved husband Eli, their best friend June, and his journalist cousin Kat, he desperately tries to prove his innocence…which is kind of difficult when gaps in his memory make him doubt everything he thinks he knows about himself.

The race against time begins. Can Dexter and his team uncover the criminals weaving the web of guilt around him before it’s too late, or is he going to lose everything and everyone he cares about?

Buy Southern Magicks #1 : Add to Goodreads

Warnings: Assault, violent imagery, panic attack on page, police brutality

Scroll down for an excerpt!

Author Bio:

Ashton K. Rose (They/Them) is a Queer author who writes Australian paranormal, urban fantasy and mystery fiction filled with LGBTQIA+ characters.

Ashton currently lives in sunny Queensland able to enjoy the best of the Australian bush and beach. Ashton spent their first fourteen years being raised on a remote farm shaped around the remains of an old mining town. Surrounded by the skeletons of past lives and their matching ghost stories, Ashton developed a love for fantasy, horror, and dark fairy tales from a young age.

Carrying a love of ghost stories into adulthood Ashton started writing novels about magic, vampires and ghosts. Ashton decided to set The Southern Magicks in a world heavily inspired by the backdrop of the Australia bush/beach and the speculative fiction Ashton has consumed over a lifetime.

Author Website : Facebook : Twitter : Instagram : Goodreads : Amazon

Excerpt

Chapter 1, Scene 1:

I knew Nora Rowe had died in her home without anyone telling me.
I unlocked the door and my stomach dropped as I took in the sight of the small dim living room of her kit home, filled with books and old newspapers. The acrid smell of cigarettes and wood fire smoke filled my nose as I weaved my way through the stacks. Mismatched flatpack bookshelves that warped under the strain of thousands of books lined the walls. Her living room held no other furniture apart from an old TV and a worn leather armchair—the carpet covered by stained, threadbare rugs.
I flicked the first light switch I saw twice. 
Why had I expected the power to work? 
I walked over to the windows and pushed the dust-caked lace curtains aside. 
My eyes watered as the sun poured into the room. 
In the kitchen, the doors of the cupboards hung open. The only things left behind were a few cheap plastic items scattered across the scratched lino. 
I stepped on a plastic cup on the floor. I wobbled on my feet for a few sick seconds before I grabbed the counter to steady myself. The sharp aluminium edge bit into the skin of my hand.
This place was a death trap!
She had over twenty library books I had to separate from the donations. My legs shook as I walked to the shelves closest to the door. 
I ignored the erratic beating of my heart and the part of my brain telling me to run and pulled out my keys to flick the small key chain light on. I placed it between my teeth and examined the spines for library tags. 
When the light hit the grimy glass of a small photo frame on the shelf, I saw something move behind me. I kept my eyes fixed on the glass and used my thumb to clear a spot of dust. 
If it hadn’t moved, I could have ignored the human-shaped shadow reflected in the glass. 
As a kid, I’d been hassled about seeing things and having an overactive imagination. When I was seven, Gran told me the truth. I shared her secret ability to see ghosts.
I turned to look at the woman who sat in the armchair. 
This Nora was a couple of years older than the one who celebrated her birthday in the photo. Her gaze focused on the TV, which would have been new the year Queen Elizabeth was coronated. 
I kept my gaze locked on her, blinking one eye at a time. 
I slowed my breath and took a careful step backwards to the door. The back of my calf hit something that drove several points of pain into my skin.
The stack of books I knocked over sliced through my composure just as easily as it did the silence in the room,  the hard covers and spines slapping against each other as they hit the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Nora stood and turned to face me.
I knew I’d given the game away when I jumped out of my skin and almost dropped my keys. 
I made a noise like a dying rat. 
She knew I could hear her. 
The first thing Gran had taught me was not to let a ghost realise you could sense them. It was dangerous—a trigger for the ire of a vengeful spirit. 
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Your son gave us the key.”
“Worthless piece of shit. Letting strangers into my house. He stole my grandma’s dinner set for drug money before my body was cold. I saw him put it in his car before he called someone to deal with the mess.”
“I’ll just be going now.”
“Actually, I’ll be going.” 
I felt a sharp pain in my chest. 
I tried to breathe, but my lungs refused to move. 
I couldn’t breathe! 
The edge of my vision went black as I gasped for air. I fell flat on my front. I was so focused on trying to breathe, I almost missed the presence pushing at the back of my mind. It started small, a hint of a suggestion. The temptation to give in grew. This was her body. I was nothing but a figment of her imagination. Dexter wasn’t real. Nothing more than a thought exercise to see what it’d be like to be a man her grandson’s age. With each second, it pressed harder, and the urge to give in grew. 
Forget.
It would be easy to give in and never have another worry again. All the pain and pressure of life could vanish if I relaxed and let her take control. 
No! 
I shivered as I tried to move my arms to push myself onto my hands and knees. I focused on the door. It was only a short crawl. I had to do it. For a second, my vision went entirely black. 
No! 
I gathered all the strength I had and screamed. The remaining air expelled from my lungs. I took a sharp breath. I moved my stiff arms and pushed myself onto my hands and knees. 
I was Dexter; I was real, and this was my body. Nothing would take that away from me. 
I closed my eyes and pushed back the ghost. I wrapped a mental net around the invasive presence in my mind and forced it back through the hole where it had entered. A hole it had dug in a part of my mind I didn’t even know existed.
One arm forwards, one leg forwards, and breathe. 
Move. Breathe. Move. Breathe.
I made it to the threshold and pulled the door open. I slid headfirst down the concrete stairs to lie on my back. 
The pressure in my mind slowly vanished as I fell.
I opened my eyes. 
Pale blue sky, almost cloudless. 
	My eyes watered from the bright light.
	The perfect day was oblivious to my plight. The mid-autumn day was hardly different from late summer. I could’ve laid there for hours, but the hot concrete felt like it was melting the skin off my back where my shirt had ridden up. I rolled onto the dead grass beside the cracked front path. 
Sweat ran into my eyes as I sat up. I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my vision. 
I could still feel the cold air wafting from the open door. I had to shut it. Mrs Gregory was looking for any excuse to fire me. I stood and walked to the threshold. 
All I had to do was grab the handle, pull it closed, remove my hand from the handle and step back. 
One quick movement. 
I could do it.
As I stared, my eyes adjusted to the dim. She stood just inside, her hard eyes focused on me. 
She smiled. 
I stepped forwards and grabbed the door handle. Her hand shot out towards my arm.
Her pale, icy fingers clamped around my left wrist. I tightened the grip of my right hand around the door handle. I tucked my chin to my chest and threw myself backwards down the stairs, using the weight of my body to swing the door closed. My shirt ripped as I fell backwards; the sleeve stayed in her hand as my arm slipped free.
The air expelled from my lungs as I hit the ground. 
I lay on my back and my lungs refused to work. Fixed to the spot in terror, I gasped for air as my body refused to perform. A function that was usually thoughtless had become my only thought, the pinpoint the world had narrowed to.
There was a dizzy relief as I breathed again, and after a few minutes I slowly stood. 
Blood ran down my exposed arm, the only part of my body that had hit the thin concrete path. 
Ghosts could touch me! Physically hurt me!
I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing, forcing back the panic attack that bubbled in the back of my mind. I knew about the possession, but the touch? Why hadn’t Gran told me? I needed to call Gran, but I knew she couldn’t help me. She hadn’t talked to me about magic since her accident when I was seventeen. 
I suspected the accident was magic-related, but she’d kept silent about it.
She’d looked at me sceptically any time I’d mentioned magic afterwards, as though I spoke of childish whimsy and needed to grow up.
So I had.
I’d left Dunn and become a librarian, a nice stable job for a responsible young man who liked books. 
A normal young man who had resigned himself to a life of pretending he couldn’t see the dead.
I’d somehow ended up with nowhere else to turn and ended up back in this town.
Now Gran was in America with Aunt Myrtle, so it was hard to get help.
I drove back to the library to pretend I’d been out for my lunch break.

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Guest Interview: Anne Russo

Today we welcome Anne Russo to the blog to answer some questions. Morning Anne! Thank you for dropping by.

Firstly, why are you doing this interview?

Hello! Thank you so much for letting me stop by today! I’m here to talk about my new release, The Dead Don’t Dream, the third book in the Dead Generations series which was released on October 1st. 

What started you writing?

I’ve been writing as long as I can remember. I wrote my first short story sometime around the age of eight, and my first novel (though not a good one by any means) around sixteen. I have also written poetry, short stories, and many half-finished books off and on as well. But, the Dead Generations series is the first of what I hope to be many future published works.

Where do you write?

I have a home office that I retreat to, where I let my imagination run wild, and where I can be alone with my thoughts, and my characters, and just have the freedom to let go, and see where that takes me. Ideally, I’d love to retreat to a lake-side cabin deep in the woods. There is something about solitude, and nature that really fuels my creativity.

What do you like to read? 

I read almost an equal mix of fiction, and nonfiction, biographies of historical figures being my go-to. I also enjoy most fiction genres: contemporary, historical, sci-fi, fantasy, and horror novels being what I vary between. If they have elements of romance, even better! I prefer stories with queer and/or diverse characters but I’ll read anything that makes me feel and fuels my imagination. 

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

Oh boy, that’s a tough one! I’m going to go with pure entertainment reads since you know, stuck on a desert island and all. I would have to say The Stand – by Stephen King, The Passage – by Justin Cronin, and The Queen of the Damned by Anne Rice. All amazing, super engrossing reads, and a great way to pass the time. 

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 do not, besides a few group chats which are enormously helpful, encouraging, and a fabulous support system. I love being part of the writing community, and lending my help where and when I can. It’s great to have a tribe, and while I’m still looking for mine, I’m going to try and be as helpful as I can. I especially love beta reading for other authors, and helping them with brainstorming projects they might be stuck on, it really helps my own work as well. 

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

Besides writing, I love to read, bake and listen to podcasts (I’m especially into ones covering topics like true crime, history/science, and the paranormal.) I’m a huge movie buff and absolutely love classic films, so I’m big into that. I also love spending time outdoors, and in nature when I can. Traveling, and exploring new places is another love of mine. I love visiting local museums, and bookstores when I do. But mostly, I prefer being home with my partner, relaxing, I enjoy being a homebody.

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 newest release, The Dead Don’t Dream is the third book in the Dead Generations series. Dead Generations tells the story of a complicated, and tortured assassin, Ian Abbott, and a idealistic, and brilliant doctor, Adam Morrow, whose chance encounter leads them both on a dangerous path, where they soon learn the connection they share is far deeper than mere attraction.

It’s a dark read, full of many twists, and turns, and while an emotional read, at its heart is a love story that is as equal parts beautiful as it is tragic. I’m immensely proud of it, and how far it’s come. It began as a small nugget of an idea, a few years back and it grew, and grew until I finally had no choice but to sit down and let Ian and Adam tell me their story. I’m so glad they did!

 It’s been a crazy, wild ride, and what I’ve enjoyed most was creating a cast of characters, and a love story (however dark it may be at times) that readers seem to truly enjoy! I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of writing these two, and as I plan on writing six books total for this series, I hope that sentiment continues to hold true. 

As for what I’ve hated about writing it, not much. Writing is my true love! But there have been a few periods of self-doubt throughout this process, as well as wondering if I made the right decisions with certain plot points, and characters actions. Not to mention struggling from time to time with the one thing every writer dreads, writer’s block. All and all the entire process has been incredible. I wouldn’t change any of it, even the tough times for anything in the world.

The Dead Don’t Dream

Sequel to The Dead Don’t Mourn

After Katherine foils Ian and Adam’s plans, Ian self-destructs, drowning himself in alcohol and murder while Adam fights to stay sane under Katherine’s watchful eye, biding his time as he plots his revenge. Determined to keep them apart for good, Katherine takes her evil schemes one step further, leaving Ian and Adam unable to separate reality from fiction, friend from foe.

Still seeking answers to who betrayed them, Ian’s quest for vengeance puts him on a brutal path of destruction, setting off a devastating chain of events that changes everything for the group and leaving him more alone than ever. Broken and losing hope, Adam deals with a vengeful face from the past, one who will stop at nothing to claim Ian for himself. Locked in a battle for survival, Adam must do everything in his power to stay alive.

Their precarious situation takes an even more dangerous turn when Adam runs off and Katherine tasks Ian with bringing him back. It is a journey that will lead both men on a collision course with the ghosts of their shared and twisted past, and ultimately, each other, as they struggle to protect a future worth fighting for.

NOTE: This story contains scenes of torture, violence, death, substance abuse, suicidal ideation, and a brief scene of bullying and hate speech. This book ends on a “happy for now” ending with the promise of more to come. 

Amazon US : Amazon UK : JMS Books

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