RAtR: Regency Romance

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This month we are writing about Regency Romance– whether we love it or hate it and why so many people love to both read and write it. This is bang in the middle of my area of interest as both a reader and writer of historical romance.

Firstly then, when, and what, was the Regency? In 1811, George III was finally declared permanently incapable of carrying out his royal duties. His eldest son, Prince George, ‘Prinny’, the next in line to the throne, was therefore installed as Regent. He was a fashion-conscious social butterfly who loved the adulation of his court, was swayed by flattery, resented his parents in the fine tradition of England’s Hanoverian Kings and was moody and mercurial. Between 1811 and 1820 when he became King in his own right is technically the Regency era. However,  socially and culturally the term is used for the period from about 1795 to the ascension of Queen Victoria in 1837. The romance trope sits squarely in this period.

Why do we find it so attractive? My personal feeling is that it’s all down to Jane Austen. Generations of people grew up reading her model of middle class Georgian England. She centered her heroines in the story and we only get a frisson of the messy, dangerous rest of it… Mr Darcy going to London’s stews to find Lydia in Pride and Prejudice (1813); Captain Wentworth taking Ann Elliott’s party to Lyme to meet his friend, maimed aboard ship and living in poverty (Persuasion 1817); Marianne Dashwood falling for a roue and being abandoned in Sense and Sensibility (1811). 

Georgette Heyer and Julia Quinn and their colleagues picked up the trope and ran with it. Sometimes the books aren’t even dated to a particular year and the historical period is contextualised for us through high waisted dresses, being presented at court, going to a  ball, the love interest meeting his friends at Whites, getting vouchers for Almack’s, or having rooms at the Albany. If every hero in every book really had rooms at the Albany, they’d be queuing five deep around the block to get in. 

When we chose this topic, Nell had a minor wobble, because she famously doesn’t read series’ and is dubious about historical romance in general. Several of us yelled at her about K J Charles and Cat Sebastian until she gave in; I recommended she try one of my favourites, A Seditious Affair by K J Charles. A dour book shop owner and publisher of seditious leaflets falls for a Home Office official who is tasked with suppressing dissent. Learn about the Cato Street Plot here! It’s the second of a trilogy called The Company of Gentlemen, which each focus on a different couple in a group of friends although I think it stands happily alone. The trilogy slides seamlessly into the London of it’s time, with Molly Houses, lamp-boys leading you astray in the fog, not having enough coal for a bath, being transported for seditious dissent and freed slaves; alongside clubs, tailors, country houses and banging unsuitable people in curtained alcoves. I’ll be interested to see whether Nell read it and what she made of it!

At the moment I’m reading The Oak and the Ash by Annick Trent, a new to me author. It’s part of a loosely connected series and this one is set at the end of the 1790s. So far I haven’t been able to pin an actual date. The whole feeling of it is Regency though, which is what I meant about it sometimes being  a trope rather than a precise dating. In this story, a surgeon and a valet slowly fall in love after the valets employer — happily in an open marriage with a wife who has a lover as he has his — is injured in a duel. I’m looking forward to exploring more of the collection. It gives a gritty portrayal of the life of ordinary people, with a seditious newspaper, a reading club and the valet-protagonist fascinated with meteorological observations.

I suppose I should also hat-tip myself — The Flowers of Time, my own lesbian/non-binary/bisexual romance is set in the 1780s. It’s firmly pre-regency — we are still worrying about American Independence and the French Revolution — but  we do get a flash forward at the end, with Jones and Edie watching Queen Victoria’s coronation and talking about taking the train. I think we forget people lived long and rich lives either side of the periods we set our stories.

I also want to hat-tip the lovely Ellie, my fellow RAtR blogger, who has a collection of Regency stories that I have to my shame not read. I am actually on holiday this week — I’m writing this on the plane, get me! — and I plan to rectify that as soon as I hit the lounger by the pool this afternoon.

So that’s the post! Please do check out what my colleagues have to say on the subject!

(Due to my extreme inability to use Jetpack on my phone and my refusal to bring my laptop with me on holiday I am having trouble with inserting links, for which I apologise -the below links go to last month’s posts.)

To read what my Read Around the Rainbow colleagues have written about Dark Romance, click through below!

Nellhttps://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/ IrisOfelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

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 

New Release: The Naked Gardening Day Box Set!

The Naked Gardening Day Box Set is out on 5th November!

Remember the five gay romance stories we released back in May to celebrate World Naked Gardening Day? Well we have gathered them together in a box set. We had a bit of to-and-fro-ing about what to use for the cover, but eventually we all agreed this was a superb image–radishes and forearms! What more could you want!

They are all MM romance novellas featuring being naked in a garden somehow, somewhere, to mark World Naked Gardening Day on 7th May 2022.

You can read a bit more about each story here or buy it here!.

Back when they came out, we did some visiting of each other’s blogs to chat about our stories. You can find everyone’s guest posts here on the blog with a little bit about each story and an excerpt.

I love these stories and it was a such a fun project to do. We are currently discussing what to do next year!

#ReadAroundTheRainbow: My favourite creepy story

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This month we are, obviously, writing about our favourite creepy or Halloween story. This is a dead easy post for me to write, as I have an outstanding all-time-favourite Halloween story–The House on Druid Lake by Isabelle Adler.

It’s kind of a cosy mystery as well as a Halloween story, which should be counter-intuitive but turns out not to be at all.

The House on Druid Lake

Oliver’s a bit of a mess–his last relationship was abusive and he’s moved from Florida to Baltimore for a new job and a fresh start. He moves into a flat in an interesting old house, sight unseen except for the photos in the listing on the internet. The very attractive landlord is a bit odd as are the rest of the tenants. It was such a set-up…creaky old house, mysterious tenants…I loved it and immediately began working out what particular kind of entity each person was.

The house turns out to be the target of an unscrupulous developer and Oliver and his new landlord have to outwit them. Nym, the landlord, has his own secrets and hang-ups and I found their relationship development satisfying and well-rounded. There are some pleasingly inexplicable little bits…I don’t like my magic systems to be spoon-fed to me and there were little loose threads independent of the main story that gave me things to ponder once I’d finished. It’s a very happy Halloween book and I love it!

Here’s everyone else who wrote this month:

Amy Spector : K. L. Noone : Ellie Thomas : Nell Iris : Holly Day

#SampleSunday… The Quid Pro Quo

The Quid Pro Quo cover, A. L. Lester

I’m jumping on the #SampleSunday hashtag on twitter this week, with an excerpt from The Quid Pro Quo for you…

The Quid Pro Quo is a romantic historical paranormal murder-mystery set in 1920s rural England where nearly everyone is queer and the main couple is m/transm. Think Agatha Christie, but queer! With monsters! It’s the sequel to The Fog of War, but it works as a standalone set in the Border Magic universe.

Simon pressed the heel of his hand down onto the place the pain was radiating from. That usually helped. He sometimes wondered if there was anything still left in there. He should probably get it looked at. X-rayed, they called it, didn’t they? The hospital in Taunton had a machine, he knew.
He sighed. “Look, I didn’t just come up to show off my weaknesses to you.”
Kennett made a harrumphing sound that could have been a laugh. 
“I came to ask about two things. Her alibi. And the way she describes what happened at the seance.” 
“Look,” Kennett drew a breath and said in a firm voice, “she didn’t do it.”
Simon glared up at him, not quite ready to get up off the bench and fall over into the other man’s arms again. “That’s all very well. But you can’t just say that and then tell me you can’t say why you know!”
Kennett screwed up his face. “I just can’t, Mr Frost. And that’s all there is to it.”
Simon managed to stand. For all Kennett was small, he was intimidating. He scowled furiously up at Simon, face creased with anger. There was no trace of the sardonic wit about him now.
“Was she with you that night?” Simon asked quietly. It seemed unlikely, a girl like Miss Hall-Bridges and Kennett, who was a good twenty years older than her if he was a day and a lowly ex-soldier to boot. But he’d seen stranger relationships.
Kennett choked. “Bloody hell, no!” he said, almost with a shudder. “Absolutely definitely the wrong tree, Detective Frost!” There! He did return Simon’s interest, else Simon was a Dutchman.
Simon took another wobbling step forward and Kennett stepped back. Simon finally felt as if he was getting somewhere. There was something there. Why were they all protecting the woman? It was clear she was the best suspect—on paper, she had reason. But it was also clear that despite the evidence, nobody thought she’d done it. Including Simon.
Not that a lot of other people didn’t have reason to dislike the victim as well by the sound of it. His take-away from speaking to people who knew her painted a picture of the deceased as an entitled, arrogant woman who expected people to jump to her tune. He stopped that train of thought. There was never a reason to kill anyone. Never. Just because most of the people he knew had spent the last few years seeing that as the solution to all their problems didn’t mean it was right.
He drew a breath. “Then point me toward the right tree for goodness sake! If you have evidence that it wasn’t her, you’re morally obliged to let me have it!” he said, finally after a moment of silence.
Kennett shook his head again. “No, Detective Frost. I can’t. It’s not my place.”
Simon eyed him narrowly. He was backed up against the wall of the hallway, calm and not at all intimidated by Simon’s greater height.
“Do you know who killed her?” Simon asked him. 
Kennett’s eyes flicked away and back again. He shook his head. “No. I don’t.” He knew something though. He finally sighed and stepped forward, putting him chest to chest with Simon and Simon had no alternative but to step to one side and let him past unless he wanted to make something of it. And he didn’t. He really didn’t. He moved aside.
Simon was left looking after him as he went down the hall to the kitchen, the door propped open against the building heat of the day. He followed him into the room, watching him fill the kettle and put it on, helplessly standing there with his hands fisted in frustration at his sides, hot with irritation in the warmth of the morning and the lit range. 
“We’re done here,” Kennett said, sliding the kettle onto the hotplate and turning to face him. “You should leave, before Dr Marks gets home.”
“What, so you can sort out an alibi for Miss Hall-Bridges between you?” Simon said snarkily.
There was quite a long pause and then, from behind him, Dr Marks’ voice, deep and calm and very, very flat said, “No need, Detective Frost. Lucy and I share a bed. She didn’t go anywhere, all night.”
The silence was as absolute as if a shell had gone off and deafened him.
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