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.
`

#SampleSunday: An Irregular Arrangement

For #SampleSunday this week I’ve got the first chapter of An Irregular Arrangement for you. It’s free when you subscribe to my newsletter.

An Irregular Arrangement
An Irregular Arrangement: Chapter 1 : Val
“I do not think,” announced the vicar’s wife from the lane with some gravitas, “that you should be up there, young man.”
Val peered down from the top of the crumbling orchard wall where she was balanced, reaching over to get the very last apple. “Blast!” she exclaimed quietly and aloud said, “Just one more? It’s the last one. Mr Scott’s only going to let them all drop and then turn the pigs in, I heard him say.”
Mrs Downs sighed. “Oh, it’s you, Miss Wilkinson. Hurry up, so I can pretend you’d already finished by the time I saw you.”
Val flinched at being called Miss Wilkinson but did as she was bid and carefully scrambled down the way she’d climbed up. The apples were gathered in her cap and she passed them to Mrs Downs as she took a moment to brush her clothes free from dust. Mrs Downs observed quietly as she straightened her trousers and pulled down her waistcoat. Val eyed her cautiously. The vicar and his wife had only been in the village a few months and although everyone seemed to think they were decent sorts; decent sorts generally didn’t have much truck with people running round in unsuitable clothing and stealing apples.
“Flora Downs, by the way,” the woman offered a hand to shake, and Val took it. “Do call me Flora, please. I’m very pleased to meet you properly, we’ve only seen each other in passing. Would you like to come for breakfast?” Flora said, after a moment contemplating each other. “The vicar is away today…I’ve just walked him to the station, actually…and it would be nice to have some company.”
Val looked at her. She didn’t look much older than Val. Val was twenty-one but probably appeared younger with her hair cropped short and masculine clothing. “Valentine Wilkinson. Val. Hello. I’d love to,” she said in a burst of honesty, finally shaking the hand she was still holding. “But I need to drop the apples into Mrs Porter behind the smithy first. She’s not doing well since the new baby came and the other two young ones are hungry all the time. I said I’d see what I could do help.”
Flora gave Val an assessing look. “Come on then,” she said. “We can do that and then go and have some porridge at the vicarage. I’ve met most people by now, but I haven’t managed to pin you down.”
Val made a muffled yelping sound and juggled the apples to avoid answering. She’d made a categorical mistake in being noticed at all. Fading into the background was one of her special skills. She pulled energy from the border and thought herself small and people seemed to ignore her. She’d been so focused on the apples though, that she’d forgotten to keep it up when Flora spoke to her and now she was stuck. Although… Val glanced sideways to the small woman striding along beside her, skirts kicking around at a modest length above her ankles in the dust of the road, boots and dress pretty but practical, long hair turned up sensibly under a neat cloche hat, clear skin, pretty smile…it perhaps wasn’t the disaster it could have been.
“Have you met Mrs Porter?” she asked.
“No, I haven’t. I was told she probably wouldn’t appreciate a visit because she goes to the chapel, not the church.”
Val nodded. “That’s true. But none of them are talking to her because they realised she caught for the baby after her husband had died.” She grimaced. “No-one asked her what happened, they just judged her. I found out what was going on yesterday.”
“Well,” said Flora. “We need to get that sorted out as soon as possible, then. I’ll talk to the vicar when he gets home. We can help her if she’ll allow it.”
Val nodded. “I brought some bread and things this morning and dropped in and then I remembered the apples and thought I’d get them before the pigs. The children aren’t very old.”
****
It wasn’t long before they were in the vicarage kitchen. The ancient range was lit and Lily Richards, who came in every day to look after the house, was taking off her coat. “Morning, Missus, morning Miss Wilkinson,” she said. She didn’t quite meet Val’s eye. Quite a few of the more respectable villagers wouldn’t, these days. They didn’t like the trousers and they couldn’t see Val as a man, in the way that people who hadn’t know them growing up usually did if they met her dressed as she liked to dress.
“Good morning, Lily,” Flora said. “Are you going to get on with the bedrooms this morning?”
“Yes, Missus. I was going to strip the sheets from yours; and Sally’s coming to do the laundry in a couple of hours. I’m just going to light the copper for her.”
Flora nodded. “Wonderful, thank you. I’ll make a cup of tea and give you a shout when it’s brewed, shall I?”
“Lovely, thank you, Missus.”
“Take a seat,” Flora gestured to the long, scrubbed kitchen table. “We eat in here unless we’ve got company. The dining room is like something out of Dickens, it’s so gloomy. We get the sun in here.”
The room was on the corner of the house and faced both south and east. The early autumn sun was pouring in. It shot the soft brown of Mrs Downs’ hair through with red highlights, like a fox’s coat glinting russet against a hedgerow.
Val sat whilst Flora pottered about putting porridge in a pan and boiling the kettle.
“Don’t you have servants for this?” Val asked.
“Only Lily. I don’t much like having people in and out of the house, to be honest. I grew up keeping house for my father, so I’m happy taking it on for Tim and me.”
Val nodded. One of the reasons she spent so much time out of the house was that it was always flooded with people. The servants, then Mama, and their brothers’ friends. Val didn’t like the crowds and she didn’t like the way it felt, dressed up in girl’s clothes as Mama insisted, with the young men all looking at her like dogs eyeing a biscuit.

Get your copy here to continue reading