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!
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!
Vampire Food
MM Slow Burn, Hurt – Comfort, Size Difference, Found Family, Vampire, Magic User
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?
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
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.
Today Holly Day is visiting to tell us all about her recent release. Holly is the second pen name of my friend Ofelia Grand. This post should have gone up on the 19th December; but because my head was full of cold I clean forgot. Please give her a warm welcome today instead!
Hi Hollyfelia! Thanks so much for coming to the blog today! Can you tell us a little bit about the split personality you’ve got going on and how that came about?
Thank you for having me! 🥰
It started about two and a half years ago. This was in the middle of the covid lockdowns, and while I’m in Sweden, where we never had a real lockdown, we were still encouraged to work from home if we could, not see people unless we had to, and keep our distance. At the time, I was working on a mushroom farm, and we mainly delivered to restaurants, and since people were supposed to stay at home and not eat in restaurants, we more or less stopped production. The result was that I didn’t have a job. Nell Iris didn’t have a job, and the lovely A.L. Lester 😘 didn’t have a job, so we met up in the mornings and wrote together.
One sunny summer day, I was writing a Christmas story, and I was in a flow. When you’re in a flow, you don’t want to step away from the story, but I’d promised my girls that we were gonna go to the playground, so I grudgingly did my duty as a mother 😆 and went to the playground.
While there I kept thinking about how I could write holiday stories all year round and not grow bored. My mind started spinning, and by the time the girls were ready to go home, I had this idea of a pen name who wrote stories for different holidays. I would call her Holly Day since she was meant for holidays LOL
The whole one-story-a-month idea came later. I finished the Christmas story I was writing as Ofelia and wrote a Valentine story as Holly. Then I wrote a story for Kiss a Ginger Day, which is in January. And then I saw Extraterrestrial Abductions Day which is in March. I wrote all three stories in 2020 and realised I had one story a month in the first quarter of 2021 before we’d reached 2021, and that’s what set off the whole one-story-a-month thing. We’ll see if I can keep it up, I’m a little behind at the moment 😊 but so far we’ve had 24 stories in 24 months.
Let’s have some seasonal questions. How do you and your family usually celebrate the midwinter season? Do you decorate the house?
Normally, we’re celebrating with my mother at her house, but she passed away a month ago (#FuckCancer), so this year, we’re a little lost. And hubby will be away working from the 23rd to the 26th, so this year, it’ll only be me and the kids.
We decorate. We have a tree, a real tree, stars in our windows and lots of candles and such. I think it’s pretty similar to the rest of the western world.
What we do that most outside of Scandinavia don’t is celebrate Saint Lucy’s Day on December 13th. It’s a bit weird, not the celebration as such – I love celebrating Lucia – but that we do it. Sweden is one of the most secular countries in the world, only about 9% go to church, so it’s a bit strange that we’re celebrating an Italian saint.
Lucia is beautiful, and the children dress up in the schools, and parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles get to come to see them sing.
Like this:
What’s your favourite food at this time of year?
Ah… I’m a problematic person. Swedish Christmas food is very meat-based. We have ham, meatballs, jellied meats, sausages, and on, and on the list goes, and I’m a vegetarian. I’m also lactose intolerant and gluten intolerant, so there go most other foods. People love to have me over, promise 😆
But traditionally, we also have a lot of kale and Brussels sprouts and such, so that’s mostly what I eat. And I make some vegetarian stuff like mustard grilled Quorn that mimics the traditional Christmas food as well as some things that aren’t normally included in the holiday foods.
Most importantly this time of year isn’t the food – though many people would disagree with me on that – but the glögg. It’s a Scandinavian type of mulled wine, and I can be without most of the traditional holiday food, but not that 😊
Have you asked for anything in particular as a present this year? If you could, what would you want wrapped under the tree for you on Christmas morning?
Eh… no. I’m not really big on things. All I need is my phone, my laptop, and an internet connection, and I already have that.
I would like a huge greenhouse, but I have no good place for it in the garden. If I’m just gonna dream though, I’ll say a greenhouse. I have a small one and it’s not in a good place, so the plants I have in the garden usually grow better than the ones in the greenhouse 🙄
And chickens. I want more chickens. Chickens aren’t as much fun this time of year though when it’s cold and snowy, and the water keeps freezing, and so on, but you can never go wrong with chickens LOL
Tell us about your current release?
It’s a gay paranormal romance novella called Willow Road and it celebrates Crossword Puzzle Day on the 21st December. I wrote it for JMS Books Advent Calendar.
It’s an interspecies fated mates story. Jeremiah hasn’t left his house in over a decade. He went to a shifter school where he was bullied for being the only human, and a group of shifters locked him up in the school basement. Life never went back to normal after that.
Zeeb is the chief of police. When he learns that someone is putting ads in the paper encouraging people to ring Jeremiah’s door right next to the crossword puzzle they know he’s solving every day, he’s furious, and goes to talk to Jeremiah. That’s when he realises Jeremiah is his mate. The problem is that as a human Jeremiah has no idea he has a mate, and he wants nothing to do with shifters, and Zeeb can’t have a human mate since the other shifters wouldn’t respect him if he did. So… best not to let Jeremiah know he’s Zeeb’s mate, right? Well, it was the initial plan, but as we established above, initial plans sometimes change.
Willow Road
Jeremiah Pace hasn’t left his house in thirteen years. He doesn’t trust anyone, least of all shifters. School was a nightmare, and despite never interacting with anyone in the village, the bullying continues in his adult life. Someone is putting ads in the paper, encouraging people to drop by his house for one service or other, but Jeremiah never opens his door.
Zeeb Hemming is a lone wolf and the new chief of police. He’s only been in Stoneshade for six weeks when he learns about the ads and goes to knock on Jeremiah’s door. Not because of what today’s ad said, but to get to the bottom of what’s going on. Human or not, Jeremiah deserves to live life in peace. The moment Zeeb nears Jeremiah’s house, he knows he’s his mate. But he can’t have a human mate.
Jeremiah pleads with Zeeb not to stir anything up. Yes, the ads are bad, but things can always get worse. Zeeb is furious someone is mistreating his mate and is willing to skin anyone who has any connection to the ads alive. But how is he to convince Jeremiah to trust him when he talks to Zeeb through a gap in the window instead of opening the door to his house?
The next day, Dolph and Boris were both missing when Zeeb walked through the door into the police station. Rica was sipping on a cup of coffee while leafing through a stack of papers.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” She gave him a quick smile before focusing on the stack of paper again.
“Where’s Dolph and Boris?”
She put down the paper she’d been reading and studied him. “They had to go out.”
“Had to go out?” Had to? It was seldom anyone had to in Stoneshade.
She tilted her head. “They were laughing about something in the paper, and then two minutes ago they had to go talk to someone.”
Zeeb gritted his teeth. “They were laughing.”
She pursed her lips. “They’re always laughing at things in the paper, aren’t they?”
Scanning the table, he spotted a folded paper underneath another stack of paper—almost as if they didn’t want him to see it. He grabbed it and quickly turned the pages.
“Jesus, what did the paper ever do to you?”
“It’s the ads. If there’s another ad, heads will roll.”
Rica gave him a confused look. “The ads?”
“They’re harassing that poor soul on Willow Road.”
The confusion deepened. “Which soul? Who is living on Willow Road?”
“Jeremiah Pace.”
She shook her head. “Never heard of.”
Zeeb sighed. Would the entire village play oblivious? “The human who went to school with Dolph.”
Her eyes widened. “They put a human in a school for shifters?”
Zeeb growled at her. “Thirteen years ago, there was some sort of attack on him, and he hasn’t left his house since. Don’t tell me you don’t know this.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t live here thirteen years ago.”
Freezing in mid-turn of a page, he looked at her. “You didn’t live here?”
She shook her head. “I’m not from here. I met Samuel while backpacking in Italy. I got to Venice on a train, one of those spur-of-the-moment decisions, and I knew the minute I set foot on the platform my mate was there. You know the spark?”
Zeeb shook his head. He hadn’t met his mate, so he didn’t know, but he’d heard enough stories to guess, and the dreamy look on her face made him smile.
“Anyway, his grandfather had a farm a few miles from here, and when he passed away, Samuel wanted to take over. It’ll be six years in April.”
Nodding, Zeeb turned another leaf of the paper. He’d been told Samuel had his cows in the pasture beyond the row houses during the summer months. “So, you don’t know anything about the ads?”
“This is the first I’ve ever heard of any ads.”
“And you never read the personal ads in the paper?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say I do.”
“You didn’t see the ad yesterday about full-service massages?”
Rica burst out laughing. “Full service? Don’t tell me we have a bordello in Stoneshade.” Then she sobered. “Shit, we don’t, do we? I worked a trafficking case while living in Phine. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”
“No, not that I know of. It’s some idiot putting ads in the paper saying people can come to Willow Road 1 for full-service massages, but an agoraphobic guy named Jeremiah Pace lives on Willow Road 1.”
Rica’s eyes bled into the icy blue of her wolf, and Zeeb took a deep breath. Finally, someone who reacted the way they should. He found the page with the crossword and scanned the ads. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What?” Rica came to stand next to him, and he pointed at an ad. Committed sub looking for Dom. Loves role play. Please, be my carpenter and ring my doorbell. Willow Road 1. I’m waiting for you.
“Oh, God.”
“Was it what Dolph and Boris were laughing about?”
She breathed in deep and pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I didn’t look. They’re always laughing at something, and I needed to check some facts for the…” She gestured at the pile of papers next to her cup, and Zeeb nodded.
“Where is the newspaper office?”
“In town, I think.”
In Alderdon? It was a thirty-minute drive one way. “I’m going to talk to them. I’ll swing by Jeremiah’s first to make sure he’s okay, then I’ll go into town. I have my cell.”
About Holly
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.
Are you looking for a low angst gay romance with a trans MC set in a little Welsh town? With a truly terrible community orchestra? I’ve got you covered.
Second Wind
What do a shy French-horn-playing accountant and a single-dad trans trumpet player have in common other than both being members of the community orchestra at Theatr Fach in the little town of Llanbaruc?
Gethin’s been more or less hiding from life since his marriage broke up a couple of years ago. He’s joined the orchestra because his sister told him he needed a hobby rather than sitting at home brooding about his divorce.
Martin is careful who he dates because of his gender and his teenage daughter. He came to Llanbaruc as a stage manager for the Theatr Fach twelve years ago. He’s got a good set of friends here. Shannon’s a good kid. They’re a team.
Martin and Gethin hit it off. Will their mutual baggage prove too much to sustain a relationship?
A gentle m/transm romance in the Theatr Fach universe.
“Martin!” Julie, the lead violin, waved him over. “This is Gethin,” she said, her hand on the arm of a tall, thin man nervously clutching a French horn and peering out from behind a thick pair of glasses. He resembled a nervous heron. “He’s new,” she added unnecessarily. “Can you take him under your wing a bit?”
Martin shot her a look. She was a very competent, friendly woman with no tact at all.
“Of course,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, Gethin,” he held out a hand and Gethin took it. “I’m Martin. Trumpet.”
“Gethin Jones,” the thin man said, shaking his hand a little too hard. His palm was warm and firm and he was clearly apprehensive. “Erm. French horn.” He waved his instrument vaguely at Martin. “As you can see.”
Martin smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Brass is over here. Let me introduce you around.” They started picking their way through the chairs. The brass section was made up of Martin and Alan on trumpet, Tim and Lucy on trombone, and Portia, a ten year old who played a tuba almost as large as she was. They were setting up music and gossiping about their week when Martin and Gethin reached them.
“Hullo hullo,” Martin said. This is Gethin Jones.” He waved vaguely at Gethin beside him. “Gethin, this is Tim, Lucy, Alan and Portia.” Everyone made noises of greeting. The room was beginning to echo with the sound of instruments being tuned and scales being played. It was a familiar cacophony.
“Are you Marion’s Gethin?” Lucy asked suddenly, leaning toward them to be heard over the cat-like screech of a young violinist and a burp from Portia’s tuba.
Beside him, Gethin tensed. “Not any more,” Gethin said brusquely, nodding. “But yes. I used to be.”
Lucy nodded, blushing. “Sorry,” she said. “My sister is Penny Wright. They went to school together. Penny told me what happened.”
Gethin nodded again. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, again. He didn’t add anything else. He seemed almost paralytically shy. But then, Martin would be reticent if he knew everyone was talking about his private business.
“I’ll go and get you some music,” Martin said, forestalling any more awkwardness. “Here, stick your horn down on the seat and grab yourself a music stand from the stack in there”. He gestured at the open door of the cupboard behind them.
The spare sheet music was on the table at the front. He made his way across the room, wending around chairs and people offering greetings until he could pick up a sheaf.
Julie met him there. “Is he all right?” she hissed at Martin, glancing past him over his shoulder at Gethin, an anxious expression on her face.
“Yes? Why shouldn’t he be?” Martin asked, frowning at her, puzzled.
“He’s Posey Morgan’s brother,” Julie hissed some more. “You know. Posey the health visitor?”
Martin shook his head. “Not my area,” he said apologetically. “Never met her.” He couldn’t remember who Shannon’s health visitor had been. An older woman though, no-one who could have been the sister of someone Gethin’s age.
Julie scowled at him, apparently blaming him for his lack of knowledge. “Well, she said he needed to get out of the house,” she continued, still hissing. “His wife left him two years ago and he’s become a recluse, she told me. I suggested he come along here to help take him out of himself.”
Martin bit his lip. As a gentle first step back in to a social life, he had his doubts about the suitability of the orchestra. One of it’s other activities was going to the pub after practice on a Friday and drinking steadily ‘til closing time. And there was a country-dancing-for-exercise sub-set of members he tried to avoid ... they’d invited him along to one of the sessions and he’d been crippled for days afterwards.
“So?” he said. “He seems perfectly normal.”
“The wife took off with his best friend,” Julie told him, shooting another guilty look over his shoulder at the brass section, who were settling the newcomer in their midst like a chicken in a nest of ferrets. Martin stopped himself turning properly to look at them, watching out of the corner of his vision.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Martin promised. “Does he actually play?”
“He brought it in to the shop to have it serviced,” she said. “He seemed to know what he was doing. And Posey said he played at school. But I don’t think he’s done much of anything for a while.” She pulled a face. “He’s an accountant.”
