I'm a member of Read around the Rainbow, a rag tag collection of authors who are part of or who write about all letters of the LGBTQ+ rainbow. Each month we'll be posing a question or subject up for discussion. This month the question posed is 'Do you set your books in the place you live (or have lived) in?'
My answer is, as always, suitably vague. Sometimes, but only in the broadest terms, or not at all. Helpful, yes? No, not at all. I don't blame you if your response is "Whatever do you mean?"
Let's try and clarify.
I live in the UK. South East to be more precise. And some of my books are set in and around that area.
Waiting for a Spark is set the closest to home, in fact the Polish shop that Jerome visits when he runs out of milk is 5 minutes walk away. I used it myself, when I ran out of milk, and more recently when I couldn't get a bottle of Advocaat in the supermarket (I can't put the Christmas Tree up without a snowball). They do a gorgeous poppy seed cheesecake.
Also set in the vicinity, although a few more miles out, is New Lease of Life. And yet the books couldn't be more different in tone as to the type of people that populate the pages. If Pip ran out of milk, he'd go without until he could order in a food delivery, and Colby, well he's far less likely to run out of milk and would stop off at Waitrose on his way home. Colby might have been a council estate lad but he's got money now, and Pip, well, he's the entitled elite, public schools, Royal Ascot, and Henley Regatta. He probably never had to wonder how the milk got in the fridge, it was just magically there. And then his accident happened and he just didn't care about milk (or food at all, really) to worry if it wasn't there. One city (and the outskirts), such a variety of people.
In my Village Love series I made up my own village, based on all the villages in the South Downs that I've visited or driven through over the years. Look on a map, you won't find Slopy Bottom on any of them, but if you drive that corner of England you'll pass through any number that could be Slopy Bottom. The sights, the sounds, even the smells.
Check out the posts from the other members of the RatR crew.
He’d risk his life to find his brother. But he never expected to risk his heart.
Blurb
Three months since his brother went MIA, and Lane Matthews is tired of waiting for answers from overseas. Calling in a favour from his CO, he gets a posting to Jeddah—his first overseas deployment and where his brother was stationed—and the opportunity to try to find him.
Life in a foreign land isn’t quite as he imagined, and neither are his duties. And while his first encounter with his housemate, Tristan, may be memorable, it’s for all the wrong reasons.
Tristan catches him off guard but falling for the hot—straight?—soldier is definitely not in his future. Tensions rise as Lane gets closer to discovering the truth behind his brother’s disappearance, but even the best-laid plans can get swept off course and lost like a grain of sand in the desert.
This MM military romance from Beth Laycock features an age gap, a bratty MC, forced proximity, hurt/comfort, and of course a HEA.
Excerpt
The driver parked up, and I clambered out of the car as if I were waking from a dream—the heat a slap in the face after the blast of the AC. My CO, or who I assumed was my commanding officer, strode my way, every inch the army man with the stiff walk and straight back.
“Matthews?” He thrust a meaty hand at me, and I shook it as he crushed my palm in his.
“Yes, sir. Lane, Lane Matthews. The Duke of Lancaster’s regiment.”
“Major Tibbins. Glad to have you here. I won’t lie; we struggled to cover the last guard’s shifts when he left, so we’re happy to have you here.”
Guard? What guard? He released my hand and clapped me on the back. I staggered under the weight, catching myself before I stumbled.
“We’ll start you on gate duty in the hut you just drove past, but you’ll probably be able to rotate with the others soon. Anyway, I just wanted to welcome you, but I’ll let you get settled in. Reception has your accommodation details and duty roster. You’re not on until tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll swing by before then. Any questions, just let me know. I’m here to help you settle in.”
He waited a beat, but when all I could do was nod in response, he strode off, leaving me to stare after him, more than a little shell-shocked.
I shuffled into reception and waited as the man behind the counter spoke to a woman with a kid sat on her hip about the nursery. Army wife? Another woman popped up behind the desk before I could give it more consideration.
“Hi, can I help you?”
After a whirlwind of paperwork, I left with a set of keys and a folder of documents. I grabbed the map and followed the tarmac path-slash-road into a housing complex. I wound my way through the houses until I found mine in the corner and fumbled the key into the lock as I finished reading my roster.
After more years than I wanted to consider in the reserves, my first proper assignment would be as a guard. A glorified fucking babysitter. What the fuck? This was not how I imagined my first overseas posting with the army. Not leaving the compound all day. I wouldn’t be a soldier like my brother. How the hell was I going to find out what had happened to him—if he was even alive still—if I would be stuck in a hut all alone?
I needed to find the soldiers he served with, question them. Find out what they were doing to locate Jake. I couldn’t just wander onto their base, and I knew none of his teammates to ask. I was screwed. And I couldn’t help but wonder if Steve, my CO back home, and maybe my dad seeing as he went way back with Steve, had had a hand in keeping me on the compound. Probably with how Steve had helped me get posted here in the first place.
I slammed the front door shut with my foot, still staring at the goddamned piece of paper, and flung my rucksack to the floor. It knocked into the console table and rattled a can of pens. I slapped the handle of my suitcase down so hard the case fell over and crashed against the wall. A groan of frustration slipped out as I slumped against the doorway and buried my hands in my hair.
“You quite finished taking your tantrum out on my home?”
The deep voice had me jerking away from the wall as my eyes flew open. I’d thought I was alone. Why was there someone in my house? Wait, his home? “I wasn’t having a tantrum.”
One thin eyebrow arched in response and, yeah, sounding like a spoilt brat wasn’t my best defence. But then all reasonable thoughts disappeared as the surprise of someone else being there wore off and I took in the man standing before me.
A man I could’ve conjured straight from my spank bank: a couple of inches taller than my six feet and much, much broader than me. With his bare chest, it was all too easy to see just how ripped he was, and I licked my lips in response. His dog tags nestled in the valley between his pecs and my gaze wandered lower over each peak and dip of his abs and traced the veins disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts.
He cleared his throat and my gaze shot up to his, meeting dark brown eyes that seemed to mock me. Do not blatantly check out guys you’ve just met, Lane. Unless you want to get punched. Especially not a straight guy, if the edge to his glare was anything to go by. I gulped.
“It sure sounded like a tantrum.”
“I didn’t know anybody else was here.”
He smirked and a dimple appeared, softening the sharp angles of his jaw that was accentuated by the hard bristles of his beard. “So, it’s not a tantrum if you’re alone?”
About the Author
Beth Laycock’s books are influenced by her time living overseas as well as the gritty, urban landscape of the north of England where she grew up. She has been reading romance since she was old enough to tell herself that line every book lover does—just one more chapter.
As a teenager, she attempted to write her first novel, and many more since then are still gathering dust on her bookshelf. It wasn’t until she discovered the M/M genre that her muse showed up and refused to quit telling her stories about beautiful men finding love together. She hasn’t stopped scribbling them down since. Beth’s muse usually shows up when she is in the shower, is allergic to cleaning, rarely lets her watch TV, and insists she drinks copious amounts of coffee so she can turn caffeine into words.
Beth’s books range from sweet to sexy, long to short, contemporary to paranormal, but a HEA is always guaranteed.
The stars and the goddess call out for a Chosen Hero to save it.
Unfortunately, all they get is Kell.
Blurb
IKell Hồ Sinh Porter is twenty-six years old and desperate to leave his unhappy life and his dead-end town. One night his wish is granted by a mysterious voice—though not in any way he would've imagined—and he finds himself in the semi-magical land of Allune where everyone thinks he’s the “Chosen One.” Kell politely disagrees, and absconds from his duties. On the search for an adventure that doesn’t come with world-saving responsibility attached, he’s joined by companions. Every adventurer needs them, but his turn out to be Ansel, a sheltered fallen angel, and Fre, a half-orlk who wants to be a hero.
Destiny, bad luck, and the gods conspire against him. The Dawn Goddess wants him to take up his Chosen One mantle, which Kell is sure means becoming cannon fodder in an ancient divine war. The Lich King’s demonic minions carry out sporadic attacks in an attempt to kill him and prove he is not the Chosen One. Temperamental elves, talking stars that aren't all that helpful, image-conscious demons, maddening pieces of prophecy that everyone thinks Kell should already know, and his growing feelings for Ansel all mix in a frustrating stew as Kell tries to juggle his feelings, his duties, and all the things trying to kill him. No one asked him if he wanted to be anyone's Chosen One, and he can't begin to understand why he was chosen. Kell needs to figure out who to trust and how to forge his own path before it's too late for Allune and for him.
Excerpt
Kell woke up slowly. Awareness filtered back to him in pieces. Rough wood under his palms. The warmth of the sun on his skin. The low, tumbling murmur of gathered people. Something weighing hot and heavy against his ribcage. The scent of fresh baking and old sweat mixing on his tongue. He wrinkled his nose and blinked his eyes open.
He was lying on a platform near the middle of town, judging by the smell and the noise. That wasn't necessarily troubling in and of itself. But the sky …
It was blue, yes, and the sun was midmorning high and bright enough to make his eyes water. But there were stars speckling the sky all above him, little pink pinpricks of light dusting what should have been a solid-blue backdrop. Kell stared at them hard for a long moment, then closed his eyes again.
Weren't dreams supposed to end when you woke up? What was this, a dream within a dream?
Whatever it was, he didn't feel up to dealing with it right now.
Apparently the world wasn't going to give him a choice. Someone nudged at his leg, gently at first but with increasing insistence.
Someone, Kell thought, with perhaps an edge of bubbling hysteria, or something. He giggled a little, biting his lip to keep the sound in. God, what is with me?
Maybe he had heat stroke. It was unusually warm out now for only being March.
What had happened last night? Fuck it. He didn't remember getting drunk enough to pass out in the middle of the street. He didn't remember planning on drinking at all.
A throat cleared above him, polite but impatient. Oh, well. Time for him to get up anyway before he got cited for public drunkenness or whatever. Kell made an effort to lift his head, but it was hard, and he was tired, and staying here a little longer couldn't hurt, right?
Was public drunkenness even a real crime?
"Oh for the love of Skuache …" someone muttered, and then Kell found himself being gripped firmly on either side and hauled upwards. He let out a yelp of surprise, flailing around as strong arms did their best to hold him steady. The world spun as he opened his eyes, and it took a moment to get his feet under him. He staggered a bit, keeping his eyes trained on his feet for balance until he felt he wouldn't fall over at any moment. Not that his rescuers had any intention of letting him go any time soon, with the way they held onto his arms just this side of too tight.
Shouldn't have wished for the cops last night if this is where it gets me.
"Really, goddess," the person continued to mutter. They sounded close. And important in a kind of college professor way. The kind used to lecturing and looking down on failing students. Kell dubbed him Professor Throat Clearer and entertained a brief image of a stuffy man in tweed giving lectures on how to properly interrupt conversation with discreet noises. It sounded like a fun class. Kell would have taken it.
"I have faith in your efforts, I truly do," Professor Throat Clearer continued, speaking low and to himself. "But I swear, these Chosen get worse every time."
About the Author
Evelyn Benvie is the wooly jumper in a family of black sheep. Both a cynic and a romantic at heart, she writes diverse poetry and queer-positive spec-fiction with strong characters, quirky romances, and (almost always) happy endings.
Sometimes she'll try to be funny, to varying results.
Sometimes the right answer is the part of yourself you are afraid to face.
Blurb
Alpha Jay Russell’s broken engagement may just be the best thing that ever happened to him. His ex-fiancé’s twin, Bari, is much more his type and straightforward about his flirting and desire to unite their packs.
Jay returns home after his misadventures in Centrus City to a new prophecy, an unknown enemy, and tribal unrest over a series of racially-driven murders. Furious, Jay is determined to bring whoever’s responsible to justice… but the unrest upsets the fragile peace he’s been working to achieve, threatens his new lover’s life, and undermines his position as Alpha, which makes investigating a challenge.
Can Jay and Bari work together to fight their inner demons—and a strange adversary dead set on returning to the past—or will mistrust and political machinations tear them apart?
Blue Moon Rising is the second book in the Moonlight Prophecies series. Fans of shifters, soothsayers, and shadowy villains will fall under Amanda Meuwissen’s spell in this suspenseful, sexy urban fantasy romance.
My Two Pennies' Worth
Thisbook can't really be read as a standalone. Book 1, By the Red Moonlight, provides a lot of world-building for this universe and the backstory of how Jay and Bari met. There is also an overarching plot that has not been resolved, unanswered questions that will continue into the next book in the series.
Because book 1 did the heavy lifting with the world-building this one was able to focus more heavily on the budding relationship, which was sweet and sexy, just like Jay himself. There was an immediate threat which was wrapped up in this story and some more information revealed for the plot holding this all together.
Disappointingly the secondary characters weren't as likeable as in the first book. Where Bash had surrounded himself with trusted, engaging and like-minded people, Jay's inner circle were nasty bigots.
Looking forward to the next book in the series. I wonder where the author will take us.
Excerpt
“I’m not texting or calling with what went on in Centrus City. Those events need to be explained in person. What’s Ursula asking?” Jay added as an aside, curious if she’d heard anything from the rumor mill.
“She knows you well.” Maximus scrolled through some of the messages. “Wondering if you’re bringing home any strays with your new husband.”
Jay cringed. He wasn’t even technically bringing home a fiancé anymore. It was better things hadn’t worked out between him and Bashir, but that didn’t mean what happened didn’t hurt. Instead of breaking things off between them from the start, Bashir had slept with Ethan—twice—before Jay backed out of the marriage himself. Jay just wanted to be someone’s first choice, but being a hopeless romantic didn’t mean he had luck in love.
“You’re not still poring over pack reports, I hope.” Bari appeared as if summoned, depositing himself gracefully in the seat next to Jay with a dramatic crossing of one leg over the other and leaning toward him. Bashir smelled like sandalwood, but Bari smelled like jasmine, another sign Bari was more Jay’s type, because that smell made his insides quiver, and scent was a common factor in choosing a mate. “Even an Alpha needs to take breaks, darling. And we’re nearly home! Well, home for you. Speaking of….” He batted impossibly long lashes, and his exaggerated nature reminded Jay like a slap to the face how different he was from Bashir in every way. “Foolish little ol’ me forgot to look into any hotels. I hope everything won’t be booked.”
Maximus scoffed at the obvious lead-in, but Jay had already intended this offer.
“No hotel necessary,” Jay said, enjoying Bari’s scent but trying to stay focused and hopefully not look as red in the face as he felt. “Only Max and our Magister are mated, so we have plenty of spare rooms at our den. We’ll head there once the train arrives so you can get settled and I can address my circle about what’s gone on the past few weeks.”
“You haven’t told them anything?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure they’ve heard whispers. While I intend to tell my circle everything, I’ll make sure it’s understood that talk of Seers, Focuses, and Nulls needs to be kept as only gossip for everyone else.”
“My pack thanks you for that,” Bari said with a gentle touch to Jay’s arm. He was very casually physical, another contrast to his brother. “I know you were gone much longer than planned. I hope everything ran smoothly without you.”
“Smooth enough,” Maximus growled, reminding Jay that they weren’t alone. “Are you an ambassador or a spy?”
“Max,” Jay chided him.
“It’s okay,” Bari dismissed. “I was prying. I won’t pretend like Bash didn’t ask me to keep him informed of the state of your city. But allies should be honest with each other.” He looked squarely at Maximus and grinned. “When I spy, I’ll warn you first.”
Maximus turned away with another scoff.
“But before any espionage, I’m looking forward to a better meal than the train food we had for lunch.” Bari returned his attention to Jay. “Would you like to get dinner later?”
In an instant, Jay was a flustered teenager again because he couldn’t think of a response. He wasn’t used to anyone being so forward with him, especially someone who’d almost sort of already proposed.
“He’s been gone for weeks,” Maximus broke in, “and you think he’s going to immediately start playing tour guide just because—”
“Max,” Jay chided again, which at least helped him find his voice. He knew his Second was only looking out for him, but being a good Alpha meant taking time for himself too, something he often forgot. “Pack business comes first, always,” he reassured Maximus, and then looked to Bari. “But I do have to eat. I’d love to take you to dinner tonight.”
There was that unique crinkle at the corners of Bari’s eyes that Jay had never seen on Bashir. “Marvelous. It’s a date. That is a very fetching shirt on you, by the way.” He lightly tugged Jay’s collar and stroked once more down his arm before getting up and heading back toward Theresa and William with a sly smirk.
It wasn’t that special of a shirt, Jay thought, just black with a few horizontal stripes in gray, but since he’d taken his jacket off during the ride, he supposed the short sleeves flattered his biceps well, which was where Bari had touched.
Jay realized he’d followed Bari’s retreat almost to the point of turning in his chair and quickly sat forward again.
Maximus stared at him deadpan.
“What? It’s just dinner.”
As soon as Maximus huffed and looked back out at the city, Jay couldn’t contain his smile. Just dinner—for now.
About the Author
Amanda Meuwissen is a bisexual author, with a primary focus on M/M romance. As author of the paranormal romance trilogy The Incubus Saga and several other titles with various publishers, Amanda regularly attends local comic conventions for fun and to meet with fans, where she will often be seen in costume as one of her favorite fictional characters. She lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband, John, and their cat, Helga.
