Read Around the Rainbow Web Ring

Read Around the Rainbow: Writer’s Block

Read Around the Rainbow is a blogging project featuring yours truly, A.L. Lester, Ofelia Gränd, Holly Day, K.L. Noone, Amy Spector, Addison Albright, Fiona Glass, Lilian Francis, and Ellie Thomas. Every month, we pick a topic and then we blog about it. Check the other blog posts by clicking the RAtR widget in the sidebar, or the links at the bottom of this post.


The April topic for the Read Around the Rainbow blog project is Writer’s Block, the two dreaded words constantly in the back of a writer’s mind, and when Ally suggested it in our group chat, my brain said Yes! I can write about writer’s block.

Because I haven’t submitted a story in months, I haven’t written in months. I’ve opened my WIP a few times and tinkered with what I’ve already written, but I haven’t added any new words. I haven’t had any new ideas–which admittedly isn’t in itself necessarily a sign of writer’s block for me; I’m a one-idea-at-the-time kind of author unless my current WIP isn’t working for me–but I haven’t even really felt the urge to write, I’ve just had a guilty voice in the back of my head nagging me that I should write.

This has to be writer’s block, right? Hasn’t it?

Or is it just that I have a full-time day job (with too much to do and not enough staff) that demands more and more of my time and mental energy, and with a long commute that steals two hours of my day? Is it that I have elderly parents and in-laws with serious health issues (like dementia, heart attacks, and threat of amputation of a limb) that kills a lot of joy and positivity in my life? Do I have a beloved granddaughter (and her equally beloved parents) I want to spend as much time as possible with to infuse my life with happiness? Do I have a huge house and garden that require my attention, a shelf full of books I want to read, and I couch I want to lie on and read said books. Yes. The answer to all these questions is yes!

There’s also the question of is writer’s block even a real thing? Writer John Green’s father doesn’t seem to think so, because he said “Coal miners don’t get coal miners’ block.” And his statement is maybe more true than we writers want to acknowledge; I go up and go to work every day and perform well enough to make my bosses so happy they gave me not one, but two significant salary raises this past year, while my parents and in-laws are still struggling with their health issues, and all the other items om my list above are still true. So I clearly don’t have a day-job-block.

I asked the Internet about writer’s block, both if it’s a thing and what the definition is; Merriam-Webster says it’s “a psychological inhibition preventing a writer from proceeding with a piece,” and this article on Masterclass.com describes it as “Writer’s block is a phenomenon experienced by writers that is best described as an overwhelming feeling of being stuck in the writing process without the ability to move forward and write anything new.”

When I asked the Internet about the causes, it listed things like self doubt, perfectionism, distractions (as in social media and the Internet in general), lack of ideas, fear (of both failure and success), and lack of control (external factors, difficult personal situations etc).

A quick look at that list tells us that yes, according to those definitions, I most definitely suffer from writer’s block. But there’s also another aspect I haven’t yet talked about. Motivation. And a big scary question: do I still want to be an author?

The honest answer is I don’t know, which is terrifying for someone who’s dreamed of being an author since I was a little kid, but my motivation is at an all-time low, and I think that’s my biggest problem. Writing takes a lot of time, and a lot of that time is spent doing things that isn’t writing and things that aren’t fun, like writing blurbs, and promoting myself if I want people to know about my books and buy them. And honestly; I hate promoting myself, I’m not that type of person, I would much rather that someone else handled all that for me, so I could just sit in my quiet corner and focus on the thing about being an author that I actually like; the writing itself.

And since I suck at promoting myself and I tend to write things that not a lot of people want to read (short stories, people in general wants longer stories, and preferably series, too), I’m not a big name author. I know I could apply myself more and probably be more successful; I could write full-length novels, I could include more sex in my stories, I could include side plots in my books and not only focus on the romance and the couple, I could write about the popular tropes, I could do a lot of things that potentially would make me more successful.

But do I really want to be a big name author? I mean, yes, it would be great if my writing could support me and I could quit my day job, but I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want everything I do or say to be analyzed to death by people, and I don’t want to be recognized everywhere I go. I like being this country nobody who can go outside without even brushing my hair if I don’t feel like it.

So the important question for me isn’t if I have writer’s block or not, it’s is it worth it? Is it worth spending that much time (when I have so little to spare) doing something with next to no return of investment?

Or would my time be better spent at the zoo, digging up fake dinosaur fossils with little W, my dinosaur-loving granddaughter? I still wouldn’t be able to quit my day job, but the emotional return of investment of hanging out with her is unprecedented.

And maybe that’s more important than to be able to call myself an author?


Don’t forget to go check out the others’ thoughts on this topic!

Ellie Thomas :: Ofelia Gränd

Guestpost

New Release Spotlight: Lucky in Love by Ellie Thomas

The fabulous Ellie Thomas is back on the blog today, talking about her latest release Lucky in Love. Welcome back, Ellie, it’s always lovely to have you.


Thanks, lovely Nell, for having me as your guest again! I’m Ellie, and I write MM Historical Romance novellas. I’m popping in today to talk about my new release, Lucky in Love, the follow-up to last year’s Restoration story, Lucky John. Lucky in Love is in the 20% off new release sale at JMS Books until April 12th.

Lucky in Love, is chiefly set at Whitehall Palace at the start of the reign of Charles II. In the first story, Lucky John, we followed some of the events that led to the king’s Restoration in 1660 through the eyes of MC Owen as an envoy.

In Lucky in Love, we share Owen’s perspective on the king and the beginnings of the new reign when he’s summoned to London in 1661 with his servant and lover, John.

The king might have returned to England to great acclaim but he still had to face practicalities and some opposition. I thoroughly enjoyed the historical research for this story, discovering that Whitehall Palace, the king’s London base, was far from the magnificent headquarters one might expect.

Apart from the Banqueting House (still in use today) built by his grandfather, James I, the bulk of the palace dated from the Tudor period, over 100 years before and was sadly in need of a refit. It must have contrasted poorly with all the modern palaces Charles visited in exile in France and The Hague.

According to Antonia Fraser’s biography of Charles II, the king didn’t only prefer Windsor Castle for its leafy surroundings but (unlike Whitehall) because the rural position made it an easily fortified stronghold.

There was certainly some opposition to the new king, and the memory of the execution of his father during the Civil Wars must have had a deep impact on Charles’ psyche.

It was fun describing Owen’s encounter with the king when he bumps into the monarch in the Privy Garden at Whitehall Palace. At thirty-one, Charles’ hair was still black, and he wore it long. By his mid-thirties, he’d gone grey and so cropped it and wore a wig, more in keeping with contemporary fashion.

He’s described as saturnine, with sallow skin, dark eyes and deep grooves on either side of his mouth from the uncertainty of exile and grief of the loss of his father. It was interesting to see aspects of Charles through Owen’s eyes. A former drinking companion during exile, yet with the awareness that this man, however friendly, is his sovereign.

Owen’s only ambition is to be allowed to return peacefully to his farm. He doesn’t envy the king’s position and power. Also, he has no compulsion to promote his interests at court, unlike his older brother, Lewis. Owen has all he needs, his family, his lands, and most of all John. He rejoices that soon, he’ll be free to return home to the countryside and spend his life loyally and faithfully with the man he loves, far away from the promiscuity and backbiting of the royal court.

Blurb:

Sequel to Lucky John

After years of exile during Commonwealth rule following the English Civil Wars, Owen Montgomery is home to stay in his Monmouthshire with John, the rescued kitchen lad who has become the light of Owen’s life. 

Owen has enjoyed eighteen months of peace since his tenure as an official envoy on behalf of King Charles II. In the autumn of 1661, Owen is torn from his comfortable life by a summons from his brother, Lewis, a courtier close to the king. Owen is reluctant to take John to London, concerned about the impact of corruption and temptations of court life on such a well-meaning innocent. But how can he refuse John anything?

Owen reluctantly fulfils his duty to his brother while John gets to grips with the palace and its hazards. Can Owen continue to protect John from harm? Or might his constant vigilance stifle the man he loves?

Book Links:

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Universal Book Link :: Add to Bookbub :: Add to Goodreads

Excerpt:

“When do we leave?” 

John’s question cut across Owen’s preoccupation, causing his response to be sharper than intended.

“I’ll make plans to depart as soon as I can. I said nothing about you coming with me. There is no we.”

The hurt and dismay that crossed John’s face would have affected a more unfeeling man than Owen. He took a conciliatory step forward, but John had quickly recovered and stood his ground, his chin lifting in recognisable defiance. 

“Then I’d better start your packing,” he said. His dignified exit was slightly marred by closing the door with more than necessary force.

Owen let out a huff of breath. This will not do, he thought. He shouldn’t have taken out his annoyance at his brother on John. It’s not his fault. Also, Owen didn’t need domestic strife on top of Lewis’ infuriating demands. 

He folded the abandoned letter and tucked it into his clothing to scrutinise later. Then he proceeded about the more immediate business of placating John.

When he reached his bed chamber, John was kneeling on the floor beside the open clothes chest. A couple of Owen’s spare shirts were laid on the bed, next to Owen’s old army snapsack. 

John’s apparent compliance was contradicted by the oilcloth bag strategically placed alongside. 

Owen had bought this item to replace the inadequate cloth bundle which held John’s possessions after he rescued John from the miserable existence of a put-upon kitchen boy at a country inn. John had been thrilled by its similarity to Owen’s leather satchel that had carried important documents of office.

Owen had smiled at how John had puffed out his thin chest with pride the first time he had slung it over his shoulder in imitation of Owen. But now the bag, or rather the intent behind it, invoked a frown. 

“I misspoke downstairs and meant no harm.” 

John ignored this opening salvo and continued his task with unnerving concentration.

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me.”

“Then why are you leaving me behind? It’s not like we haven’t been to London before.”

Owen had taken up with John towards the end of his tenure as a messenger, so the lad had accompanied him on his few final assignments reporting to the capital. It was natural for John to assume that where Owen went, he would follow. But this is different, Owen thought.

He would be within his rights to admonish a household servant for questioning his judgment. John was far more than that and had always been so, at least in private. He might pull out the servant’s truckle bed at night from custom, but it was seldom occupied. Since their arrival the April before last, John had spent every night in Owen’s arms as though it was his rightful place. Owen wouldn’t have it any other way.

Unshed tears sparkled in John’s eyes. At any sign of distress from John, Owen felt like the worst kind of brute although he had never beaten him or even threatened to. God would strike off my hand if that ever crossed my mind.

He sat on the end of the bed. “If we were going anywhere but the royal court in London, then I would take you without hesitation.” 

“Aren’t I good enough to come with you?”

“It’s the other way around,” Owen replied without hesitation. “It’s not a decent place. Palace life doesn’t suit us ordinary folk.” Owen recalled the heedless customs of the court in exile abroad. He reckoned such indulgent behaviour would have increased a hundred-fold since the king’s return to England. 

John was unconvinced.

“You think I’d get into trouble.”

“I’m worried that you’ll be harmed.” John’s attention was caught by Owen’s emphatic statement. Before he could be interrupted, Owen expanded on his theme and concerns. “Some wine-sodden whoreson might lay his hands on you, heedless of your protests. Or you could fetch a thrashing for speaking out of turn.” 

John regarded him frankly.

“Leaving me at home might ease your mind, but it won’t stop me worrying about you. Especially if the royal court is as perilous as you say.”

“I can take care of myself.”

John came to sit beside Owen, tracing his fingers over the scar on his back that lay beneath his shirt, evidence of Owen’s experience in battle. 

“Evidence would suggest otherwise.”

Bio:

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


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

Website: https://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/
Facebook reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/8308047409266947
X: @e_thomas_author
Bluesky: @elliethomas.bsky.social
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19835510.Ellie_Thomas
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ellie-thomas

Guestpost

New Release Spotlight: The Way Home by Ellie Thomas

Thanks, lovely Nell, for having me as your guest again! I’m Ellie, and I write MM Historical Romance novellas. I’m popping in today to talk about my new release, The Way Home, the eighth novella in my Regency Twelve Letters series. The Way Home is in the 20% off new release sale at JMS Books until March 8th.

In The Way Home, the focus shifts from Regency London, the usual setting of my Twelve Letters stories, to focus on Harry and Luc, two members of my ensemble cast that consists of four established couples.

In book 7, A Festive Gathering at Chelsea, Luc asks Harry to spend the festive season with him and his parents in Essex, far away from their usual stamping ground of London’s theatre world where Luc is a violinist and Harry is an actor.

This trip introduces the theme of home and family into the story. Luc is the breadwinner for his parents, aristocratic émigrés who fled France with their young family over twenty years before, finding shelter with English relatives in a small cottage on the edge of a country estate.

Luc adores his vague, unworldly parents, even if they drive him to distraction and load him with responsibility. It was lovely to see this dynamic from Harry’s point of view, protective of the man he loves and yet able to perceive the genuine bond between parents and son.

Harry has a far more fractious relationship with his family. Having refused to join the family oyster business in Kent, Harry ran off to London four years previously to seek fame and fortune. Due to Luc’s urging, Harry has been in touch with his family for six months in a cautious exchange of lwtters.

But seeing how Luc relates to his parents jogs Harry’s conscience, particularly as Essex isn’t too far away from Harry’s family home in Whitstable on the Kentish coast. With Luc’s support, Harry decides to try and make amends, for good or ill.

Blurb:

Sequel to A Festive Gathering at Chelsea

In the winter of 1817, Drury Lane Theatre actor Henry Kent, otherwise known as Harry Smith, ventures into deepest Essex to meet the parents of his French musician lover Luc Gerrard. 

Harry isn’t sure what to expect away from the familiar bustle of London, apart from being bored witless in the countryside. He’s never come across a couple of French aristocrats at close quarters. But Harry is nothing if resourceful and charming, and besides, he’s with Luc, which is what matters.

But once surrounded by the family that Luc adores, Harry can’t help thinking of his relatives across the Essex border on the Kent coast. Harry made a clean break when he left Whitstable four years ago to pursue his career on the London stage, resulting in his parents’ fury and a flat ultimatum. He has only renewed contact with them by letter in recent months, with Luc’s encouragement.

Should Harry let things lie? Or might he summon the courage to make a trip to the seaside in an attempt at reconciliation?   

Book Links:

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Universal Book Link :: Add to Goodreads :: Add to Bookbub

Excerpt:

Luc led the way up the staircase, giving Harry a brief tour by the light of the candle. “Mama and Papa are at the front of the house with the guest room next door. That’s where my sister Elisabeth and her husband will stay. Then their two children will sleep in Elisabeth’s old room, and that just leaves you and me.”

By the time Luc had completed this description, they were walking along a corridor that led towards the back of the house. Luc stopped and opened the door.

“It’s not much,” he said.

The room wasn’t large, but its square proportions and high ceiling gave it a sense of spaciousness. Also, by its contents, it was clearly Luc’s room from boyhood.

Typically, there were no toy soldiers on display. On the dresser lay a child-sized violin case surrounded by the usual clutter of rosin and spare violin strings that characterised Luc’s presence in their London home. 

Harry was charmed by these symbols of Luc as a child. However, he was relieved that the original bed had been replaced by one suitable for Luc’s adult height and of a width to encompass them both. 

A small fire had been lit in the grate and their bags were placed beside the bed, proof of Luc’s industry. Harry sat on the mattress and bounced to check for any creaks. 

“This is cosy.”

Luc immediately started apologising which Harry now regarded as a family trait.

“I’m sorry it’s a bit shabby. I did write to my parents to ask the maid to give the place a thorough airing.”

“I wasn’t expecting Brighton Pavilion. It’ll do fine.” Harry glanced around the room. “It’s about the same size as our bedroom at home, more or less. Anyway, we’re together, which is what counts.” 

Luc’s brow cleared. “It’s good to have you here,” he said with a shy smile. He lit the bedside candle from the one he carried. “I’ll get some hot water for washing then we’ll be set for the night.”

Briefly left to his own devices, Harry couldn’t be bothered to unpack properly. It can wait until morning. He dug out a nightshirt from his bag. At home, he preferred to sleep naked, winter or summer, curled up close to Luc’s bare skin. 

However, Harry conceded that compromises must be made, both from common decency and the icy draught seeping through the sash window. On the plus side, they were a fair distance from the other occupants and not obligated to celibacy as long as they didn’t shout the house down. 

On Luc’s return, they made short work of sluicing away the grime of travel before jumping into bed. Luc turned to blow out the candle.

Despite the coverings of his nightshirt and the blankets, Harry was freezing. The dismal hooting of an owl made him shiver. 

“Are you warm enough?”

“No.”

“Should I fetch some more blankets from the clothes press?”

Warned by the rustle of sheets to Luc’s intent, Harry seized him before he could cause a waft of frigid air to enter their bed.

“Don’t you dare! Come here. I can think of a better way to stoke up some heat.”

Bio:

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

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

Website: https://elliethomasromance.wordpress.com/
Facebook reader group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/8308047409266947
Twitter: @e_thomas_author
Bluesky: @elliethomas.bsky.social
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19835510.Ellie_Thomas
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/ellie-thomas

Guestpost

New Release Spotlight: The Snaccident by Holly Day

Today, I welcome back the lovely Holly Day to the blog, who’s here to talk about her newest book, The Snaccident. Can we just take a moment to admire the brilliance of that title, the Snaccident? Love it!!


Hello, everyone! Thank you, lovely Nell, for allowing me another spot on your blog. I’ll make sure to send you some snacks 😘

I’m Holly Day, and I have a new story out called The Snaccident. If you don’t know me, I write MM Romance for different holidays. Not Easter and Christmas (though it might happen) but those smaller, lesser-known holidays.

The day we’re celebrating this month is National Snack Day. And if that isn’t a day that deserves some attention, I don’t know what is. I mean, snacks! What’s better than snacks?

There is such diversity there 😅

Timothy, the main character of this story, has a thing for dried apricots. I’m in favour. I like dried apricots, but it’s not something I have on hand all that often. There was a time in my life when I often did, but now I’m the mother of four, and snacks tend to disappear before I have the chance to get to them.

But Timothy doesn’t only eat dried apricots, he also eats grapes, cashews, snickers, pretzels, chips, chocolate bars, and more dried apricots. And this is a short story. 

The reason Timothy is constantly eating is that he’s a highly sensitive empath, and he has trouble keeping his shields up. Snacks help. He needs a constant intake of energy to be able to function, and even then… Being trapped in a car with the idiot best friend of his brother, whom he’s been in love with for as long as he can remember, isn’t ideal.

Being pushed off the road and having to share a hotel room with the idiot friend slash the love of his life who turned him down years ago, is even worse. 

I love this story! It’s short, 59 pages, but snacks, only one bed, brother’s best friend, and more snacks. What could possibly go wrong?

Normally, I write third person, past tense, and dual POV. This is third person, past tense, but we only get Timothy’s POV. It’s a bit of a challenge when you’re used to being able to tell a tale from both sides, to have to show Rush’s (the idiot friend) emotions and intentions without being inside of him. But it was fun and forced me to have to think a little differently.

So, we have an empath, we have the only-one-bed trope, brother’s best friend, years of pining, and hurt from having been turned down, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

Blurb:

Snack! Timothy needs a snack! Though he fears there aren’t enough snacks in the world to keep the walls around his heart intact this time around.

As a highly sensitive empath, Timothy Rose is in constant need of food. He has a hard time keeping his mental shields up, and snacks help. A little. He spends most of his days avoiding people since he easily overloads. The only person he’s ever wanted to be close to is Rush Evans, his brother’s best friend. But years ago, Rush turned him down despite hooking up with everything with a pulse, so now Timothy refuses to go anywhere near him.

When Timothy’s brother begs him to give Rush a ride to his wedding, Timothy says no. Initially. He should’ve stuck to his guns because nothing ever goes as planned when Rush is nearby, and simply because Timothy can sense Rush wanting him this time around, and the two of them have a bit of an accident and end up in a small room with only one bed, doesn’t mean he should throw caution to the wind. Right?

Paranormal Gay Romance :: 14,754 words

Buy links:

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Books2Read

Excerpt:

Timothy’s breaths burned his throat as they pushed between trees and over fallen logs. They kept going until his head was throbbing and his legs threatening to fold. Then Rush stopped abruptly, and Timothy almost stumbled into him.

“What are you doing?” Timothy moved to increase the distance between them. There was no time to stand around and admire the view while being hunted by wolves. If they were wolves. Rush hadn’t corrected him when he’d said wolves, so they most likely were.

“We need to get into a city. It’s much harder to track us if there are many scents around.” Rush took a step in his direction, and Timothy took one back.

“Sounds like an awesome plan. Where is the closest town?”

Rush narrowed his eyes at the snappy tone, but what the hell did he expect? Reaching into his pocket, Rush grabbed his phone. He was tapping on the screen, bringing it closer to his face as he squinted.

“Need glasses?”

Rush huffed and increased the distance between his face and the screen. “We’re here.” He gestured at the phone, and there is a town in… eh… that direction.” He waved a hand to their right.

“Great. How far?”

Rush increased the distance between them. “Three-four miles.”

Grabbing the Snickers, Timothy tore the paper off. As the sweet taste exploded on his tongue, some of the tension left him. “Right, let’s go then.” He took a step, and to his relief, Rush didn’t indicate they should run. Though if wolves were hunting them, they should move as fast as they could.

They walked in silence. Timothy regretted not having grabbed a water bottle from the car. The Snickers left him thirsty.

“So…”

Timothy glared at Rush. “What?”

“Who have you been seeing?”

Seeing? “What are you talking about?”

“You said you weren’t a virgin—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Of course, I’m not a virgin, but I don’t see how it has anything to do with the situation we’re in.”

Rush studied him, his eyes slowly narrowing as if he didn’t believe him. “For as long as I remember, you’ve been unable to have anyone touch you. Hell, even your family keeps their distance from you, always at arm’s length, but now you’re fucking people? In my experience, there’s a lot touching going on then.”

Timothy raised his eyebrows at him only to wince and reach for the cut which started to slowly seep again. Damn.

“How bad is it?”

“The cut or the fucking?”

Rush grinned at him. “If the fucking is bad, they’re doing it wrong.”

“Idiot.”

They continued to walk, and Timothy was turning jittery. Want and longing swept through him, and it was so at odds with the situation, he feared he’d hit his head harder than he’d assumed. Maybe he had a concussion. Or… He glared at Rush. Horndog.

It was always like this. Every time he was around Rush, he was swamped with lusty emotions. It couldn’t be healthy to have his libido.

He needed a snack.

Grabbing the bag of apricots, he opened it and popped one into his mouth.

Rush snorted.

“What?” Timothy hadn’t meant to sound so defensive.

“You ate like five minutes ago.”

“So? There are emotions.”

Rush frowned. “Yeah, I think there’s supposed to be emotions. You can’t walk around without emotions.”

“Emotions that aren’t mine.”

Rush pressed his lips together. “It’s that bad? You can’t be around people?”

Rush had known him for the greater part of his life, he knew it was this bad. “I’m around people. I go to work every day.” Though he most often worked from home. Thank God for computers and admin jobs.

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

Guestpost

New Release Spotlight: The Faction Box Set by Addison Albright

Hello everyone, and many thanks to the lovely Nell Iris for letting me ramble a bit on her blog and tell you about the release of my new box set for The Faction duology.

What were my goals when I decided to try my hand at writing a vampire story?

The Recruit was close to being my first foray into something other than contemporary. The Contingency Plan edged it out, but it’s a not particularly “fantastical” (is that a word?) fantasy that is very, very light on traditional fantasy elements (though they’re not completely non-existent). It’s a made up medieval-like world with special potions that’s been categorized in the fantasy genre for lack of a better place for it.

But The Recruit has vampires, so it’s solidly paranormal. It feels like my first real story with otherworldly elements to it.

Anyway, my goal when writing the story? I wanted to set my vampires up in a realistic modern world, and I wanted those immortals who needed blood to survive to walk amongst us, undetected by the humans around them.

And I wanted it to make sense and not be mere hand-waving, counting on readers to be heavy-handed with their suspension of disbelief. So, I built them a world that I feel fits that bill.

Not, I want to emphasize, that there’s anything wrong with needing more in the suspension of disbelief department. I read and thoroughly enjoy books all the time that require it. No worries. But a nagging corner of my brain wanted me to address some of those concerns in my own book.

I’m weird like that. Years later, I did the same thing in Weekend at Bigfoot’s, where I address that pesky concern about differing masses between humans and the beings they shift into. Reader’s still, obviously, have to suspend some disbelief, but I did cover that one base, anyway.

I hadn’t actually read/watched all that many vampire books/movies/TV shows before writing mine, but I noticed that lore and rules of the universe are free to vary. In the world of The Faction, I dropped a fair amount of the common rules for vamps, but I did explain them.

Being out in the sun? No problem for my vamps. They figure the lore came about because back in the day, before they were organized and had a harmless source of blood, they often had to slink around under cover of darkness to waylay their food sources and saw no reason to disabuse humans of that assumption.

Can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart? Well, that does work, but so does any injury that their self-healing abilities can’t overcome in time. Wooden stakes happened to be handy and used in the early kills. Apparently, assumptions were made, and once again, no advantage to the vamps to disabuse humans of that idea.

But how do they get their blood, undetected, and without harming humans? How do immortals go undetected in modern times with social security numbers, etc., tracking people?

I won’t detail out all the explanations here, but rest assured, those questions are answered in the book.

My vampire universe continues to stick with me. To learn a bit about what’s ongoing for them (i.e. bonus scenes), check out my post on Ofelia Gränd’s blog, yesterday.

BOOK INFO

Genre: Gay Paranormal Romance Box Set
Length: Novel Length / 50,862 Words / 179 Pages
Heat Rating: 2 Flames

Goodreads :: BookBub ::_QueeRomance Ink :: LimFic

PURCHASE LINKS

✩ Available in Kindle Unlimited ✩

Amazon Kindle

BLURB

A dying man, a chance for life. A dangerous obsession, an unenviable choice.

When the faction’s new recruit takes a misstep on his first solo outing as a vampire, Albert thinks his faction has controlled the fallout. Neil, née Phillip, is thankful for his new lease on life, but will give it all up if that will prevent his ex-boyfriend from having to pay for his mistake. This box set includes both books in Addison Albright’s best-selling M/M vampire duology.

Contains the stories:

The Recruit: Albert Manlii has walked this earth for many years and leads a faction of highly organized vampires carefully guarding the secret of their existence. Potential recruits are carefully selected and presented with an offer. Phillip Brewer has weeks to live — if he lets his disease run its course. He doesn’t want to die, but will his desire to live outweigh his concerns about the vampires’ ethics?

The Choice: Now that faction-leader Albert has a blood-mate, he finds himself second-guessing his decisions. Neil would be crushed knowing the mistake he’d made as a fledgling vampire led to human deaths, but Albert shouldn’t factor that into the difficult choices he must make. Will Albert’s indecision put the entire vampire establishment in danger? Or is redemption only a flamethrower away?

EXCERPT

“Please.” Phillip swallowed as a shiver of hope drifted over his skin. “I need you to spell out what you meant—earlier. Before your demonstration.”

Albert smiled. It was the smile of a man who sensed he had his fish on the hook. “About helping each other?”

Phillip nodded.

“You don’t need to die yet. I’ve been walking this earth for more than two thousand years.” Albert spoke calmly as Phillip froze in place, clenching his hands at his belly.

Two thousand years? And he wanted to make a deal with Phillip? Did Phillip want to? What was in it for him? Everlasting life, apparently. But would it be an existence he wanted? “Who are you? You’re immortal. But how?”

“Immortal in the sense that I, and others like me, won’t appear to become older beyond our age at the time of transition. Nor will we die of natural causes. We can be killed, though. You’ve witnessed my self-healing abilities, but anything that would instantly kill a human will kill me…us, too.”

“So, if I agreed, this cancer would disappear just like that?” Phillip snapped his fingers.

“Like all of our ‘supernatural’ capabilities, self-healing improves over time. As a new convert, you won’t immediately feel better. It’ll take about a day for you to feel one hundred percent.”

That was hardly a deterrent, but Albert was obviously holding back. What facilitated this “transition”? “You still haven’t answered the question. Who are your people?”

Albert hesitated for a moment before replying. “The word you’re searching for is ‘vampire.’”

Phillip burst out laughing. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking Albert’s answer would be, but the existence of some kind of magical immortality potion was difficult enough to believe without throwing in something that absurd.

Albert’s revelation probably should have made Phillip run in the opposite direction—if he’d believed it, or made him angry—because really, what kind of person fucked with a dying man like that? But at least his final hours were diverting. “You had me going there for a while.”

Tilting his head to the side, Albert raised a single eyebrow as he continued to gaze at Phillip. “Not the usual reaction. Intriguing, though. You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Please,” Phillip scoffed and gestured toward the bright sun overhead.

ABOUT ADDISON ALBRIGHT

Rainbow Award winning author Addison Albright lives smack dab in the middle of the USA. Her stories are gay romance in contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and science fiction genres. She generally adds a subtle touch of humor, a dash of drama/angst, and a sprinkle of slice-of-life to her stories. Her education includes a BS in Education with a major in mathematics and a minor in chemistry. Addison loves spending time with her family, reading, popcorn, boating, French fries, “open window weather,” cats, math, and anything chocolate. She loves to read pretty much anything and everything, anytime and anywhere.

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