The lovely Nell Iris is finally back on the blog! 🥳 She’s here to talk about her most recent release, Meeting Lucky. Keep on reading to learn more!

Hi everyone, hi Ofelia! It’s me. Nell. It’s been a minute since I was here last, and I’ve missed you. Have you missed me? I’m here to talk about my new release, Meeting Lucky, but first I want to thank my lovely hostess for inviting me. Thank you, Ofelia, you’re the best. 😘

My publisher, JMS Books, turns 13 years this July, and in preparation for the celebrations, they sent out an in-house submission call some months back, called Lucky 13, where their existing authors were invited to write a book with the word “luck” in some form in the title. I wanted in, of course, and Meeting Lucky is the result.

Lucky, whose real name is Lukas, got his nickname after surviving a motorcycle accident. He broke several bones, including his neck, and the doctors didn’t expect him to survive, but when he defied their predictions, Lucky’s brother started calling him a lucky bastard, and the name kind of stuck. 

Lucky’s character is actually inspired by a friend of mine. We used to be quite close, but when I moved to Malaysia back in 2012 we drifted apart, something that can happen when you live half a world apart. Even after I moved back to Sweden, we mostly text each other occasionally these days, and when I sent him a hey you, long time no see, how are you? text a couple years ago, and he replied good, good, my bones are healing, accompanied by X-ray photos of his new Robocop physique—his words, not mine—I almost fell off my chair.

It wasn’t like his accident inspired me to write the story, but when the idea for Meeting Lucky came to me, and I wanted Lucky to be a sunshine-y character who was happy and positive despite having gone through so much, my friend came to mind, who despite the serious accident, had a positive outlook on life. 

So Björn’s reaction when he learns about Lucky’s past in the excerpt below, perfectly mirrors my own when my friend told me about his. You broke your goddamned neck?

Meeting Lucky

It must be a stroke. Or a heart attack. Because it can’t be love at first sight.

One brief moment in a crowded hotel lobby is all it takes. A stranger’s gaze meeting Björn’s is a lightning strike, a game changer, bad for his heart and his sanity. And when the stranger, Lucky, starts flirting with him, he’s in real trouble.

Björn erected walls around his heart a long time ago, but Lucky is passionate and determined. Will Lucky’s sunshine be able to thaw the ice in Björn’s heart? Will meeting Lucky give Björn the fairytale happily ever after he never knew he wanted?

M/M Contemporary / 10379 words 

Buy links: 

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Books2Read

About Nell

Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bonafide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies’ room), loves music (and singing along at the top of her voice but she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (Make it so). She loves words, bullet journals, poetry, wine, coffee-flavored kisses, and fika (a Swedish cultural thing involving coffee and pastry!)

Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.

Nell is a bisexual Swedish woman married to the love of her life, a proud mama of a grown daughter, and is approaching 50 faster than she’d like. She lives in the south of Sweden where she spends her days thinking up stories about people falling in love. After dreaming about being a writer for most of her life, she finally was in a place where she could pursue her dream and released her first book in 2017.

Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angsty, short over long, and quirky characters over alpha males.

Find Nell on social media:

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Excerpt: 

I huff and shake off the memory, turning my focus back to Lucky, biting my tongue because he’s on his way to my table. Carrying his champagne and a glass that looks identical to mine. 

My eyes are glued to him as he approaches, taking in his chest, his narrow waist, his hips, then his legs. I scowl at the limp and want to wrap my hands around his right thigh, push my warmth into him and soothe and steady him. 

“Hey,” he says and sets the glass of red wine on the table in front of me. “The bartender said this was your drink of choice.”

“What did you do to your leg?” I blurt. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He pulls out the chair across from mine and sits. “No. Well, yeah. I did. But it was a long time ago.”

I fight the urge to crawl under the table and make sure he’s all right. “You weren’t limping this morning.”

He grins, takes a sip from his bubbly, and ignores my statement. “I decided I wanted to join you.”

His confidence should piss me off. Anyone who takes for granted I want their company usually makes me angry, but not him. 

“I’m Lukas, by the way,” he says and lets his eyes rove over me, making no effort to hide the blatant looking.

“Your brother called you Lucky.” 

He raises one eyebrow. “You pay attention.”

I dip my chin once. 

“It’s true that everyone calls me Lucky—it’s all Christian’s fault. My brother. He started calling me a lucky bastard, and it stuck. But I want you to call me Lukas.”

His intense focus heats my face. “Why? What’s special about me?”

“I don’t know yet. But I hope to find out.” 

“Why did your brother call you that? Lucky bastard?”

He moves out his right leg from underneath the table into my field of vision. “Because twelve years ago today, I was in an accident. I rode with my boyfriend on his bike. I know, I know, we were stupid, it was too early in the season, and he hit a spot of black ice and crashed. He barely got a scratch, it was a miracle really, but I broke my leg,—” he slides his palm over the still-shaking thigh, “my arm, a bunch of ribs…and my neck. I wasn’t supposed to survive, but my siblings say I live to prove people wrong, and breaking my neck was no different. But my leg still aches if I walk too much. Or if it’s cold outside.” 

His neck? He broke his goddamned neck?

Without taking my eyes off his thigh, I swallow a substantial gulp of wine from the new glass, then rub my face with a shaky hand before I let it fall to the table. After a deep breath, I meet his gaze. “Did you just say you broke your neck, or am I having red wine-induced auditory hallucinations?” 

He laughs. “No hallucinations.”

“How can you laugh at such a thing?”

“Because when people tell you you’re gonna die, and then you don’t, you carpe the fuck out of the diem.”

“I don’t think I’ve carped a diem in my whole life.”

“Then it’s time to start.”

“How do you suggest I do that?”

He grins. “You allow me to flirt with you. Live a little. I’ve never seen anyone as tightly buttoned up as you. I want to ruffle your feathers.”

“My feathers are unrufflable.” 

That makes him snort. “Are you sure about that?” He looks pointedly at my still trembling hand. 

I lift it and look at it, ticking off the symptoms in my head. Unsteady hands, a racing heart, warmth spreading in my stomach, blurting whatever comes to mind. It must be a stroke. It can’t be anything else. “I’m positive,” I croak, convincing nobody.

“What’s your name?” His voice is deep. Smooth. Giving me goosebumps. 

“B-Björn.” Now I’m stuttering, too? 

“Hello, Björn. It’s very nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand and I don’t hesitate to take it.