Release Day | The Snowflake

Release-Day

It’s release day!!! Today, The Snowflake will be available in the shops again.  

This book, I know you shouldn’t write books like this if you’re a romance writer, but… Welcome to my crazy world. I love this, I loved writing it, and I told my husband while I read through it again now before publication that I’m a f*cking genius LOL 

It’s a bit bloody, a little gory, a tad insane, the ending not quite a HEA and yet hopeful from the character’s point of view. 

I know, I know, you shouldn’t behead people with a chainsaw, but he deserved it, sort of. 

Theophile Lekas is a promising ice sculptor. He loves Dylan Mincer, has loved Dylan since they were in school together, and he’s been stalking Dylan for the last seventeen years. He’s not ready to meet Dylan yet, he hasn’t reached the point in his career where he feels like he deserves someone like Dylan. 

Fate has other plans. One night in a bar, Theo bumps into Dylan. It speeds up the plan. He can’t let Dylan go now when they’ve met, so Theo is going to create the best sculpture ever. A sculpture that will leave the world breathless. 

Excerpt:

Leaving his coffee cup, still half-full, on one of the bales he crossed the area to the walk-in freezer. He only had two tanks to make ice blocks. Sometime in the future, when he made more money, he’d expand. He needed to. He made all his sculptures the old-fashioned way with chainsaws and hand tools—no pre-programmed machines for him. 

Perhaps it was a good thing Dylan had begged off coming back with him last night, he needed to start yet another swan for an event, and that would hardly impress him. 

“No, it wouldn’t. You need to start working without a shirt on.” Cat’s voice, or how he imagined it would sound if he’d had a voice, echoed in his head. 

Theo nodded, not to the without-a-shirt part but that it wouldn’t impress Dylan, and went back to work. 

The ice had been in the tank for three days, and he checked the surface of the block with a measuring bar before reaching for his wet vacuum to remove the layer of water resting on the top. Yeah, definitely a good thing Dylan isn’t here for this part. Sucking water off the ice wasn’t sexy nor did it show off his artistic skills. Theo swallowed. Did he have enough artistic skills for Dylan? Perhaps he was nothing more than an Elvis impersonator. 

“There are plenty of good Elvis impersonators!” Cat’s shout echoed from inside the barn. He never came into the freezer unit. Theo shook his head. He couldn’t trust the cat. 

He hoisted the block from the tank, removed the plastic liner to make sure the ice was clear and free of cracks and bubbles. It was. He could start on the fucking bird. 

Carving it was quick work, but it happened now and then that he cracked the neck. He should ban birds. 

Once he’d figured out exactly what his next piece would be, he’d never do swans again. 

“Nothing wrong with birds.” 

“For eating perhaps, but as sculptures they’re boring.” 

Cat nodded, or Theo imagined he did, and slipped in behind one of the hay bales. Just as well. He tended to interrupt Theo when he was working. 

The comforting sound of the chainsaw drowned out the world. 

Theo was guiding the blade through the ice, giving it a rough shape of a swan, when something touched his shoulder. He whirled around. The chainsaw slid on the surface before he managed to get control over it. 

A wiry, greying man stood there sneering at him. Theo sighed and turned off the chainsaw. “Dad.” 

“Theophile.” 

Silence filled the barn, making its walls belly out from the pressure of it. 

“Still playing with ice?” 

The chainsaw grew heavier in his hands. Theo searched for something to say, but, as usual, no words came to mind. “Sculpting.” 

Dad snorted. “Still trying to be an artist?” 

“I am one.” And soon, when he’d figured out what his next piece would be, his dad along with the rest of the world would be awestruck by his talent, his innovation, his…another good word that would make the masses bow in reverence. 

“Theophile.” He tsked and shook his head. “The world has enough of queer artists trying to milk the stereotype. Grow up and get yourself a real job. You don’t have the grace to play the role.” 

Theo couldn’t say what was happening. His mind clouded with black smoke, a roar sounded in his head, and in the next second, he pressed in the two start buttons on his chainsaw. 

Blood splattered over the swan as the blade cut into his dad’s skin and continued through muscle and sinew. There was a small kickback as the nose of the blade severed the spine, but Theo gained control of the saw at the same time as the head thudded against the ground. 

The body collapsed, blood sprayed in pulses, turning the wood shavings almost black. Theo stared for a moment, unable to take it all in. 

He’d beheaded his father. 

For some reason, he’d always assumed death would be quieter, more…unique. 

“Do you think the customer will appreciate the dye?” Cat tilted his head to the side as he watched the sculpture. 

The ice was melting, no faster than it should, but talking to Dad had given it a few extra seconds. The blood glimmered like rubies around the swan’s neck and down its chest. “I think it’ll melt away.” Sadly. 

Would it be more morally appropriate to bring out the other ice block and start over? But if they didn’t know the swan had been baptised in blood, did it matter? 

Cat shrugged the way cats sometimes do and left the barn.

Blurb:

thesnowflake

Nothing inspires art like love. 
 
Theophile Lekas has spent the last seventeen years trying to build a name for himself as an ice sculptor. Ice is his world, but he lives for Dylan Mincer. 
 
But loving from afar isn’t enough, and if Theo wants to win Dylan’s heart, he’ll need to sweep him off his feet. And what better way to do it than with a sculpture that will leave Dylan breathless and the world in no doubt of Theo’s genius? 
 
After an argument leads to murder, Theo is hit with true inspiration. And he has the perfect block to begin his project. For Dylan, Theo will create his masterpiece. And it will be as unique as a snowflake. 
 
Great art requires the perfect muse. 

Buy links:

Gay Horror Romance: 20,523 words

JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/The-Snowflake

Cover Reveal | Remember Us

And we have another cover!!! Remember Us used to be Trapped, but there already was a Trapped in the JMS Books catalogue, so JM asked if I was okay with a title change. Remember Us may be a better title for the story considering one of the characters suffers from dementia and doesn’t remember the present. 

I wrote this story for an anthology called Never Too Late. It’s an anthology about LGBTQIA+ characters who are a little older. I never meant to make mine as old as I made them, but… 

This story is very dear to me. It’s not a romance in the traditional sense of the word, but there is a lot of love.  

Charlie and William have been together for more than forty years, but now William doesn’t remember Charlie anymore. Or he does, he thinks he’s a young man and that a younger version of Charlie is waiting for him back home.  

Ready to see the cover? 

rememberus

 

Blurb:

Charlie Wilkins had everything he wanted — a husband, a daughter, a house that was his home. He still has his husband, but William has forgotten who he is. He still has his daughter, but the roles have switched, and Ann is now the one taking care of them.

There is only one thing Charlie wants, and that is to spend the rest of his days with William by his side. But William is living in a nursing home, and Charlie is living … somewhere. Ann says she will fix it; she’ll make sure they’ll get to live together again. Charlie hopes she will before William either escapes or figures out Charlie has left him in someone else’s care.

He promised William they’d stay together till death did them part, and he meant it, but what was he to do when he no longer could take care of William?

Buy links:

Contemporary Gay Romance: 12,055 words

JMS Books 

Release day: July 3rd

Release Day | Around Seven

Release-Day

It’s release day!!! Around Seven is now live and it’s the last of the former Nortown now gone Up North stories. To be honest, I need another lockdown so I get more time to write because there are so many Up North stories I want to write.

Here, in southern Sweden, it’s sweltering today and if it is where you are too, then maybe you want a break from it. Around Seven is an autumn story filled with yellow leaves and cool air which would be so nice right now 🥵

Oswald is one of my favourite characters, and I just as often forget that I’ve written him – sorry Oz. He’s a friend of Aiden’s and is in Nortown because Aiden has begged him to come. He doesn’t want to be there, and when Aiden suggests they work together in his massage studio, he doesn’t want the job. But he’s been sleeping in his old Toyota Camry for two hundred and seventy-three days and with the nights getting colder he needs a place to stay. To be able to pay for a roof over his head, he needs a job, so he reluctantly agrees to Aiden’s offer.

Joshua spotted the shy man with Aiden, but he didn’t think he’d get to fish him out of the river a few hours later.

 

Excerpt:

The shock of hitting the water had stolen Oswald’s breath, then fear had kicked in. So fucking clumsy. He’d steered the canoe towards the portage; there had been signs pointing to where he should go, and the man he’d rented the canoe from had talked him through it.

Wasn’t standing up in a boat the first thing you learnt not to do? Oswald didn’t know, but when he’d begun swaying and wobbling those were the words ringing in his head.

It had been colder than he’d thought it’d be, but the pull of the current was what had panic roaring in his ears. Funny how when he realised he might die if he went down the waterfall he wanted to live. Invisible hands had dragged him down under the surface, and he’d fought them until his muscles ached, until his lungs burned, until a numbness had all but immobilised him.

He’d hit a rock. The pain in his hip as he’d crashed into the solid shape was jarring, but he’d managed to cling to it. Frothy whitewater washed over him as he tore his hands to shreds on the stones—crawling, pulling, dragging. When he’d finally managed to haul himself onto a rock a couple of metres from the riverbank, he’d collapsed there.

Where the canoe had gone, he didn’t know, and he didn’t have the energy to move. He lay there panting until his eyes drifted closed. He’d rest for a little bit, a few minutes; then he’d go the last bit till he was up on dry land.

A few seconds later he began chuckling. So fucking pathetic. No wonder Guy had needed others. He couldn’t even get himself down a river without fucking up.

The chills came next, his entire body shaking and shuddering and the chuckles turned into sob-like sounds.

Oswald didn’t sob; he didn’t cry—crying never helped anything. He’d walked in on his husband-to-be with his cock buried in the best man’s throat—and he hadn’t made a sound. He’d walked up to the altar and told everyone the wedding was off—and he hadn’t cried. He’d gone back to the apartment he’d shared with Guy for the last five years and packed his clothes—and not a single tear had escaped his eyes. He’d stood there while Guy had been screaming at him that he was ridiculous, that none of the others meant anything, that everyone knew that, no matter how many others there were, Oswald was the one who mattered. Oswald was the one he’d chosen to marry—and he hadn’t uttered one word in response.

Two hundred and seventy-three days, or was it two hundred and seventy-four now? He cracked his eyes open. It was near-full dark, so it might have turned into day number two hundred and seventy-four. With chattering teeth, he looked around.

A bird screeched not far from him; he’d always believed the forest was quiet after dark. Resting his forehead against the rock he tried to make his teeth stop chattering, but it was freaking cold.

Then a branch cracked, and the sound of muttered curses followed.

* * * *

Joshua followed the trail up past the waterfall. It had taken longer than he’d thought it would. His sweat-soaked long-sleeved T-shirt was clinging to his body, and it didn’t help that the darkness had grown thicker around him. He wasn’t afraid he wouldn’t find his way back; he’d walked here often enough in daylight to know where things could get dicey but also when the worst that could happen was he’d scratch himself on a twig.

He walked as close to the river as he could. It was easier to see there than among the trees. The sound of the water quieted as soon as he’d passed the fall. It was still louder than it was downstream, but at least he could listen again.

Glancing out over the river, he missed the branch that had fallen over the trail. His legs caught in it, the crack as he stumbled loud enough to wake the dead, and he cursed the devil and his mother while rubbing his calf—no blood.

As he looked out over the river again, he thought something moved on a rock just a little bit above where the currents really sped up.

“Hey!”

The form moved again, and a moan travelled in the wind. Fuck. He’d hoped he’d imagined it. “Are you all right?” Stupid question.

“Splendid. Thanks for asking.”

Josh smiled. A man judging from the voice and probably not in danger of dying on him. “Well, then, are you planning on sleeping out there tonight or could I perhaps persuade you to join me up here where it’s a little dryer?”

Blurb:

aroundsevenOswald Sattle has been sleeping in his Toyota Camry for the last 273 days, the exact number of days since he discovered his fiancé cheating on him. Now, out of money and out of options, he’s on his way to Nortown. Aiden, an acquaintance from his past, has offered him a job opportunity he can’t turn down, no matter how much he’d like to.

Joshua Roth moved to Nortown four years ago, and he has everything he needs — a job, friends, peace and quiet. He’s not looking for a boyfriend; no one even knows he’s gay, and he’d like it to stay that way. Everything changes when he offers Oswald a place to stay, though.

Oswald looks like he wants to run away, and Josh finds himself suggesting things that will make him stay. All he wants is for Oswald to smile. Oswald doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, but nothing soothes his nerves like being with Joshua in his cabin.

How long can Oswald stay before it’s time to move on again? Can Joshua have Oswald staying with him without the whole town talking about them? Probably not, but does he care?

Buy Links:

Contemporary Gay Romance: 23,995 words

JMS Books :: Amazon :: books2read.com/AroundSeven