Tag: fantasy

Solar Fantasy – Aubrey & Lindsey Retold – Ch. 7 up on Patreon!

Scene 7 of Solar Fantasy – Aubrey & Lindsey Retold is up on my Patre♡n! Wherein Aubrey realizes precisely who he dallied with at the party. Please enjoy this sneak peek and join me for more.

~

“Apparently the prince met someone at the party and is absolutely besotted.”

Aubrey, who’d spent the last few moments trying and failing to remember which prince was called Lindsey, felt a growing unease at this. “Oh?”

“Yes. So besotted, in fact, that he failed to learn the man’s name. He’s turned to Graves for help with the matter. And Graves went down the whole guest list, searching for anyone who matches the description Prince Lindsey gave, or anyone who saw such a person at the party. Several people have claimed to, of course, but Graves has discredited their testimonies.”

Aubrey’s stomach did an uncomfortable flip. “What description did the prince give?”

“That’s the funniest part. Small, dark, large eyes, sharp features. Sound familiar?” Halloway asked with a grin.

Aubrey didn’t think it very funny at all, but forced a smile.

“Finally,” Halloway continued, “Graves got so fed up with the whole business that he came to me in desperation and asked if I’d brought anyone particularly beautiful along to the party—one of my models, perhaps? And I told him no, not any of my models, but a gentleman I wish would model for me. And, upon reflection, he almost matches the description. But I cannot for the life of me imagine him taking such liberties—though I suppose the prospect of prince is a very compelling catch.”

Aubrey’s growing dread became an internal scream.

“Anyway,” Halloway said with a dismissive wave, “that’s what I told Graves. Couldn’t possibly be my man, sorry I can’t be of more help, et cetera. But isn’t it extraordinary? The mystery man is a match for you in every aspect save behaviour.”

“What does Prince Lindsey look like?” Aubrey asked.

Halloway’s mirth died on his face.

~

Did you want more Aubrey and Lindsey – but in a whole new world?

Joining me on Patre♡n will give you access to “drawer fic” – aka the 500k+ words worth of manuscripts that have been shelved until I figure out how to fix or finish them.

A new scene will go up every week. Missing (unwritten) scenes will be indicated by brackets describing what would probably happen if the scene were written. Example: [in this scene Aubrey and Lindsey ride a carousel]

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Saturday Snippet, 9.23.23

The music resumed. Fiore took a tentative step, balancing on the balls of his feet as Enzo had instructed. He did not fall.

Again Enzo retreated. Again Fiore advanced. But as he swept in to fill the lack, only for Enzo to withdraw, Fiore realized it was no such thing. Enzo did not flee from him. Rather, Enzo made way for him, inviting him to occupy the space he once held but a moment ago, continually welcoming him into his arms as he’d so oft welcomed him into his body, showing Fiore over and over how eager he felt to draw him into his life. And he drew very near indeed—near enough to feel the warmth of Enzo’s heaving chest; near enough for their stockinged calves to brush against each other as they tangled and untangled like they had so oft before amidst the bed-clothes; near enough to behold the smiling gleam in his tender gaze beneath the bauta mask. They twirled across the deck in the tentative embrace demanded by the dance. The music seemed to bear them up and swirl them ‘round in its irresistible current.

Only when the song ended did Fiore recall they had an audience.

~

FIORENZO is a queer fantasy-of-manners romance featuring secret identities, hurt/comfort, and a happily-ever-after. Coming out September 30th – preorder today!

~

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Saturday Snippet, 9.9.23

Enzo spent the entire encounter yearning to kiss him.

From the moment of their unexpected reunion outside the opera house; to hearing his name for the first time, Fiore, and what a curious coincidence that was, and how delightfully it danced on Enzo’s tongue; to the suggestion of a bathhouse, to which Enzo could of course never acquiesce but nonetheless appreciated, the thought of Fiore’s bare skin glowing beneath the sheen of steam and sweat; to the intoxicating sensation of Fiore’s arm twined through his to lead him, ever so gently, to the coffeehouse; to watch that magnificent masculine gem pulse with every swallow of his slender swanlike throat, and how his shirt collar slid towards his shoulder as he gestured, revealing the delicate curve of his clavicle; and to discover through their conversation that they held more in common than mere lust—not that Enzo objected to satisfying lust, but for one who’d left all his friends behind at university, he had great appreciation for a deeper connexion.

And yet despite their growing bond, the bauta mask still stood between them.

The true beauty of the bauta’s design, in Enzo’s opinion, was its practicality. It hid the wearer’s identity from view altogether, while the broad beak allowed one to eat, drink, and speak freely. He’d worn it daily for almost a year now, ever since Lucrezia had withdrawn him from university, and found it perfectly comfortable. Reassuring, even, to know he’d not be judged by his appearance.

Today, however, he had discovered its singular flaw.

One might eat, drink, and speak beneath the bauta mask—but one could not kiss.

Enzo felt as if it would drive him mad.

~

FIORENZO is a queer fantasy-of-manners romance featuring secret identities, hurt/comfort, and a happily-ever-after. Coming out September 30th – preorder today!

Blurb:

Fiore has a plan. Find a wealthy elderly gentleman, delight him until the end of his days, and retire on the resulting inheritance. It’s the best outcome a low-born courtesan in the city of Halcyon can hope for.

And it seems a perfect scheme… until a mysterious masked man upends it.

Banished from university after a disastrous duel, Enzo wanders the city searching for scraps of the affection he’s lost. His public mask conceals private agonies. A single night in the company of a courtesan, however, balms his wounded heart, and he finds himself returning again and again to Fiore, revealing more of himself than he’s ever dared before.

Furthermore, and more astonishing still, Fiore finds he returns Enzo’s affections.

But while Fiore wears no mask, he nonetheless has secrets of his own. And when the ghosts of their pasts return to haunt them, only the bond of trust between them will carry them through.

~

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ARCs for Fiorenzo!

Do you wanna read FIORENZO before anyone else?

FIORENZO is a queer fantasy-of-manners romance featuring secret identities, hurt/comfort, and a happily-ever-after. It’s available for pre-order now and will release this September 30th.

To claim an Advanced Reader Copy ebook of FIORENZO, please email nothwellsebastian @ gmail dot com.

Some rules:
• You must be of legal age to receive and consume this material. (tl;dr – no minors)
• You must live in a place where it’s legal for you to receive and consume this material.
• Please be able to finish reading and reviewing the book either before or on September 30th.
• Please post your review somewhere others can read it. (Instagram, Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Smashwords, TikTok, wherever – just make sure it’s not on a private account.)

Blurb:

Fiore has a plan. Find a wealthy elderly gentleman, delight him until the end of his days, and retire on the resulting inheritance. It’s the best outcome a low-born courtesan in the city of Halcyon can hope for.

And it seems a perfect scheme… until a mysterious masked man upends it.

Banished from university after a disastrous duel, Enzo wanders the city searching for scraps of the affection he’s lost. His public mask conceals private agonies. A single night in the company of a courtesan, however, balms his wounded heart, and he finds himself returning again and again to Fiore, revealing more of himself than he’s ever dared before.

Furthermore, and more astonishing still, Fiore finds he returns Enzo’s affections.

But while Fiore wears no mask, he nonetheless has secrets of his own. And when the ghosts of their pasts return to haunt them, only the bond of trust between them will carry them through.

~

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Sunday Snippet, 4.16.23

Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King – available now wherever fine books are found!

~

Butcher cleared his throat and held out his left hand. Dark lines wore through his weathered palm like tree-rings, and his long fingers bore more than a few calluses. It looked more like a sailor or farmer’s hand than the hand of a thespian or an aristocratic eccentric. “Tonight I join the Wild Hunt to slay the beast that has devoured the children of the Court of Moons. If you will venture out with me, I will show you that all I spake of rings true.”

This, then, was the trick. No shell hidden beneath a cup or ha’penny pulled from behind an ear. Just a fairy tale to lure Wren out of the city. To what end, he couldn’t fathom.

Yet even as his rational mind supposed that such an adventure could only end in mugging or murder, his Romantic soul stretched its withered wings and soared at the notion of leaving the suffocating fog of Staple Inn behind to venture out into the wilderness beneath the full moon.

Furthermore, if he did end up murdered, it meant he’d never have to copy out another account-book again. And if he must end in murder, Wren supposed he’d rather have a strapping specimen like Butcher slide the knife into his heart.

~

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Sunday Snippet, 4.9.23

Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance collection, Tales from Blackthorn Briar, a sequel to Oak King Holly King featuring hurt/comfort and many happily-ever-afters – available wherever fine books are found!

~

“I’m sorry,” said Wren as their lips parted.

Shrike furrowed his brow. “What for?”

“It’s my fault you lost your chance at the white hart.”

Shrike continued staring at him for another moment or two. Then his hand came up to brush Wren’s hair off his brow and trail down his cheek in a tender caress.

“I did almost lose my heart,” Shrike murmured. “But he is found again, and reawakened, and now all is well.”

~

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Sunday Snippet, 4.2.23

Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King – available now wherever fine books are found!

~

“Larkin had fled across the countryside,” Shrike went on. “More concerned with the knights gaining on him than the path ahead, he fell through a fairy ring. He stumbled through the forest—he knew not for how long—until he heard a child wailing and followed the sound until he stumbled upon me. I remember I had fallen out down from the tree. The other fledglings had pushed me out of the nest.”

“The other fledglings?” Wren interrupted.

“Aye,” said Shrike, confused by Wren’s confusion.

Wren hesitated, not wishing to offend, before he ventured what felt like the obvious question. “Were you born a bird?”

Much to Wren’s relief, Shrike didn’t appear offended. Merely befuddled. “No.”

“But you were born in a nest,” said Wren. When Shrike confirmed this with a nod, Wren added, “From an egg?”

“Aye,” Shrike said as if no one had ever questioned it before.

Wren supposed such circumstances were common in the fae realms. That conclusion didn’t prevent his mind from reeling. “Do all fae come from eggs?”

“Some do. Others grow in flower buds, or on the under-sides of leaves, or beneath toadstools, or in hollow logs—or sometimes in bonfires or particularly sooty chimneys. And,” Shrike added with a sceptical twist of his mouth, “some are born from other fae in the same manner kits come from vixens, or a fawn comes from a doe.”

“Or as human babes come from human mothers,” said Wren.

Shrike’s eyes widened with dawning horror.

~

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Sunday Snippet, 3.26.23

Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King – available now wherever fine books are found!

~

In the moonlight, and without his hood, Wren could see Butcher’s ears quite clearly. Now there was no mistaking them for waxwork. He could see, as well, the black woollen tunic Butcher wore and how it clung to his muscular frame, tied off with a belted leather gyrdel at the waist and hanging down not much farther than that. Nothing covered Butcher’s thighs save medieval hose, likewise black, and his black cavalier boots came up to his knees; a motley assortment of costuming eras in a monochromatic assembly.

Wren shut his mouth but kept on staring in wide-eyed wonder at his new surroundings. He’d never seen so many stars in his life. Had seen none, in fact, since he’d moved to London. The silence was new to him as well. Moreso than the muffled angles of Staple Inn, the forest had no wagons rattling endlessly over cobblestones, no people shouting, no bells ringing, none of the millions of incidental human sounds that tumbled all on top of each other every minute in the city. Just the rustling of pine needles in the wind.

Then he heard it.

An eerie sound, a howl that began low and swooped upward to end in a triumphant blast that echoed throughout the forest as if from miles off. A hunting horn.

Butcher took hold of the stag’s antlers and dug his knees into its flanks. The stag leapt off once more, darting to and fro between the trees at harrowing speed, along no path Wren could perceive. He clung to Butcher’s waist, his chest flush with Butcher’s spine, the closest embrace he’d known in more years than he cared to count.

~

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Sunday Snippet, 3.19.23

Sunday Snippet from my gay Victorian fae romance, Oak King Holly King – available now wherever fine books are found!

~

The terrible impact rang out across the field like a thunderbolt cleaving a tree in twain.

Wren’s hands flew to his mouth. The crowd leapt and cheered, surging in a bloodthirsty tide. The young man amidst the milkmaids let out a particularly gruesome guffaw. Wren didn’t dare breathe. It seemed the world had ceased turning the instant the blow fell.

The sword had struck Shrike in the side. The Holly King’s blade came away crimson. And the horrible noise, the crunch of metal against boiled leather and bone—

But Shrike rolled.

At first it seemed as though the force of the blow had thrown him aside, but as Wren watched him tumble, he realized Shrike had purposefully dodged. Not entirely, not quite fast enough for that, but dodged all the same, and when his feet came under him again he staggered upright.

And Wren’s hopes rose with him.

~

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