I was excited at the idea of welcoming Alex to my blog. I really love the Trowchester series and am looking forward to reading this latest installment. A highly recommended author, whether the books are set in historical periods or are contemporary romance.
Hello from Alex Beecroft I write gay romance that is on the sweeter side of the spectrum. I am asexual and agender myself, so that probably has something to do with the slow decline of my heat level over the years.
I made my name with books set in the 18th Century Age of Sail, but there’s only so much you can write about the navy in one go.
Now my settings range all the way from Bronze Age Crete to the modern day UK.
My latest book, Seeing Red, is a contemporary romance set in my own fictional town of Trowchester.
Let me tell you some more about that…
When I started writing novels I had no idea how people wrote contemporaries. What was there to write about in real life?
I don’t like biography, or autobiography. I don’t like paying bills and having to clean the bathroom. I go to books to escape all that.
It took Trowchester to free me from that mindset.
At some point after I began contemplating how to write in the present day without writing a story about cleaning toilets, it finally occurred to me that I had been confusing contemporary novels with non-fiction.
But contemporary fiction is still fiction.
I could create my own world every bit as much as I would have done in a historical or a fantasy. I could write about a town that was everything I liked about towns and nothing that I didn’t. If I wanted tea-shops and hanging baskets full of flowers I could have them.
I could mix them with morris dancing and pagan wells, Bronze Age burial mounds, murder mystery, found families and a basket full of puppies, if I so wished.
And so Trowchester became my playground.
If you like sleepy English towns with some quaint customs, a gay book-club who look out for one another through arson and escape attempts, more than a hint of peril behind the scenes, and a promise that love will save the day, it might be yours too.
Bad boys don’t tame easy.
Victor is a bad man. Is there anything he won’t do for power and money?
Destroy a local business so he can buy it cheap? Kick out its owners and turn it into a cash cow? He relishes the chance.
Idris is a good man in possession of a renowned tea-house. He’s put his heart and soul into the place. It’s everything he has and wants…
Except for Victor.
He wants Victor too.
Can the love of a compassionate man restore a predator’s withered soul? Or is Idris doomed to lose his life’s work, and his heart with it?
A contemporary mm romance, Seeing Red is a long-awaited new installment of the critically acclaimed Trowchester Series.
Each book in the series is a standalone, and can be read in any order.
Feel free to start here and work back!
Get Seeing Red today and visit the town where love conquers all.
The suit had given Victor a certain untouchable air, like something on which the stray hand would cut itself. But now he wore a soft, turquoise silk button down and black skinny jeans, grayed and soft with age and wear. Idris hadn’t noticed a bin smell, but he did notice the scent of soap and shampoo—an almost continental fragrance of blended coffee and whiskey. Victor was a vision, dressed as though he was about to go clubbing, and Idris’s infatuation—somewhat dashed by the house—flared up again like a tongue of flame.
“Wow,” he said. “You are so beautiful.”
“Don’t!” Victor flinched, his mouth turning down. He poured himself a drink with curt movements as though he’d been insulted. “I know I don’t look like much, but don’t make fun.”
“No, I meant it!” Idris exclaimed. “How can you not see? You’re—”
“I look like them,” Victor dropped to his knees beside the dogs, which put him dangerously close to Idris’s side. He brought a blast of warm, humid air with him, his hair still damp from the shower. Even watered, it was still bright, a bronze rather than the red-gold it was when dry. Idris reached up for it without thinking, touched the ends that curved over his ear, and then swept his fingertips over the soft arch of his ear down to the lobe as if he was petting another dog.
“Hm?” he asked.
“Scrawny, half-starved, feral. Like I’ll bite you as soon as look at you.”
Idris smiled, because although there was an element of truth in that, it didn’t sound like such a bad thing. “Would you?” he teased, “Bite me? That sounds like a promise.”
Victor took in a breath as if prepared to snap. Then he seemed to realize that he was being flirted with and laughed, awkwardly. “Not on a first date.”
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