In many families there is a special book that a mother passes on to her daughters once they reach a certain age, and mine was no different. However, the book I was given was not “My Body, My Self” or even a classic Judy Blume, it was the first book in “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien. It seemed that reading these books was not a choice or even an expectation, it was an obligation. At that point, my mother had read what my family simply calls “The Tolkien” at least thirty times. When we were little my sisters and I were read to from the illustrated version of “The Hobbit” (which was terrifying by the way! Trolls and orcs populated my nightmares) and we had seen the animated versions of the books on VHS at least a dozen times.
When I was passed these books—I’m tempted to call them bibles because of the sacrosanct way they were treated in my family but I won’t —at thirteen I was filled with a sense of responsibility. I knew I had to get past the tiny type, the epic length and the frankly quite alienating prose and LOVE these books. The copies I was given were copies that my father had read in university. They were well worn and obviously much loved. When I finally made my way through all three I felt…ambivalent. I raved about them to my parents, I mean, I appreciated having a roof over my head, but I couldn’t help but feel that I was missing something. When I finally confessed this to my mom she assured me that you only really “got it” after you’d read them a few dozen times. I think I shuddered.
The thing was, she was right. I re-read the books a few years later and then again in my early twenties and I confess that now that I’m pregnant with a daughter I am tempted to hand them down to her when she hits her teens (a terrifying thought—how can this bump become a teenager??).
In between reading “The Tolkien” I devoured other fantasy and sci-fi novels and I’m still a huge fan of the genre. In particular, I fell in love with Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar series. I think what drew me to Lackey’s work was not only her amazing gift for world building but also her romanticism —especially The Last Herald Mage Trilogy which, incidentally, was the first male-male romance I ever read.
It was inspiring, obviously as twenty odd years later and my first fantasy inspired novel, and my first male-male romance, “Someone to Depend On” has just been released by Dreamspinner Press (fist pumps!).
It’s the first book in a series called The Binding. It tells the story of Bero Halvorsen, a Felan and David Whitaker, a struggling writer with a broken heart. The Felan are sort of like guardian angels or fairy godfathers—they’re sent to Earth to bond with individual humans and help them through personal crises. The problem is that Bero is burned out, tired and no longer wants to spend all his energy bonding with needy humans. He decides he wants some time “off” and develops a plan to sabotage his next assignment. Unfortunately for Dave, he happens to be that next assignment.
Here’s a little taste of the book, this is the scene where Dave and Bero first meet:
“DAVE was still crouched on the floor, back against his front door, head down, when he heard a crash come from the living room. He started and his heart pounded in his ears as, slowly and quietly, he got to his feet.
His mind raced. A burglar!
Dave’s mind, for some reason, seized on the word “burglar,” and he giggled to himself in delirious panic as he pictured a man, all in black, tiptoeing through his living room with a large burlap sack….
He shook himself and grabbed the only weapon within his reach—a table lamp that had lost its shade. He made his way over to the living room, stopped as he approached the doorway, and peeked in.
Someone was definitely in there. A man. A really tall man. A really tall, really pale man. The man was standing in the middle of the room, wiping invisible specks of dirt off his dark jeans, and looking around curiously and expectantly. He didn’t look particularly dangerous, though he definitely looked strong—his arms and chest were well built, exposed by the tight cut of his thin cotton T-shirt.
He’s… he’s actually really hot.
As soon as Dave thought it, he cringed inwardly. He recognized the sheer patheticness of wanting to jump the man who’d just broken into his apartment and probably wanted to kill him.
He decided his best bet was to take the guy by surprise. He took a deep breath and launched himself at the man, lamp swinging wildly in his hands, a bloodcurdling cry coming out of his mouth.
He had his eyes tightly squeezed shut the whole time, so when the lamp seemed to have met a target of some sort, he thought maybe he’d got the guy. He opened his eyes only to find himself standing right in front of the man, still tightly gripping the base of the lamp, which was being easily held in place (despite Dave’s full weight bearing down on it) by one of the tall guy’s hands. The guy hadn’t moved a muscle other than to grasp the lamp. He was looking down at Dave with an amused smile on his face.
“Hello. You must be David. Or is it Dave? I’m Bero.”
What. The. Fuck.”
I really hope you enjoy my first foray into fantasy, but there’s no pressure — I promise
I’d love to do a giveaway of an ebook copy of “Someone to Depend On”, so please leave a comment below to enter the drawing making sure to include your email!
Link to buy Someone To Depend On
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