Read Around the Rainbow Web Ring

Read Around the Rainbow: Setting Books Where You Live

Read Around the Rainbow is a blogging project featuring yours truly, A.L. Lester, Ofelia Gränd, Holly Day, K.L. Noone, Amy Spector, Addison Albright, Fiona Glass, Lilian Francis, and Ellie Thomas. Every month, we pick a topic and then we blog about it. Check the other blog posts by clicking the RAtR widget in the sidebar, or the links at the bottom of this post.

The RAtR topic for June is “Do you set your books in the place you live (or have lived) in?”

In the early nineties, I read The Witching Hour by Anne Rice and I read it in the way that only a Deep Thinking Broody Teenager™️ could, i.e. I devoured it with my entire being, fell head over heels in love with it, and wanted to live out my life in the world created by the author. I wanted to be a witch, I wanted to be the main character Rowan Mayfair, and I desperately wanted to live in New Orleans where the book is set, especially in the First Street mansion the characters own, and the surrounding neighborhood. When refreshing my memory for this blogpost (the early nineties is a long time ago), I learned that Anne Rice actually modeled the Mayfair residence on her own First Street mansion, so she clearly sets her stories in the place where she lives.

I remember falling so deeply in love with New Orleans that I actively sought out other stories set in the same area, but nothing ever grabbed me the way the setting in The Witching Hour did. And nothing really has since then.

I mean, I love a general setting description as much as the next person. Reading my dear friend A.L. Lester’s Very British Books™️ makes me want to go to Britain, sit by a wood stove and look out on a farm while sipping tea, reading about a cowboy makes me want to move to a farm and learn to ride horses and wrangle cows, or reading about a character strolling the streets of Paris makes me want to return, find that nice sidewalk bar again, that was located next to the golden statue and the ancient merry-go-round, where the husband and I spent a glorious afternoon sipping wine and enjoying life back in 2009.

But, and here’s a big but, the setting can’t be too detailed, it can’t take over the story! I don’t want to know the name of the street in Paris where the imaginary character is walking, I don’t want every building described, I don’t want to know about every crack in the sidewalk, I don’t want to read about the old lady that always walks her dog at the same time every morning and never picks up its poop. Or the smell of garbage on a hot summer day.

One or two of those details is fine, it sets the scene and ignites my imagination. Too much makes me bored, uninterested, and prone to DNF:ing the story (I’m looking at you The Fellowship of the Ring). And with the exception of Anne Rice’s New Orleans, I’ve never fallen in love with a city, a province, or a country based on the descriptions in the story. I’ve read stories where the setting is almost like a character in the story, and that’s not really what I’m looking for.

And of course my attitude towards settings influences my own writing, so to circle back to the topic of today’s blog post; no. In general, I don’t set my stories where I live. I keep my locations vague on purpose. People live in Sweden (where I live, does that make me a liar? 😀 ) but they live “in the south” or “up north.” They live in “a tiny shitty town” or “close to the forest” or “at the end of the street.” I only include enough details to tickle the reader’s imagination, to let them fill in the blanks themselves. That’s what I prefer to read, so that’s what I write.

Also: there’s one more – very pragmatic – reason. If I set my story in a vague location, no one can ever get mad at me or give me a bad review because I got their hometown wrong. 😆

But, there are exceptions to every rule, of course, and I’m no exception 😀 So my story Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday is set in a very real location, that I describe in the book: Ale’s Stones in Skåne county, Sweden, where I live. At least the stones themselves are accurate, but I’ve taken liberties with the tiny village at the foot of the hill where the stones are located. Ale’s Stones is an iron-age stone ship, and the hubby and I went to see them a couple years ago. I was completely in awe of them, and when a fellow writer suggested I include them in a story, I thought “hmmmm…I just might.”

And I came up with Resolutions for an Arbitrary Holiday.

Two strangers, a twisted ankle, an ancient stone ship, and a New Year’s Eve they’ll never forget

Petter sneaks out of the New Year’s party he didn’t want to go to and treks to an old burial site he’s dying to see. Alone. Without telling anyone on a freezing December night. Without cell service…a huge problem when he twists his ankle.

Someone passes by Isak’s house on the path leading to the stone ship. When the person never returns, Isak worries and sets off to investigate. What he finds is Petter, a pack of sparklers, and an instant connection.

Under a starry sky, they learn they have a lot in common. Will the attraction burn hot and fizzle out like the fireworks going off over their heads when they return to the real world? Or will it deepen, grow, and turn into something real? Something everlasting like the stone ship?

M/M Contemporary / 20851 words

JMS Books :: Amazon

Don’t forget to check out the other posts on the topic. It’s always so interesting to read what my fellow writers come up with and I love that the same topic creates so wildly different content. I can’t wait to read what they’ve written.

Unfortunately, there won’t be a post from A.L. Lester this months, because she’s in hospital, recovering from surgery, so if you follow Ally on SM, make sure to stop by and send her some love.

Ofelia Gränd :: Holly Day :: K.L. Noone :: Amy Spector :: Addison Albright :: Fiona Glass :: Lilian Francis

Book Recommendations

Sunday Book Recommendation

First, it was the cover:

I mean, look at this gorgeousness 😍 I took one look at this and totally judged the book by its cover and almost one-clicked without even reading the blurb, because seriously. If this cover doesn’t win Best Cover of 2022, I’m gonna be mad.

Then, it was the reviews:

It’s all very sweet and easy.” And “This was instalove.” And “If you love totally angst-free romance, then this is definitely for you.”

If you know me at all, you know that those three review snippets are my crack. Sweet and easy? Yes. Instalove? Heck yeah!! Totally angst-free? Sign me up right now.

Finally, it was the book:

So, I one-clicked. And the book did not disappoint.

It was funny, and I had to bite my lip to not burst out laughing in the silent compartment on the train when I read it on my way home from work.

“Don’t splash too much,” Davo said. “Attracts the crocodiles.” I shrieked, and he cracked up laughing. “I’m kidding! There are no crocs here.”

“Davo.” I grabbed my dick. “I peed a little.”

It was very Australian.

Jeesh. Two nights camping off-track in the outback. With like ten of the world’s deadliest snakes and no hope on getting to a hospital in time.

And it was very, very romantic, and I’m sure I had heart-eyes when I read certain parts.

He might not have been able to say the words on the tip of his tongue earlier, but my god, when he kissed me, I sure could taste them.

It was everything I needed after a long, hard week at the day job, when all I wanted to do was lay down and die of exhaustion, but instead I picked up this book and it cheered me up like nothing else could’ve managed. It’s going on my Goodreads’ feel good, re-read shelf and I’m giving ten stars on a five-star scale.

If you’re in the mood for a funny book that feels like a warm hug, this is what you want. It’s fantastic.


When Fergus Galloway takes on a research trip to a tiny mining town in the far Western Australian outback, he’s as far from Sydney as he can get.

Which is entirely the point.

He arrives in Pannalego totally unprepared for the baking heat, unprepared for the people who call it home, unprepared for the craziness and the laughs. And absolutely unprepared for the man he meets there who steals his heart.

Davo is a mining man, as rugged as he is gorgeous. Loves his found family, loves where he lives, and loves his life. He also loves the feel of soft fabric on his skin.

What was supposed to be a short field trip changes Fergus’s life. Going to a place many call uninhabitable might turn out to be the only place he wants to live.

Buy link

Release Blitz

New Release Spotlight: Held Close to My Heart by Ellie Thomas

Thank you again, lovely Nell, for having me as your guest today! I’m Ellie Thomas, and I write Gay Historical Romance. In this blog, I’m chatting about Held Close to my Heart, my story for the June Hugs or Kisses submissions call for JMS Books.

Apart from a brief trip back to Elizabethan London for the Spice of Life in February and a look at the 1930s Gay Scene  for London in the Rain published in April, most of my stories scheduled for this year are Regency Romances, and quite a few of them are set around London.

So for Held Close to my Heart, I thought I’d mix things up a bit and subsequently chose a seventeenth century setting in rural Oxfordshire. Also, as my stories are often about burgeoning romances between men who have only just met, I rang the changes in this one, featuring an established couple.

The story is mainly from the point of view of Luke, agonising over the future of his relationship with his childhood sweetheart, Jem. These two young men grew up together and were inseparable until their late teens. But as the story starts, they are now in their early twenties, with Jem spending much of the year in London at the decadent court of King Charles II (which was great fun to mention), leaving Luke in Oxfordshire to work his family farm. Luke feels they have grown apart and over the course of the summer while Jem is at home, Luke agonises jealously over his apparently unrequited love.

As well as checking small but important details about farming in Oxfordshire at that period, I also eagerly raided my bookshelves. It was pure self-indulgence to give Luke an interest in literature because that allowed me to quote from at least one of John Donne’s sublime poems. Also, it gave me the perfect excuse to re-read Graham Greene’s fascinating Rochester’s Monkey, a biography of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, the archetypal Restoration rake.

Rochester’s short life was a riotous comet, action packed, full of contradictions and very much a man of his tumultuous time. The son of a Royalist father and Parliamentary supporting mother, this dissonant background was reflected in his actions as he veered between condemning the corruption of the Royal Court and extreme overindulgence in drink and sex, while penning sharply witty and often utterly filthy poetry.

With the example of such a colourful Restoration figure in mind, I couldn’t help but allow my main characters to reflect some of Rochester’s qualities, albeit in a far less extreme way. Luke is my Puritan, serious, clever and thoughtful, the dutiful son who tills the land for the benefit of his family, with no one, not even Jem, guessing at the volcanic emotions beneath his stoic surface. In contrast, Jem is straightforward, sunny, fun loving, pleasure seeking and easy going, seeming perfectly suited to the self-indulgent atmosphere of the Restoration Royal Court.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing about these two opposites attract characters, not only to explore the differences between them but also to reveal, once miscommunications are resolved, that they might be two halves of a perfect and complete whole.


Since their mid-teens, Luke has been deeply in love with his childhood friend and neighbour, Jem, who spends most of the year at the decadent court of King Charles II in London. In the intervening years at home on Twelvetrees Farm in Oxfordshire, Luke has been occupied by helping his disabled father run their small estate, taking on the burden of work to support his family. Meanwhile, Jem has enjoyed all the worldly pleasures available to him at court.

When they are both twenty-one, and Jem returns to Westlecot Manor to spend the summer, Luke’s feelings for him reach boiling point. Luke can no longer cling to the belief he is important to Jem. He is overwhelmed by jealousy at the prospect of Jem’s dalliances with any visitors to the manor house, while aware that Jem is bewildered by his outbursts of disapproval.

Will Luke allow his jealousy to get the better of him? Might he dare to speak his deepest feelings? Or would that destroy their lifelong bond forever?

Gay Historical Erotic Romance // 11253 words

Buy Links

Universal Book Link :: JMS Books


I cursed myself for allowing my resentment to get the better of me. I should have accepted Jem as a bright and carelessly happy creature and be grateful he still sought my company despite being surrounded by a glamorous throng.

But somehow, as June became July, my sense of grievance gathered. I used the excuse that I was dog tired, working from dawn to dusk, my father’s worries for the coming year burdening me, as I pushed myself even harder in an attempt to allay his anxiety.

Weary as I was by late in the day, I couldn’t refuse to accompany my family to the evening diversions at the manor. It would have seemed churlish to our good friend Sir Harry, and, with so many men present used to casual customs, I was needed to help my mother keep a careful eye on my sisters or be a strong and willing arm to support my father when required.

Repressing a yawn while watching the dancers, I tried not to resent Jem, glowing with health, well-rested, the life and soul of the party, conviviality itself. For some reason, this particular night, he bore the brunt of my frustration, his vibrancy and happiness contrasting painfully with my cares and exhaustion. I cursed his leisure time, his immaculate appearance, his care-free existence. I was heart-sore with wanting him, sick of myself and my ever-present foul mood.

We were about to depart for home, leaving the merrymakers to continue dancing until the early hours. I had fetched my mother’s shawl for her and was walking through the vestibule by the library on my way to the entrance hall where my family made their farewells.

At that very moment, one of the court ladies emerged from behind the library door, flushed and giggling, in the act of retying the laces at the front of her bodice. One step behind her, inevitably, was Jem, an amused smile on his lips as though he had been well-entertained.

“Luke,” he called out to me in good spirits as the lady scurried off to her chamber to tidy herself before returning to the main party. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

The expected polite reply froze on my lips.

“Your father is a generous host as always. But I’d rather be in my bed, and resting up for the long day ahead,” I replied curtly.

“Oh, come now,” he said jovially, patting me on the arm, “after your labours, you should take the opportunity to make merry amongst us all.”

“Take your example, you mean?” I asked sharply.

Jem seemed to perceive my uncertain humour, and his smile faded. “Luke, what’s the matter? Did you not enjoy our party?”

His innocent query unleashed my pent-up bitterness.

“It’s all very well for you to say, without a concern in the world. You don’t have to rise as soon as it’s light, be an extra pair of hands for your father so that he doesn’t fret himself into an early grave or keep watch over your mother and sisters and worry about her portion and their dowries. Those weights are not on your shoulders.”

Jem tried to calm me with a quip, “But they are such powerful shoulders,” he said, running an appreciative hand over the sleeve of my sober jacket. Rather than soothing me, that seductive touch stung me to harsh speech.

“Not that you’d care or notice,” I continued bitterly. “You’re too busy chasing after any available skirt or pair of breeches.”

Jem looked taken aback by my outburst. “But Luke,” he started to protest mildly.

“Oh, away with you. Go frolic with whom you please,” I said roughly, and for the first time ever, I walked away from him without a second glance, let alone an ameliorating word.


Ellie Thomas lives by the sea. She comes from a teaching background and goes for long seaside walks where she daydreams about history. She is a voracious reader especially about anything historical. She mainly writes historical gay romance.

Ellie also writes historical erotic romance as L. E. Thomas.

Twitter: @e_thomas_author


New Release Spotlight: Moonshine by Holly Day

Hello, everyone! Thank you, Nell, for letting me drop by again. Yesterday, A Drop of Moonshine was released. Can you guess which day we’re celebrating? Yes, National Moonshine Day, which is today! Are you having your glasses at the ready?

I’m not much for hard liquor. I could have wine every day, but it’s not often I drink anything stronger than that. I am, however, in the middle of making lilac wine. Yup, you read that right! 😁 Has anyone of you ever made lilac wine??

Years ago, I made elderflower wine, and, to my surprise, it was really good. So now when the apocalypse is approaching, I’m gonna try to make lilac wine.

I’ve made lilac squash/lemonade before, and I used the same recipe for elderflowers and lilacs, so I figured why not use the recipe for the elderflower wine but switch out the elderflowers for lilacs.

In a year or so, we’ll know if it worked 😊

And speaking of the apocalypse… A Drop of Moonshine is set in a world where the government controls everything. They’ve given every person one sanctioned kill. If there is someone they don’t like, they can apply to have that person liquidated. The result is that everyone is terrified, and no one dares to step out of line.

Thorn is a liquidation agent, which means whenever someone applies to have someone terminated, he or one of the other agents has to perform the kill.

Sid is a potato farmer, but it doesn’t keep him from starving, so he’s making moonshine on the side. Making moonshine is illegal, so when he gets a visit from a liquidation agent, he believes his life is over. It isn’t, though. The agent is blackmailing him, and soon Sid is asking Thorn for help.

This is a dark story, and while there is a HEA, it’s not a feel-good tale. There is blood and violence, so know that before going in.


In a world where the government controls everything, and every citizen is given one government-approved kill, Sid Barker is doing his best to keep his head down and not get noticed. At some point, he must have failed. Being a potato farmer doesn’t generate enough income, and Sid is making moonshine on the side to keep himself fed, but one day a liquidation agent shows up at his farm, not to kill him, but to blackmail him into giving away his moonshine for free.

Thorn Hull is a liquidation agent. Every time someone hands in an application to have someone terminated, he or one of the other agents has to perform the kill. It’s a well-paying job, but no money in the world can fill the void in Thorn. He regrets ever becoming an agent, but no one has ever quit the agency and lived to tell the tale.

One night in a bar, Thorn runs into Sid, who’s far from the dirty little kid he’d been the last time Thorn had seen him. Sid remembers Thorn from his childhood and asks him to help him talk sense into the agent who’s blackmailing him. Things soon escalate, and Sid and Thorn find themselves on the run from the liquidation agency. How will they be able to deal with the blackmailer at the same time as they’re on the run from the government’s trained killers?

M/M Romance:  51,713 words

Buy links

JMS Books :: Amazon ::


Thorn hurried through the alleys, looking over his shoulder to make sure Kannan wasn’t following him. When The Broken Bottle came into view he opted for the back door. First, he tried the handle, but it was locked, so he knocked. When nothing happened, he knocked again.

The seconds turned into minutes, but no one came to open the door. Thorn walked around the building, out on the street, and to the front door. It was ten minutes to opening time—someone had to be inside.

He tried the door and then knocked on the glass when he couldn’t open it. He looked up and down the street. People were moving around, but he couldn’t see Kannan anywhere. It didn’t soothe him, though. If Kannan followed him, he wouldn’t see him.

The glass disappeared from underneath his knuckles, and Jeb stood in the doorway glaring at him. “You have to wait till opening hours like everyone else.”

“Sid’s in danger.”

“I know. You’re trying to kill him.”

Thorn frowned at him. “No, I’m not. I mean, I was but, not anymore.”

Jeb crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “I bet that’s what all serial killers tell the people around them.”

“I’m not a serial killer.” The words sent icy shards through his chest.

“No? How many have you killed? Do you even remember?”

“We shouldn’t be standing here talking. Can I come in?” Thorn looked around the street one more time.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on, Jeb. I’m here to help, I swear.”

“Let him in.” Sid appeared behind Jeb.

Jeb snorted but moved out of the way, and Thorn hurried inside. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Sid shrugged. “I guess not since you found me half an hour after I arrived.”

Thorn ran a hand through his hair. “Kannan has gone crazy. He’ll come to kill you… and perhaps me too.” Thorn didn’t think Kannan would kill him, but things had gotten weird, and he didn’t know if he could trust him anymore.

“I’m on my way out.”

“Out? Where?” He couldn’t let Sid disappear. Kannan could find people; it was their job to find people. “You can’t hide, he’ll find you.”

“I’m not going to hide.” Sid shrugged and walked through the restaurant toward the bar.

“What? You have to hide!” Thorn’s heart was pounding so hard he couldn’t make sense of what Sid and Jeb were doing.

“You said he couldn’t hide.” Jeb grabbed a dishcloth and wiped the already spotless bar.

“Well, we need to go somewhere where we can wait them out.”

“Them?” Sid watched him with narrowed eyes, and Jeb stopped the wiping.

“Or him, I don’t know.”

“What do you know?” Jeb glared at him, and Thorn wondered if he’d misjudged their relationship. It didn’t matter, though—his gut told him it mattered a little since a burning knot of green envy built in there. Thorn tried to push it away.

“Not much, or not enough, at least.”

Jeb motioned for him to continue, so Thorn took a deep breath and continued.

“Kannan told me to kill Sid.” He hurried to add, “I’ve never performed an unauthorized liquidation before.”

“Good to know.” Jeb snorted, but some of the hostility in his eyes bled away.

“Kannan told me Sid was gonna have him terminated, and that I had to stop it before the bureau opened for the day.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“He doesn’t believe you. It doesn’t matter—”

“I think it matters if he’s gonna kill me for it.”

Thorn slumped on one of the barstools. “What I meant was, he’s decided you need to go.”

“But why? I don’t get how it got from moonshine to killing each other.” Jeb was looking between Sid and Thorn. “If he’d taken the time to talk to Sid, he’d realize killing wasn’t on the table.”

“It’s always on the table.” Thorn couldn’t understand how they didn’t see that.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m not Sid Barker, I’m Sidney Barber.”

“What?” Holy shit! He’d almost killed the wrong guy? “But you said you made the moonshine.”

Jeb groaned. “We don’t have time for this shit. Sid, babe, you need to leave. I talked to Shade, and you’re good to go.”


“Thanks.” Sid stepped in behind the bar and enveloped Jeb in his arms. Thorn stared; he couldn’t help it. It always surprised him when people touched each other in the open. “I’ll grab Cognac, and we’ll be off.”

“I’m coming with you.” Thorn was almost as surprised by his words as Sid and Jeb appeared to be, but someone had to make sure he wouldn’t get killed.

About Holly

According to Holly Day, no day should go by uncelebrated and all of them deserve a story. If she’ll have the time to write them remains to be seen. She lives in rural Sweden with a husband, four children, more pets than most, and wouldn’t last a day without coffee.

Holly gets up at the crack of dawn most days of the week to write gay romance stories. She believes in equality in fiction and in real life. Diversity matters. Representation matters. Visibility matters. We can change the world one story at the time.

Connect with Holly on social media:

Website :: Facebook :: Twitter :: Pinterest :: BookBub :: Goodreads :: Newsletter

About Nell

Goodbye May

O the month of May, the merry month of May,
    So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green!

Quote from The Merry Month of May by Thomas Dekker

I know I’m a few days late with this post. It usually goes out on the first day of the new month, but my week has been busy and I haven’t been able to find the time to write it. Heck, my entire month of May has been busy, and I feel like I’ve been playing catch-up all month. (I still am, you should see my laundry basket 🙈) How do you even juggle a Day Job, a house, a huge garden, a family, a life, and a writing career? I have no idea. If you do, please tell me how to do it in the comments.

Is May the most beautiful month of them all? I think it is, at least up here in Scandinavia. It’s over-the-top ridiculously beautiful and everything living explodes, every single tree and bush and plant blooms, one more colorful than the other. It’s as though all plant life is trying to show each other up. Look at me, I’m even more spectacular than you are. Like this rapeseed field that we passed on a road trip. Can you see how it’s boasting about its pretty yellow color, how it says a single one of us might be plain, but all of us together are breathtaking.

Rapeseed-field-yellow is my favorite kind of yellow 😍

And when I say “everything living explodes,” that includes weeds, too, of course. And yes, I know that weeds are just plants growing in the wrong place, but there’s a lot of that going on in our garden, so I’ve spent lots and lots of time last month trying pulling up weeds. This is my hand after a gardening session. And before you ask: yes, I was wearing gloves 😁

What you need after a long gardening session is a long bath in the yacuzzi style bath tub in our new fancy bathroom. I love it so much; there’s room for both of us, it comes with colorful lights (as you can see), and lots of bubble features. And bubbles are the best when you’re tired and sore after a long day in the garden. Even better with a glass of drinkable bubbles to go with it, a great playlist, and my hubby ofc.

The best thing that happened in May, was that I finally got to see one of my absolute favorite artists, Thåström, live. He’s Sweden’s biggest rockstar, and I’ve loved him for most of my life, probably close to 40 years, but never managed to see him live. We went to the second-to-last show of the tour and I’d spent lots of time watching clips from other stops on YouTube, and even footage taken through cell phones with bad audio was so great it raised my already sky-high expectations.

But he didn’t disappoint. It was easily one of the best live gigs I’ve ever seen, and I’m not ashamed to say that I cried when he played my favorite songs.

Here’s a clip from the actual concert I attended (filmed by someone in the audience on their phone). So somewhere in the audience is yours truly, singing along to this song from the top of my lungs, living my best life.

My darling daughter and her family was here visiting for the concert (she came with us), as was my husband’s sister and her husband. And on the day after the concert, we had lunch at a local restaurant in a nearby village called Röstånga. It used to be an old station house, and now they’re a restaurant, making food from seasonal, locally grown produce. The asparagus-green pea soup I had was fabulous.

It had been raining, something my beloved grandbaby appreciated. Pölar, pölar, pölar, she said happily as she splashed all the puddles she could find. (pölar = puddles). And her mother wanted in on her fun, so they both splashed around, saying Pölar, pölar, pölar, as though it was the best thing in the world.

Did I take one gazillion photos of this spectacular show? Yes, yes, I did 😍 Did I also buy my grandbaby a second set of wellies (yellow with tiny bees) so she can splash in more puddles? Yes, yes I did 😀

But then they went back home and I had to work. But at least there were lots of pretty things to look at while waiting for the train. Boastful May.

This is the worst when you have a mountain of work to do. Did I have to wait hours and hours before I could log on to the system again? Yes. Ugh. How stressed do you think I was when I finally was able to go back to work?

I’m in the mood for a charcuterie board, a great wine, and vinyl records, I told my husband one evening, and we made it happen. Aaaah, just looking at the picture makes me hungry and in the mood for a repeat.

And the final picture from May is my mother-in-law’s cat, Luna. Luna has a fancy cat tree and a scratch post and despite this, she prefers to sleep in this beer carton. Classy. 😀

My MIL turned 75 so we went back to our old hometown to celebrate her. It was a lovely, but busy weekend, full of family, grilled food and strawberry cake, and bubbly. The perfect early summer birthday party, I’d say.

And that’s it for May. I’ll be back with more pictures from my life in a month.

Tell me about something you did in May?