New Release Spotlight: Saved by the Bear by Holly Day

The lovely Holly Day is back on the blog today, celebrating the release of her newest book, and as always, it’s great to have her here. She also asks a very interesting question: would you want to know when you die and how? My short answer? No. 🙂

Welcome, Holly! ❤️

Hello, everyone! Thank you, lovely Nell, for allowing me back on the blog 🥰 Do you know what today is? Yes, I hear a muttered Thursday, and you’re right, but it’s also National Tell A Story Day. And I wrote Saved by the Bear to celebrate this day 🥳

Saved by the Bear is a short story, the shortest I’ve published this year, at about 60 pages. It’s about Frode, who inherits a book from his uncle. He thinks the book is a little creepy. It has Will Tell Your Story written on the cover, and it weirds Frode out.

Then when he takes the book home and opens it, all he sees are blank pages. He laughs at himself. It’s a diary and, of course, it will tell his story if he writes in it.

But then a sentence appears.

What would you do if a magic book was giving you a recap of your life from childhood up to today? Frode stays up all night, reading. The book is turning pages on its own, and there isn’t much left, so he keeps going. Only when they reach the present day, the book continues and shows him the future.

Sadly, there aren’t many pages left in the book, meaning there isn’t much left of Frode’s life.

I most often write paranormal stories. I love adding magic to the world, adding possible and impossible things. I want there to be shifters, vampires, psychics and magic users. I would’ve jumped into a world like that, but I don’t want to know how I die or when.

Had someone given me the choice to know, I’d most likely have turned down the offer. Unless there was a chance to change the outcome, then I might have wanted to know. I don’t know.

I’m not fatalistic. I think we have the power to change our lives. But at the same time, some things are out of our control. I watched my mother fade away in two months, and everyone tried to save her. If that’s my fate, then I don’t want to know. I want to live until I can’t anymore.

Frode isn’t really given the choice whether he’s to know or not. Sure, he could stop reading the moment he realised the book showed him the future, but then we wouldn’t have a story, would we? 😆

Saved by the Bear

Would knowing how you die change the way you live?

Frode Hall inherits a book that promises to tell his story, and it does. It starts with a recap of his childhood, leads him through his teens and into adult life. Then it turns a page and shows how he dies in a car crash the following day. Frode panics, but can he trust the book? It’s showing a huge Grizzly sneaking around the garden, and there are no bears in the garden, only Imre, his neighbor.

By not being in his car when the predicted car crash was to take place, he survives another day. But someone has learned he has the book, and it’s showing ninjas breaking into his apartment to get it. Unsure of what to do, Frode turns to Imre. Frode doesn’t know what to believe about his growling and talk of mates, but he trusts Imre to help him. They leave the city in a hurry, but will the book give them enough warning to keep them alive or will their journey end in a gruesome prophecy?

Paranormal Gay Romance: 14,970 words

Buy links:

JMS Books :: Amazon ::


Frode was unable to sleep. His body was buzzing, his mind racing, and his hands aching with the need to open the book again. He must have imagined the whole thing. He’d been through a rough period, and today had been the drop to make the cup run over. He’d been frightened and alone, not on the run from his ex perhaps, but scared to talk to him again, and then an attorney had called and given him keys to a cabin.

A cabin. In the woods. Frode had lived in the city his entire life.

And the book… His mind had left his body and had been bouncing around the ceiling. How else would he have been able to perceive himself from above?

To prove he wasn’t insane, he flung off the cover, put his feet on the cold floor, and walked out of his bedroom with determined steps. The shiver going through him was because he’d left the warmth of his bed, nothing else.

He grabbed the box and reached inside. He didn’t scream when the swooping in his gut came and pulled him out of his body. He was still inside of his body, part of him, at least. Both his brain and his body worked. He put his forefinger to his nose to prove it, but he was seeing himself from above.

This time, it opened about one-fourth into the book instead of halfway. How weird. With a deep breath, he focused on the writing.

The book was giving him a recap of his life so far. One sentence melted into another as soon as he’d read the last word, and soon he didn’t see the words at all. His life played before him as if he was watching a movie.

Childhood memories soon turned into memories from his teens. His father turned uglier with each scene. He hadn’t in reality, but every time he belittled Frode or was mean to his mom, he turned more and more into an orc fit for a Tolkien movie.

Real minutes turned into hours, and by the time they’d reached the moment when Frode first met Dario, his eyes were sandy, and his jaw was about to be dislocated by all his yawning.

He pushed on, couldn’t stop when he was this close to the end. As if the book understood he didn’t want to watch how he’d gone from happy and confident to broken and scared during his time with Dario, it skimmed forward. It showed him when he’d first walked up to this building, but it wasn’t accurate.

“Wait. Go back.”

The book turned back a page which startled Frode. He hadn’t noticed they’d turned pages, but they were almost at the end of the book now, so they must have.

He read, or watched, or whatever the weird in-between was, himself walking up to the building. Around the corner of the house, out of fiction-Frode’s view, was a huge grizzly bear. Massive. He shook his head. There couldn’t have been a bear, not in the city, not a big one at least. Someone would have noticed.

The house was on the outskirts of town, and it only had two apartments—his on the upper floor, and Imre’s on the bottom—but people still walked by. Someone would’ve noticed a grizzly.

He rubbed his eyes, and when he focused on the book again, he’d entered the empty apartment. The book showed him smaller than he was in reality, which had him question its reliability again. A tiny Frode and a massive grizzly. It was two errors in less than a minute.

The book turned another page. There weren’t many pages left now which, he guessed, made sense since they’d almost reached present time, but it left him a little disappointed.

They jumped to the day Dario had come to visit. His face was twisted into an ugly sneer—it hadn’t been in reality. He’d been angry, but Frode didn’t blame him. Frode had left him without a word. Had packed a bag of clothes and left a note on the kitchen table saying he’d moved out and wouldn’t come back.

His breath hitched as black fog wafted around Dario like a cloak while he yelled at Frode. Then Imre’s door banged open, and he rushed up the stairs. He grew with each step he took, and when he was standing over Dario, he had massive fangs dripping with saliva.

Frode shivered. It hadn’t happened. Imre had come up the stairs. He hadn’t spoken or snarled, but he’d put himself between Frode and Dario. To Frode’s astonishment, Dario had quieted and walked toward the exit. Imre had followed him, and he did in the book too.

Frode didn’t think his troubles with Dario were over, but he forgot all about it as Dario and Imre stepped out of the building. The book turned the focus back on Frode.

“No, show the garden.”

To his amazement, the book did. Outside, Dario was walking to his sleek black Mercedes. The glow from the lamp post illuminated his face as if they were in a scary movie. The black smoke still flowed around him, reminding Frode of a cartoon villain, and his breath hitched as tiny ravens fluttered around Dario as he got into the car. Then Frode spotted the grizzly watching Dario from the shadows behind the hedge. Where had Imre gone? Maybe he’d turned around and gone into his apartment the moment Dario had left the building.

Yawning again, Frode made a mental note of checking for bear prints in the garden. Did it have a den nearby?

He put the book on the wobbly coffee table and went to get a glass of water. When he entered the living room again, the book was showing him at the attorney’s. She looked like the stepmother in Cinderella—the book had a flair for animated characters. She hadn’t looked like that in reality. A bit stiff, and he had the feeling she had been looking down at him, but he didn’t think she was stepmother-evil. He hoped she wasn’t. When the book showed the box with the book and the keys, it glowed. Frode took a calming breath, only to wince when the book showed him opening it earlier in the day.

Frode winced as he watched Imre’s door fly open and bounce against the wall as he ran up the stairs. He was huge again as he banged on Frode’s door. As Frode spoke, Imre shrank back into an almost normal size. He’d been huge when Frode opened the door, but not as big as the book showed him.

He stretched and watched the last few hours play out in rapid succession. Nothing interesting, and the book skimmed over them as if it was fast-forwarding on an old VCR player.

Then the air froze in Frode’s lungs.

The book showed the morning, the coming morning. Frode slammed a hand over the open page as he took a shuddering breath. It hadn’t happened yet. Fuck.

About Holly Day

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 :: TikTok

Book Recommendations

Sunday Book Recommendation

Don’t you just love a lazy Sunday when you’ve cleared your schedule of all the boring stuff and decide to spend the day taking care of your soul, doing the things you want to do, instead of the things you should do? I know, I know, we’re grown-ups and adulting is required, the laundry won’t wash itself etc, but sometimes, after a loooooooooooong work weak or a busy weekend with lots of guests and activities, I allow myself to ignore the messy kitchen, order pizza instead of cooking, and indulge.

I’ll make a pot of tea, or grab a cold soda and sit by the fire. I’ll shop for books online, crochet, listen to music, or read. Mostly, I read, and on a lazy non-adulting day like this, I want to read more than one book. I want to make my way through the virtual equivalent of a tall stack of books, and that means short stories (I’m a fast reader, but not so fast I can get through more than one 300+ page book per day). You know I love short stories in general, but on my lazy reading Sundays, I crave them more than usual.

I’ve had two lazy days like this pretty recently, and I read a handful of lovely stories I want to tell you about. All of them get five glowing stars and my warmest, I-want-to-shout-from-a-rooftop-how-great-they-are recommendations.


I read December Beginnings when I’d had a particularly gruesome work week and I needed a book that would be the equivalent of a warm, tight hug. You know by now that I’m a huge K.L. Noone fan, and while I pretty much pre-order all her books, I don’t necessarily read them immediately upon release. No, I save them for when I need a book that I can be sure is fantastic, that I know will leave me with a smile on my face, and that will make me swoon. December Beginnings was exactly that. Matthew and Dylan are so freaking cute, and definitely made me feel better.

I read Batshit Bassel on the same day. While I scheduled the guest post for Holly on my blog, I read the excerpt and was immediately sucked in. I was going to buy it, but Holly was kind enough go give me an ARC, and after I’d finished December Beginnings, I threw myself on Bassel. I freaking adored it. Bassel is a quirky character with a huge heart, I love him to death, and his soups managed to warm my frozen soul even though they aren’t real.

A few weeks later, I’d had a jam packed weekend full of people and happenings, and I needed a quiet day, where I communicated with the hubby via texts instead of talking. I also needed a bunch of short stories to recharge me, and that’s when I read the next three books.

In Lines of Light, another K.L. Noone book, is a beautiful, poetic, sci-fi story. I don’t generally read sci-fi; my mind tends to wander when I encounter extensive world building or excessive techno-babble, but this had none of that. The sci-fi parts were light and easy, and used to enhance the story and highlight Tam and Val’s budding relationship. And the language! Gawd, ms. Noone sure knows how to write!

The Long Game is probably my new favorite Ellie Thomas story. I don’t always like stories about an established couple because I like my HEAs to be happily ever afters, not happily-until-the-author-decides-to-eff-up-their-happiness-for-the-sake-of-drama, please and thank you. But sometimes, an author manages the perfect tale of an established couple, and whatever drama happens doesn’t seem contrived or silly and in the end, the couple is even closer than when the story started. The Long Game was that book and it left me with a smile on my face.

And finally, I decided that since I’d had such luck with In Lines of Light, I might as well try another sci-fi, especially since it was written by Kim Fielding. I haven’t read anything by her that I haven’t liked, and Once Upon a Dance was no exception. It’s a cinderella re-telling about Dom, an aging house android, and this short tale made me feel angry, sad, melancholy, and romanced off my feet in seventy short pages. It’s the perfect example of why I love short stories so much

Buy links

December Beginnings :: Batshit Bassel :: In Lines of Light :: The Long Game :: Once Upon a Dance


December Beginnings
Stunt double Matthew Reid is in love with actor Finn Ransom but Finn’s getting married to someone else. Matthew’s good at hiding emotions while rehearsing with Dylan Li, their show’s star. Dylan’s adorable, optimistic, hardworking, and Matthew likes making him smile. But Matthew’s in love with Finn. Right? When Dylan’s injured on set, Matthew realizes what he truly wants if he isn’t too late.

Batshit Bassel
Some people perform miracles, others serve soup. Bassel is a psychic with no control over his powers. He’ll never work wonders, but he can serve soup. Thor lost his sister and became the guardian of his nephew, but his life doesn’t have room for a cub. Bassel aches for the little boy cloaked in grief and the growling bear he lives with, but will soup be enough to ease their sorrows? 

In Lines of Light
Federated Planets ambassador Tamlin Rye is headed home, having just finished a successful negotiation. Tam’s looking forward to some rest … but the beautiful mysterious captain of his courier ship is more tempting than restful. Captain Valentine Perrin doesn’t sleep well. He might be young, but he’s seen his share of difficult missions. His starship’s observation deck offers solitude on those nights … until his new passenger interrupts. And, on this starlit night, Tam and Val will both find exactly what they need.

The Long Game
In 1760s London, Joshua Jones, a young working man of colour, is balancing his art studies with his shifts at a gambling hell in exclusive St. James’. Last year at the club, he met and fell in love with Frank Bartlett, an older man and a diplomat. Now Joshua fears their budding relationship is faltering. Can he convince Frank that they have a future together?

Once Upon a Dance
Dom is an aging house-android, toiling away for the cruel and ungrateful owners of an inn. He secretly dreams of freedom, friendship, and love. When an inn guest offers him the chance to attend a grand masquerade ball, Dom jumps at the opportunity. For a few precious hours he enjoys a level of independence he had never imagined—and the company of a handsome and kind prince of industry. Until the clock strikes midnight.

Wake Him With a Kiss

Wake Him With a Kiss – 2-Year Publiversary

Two years ago, Wake Him With a Kiss was published and I thought we’d celebrate that here on the blog. It’s short, it’s cute, it’s a slice-of-life story, a meet-cute, and it’s perfect if you only have a few minutes to spare but still want something to read.

When Lo is dragged into the tattoo shop by his bossy cousin, he steals everyone’s attention. The big man is afraid of needles but wants a tattoo to celebrate an important moment in his life. And he wants Amos to do it.

Tattoo artist Amos is mesmerized by Lo from the moment he lays eyes on him. He’s huge but kind, strong but gentle, and his freckles…God, his freckles.

They hit it off immediately, but Lo grows nervous as the big moment approaches. Will Lo flee from the tattoo machine before they have time to get to know each other? Before they have the time to see if the sparks will turn into something more?

M/M Contemporary / 6926 words

JMS Books :: Amazon :: Books2Read


New Release Spotlight: The Misfit by Ellie Thomas

Thank you so much, lovely Nell, for having me as a guest on your blog today. I’m Ellie, and I write MM Historical Romance novellas. My new story, The Misfit, is the fifth instalment in my Twelve Letters series, so I’m here to chat about my latest Regency romp.

The other four books in the series so far are Twelve Letters, Queer Relations, Coming of Age and Getlemen’s Agreement which take place in the posh West End of London. Not all of my ensemble cast consists of wealthy gentlemen. For example, Daniel Walters, Jo Everett’s love interest, is a tailor in a fashionable outfitter with branches on exclusive Bond Street and Tottenham Court Road.

London of the Regency era, although spreading fast, was so modestly sized you could easily walk from one end to the other. In my previous stories, my characters have ventured out on foot from Mayfair and St. James’ to more the modest districts of Soho and, of course, the pleasure-seeking hub of Covent Garden.

Luc, my MC in The Misfit, a spin-off of the main series, is a professional musician and his love interest Harry is an actor. In this way, I could dive into the colourful world of Covent Garden for this story. It helped that I was inspired by The People’s Piazza: A History of Covent Garden. This recently-aired BBC tv documentary had some fascinating insights into nearly 400 years of the district’s history.

Covent Garden, an exclusive outer suburb that began in the 1630s,  started to come into its own in the late 17th century when King Charles II granted a permit to build Theatre Royal Drury Lane in 1661. Other theatres followed, and by the mid-18th century, Covent Garden was London’s cultural playground and thriving red-light district.

This was a colourful and dangerous place indeed, and by Luc’s time in the early 19th century, the outright lawlessness was curbed by the looming presence of Bow Street Magistrates Court just off the Piazza. I wanted to give a sense of the vibrancy through Luc’s eyes with the taverns, coffee houses and brothels, bagnios and molly houses that characterised the area.

The Secret History of Georgian London, by Dan Cruikshank, the architectural historian, is a wonderful guide around the livelier elements of Covent Garden, including the notorious Moll King’s coffee house as a “place for nightly revels and for company of all sorts.”

These vibrant surroundings have as much of a role to play as Luc and Harry’s working life at Drury Lane Theatre, and I enjoyed having their love story unfold in such a stimulating environment.


At the start of 1816, Luc Gerrard is summoned home to rural Essex from his sanctuary in the West Indies due to a dangerous downturn in his mother’s health. When she recovers, Luc is determined to pick up his musical employment in London’s theatres, concert halls and ballrooms.

He receives support and even friendship from a surprising source, the circle of gentlemen who spirited him away from certain arrest due to his connection with his former lover and Napoleonic plotter, James Beaufort.

Luc juggles his pride and finances while attempting to gain an orchestral position at Drury Lane Theatre for the upcoming spring Season. Bittersweet memories are revived when he inevitably meets his longtime companion and sometime lover, Harry Kent. However, charming, easy-going casual Harry seems changed by Luc’s absence.

Can Luc re-establish his interrupted career with a little help from his new friends? And might he and Harry find a lasting connection?

Book Links:

Amazon :: JMS Books :: Books2Read :: Goodreads :: Bookbub


He embraced that unique combination of stale scent, smoking stage lights, linseed oil, and fresh-cut wood that indelibly signified the theatre, together with the continual bustle. In the daytime, the building was the domain of actors, musicians, stagehands, scenery builders, and seamstresses, amongst many other essential roles. By nightfall, the backstage workers melted into invisibility. Then the audience dominated as they spilled into the splendid auditorium by their thousands on a good night, braying from the pit or glittering with jewels from the tiered boxes surrounding the stage.

From the wings, Luc had a view of the space below the stage that housed the orchestra. A group of men assembled aimlessly, taking the opportunity to joke and banter. At their centre stood Mr. Henry Kent, an up-and-coming actor known as Harry to his many friends. At twenty-three, a few months younger than Luc, slightly broader and shorter, he was vital and magnetic, any stray beams of daylight glinting on his thick red-blond hair, the rich colour of a fox’s pelt in this darkened space.

Harry reached the punch line of his jest, causing his companions to roar with laughter. His jaunty pose showed off his high cheekbones, mobile smiling mouth, and a glint of sharp white teeth. Luc thought, as always, that Harry was the life and soul of the party, his easygoing demeanour belying the force of his theatrical ambitions. It was no secret that far from being city-born, Harry grew up on the Kent coast.

He’d exchanged the family surname of Smith for the title of his home county as a loftier stage name. But late at night, when in his cups, Harry divulged to Luc his youthful dread of being co-opted into the family oyster business back in Whitstable. This unbearable fate prompted his getaway to London and inclusion into the lowest ranks of the theatre company.

Harry was good fun, great drinking company, and an even better fuck. Luc should know from many nights spent in his bed when they both happened to be in the same part of town and at a loose end.

During Luc’s second season in the orchestra at Drury Lane, the newly inducted Harry had caught his eye. Given the return of interest and Harry’s charisma, Luc was tempted to be smitten with the dashing young actor. Harry was appreciative of Luc’s appearance in turn, undressing him like a present and savouring the secrets of Luc’s body as a rare treat. But even as they tumbled for the first time, Harry made his intentions clear.

“Let’s stay as friends who have a bit of fun together, eh, Frenchie?” He’d suggested with a confiding smile that took any sting from his words. “There’s enough dramatics and hysterics to be encountered treading the boards to wish for any more in between the sheets. If you’re content, I reckon this will suit us both.”

Luc had to admit that Harry had been proved correct. They were barely twenty and yet to establish a place in the performance pecking order. Neither of them had the leisure to embark on a romantic relationship, even if Luc felt so inclined.

Their intermittent casual liaison was frequently interrupted by Harry pursuing a promising patron or even a patroness at a pinch. He engaged all his considerable charm, transferring his sexual attentions to step up the next rung of the ladder to fame and fortune. Once that goal was achieved, and the sponsor had drifted on to fresh pastures, Harry cheerfully took up with Luc again. They both accepted the hard-fought scramble of theatre life, and Luc never doubted Harry’s genuine friendship, even when temporarily preoccupied with demanding patrons.

It wasn’t as though Luc lacked offers of consolation. Despite Luc’s opinion of himself as too gawky, intense, and beaky, it seemed that others shared Harry’s glowing opinion of Luc’s particular brand of striking dark looks.

Coming across free and easy Harry in the exuberant flesh was unexpectedly bittersweet, reminding Luc of simpler, happier times before Beaufort had swept into his life, bearing him almost to the brink of utter disaster.


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

About Nell

Goodbye March

March has been…uneventful. When I scrolled the photo gallery on my phone, I realized exactly how little has happened in my life last month. No wild and crazy dinner parties like February; instead, it was mostly pictures of my crochet projects. That’s okay, too, because who needs excitement in their lives all the time, amirite?

But luckily, I have photographed other stuff too, or this would be ten pictures of crochet projects which would be boring (for you, at least). Shall we take a look?

March started out foggily; you can barely see the outline of my office building beyond the bridge, and I almost expected to be eaten by a Stephen King-esque monster on my way to work. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and I made it safely to work.

As I’ve waited for the train to take me to work, I’ve been fascinated by the long shadows cast by small pebbles when the sun hangs low above the horizon, and I’ve been wondering why the birds seem to favor this particular tree for nesting. There are other equally tall trees around the station, but this is the only one the crows like. There are lots of crow couples fighting over it, and I’m glaring at them, thinking stop squabbling and pick another tree, when they caw and screech at each other, but no. They want this one. I’ve started thinking about it as The Love Hotel (yes, I’m currently beta reading one of Amy Tasukada‘s yakuza thrillers, why do you ask? 😁)

I’ve been writing in March. I almost wrote that I’ve been writing “a lot” but that’s an exaggeration, unless you compare with the barren winter months with a word count of ZERO, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not a lot. It’s enough to make me happy, though, and my goal for my writing this year is to accept that I don’t have time to write enough for 6-10 releases a year, so I’m happy with what I’ve accomplished. I do love my writing time in the morning office with Hollyfelia, though, and I’m glad I’m back on a semi-regular basis. And Meeting Lucky is going well. I’m in love with the story and I look forward to finishing it.

Like I wrote in the beginning of this post: I have one gazillion pictures in my phone of my crochet projects, and here are a few. On the left, I’ve croched a garland for this year’s Christmas tree. Yes, I realize it’s a bit early to think about Christmas trees in March, but I’m a newbie, and if I want crocheted Christmas decorations, I need to give myself time. 😁 In the middle picture, I’m making a bunting for the grandbaby’s new bed. And to the right, a super-cute bookmark, because one can never have too many bookmarks, amirite?

This month’s book haul. From the top, two Agatha Christie novels translated to Swedish that I bought cheap on sale. Dead and Gondola (a cozy mystery about two sisters named Christie who has a cat named Agatha that takes place in a bookstore, so I couldn’t resist it even if I usually don’t like series or punny titles 🙈), Dangerous Liaisons, (one of my all time favorite movies), an annotated version of Persuasion (because one can never have too many editions of Jane Austen books) a special edition of If We Were Villains (a book that absolutely slayed me when I read it recently so obviously I needed a second, super-pretty edition) and finally I Have Some Questions For You (a mystery thriller that intrigued me when I downloaded a sample).

I was home alone for almost a week, because the hubby needed to go take care of a family emergency. So I ate all the things he doesn’t like (fish! he doesn’t like fish!), treated myself to a lazy breakfast and a pot of tea, wrote by the kitchen fire, and tried not to miss him too much.

March 25 is Waffle Day in Sweden, and the hubby and I celebrated accordingly. The waffles was delightfully crispy on the outside and tasted divine with whipped cream and fresh raspberries that I’d mixed with a tiny bit of sugar. My mouth waters just looking at the picture.

And then daylight savings came…and we’re back to darkness when my alarm goes off att 5am and watching sunrises while waiting for my 7am train. I hate the stupid time changes with the strength of a thousand suns and I wish we could just pick a time and STICK WITH IT. A plague o’ both time changes, to paraphrase Mercutio (this clip from the fabulous 1996 Romeo+Juliet shows exactly how I feel about time changes!)

And if that wasn’t enough, we got more snow. Let me tell you, that even a little snow that only stays on the ground for a few hours is very depressing in the last week of March.

But the snow disappeared and I celebrated with a cappuccino because we’ve bought a new milk frother. But Nell, you say, I thought you didn’t drink coffee? I don’t. At least not regular coffee, only decaf because I’m super sensitive to caffeine, but I can’t resist a good milky coffee drink on occasion. So that’s my decaf oat milk cappuccino with cinnamon. Is that a hipster-y coffee order, or isn’t it complicated enough? 🙂

I’ve also been immersed in Dangerous Liaisons every free moment. I’ve read it once before, when I was in my late teens, after I’d seen the movie the first time. At that time, I didn’t like it. I found it incredibly boring and wondered how they could make such an excellent movie of such a snooze fest. But it’s been 30+ years and I figured I’d give it another chance. I really love epistolary stories, and the copy I read was an old Swedish translation (that was kept in storage in my local library, so the librarian had to go down in the basement and search for it when I requested it, and she handed it over to me with a thick layer of dust, that’s how old it was) and thought that maybe there’s a newer, better English translation I could try and there was. So I started reading it in the Storytel app first, but I got hooked immediately and decided to order a physical copy since it felt wrong to read it digitally. And it’s a great book, I’m at the edge of my seat reading it even though I know what’s going to happen. I wonder what other books I rejected at 18-19 that I would love today.

And that’s all. Like I said, an uneventful month. April will be different, we have lots of stuff planned, so stay tuned.

Tell me something you did in March.