ChapterOne
Everything changed when he first saw Noah Sage. He loved those romantic tropes: your breath catches in your chest, your heart beats fast, you shake. He’d always laugh when he read those romance books with their cute moments. Only that was fiction. It didn’t happen in real life.
But no, all of that happened. Every bit of it.
Standing in a crowd, lined up at the entrance to the Hay-on-Wye winter literature festival, were two women screaming like groupies at a rock show. They drew looks of disapproval from the uptight literature crowd who came to the festival to absorb ‘culture, darling’, and nothing more. Amongst all the literature highbrows were the avid book readers of Noah Sage’s successful romantic book series, all of them wrapped in coats and woolly hats to shield them from the cold December weather. The die-hard romance fans outnumbered the ‘culture, darling’ fans, their introverted tendencies overpowered by their need to be seen and meet their literary idol.
Quinn Oxford had read every Noah Sage novel from cover to cover. As one of Hay’s booksellers, he needed to know the new releases, especially when written by someone who was part of the queer community. He owned Kings & Queens, a bookshop selling queer literature, or anything written by queer authors, which, of course, meant Noah’s books. Plus, he loved romance novels and carried no shame about it. What could he say? He was a sucker for happy endings.
Not the massage kind.
Kind of.
‘All of this for aromancewriter?’ A passing voice said, as Noah Sage’s black Bentley came driving down the path cleared of snow.
The screams gained volume as a window rolled down and the face of Noah Sage came into view.
That was when everything changed.
The screams disappeared and the surrounding crowd melted like the snow at their feet. Noah’s car seemed to go by in slow motion, and then stop altogether when Noah’s eyes met his.
Those green, green eyes. Lusciously green, like the Welsh hills. Oh, how they sparkled. They looked deep, inviting. They were hypnotising.
Did he admire my blue eyes and the way I stared at him, taking in every part of him I could?
Did the world stop for him, like getting lost in the perfect book?
Did he see me and only me, with my wavy black hair, my cosy jumper, my lightly freckled face? Could he even make out my features like I could his?
Somehow these thoughts came to Quinn as he stood there, feeling a connection between him and the romance writer. His heart beat so heavily in his chest that he thought the surrounding cage may break. He swallowed, his mouth dry. He panicked because he couldn’t breathe.
He had last felt like this during an allergic reaction to penicillin. This was less frightening.
Never had he seen a man so perfect.
Quinn couldn’t go there. Love wasn’t on his mind right now. Not after… Well, it didn’t matter.
And then Noah was gone, the two girls next to him feigning a faint.
‘He looked right at me!’
‘Me too!’
‘Did you see those eyes?’
He deflated. So, everyone else experienced the same thing. The culture lovers and die-hard romance fans alike, star-struck, and all drawn in by the writer everyone loved and read.
The Bentley disappeared into the makeshift car park of the infamous festival. Every year, the Hay-on-Wye literary festival sprang up in the same field, white gazebos popping up along the Welsh landscape like wild mushrooms. The summer was the liveliest, when people flocked from all over, not only enjoying the literature that the world offered but also enjoying the rare, hot British summer. It was always sunny in Hay.
Except for when it snowed. Like now.
The winter festival was popular, and being so close to Christmas, people came to enjoy festive shopping. Down the road was the famous Hay town, full of bookshops and a book reader’s heaven.
‘Have you got tickets to his show?’
Quinn turned to see Ivy Heart standing next to him. He hadn’t seen her arrive; such was the way with Ivy. She seemed to sprout and pop up when you least expected her.
‘Of course.’
