Knitting. Ice Cream. And a Matchmaking Fae.
Quiet, industrious Finn dreams of his own knitting store. He needs Leo’s enthusiasm to make him reach for what he wants.
Cheerful, adventurous Leo sells artisan ice cream but shies away from fulfilling his grandmother’s last wish. He needs Finn’s love and support to put his past to rest for good.
Add a Saxon treasure, a fae stranded in the human world, and an empty store with very unusual rental terms - and falling in love is not the only challenge Finn and Leo have to face.
Making a dream come true takes work. But there's magic in dreams if Finn and Leo can hold on tight.
Genre: FICTION / Romance / LGBT / GayCosy & Chill had its indie release in November 2021. Did nicely, with lovely reviews. A sequel is in the works. Book is available wide.
Looking for translations into German, Italian, and French.
Finn’s boots squelched with every step. When he kicked them off on his parents’ doorstep, water seeped from his wet socks. “I hate November,” he grumbled while he hunted for his keys. “And weather forecasters.”
They hadn’t predicted this morning’s downpour, and Finn minded that. He might have taken an umbrella had he known. Or a boat.
He’d gone to the post office to drop off his latest batch of parcels, detouring on to the far end of the High Street to look at an empty store on the way back. Double-fronted with a bow window, it was perfect for the shop he dreamed of. He’d lingered in front of the dusty glass, imagining it sparkling clean, and the shelves in the room beyond filled to bursting—until the rain had prompted him to leave.
The shop was all he could think of, and if wishes were coins, he’d have rented it already. As matters stood, he hadn’t even enquired.
Finn pushed open the door, and a ball of russet yarn with two needles sticking through it hit him right in the face.
“How many times have I told you not to leave your prissy stuff lying around the house?” His father bellowed at full volume from three feet away.
Finn wanted to point out that his ears worked fine, thank you very much, but knew that it would only make matters worse. He picked up the yarn, grateful that neither needle had poked his eye out, and that his father’s rough treatment hadn’t dropped any stitches.
“Sorry, Dad,” he muttered, meaning it. He’d been working on a commission when he realised that he’d miss the parcel collection if he didn’t hurry. In his rush to the door, he’d brought the half-finished glove in his wake. He should have taken it back to his room and run to the post office if he’d needed to, but that was water under the bridge.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Aurora Coltraro
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