Book Title: Waylaid
Author: J.M. Snyder
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Narrator: Nick Johnson
Release Date: August 16, 2024
Tense/POV: First person, present tense, single POV.
Genres: MM Fantasy/Romance
Tropes: Forced proximity, only one bed
Themes: Falling in love
Heat Rating: 5 flames
Length: 5 hours and 20 minutes
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
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It’s only supposed to be one night. Until it isn’t.
Blurb
When the Queen’s guardsman enters my inn, the last thing I expect is to be propositioned. But this far north, it can get lonely at times, and my bed fits two easily enough. The guardsman is lithe and fae, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Besides, what’s one night between grown men?
I don’t expect to see him again. But rumors of war bring him back to me, and what starts as a one-off soon blossoms into so much more …
Waylaid excerpt
By J.M. Snyder
When the last of the snow melts and the azaleas are in full bloom, the mines close for a few days to celebrate the new season. All over Vryn, villagers set out stands in front of their homes, selling canned and pickled vegetables, freshly baked bread, budding plants, home-brewed ales, and freshly cut flowers. Kids chase each other around the village, their laughter and squeals carrying on the spring breezes. There are scavenger hunts and contests of strength, foot races and kite flying, dancing around maypoles and picnicking in the fields. From sunup to sundown, everyone’s outside enjoying the weather and each other for a few days before the temperatures rise and it’s back to work.
With the setting sun, those who want to continue celebrating trail into the waystation. We get the regulars, salt miners looking to knock back a few with their buddies before calling it a night. But the holiday’s brought out a number of new faces, men and women alike not quite ready to put an end to the day’s merriment. Every evening, there’s a larger crowd. By the end of the week I’m running ragged, even with the extra help I hired.
From the moment we open for dinner, customers line the bar, clamoring for attention and pushing each other aside for another drink. I pour glass after glass and refill anything shoved in front of me, swapping bottles with one hand and raking coins off the bar into the pouch at my waist with the other. I barely look up, running on muscle memory and the two cups of coffee I had right before the dinner crowd arrived. I’ve been on my feet for hours, it seems, and the evening’s only just begun.
Then things die down a little. Customers have settled at tables around the hall—tonight’s special is rice balls in broth over greens, and I can tell it’s good by the way people hunch over their bowls protectively. Even the bar settles down, the stools now occupied as mugs and steins are set aside long enough to eat.
I wipe down my side of the bar, cleaning up spilled ale and foam and pocketing a few stray coins I missed earlier. I almost don’t know what to do with myself. I take a step back and my foot knocks an empty bottle, and as I bend down to start gathering up the discards, I glance around the busy hall, taking it all in.
That’s when I see him.
There, across the room, sitting at a small table with a dinner bowl untouched before him. The hooded cloak is gone, it’s too warm out for it now. Instead he wears a faded tunic and well-worn trousers, and his hair is tied back from his handsome face. At a glance one might mistake him for a villager, maybe a farmer visiting from a nearby town. But his pointed ears give him away, and his proud bearing and strong gaze hint at military training.
I freeze midway down. He’s staring right at me.
Well, damn.
A million thoughts run through my head. Why didn’t he come over to the bar to say hi when he got here? When did he get here? Doesn’t he want to speak to me? How long has he been sitting there? Watching me? Waiting…for what? Me to see him? To say something? Why should I be the one to make the first move? Will I?
I don’t know. Why is he here now? Surely he hasn’t been out collecting those damn flowers all this time. How long will he stay? Should I go over there and say something? Does he even remember me?
Of course he does. When he sees me looking, he raises one hand in a sort of half-wave, the corners of his mouth turning up in a faint smile. I remember that mouth on mine; I can still taste him on my lips. Why didn’t he approach me, though?
Only one way to find out. Grabbing a bottle of the hard cider he favored last time he was here, I skirt around the bar and head in his direction.
He watches me approach. Nothing in his face or posture says he’s anything less than pleased to see me. When I’m close enough, he nudges the other chair out from under the table to indicate I should have a seat. I drop into it gratefully, glad to finally be off my feet. “Hey.”
With a slow smirk, he says, “Hey yourself.”
“Long time, no see.” I show him the bottle in my hand and he nods at the empty glass before him. As I fill it with cider, I think I should’ve brought a mug for myself, too. Then, before I can think better of it, I chug straight from the bottle, emboldened by the sight of him. Wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt, I ask, “What are you doing all the way over here?”
He gives me a little half-shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me or not, given the way we left things last time.”
“The way you left,” I say, pointing the bottle at him for emphasis. “I didn’t go anywhere.”
“True,” he concedes with a slight nod. “I just didn’t know where things stood between us.”
The way he says it is almost a question, one I’d like to know the answer to myself. “Where do they stand?” Then, before he can answer, I wave it away. “Pssh, never mind. It was only the one night. We both knew that going in.”
He studies me, his face open and guileless and somehow still too enigmatic to read. “So a second is out of the question?”
I take another swig from the bottle. “I didn’t say that.”
J.M. Snyder is a multi-published author of gay erotic romance who started writing fanfic (specifically, boyband slash). She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press and Torquere Press, and had short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, eXcessica, and Lethe Press.
In 2010, she started JMS Books LLC to promote and publish her own work as well as that of other authors she enjoys.
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