Spotlight on Britain is a new series highlighting parts of the UK beloved by authors. I admit to asking K.C. Wells specifically to kick us off with an area which is much beloved by me, the Isle of Wight.The Isle of… Where? and Isle of Wishes originated from one short holiday on the Isle of Wight, and led to making a brand new friend in K.C. In case you’re wondering, the photo above was taken on that short holiday. Please let us know of any other gay romance books with a connection to the Isle of Wight.
I count myself very lucky. I live on the Isle of Wight.
My ex-students wouldn’t agree with me. Most of them were desperate to get off the island. It’s far too quiet, they say. Not enough going on, they say. Not enough shops, they say.
Funny… those were most of the reasons that decided us that we wanted to live here.
Sigh. Youth is wasted on the young.
The island constantly inspires me. It’s a beautiful place with a lot of sunshine and plenty of beaches where you can go for a walk and not bump into hoards of people.
Most of the year, that it.
Summer is a different animal. During the summer months I avoid the roads along the eastern side of the island because they tend to get clogged up with a lot of holiday traffic. We call it the Sandown Crawl. The population doubles. The supermarkets have a lot more shoppers.
I still love it here.
As a writer, it’s inspiring. Anyone who reads my blogs or my posts on Facebook knows that I have a ‘writing room’. It’s actually a beach café down in Steephill Cove to the south of the island. I love it for three reasons – well, maybe four. There’s no Internet. (This is crucial – I can’t tell you how many times I get distracted by Facebook and…other things.) The phone signal is virtually none existent. (Okay, so that can be a pain sometimes, but people can leave a message, can’t they?) They make a wonderful cup of tea. (VERY important. Okay, so I’m English… mock not the importance of tea)
The fourth reason for going down there is the most important. It’s the sound. All I can hear is the waves crashing on the rocks below the café at high tide, or else the gentle ripples as the tide goes out.
When I decided to venture out into the world of self-publishing, I started with a stand alone story set in London. And then I had an idea. Why not write a series of stories set on the island? And thus Island Tales was born.
The first one, Waiting for a Prince, comes out next week. It was inspired by a visit to my hairdresser. (This is why the notebook goes with me EVERYWHERE). I caught sight of a cute young man in the mirror. When I asked the lovely Sonia, who does my hair, about him, I was told his name was Mark and he was fairly new. And that he was gay. All of a sudden I had this vision in my head of a couple coming into the salon, and the guy is ticking all of Mark’s boxes. Too bad he had a girlfriend….
The next Tale, which will be out in September, was inspired by Steephill Cove itself. There’s a beautiful white building that looks like a little lighthouse, which is for holiday lets. So there I was, drinking my tea and looking across the bay at the Lighthouse…and I got thinking. In my head there is now an American writer who’s suffering from writer’s block and is forced to come to the island for some R&R. Three guesses where he ends up staying?
The number of people who read my stories and say, “You make me want to visit the island.” My best friend who is American would love to live in the lighthouse. How many more stories are there? How long is a piece of string? Answer: I don’t know. I just had the idea for another… but that’s for another day.
As long as I can look out of my window and see the hills, and know that if I walk to the end of that field, I’ll be looking down at the sea… Yeah, I’ll be happy. And inspired.
Born and raised in the north-west of England, K.C.Wells always loved writing. Words were important. Full stop. However, when childhood gave way to adulthood, the writing ceased, as life got in the way.
K.C. discovered erotic fiction in 2009, where the purchase of a ménage storyline led to the startling discovery that reading about men in love was damn hot. In 2012, arriving at a really low point in life led to the desperate need to do something creative. An even bigger discovery waited in the wings – writing about men in love was even hotter…
The laptop still has no idea of what hit it… it only knows that it wants a rest, please.
K.C. can be reached via email (firstname.lastname@example.org), on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/KCWellsWorld), on Twitter (www.twitter.com/kcwellsworld) or through comments at the K.C.Wells website (http://www.kcwellsworld.com ) K.C. loves to hear from readers
Blurb for Waiting for a Prince:
When trainee hairdresser Mark sees Sam for the first time in the salon, it’s lust at first sight. Sam is Mark’s living, breathing fantasy guy. He couldn’t be more perfect. Of course, there’s the tiny, insignificant detail that Sam has a girlfriend. Hell….. A chance meeting on Mark’s favourite beach brings the two men together, and Mark finds himself with a new friend. As they spend more time together, Mark grows to see Sam less as an object for his lust and more as someone who just… fits. But falling in love with your new best friend—especially when he’s straight—is bound to bring heartache in the end.
Sam likes Mark. As in, he really likes him. And he’d like to get to know him even better. But Sam has secrets. There are things going on in his life that he can’t bring himself to tell Mark about, because the shame Sam feels is too much to bear, and not something he ever wants to share with another living soul. And if Mark ever finds out how Sam really feels about him, and the fact that he’s lied to him…. Sam can’t take that chance.
Then one drunken night in the pub changes everything….
“I really feel sorry for that poor bloke.”
Mark paused momentarily in his task of dyeing the new hair extension pieces. “Which bloke?” He was engrossed. Marie had already given him the evil eye twice that morning, and if he didn’t get this finished, there was every possibility that she’d start with the ‘there are loads of wannabe hairdressers out there just clamoring to get into your shoes’ talk—again. He gave a cursory glance around the salon. “What are you talking about?” he muttered under his breath to Wendy. “We haven’t got any male customers in here at the moment.” He went back to his task, irritated that she’d spoiled his concentration. Hopefully she’d take the hint and leave him to it.
No such luck. Wendy huffed. “He’s not a customer, silly.” She nudged his arm and almost sent the bowl containing the hair dye into a dive over the unit. She made a noise of insincere apology. Mark scowled and ignored her as he carefully sponged the dye over each tress, taking extra pains to ensure it got even coverage.
“Look over there,” she hissed. “On the couch in the window.”
Oh, for God’s sake, woman, leave me alone. Mark dropped the sponge into the bowl and straightened, about to tell Wendy where to go, when he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He twisted around. Yeah, Marie was there all right, her gaze boring into him. Oh hell, that was all he needed. He winced, preparing himself for the inevitable request for ‘a word, please, Mark.’ Christ, he was hearing that more and more these days.
“Mark, can you come over here a minute please, sweetie?”
Sonia’s melodic voice carried above the chatter and the low, unobtrusive music playing in the background. Mark could have kissed her, except for the fact that she had totally the wrong equipment. Avoiding Marie’s steely gaze, he hung up the hairpiece and crossed the salon floor to where Sonia had just finished speaking with her customer.
“Mark, would you make my lady a cup of tea, please?” Sonia’s eyes twinkled. Yeah, she knew exactly what she was doing. It was sweet of her, stepping into the fray like that, but Mark knew Marie would still have her pound of flesh at the end of the day. Sonia leaned lower to speak to her customer. “Milk and sugar?”
The woman in the chair gave a bored nod. “Just milk, please.” Mark met her gaze in the mirror and smiled politely. She rolled her eyes and gave her attention to the celebrity magazine on her lap while Sonia readied the shiny strips of foil required for the hair color. Mark studied the woman, who seemed to be in her early twenties. He estimated that she would have been quite pretty, but for the hard lines around her mouth and that crease between her eyes. Her lips were thin, not a sign of a happy person in Mark’s experience. He couldn’t tell what she was wearing due to the black salon cape which pretty much covered her entirely, but he glanced down at her feet. Expensive-looking shoes. Aha. Comes from money and treats everyone like they’re a turd she’s just stepped in. Mark didn’t recall seeing her in the salon before. Most of Hair Today’s clientele were down-to-earth ladies who always had a kind word and a smile for the staff. And they certainly didn’t come with a ton of attitude like this one.
Sonia moved to the red leather sofa which sat in the window. Mark followed her movement and his heart gave a jolt. Oh yeah, baby… The man reclining there somewhat awkwardly was tall, maybe over six feet, which was just perfect, thank you very much. Mark bit his lip as he took in the earrings, diamond studs and a gold ring. His gaze traveled lower and he caught his breath at the sight of the man’s nipple rings, pressed against his white long-sleeved shirt. Not to mention the dark swirls of a tattoo hidden from view, but visible nonetheless. Mark’s dick stiffened. Oh honey, you are my idea of heaven. Tending toward the skinny side of lean, with short brown hair, just how Mark liked them.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Sonia offered, kindly. “While you’re waiting?”
Mark’s future husband opened his mouth to speak but the woman cut him off.
“He doesn’t want a drink.” The harsh quality of her voice made Mark wince. She swiveled in her chair. “Do you, Sam?” That crease deepened as she glared at the man. God, she could give Marie a run for her money in the bitch stakes. He watched as Sam sagged even lower into the couch. “In fact, I’m not even sure why you’re still here.” Her eyes narrowed. “Surely you have something else you can be doing.” She looked down her sharp little nose at him.
Sam dropped his gaze to the floor. Mark could understand that reaction. “No, everything’s done for the day.” God, even his voice was dreamy. “I’ll just sit here, if that’s okay, and wait till you’re done.” A pair of blue eyes came into view and Mark felt his knees go weak. “But actually, I would like a cup of tea, if it’s no trouble. Milk with two sugars.”
It took a second or two for it to register that Sam was addressing Mark. Flustered, Mark gave a quick nod, knowing full well his cheeks were already heating up. Why the hell did he always have to blush so easily? He escaped thankfully into the little room behind the reception desk and set about making two cups of tea. While he waited for the kettle to boil, he had a surreptitious glance through the open door at the gorgeous specimen. Christ, he has long legs. They were encased in a sinfully tight pair of fashionably worn jeans. Mark couldn’t help taking a sneaky peek at Sam’s package. He let out a quiet whimper. And he’s hung. For a moment Mark allowed himself the luxury of imagining those long, lean legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked Sam through the mattress, those blue eyes staring wildly up at him as Mark nailed him repeatedly, that sexy voice begging Mark not to stop, to fuck him deeper. Then reality bit hard. It’s not gonna happen, babe. One, the guy is straight, and two, even if he were gay by some miracle, Please God, no way would that Adonis be a bottom. Mark shook his head. Reality really sucked.
And because it would be stupid not to advertise my own stories based partially on the Isle of Wight 🙂