Length: 11,000 words approx.
Publisher: JMS Books
Blurb
Ronan Clenney has had his eye on his neighbor forever, but as a single father of a precocious eleven-year-old, he’s never believed he stands a chance. But over a late night cup of tea, it seems circumstances have changed. Is this the right time, finally?
Iggy has never believed in romance, but can Ronan show him he’s wrong? That love is a real thing?
Excerpt
“Iggy?” A slow smile blooms on his face and his eyes brighten. “What are you doing up this early? What happened to no knocking on my door before ten on weekends, young Miss Emery?” he asks, imitating my words perfectly.
“I grew old, that’s what happened.”
“Awww. Poor Iggy.”
“Hey! Be nice or I won’t share my breakfast.” I hold up the bags to show him what he’d be missing.
His eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “You brought breakfast?”
“Um, yeah. You gonna let me in, or ...?”
“Of course. You just about shocked me to death, that’s all.” He pretends to clutch his pearls.
“That seems to be my theme this week,” I mutter and follow him to the kitchen.
“I was just about to start breakfast --” he points at a carton of eggs, “-- but I guess I don’t have to?”
“Nope. Coffee would be good though. I didn’t buy any.”
“Sure.” He leans over to the machine and pushes the button. “All done.” He grins at me and takes a seat at the table. “Show me what you got.”
He watches as I unload my purchases. Baguettes. Croissants. Pain au chocolat. A box of pastel colored macarons I bought only because they’re so pretty and I thought Emery would appreciate the pinks and purples and yellows. Three tiny, fancy-looking jars of French jam; black cherry, fig and walnut, and raspberry. And finally, a box of huge, dark red strawberries the bakery sold for some unknown reason.
Ronan’s mouth falls open as he takes in everything. “What brought this on?”
I take my usual spot at the table. “I’ve had that song on my mind ever since the other night. I have no idea what it’s called or what the guy was singing about, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. So when I walked past Knead It and they had a French flag hanging in the window, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Which song?”
I hum a few bars, hoping I don’t butcher it too much so he won’t recognize it, but he nods.
“‘Ne me quitte pas’ by Jacques Brel.”
I repeat the title in a terrible French accent. “What does it mean?”
“It means ‘Don’t leave me.’”
His words make my heart stutter in my chest. “It’s great. So emotional,” I rasp out.
“I didn’t know you were a fan of old French songs.”
“I’m not. But it’s really beautiful.” The explanation feels inadequate, but I don’t know how to express myself better.
He doesn’t talk for several seconds, and then he says, “Huh.” His gaze is full of questions he’s not asking, and he doesn’t let up the intense scrutiny for even a moment. Inside, I’m squirming like a maggot on a fish hook, but I hope I manage to present a calm exterior.
For the first time ever, things are weird between us. The conversation is stilted, and the silences awkward. I know why, of course. By showing up like this, I changed the dynamics of our relationship. I’ve never been one for socializing in the mornings. And while I’ve brought the occasional pizza or six-pack, I’ve never brought anything like this before. Something meaningful. Something that shows I’ve been thinking about him and the time we spent together. Something serious.
I can’t blame him for wondering what’s going on. He listens to that French stuff all the time and I’m sure he’s played that song a million times before, but it’s like I heard it for the very first time on Wednesday.
I can’t stand his close examination any longer, so I get up and start setting the table with plates and cups and cutlery. “What’s the deal with you and all the French stuff anyway?” I ask with my head buried in the refrigerator, looking for butter and something for Emery to drink since she’s not allowed coffee.
“My grandmother was from France. She always used to sing the old songs to me and teach me the lyrics.”
I place a cutting board and a bread knife on the table. “Oh. What was her name?”
“Celeste.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Yes.”
I look around for something else to do. “Do you speak French?”
“Iggy?”
I gulp, knowing what’s coming. “Yes?” Reluctantly, I retake my seat at the table.
“Why are you really here?” His voice is soft and caring and I’ve heard him use the same tone when he speaks to Emery about important matters.
I line up the jam jars in a perfect row, needing something to do with my hands. “I ... uh ... want to spend more time with you and Emery.”
Review
I know it’s not a term usually
associated with books in which the main protagonist is in his mid-thirties, but
to me this read pretty much as a coming-of-age story. Either that or a
coming-to-your-senses tale.
To say that Iggy’s life makes a full
turn-around on the night of his 36th birthday almost feels like an
understatement. Especially in the first part of the story it’s hard to escape
the feeling that Iggy transformed from a party-animal into a homebody literally
in a heartbeat. It’s only as we read on and get to know Ronan and his fabulous
11-year-old daughter Emery that we begin to realize that the transformation probably
has been in the making for some time.
What follows is a charming romance,
reading almost as a first time in love story although the feelings and
relationship develop between two men who have been adults for well over a
decade and have been friends for a few years.
Don’t expect steamy sex scenes and
ripped clothes here. Apart from a somewhat graphic description early on in the
story, this book doesn’t contain ‘those’ hot scenes. Mind you, it didn’t need
them either. In fact, they would have been completely out of place in this case
and Iggy and Ronan did give me a whole new appreciation for kissing.
To summarize, Awakenings and French
Songs is a wonderful, adorable, and light-hearted story featuring two charming
main characters, a delightful eleven-year-old girl, and one of my favourite
French songs ever. Pure enjoyment.
Author Bio
Nell Iris is a romantic at heart who believes everyone deserves a happy ending. She’s a bona fide bookworm (learned to read long before she started school), wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without something to read (not even the ladies’ room), loves music (and singing along but, let’s face it, she’s no Celine Dion), and is a real Star Trek nerd (“Make it so”). She loves words, poetry, wine, and Sudoku, and absolutely adores elephants!
Nell believes passionately in equality for all regardless of race, gender, or sexuality, and wants to make the world a better, less hateful, place.
Nell is a forty-something bisexual Swedish woman, married to the love of her life, and a proud mama of a grown daughter. She left the Scandinavian cold and darkness for warmer and sunnier Malaysia a few years ago, and now spends her days writing, surfing the Internet, enjoying the heat, and eating good food. One day she decided to chase her lifelong dream of being a writer, sat down in front of her laptop, and wrote a story about two men falling in love.
Nell Iris writes gay romance, prefers sweet over angst, and wants to write diverse and different characters.
Email contact@nelliris.com
Twitter @nellirisauthor
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Oh wow, thank you so much for this wonderful review, it made me all smiley and happy!! 😍❤️
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