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reviews_and_ramblingsSeeds of Time 1: Blue Roses by G.S. Wiley
Release Date: April 25, 2009
Publisher: Torquere Books
Publisher Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/
Blurb: Simon is happy with his quiet, peaceful life, working as the front of house manager in a small-town repertory theater. Things get even better when his long-time boyfriend, leading man Adrian Newland, pops the question, and Simon is all set to plan the commitment ceremony of the century. But his dreams are shattered when he learns Adrian has been unfaithful. Distressed by her brother's unhappiness, Simon's young sister Kelly visits a local psychic, who gives her a potion promising to 'remove all barriers to true love.' Simon is skeptical, until he finds himself launched sixty years into the past and face-to-face with a sympathetic vicar who has more than a few skeletons in his own closet.
Excerpt:
Not many people can say they got engaged thanks to William Shakespeare.
Ann Hathaway, of course, and maybe the odd couple of groundlings that found love in the pit of the old Globe Theatre, oranges clutched to their noses to cover up the stench of the unwashed bodies around them. While I wasn’t quite so badly off as that, there was a distinct odor of old chips and greasepaint permeating my office as I sat in the Winstanley Repertory Theatre, listening to ABBA on my iPod and doing the books.
"So, did we turn a profit on the panto?" Adrian came up behind me and yanked my earphones out from behind, cutting off Agnetha in mid-warble.
I glanced back at him. "Possibly." I still had to tally our costs for costume rental and promotion, but in this theatre, even the possibility of profit was rare enough to merit celebration.
"That’s great," Adrian came around and sat on the edge of my desk, perching his arse between my laptop and my souvenir “Rainforest Café” mug. “And, of course, it’s all thanks to you.”
“I think Jackson would take issue with that.”
"Sod Jackson," Adrian replied, to which the universal response was always "No, thanks." “You’re the one who runs this place. And you’re the one who told him ‘Of Mice and Men’ wasn’t an appropriate choice for pantomime season.” That was true. Jackson Bartlett, recently arrived from the more liberal skies of Portland, Oregon, USA, hadn’t quite been sure what the audience of a regional theatre in Yorkshire expected from their Christmas theatre season. Or, indeed, from any theatre season.
"I think the particularly sexy leading man might have helped a little," I countered. Adrian was a fantastic actor, no matter what the role, but I admit, seeing him in his Lincoln-green Robin Hood jerkin and tights night after night had made me a very merry man indeed.
"They could find another actor in a second. The theatre would collapse if it wasn’t for you."
I smiled at him and closed my Excel document. I wasn’t quite finished, but the board of directors didn’t meet for another week. I had time. "Want to go for a curry?"
Adrian didn’t move. “Maybe later.”
"Is something wrong?" There was a time, in my dark, insecure past, when I couldn’t believe someone like Adrian would want to go out with a guy like me. In those days, the serious look in his eyes would have worried me. Now, three years into our relationship, I was merely concerned for him.
"Do you remember that interview I had in London?"
"The one for the Globe Theatre." I could hardly forget. We’d splashed out and made a memorable weekend of it, with a West End show, a West End hotel, and a nice big West End hotel room with a Jacuzzi bath.
"They rang me back today." I didn’t say anything. "They’ve lost one of their actors for the upcoming season." I normally would have made a joke about looking in the pub, which was where I usually found them, but Adrian went on, "They want me to play Donalbain in their 'Macbeth'."
I was out of my chair the moment the words left his lips. He flung his arms around me, and I lifted his feet off the office carpet, once-beige shag stained by decades of cigarette butts and careless coffee drinkers. “That’s great.” I stopped long enough to kiss him, again and again, until he laughed and said: “Stop, Simon.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.” It was a chance to escape regional theatre, an opportunity to move up in the world. Adrian was the same age as me, twenty-seven, but in his business that was perilously close to being over-the-hill.
"It would mean going to London," he said. "Leaving you."
I felt my insides flip a little at the worry in his voice and the reluctance on his face. "I’ll visit, Adrian." And it wasn’t like I had any kind of stellar career here in Winstanley. In time, if Adrian’s career kept progressing, I could easily move to London myself.
He took my hand and looked and me seriously. “Simon,” he said, in the same tone of voice he’d used to declare his everlasting love for Maid Marian eight times a week for the last month. "Will you marry me?"
Release Date: April 25, 2009
Publisher: Torquere Books
Publisher Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/
Blurb: Simon is happy with his quiet, peaceful life, working as the front of house manager in a small-town repertory theater. Things get even better when his long-time boyfriend, leading man Adrian Newland, pops the question, and Simon is all set to plan the commitment ceremony of the century. But his dreams are shattered when he learns Adrian has been unfaithful. Distressed by her brother's unhappiness, Simon's young sister Kelly visits a local psychic, who gives her a potion promising to 'remove all barriers to true love.' Simon is skeptical, until he finds himself launched sixty years into the past and face-to-face with a sympathetic vicar who has more than a few skeletons in his own closet.
Excerpt:
Not many people can say they got engaged thanks to William Shakespeare.
Ann Hathaway, of course, and maybe the odd couple of groundlings that found love in the pit of the old Globe Theatre, oranges clutched to their noses to cover up the stench of the unwashed bodies around them. While I wasn’t quite so badly off as that, there was a distinct odor of old chips and greasepaint permeating my office as I sat in the Winstanley Repertory Theatre, listening to ABBA on my iPod and doing the books.
"So, did we turn a profit on the panto?" Adrian came up behind me and yanked my earphones out from behind, cutting off Agnetha in mid-warble.
I glanced back at him. "Possibly." I still had to tally our costs for costume rental and promotion, but in this theatre, even the possibility of profit was rare enough to merit celebration.
"That’s great," Adrian came around and sat on the edge of my desk, perching his arse between my laptop and my souvenir “Rainforest Café” mug. “And, of course, it’s all thanks to you.”
“I think Jackson would take issue with that.”
"Sod Jackson," Adrian replied, to which the universal response was always "No, thanks." “You’re the one who runs this place. And you’re the one who told him ‘Of Mice and Men’ wasn’t an appropriate choice for pantomime season.” That was true. Jackson Bartlett, recently arrived from the more liberal skies of Portland, Oregon, USA, hadn’t quite been sure what the audience of a regional theatre in Yorkshire expected from their Christmas theatre season. Or, indeed, from any theatre season.
"I think the particularly sexy leading man might have helped a little," I countered. Adrian was a fantastic actor, no matter what the role, but I admit, seeing him in his Lincoln-green Robin Hood jerkin and tights night after night had made me a very merry man indeed.
"They could find another actor in a second. The theatre would collapse if it wasn’t for you."
I smiled at him and closed my Excel document. I wasn’t quite finished, but the board of directors didn’t meet for another week. I had time. "Want to go for a curry?"
Adrian didn’t move. “Maybe later.”
"Is something wrong?" There was a time, in my dark, insecure past, when I couldn’t believe someone like Adrian would want to go out with a guy like me. In those days, the serious look in his eyes would have worried me. Now, three years into our relationship, I was merely concerned for him.
"Do you remember that interview I had in London?"
"The one for the Globe Theatre." I could hardly forget. We’d splashed out and made a memorable weekend of it, with a West End show, a West End hotel, and a nice big West End hotel room with a Jacuzzi bath.
"They rang me back today." I didn’t say anything. "They’ve lost one of their actors for the upcoming season." I normally would have made a joke about looking in the pub, which was where I usually found them, but Adrian went on, "They want me to play Donalbain in their 'Macbeth'."
I was out of my chair the moment the words left his lips. He flung his arms around me, and I lifted his feet off the office carpet, once-beige shag stained by decades of cigarette butts and careless coffee drinkers. “That’s great.” I stopped long enough to kiss him, again and again, until he laughed and said: “Stop, Simon.”
“Why?” I asked. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.” It was a chance to escape regional theatre, an opportunity to move up in the world. Adrian was the same age as me, twenty-seven, but in his business that was perilously close to being over-the-hill.
"It would mean going to London," he said. "Leaving you."
I felt my insides flip a little at the worry in his voice and the reluctance on his face. "I’ll visit, Adrian." And it wasn’t like I had any kind of stellar career here in Winstanley. In time, if Adrian’s career kept progressing, I could easily move to London myself.
He took my hand and looked and me seriously. “Simon,” he said, in the same tone of voice he’d used to declare his everlasting love for Maid Marian eight times a week for the last month. "Will you marry me?"
