Clare London
Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with her other day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with award-winning novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.
Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.
All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!
Clare also writes as Stella Shaw and launched a new series of rent boy romances in 2021.
“He lives near me so we do some things together.” His throat felt tight. “Well, lots of things, actually. But of course we have our own lives. Both know it’s important we don’t get in each other’s way. It’s not like he needs me, needs my help for anything.”“But you do.”Garry turned his head so swiftly, he heard it crick.“You need him,” Emily announced, gravely. “Don’t you?” And while he desperately searched for something to say that would stop this right now, she peered carefully at his shoulders and neck.“You need him to do your hair, to comb out those very nasty dangles. It’s difficult, I know. I can’t do my plates on my own.”Max caught Garry’s eye. “Tangles,” he mouthed. “Plaits.”
“She wriggled against him, obviously pleased. “So are you homey special?”He frowned. He didn’t want to keep questioning her, but this one had him foxed. No combination of vowels or spoonerism made this one clear. Max barely moved his head but he answered as usual for her.“She means ho-mo-sex-u-al.”
“Mum calls you happy.” Emily giggled.“Huh? I don’t know your Mom…” “She says men like you are happy!”Garry stared at her, uncomprehending. He’d rarely felt less happy in his life.“She means gay,” Max said, and now there was a grin on his face.”