GUEST POST :: The Magic of Shoes by Ofelia Gränd #Excerpt #GuestPost
✨ GUEST POST ✨
Hello, everyone! Thank you, Addison, for allowing me to steal a spot on your blog 🥰
I’m Ofelia Gränd and I write MM romance stories in several different subgenres. I have a new contemporary novella out called The Magic of Shoes. I’m with JMS Books, and there was a submission call titled If the Shoe Fits where they were asking for queer stories with a focus on shoes.
I thought it sounded fun, so I wrote a story about Clay, a somewhat disorganized man with a passion for shoes, primarily Dr. Martens boots and vintage women shoes. Who doesn’t find Edwardian shoes delightful? French heels to the people! 😆
Clay works in a shoe shop, and two weeks ago, Walter, Clay’s boss and the owner of the shop passed away, and now Clay has to spend his days with Nathan, Walter’s son.
Nathan is all right, but he knows nothing about shoes.
One day when Clay arrives back at the shop after his lunch break, there is a body sprawled on the floor. A naked body. A male body.
Clay should of course had checked for a pulse, but he didn’t. He was too transfixed by the French heels the body was wearing.
Right then, Nathan walks through the door and accuses Clay of murder.
Clay has had better work days; that’s for sure. Luckily, the body turns out to be fake. It’s a doll, not a murdered man, but someone broke into the shop to dump it there, and Nathan is convinced Clay was the one doing it.
Are you one of those people who has shelf after shelf of shoes? I’m not. There’s a reason Clay is obsessed with French heels. I love French heels, but you’ll never see me wear them. I love admiring them on someone else, but the only shoes I put on are comfy shoes.
I have a dog. A Bracco Italiano – Weimaraner mix, which means I walk a lot. Those 10k steps they say we should walk every day. I do them and then some, and most often I walk in the forest or on dirt roads. It’s wet and muddy, and when I buy shoes, I make sure they’re Gore-Tex or at the very least water resistant. They have to be made for walking rather than to be admired, and I like standing firmly on the ground.
So I’m not Clay’s ideal customer, but I had a great time writing a little shoe adventure anyway LOL (French heels!)
The Magic of Shoes is a workplace romance, Clay is a little obsessed, fair warning, but he knows his shoes. He’s not as well versed when it comes to life-like silicone dolls, though.
If you’re in the mood for a quick read, check it out!
The Magic of Shoes
by Ofelia Gränd
Genre: Contemporary Gay Romance
Length: Novelette / 15,879 Words / 66 Pages
🛒 Purchase Links
Blurb
Clay Tibor loves a wicked French heel, but not when the shoe is attached to a dead body sprawled on the floor of the shoe shop where he’s working. Two weeks ago, the owner of the shop passed away, and Clay now works for his son, Nathan. Nathan might be hot, but he knows nothing about shoes. Clay wished it was his biggest problem, but shoe ignorance is a mere inconvenience compared to being accused of murder.
Nathan’s brother, who is technically co-owner of the shoe shop, is a cop who is convinced Clay did it. To increase his chances of having a proper alibi should something else happen, Clay would do best to stay glued to Nathan’s side twenty-four-seven. Right?
Excerpt
Nathan sighed. “Answer his questions.”
“Why? He said he won’t investigate it. There is a doll on the floor, dressed in wicked shoes we don’t stock, and someone dropped him off when the store was empty and locked. But instead of worrying about how someone got in here without breaking anything and without anyone seeing them, you’re asking me about what I saw on my lunch break walk, and then you get annoyed when I tell you.”
Jeffrey breathed so loudly Clay feared something was wrong with him. Maybe they should call an ambulance in case he was choking.
“I am investigating, and I am asking you about the doll.”
“No, you weren’t.” Clay avoided looking at Jeffrey. He didn’t do well in the presence of angry men, and the Tallman brothers were huge. Not monstrous, but well over six feet, both of them. His five-eight didn’t measure up, not to mention he’d always been scrawny.
“When you reached the shop, did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”
“No. I hurried up the steps because I feared I was late, and Nate would have my balls.”
“Nate?”
Oops. “Nathan. I feared Nathan would be annoyed with me.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Jeffrey’s mutter had him narrowing his eyes. Fucker. He waited for another question.
“So you were late?”
“No. I was here before Nathan.”
“But left before him.”
Clay nodded.
“And when you arrived, the door was unlocked.”
“No. It was locked. I unlocked it and stepped inside.”
Jeffrey wrote something on the notepad for the first time during their conversation. “And then what?”
“Then I saw the Victorian button boot. French heels are delightful. I wish everyone would wear them.”
Jeffrey groaned, but he believed the sound coming from Nathan was one of amusement. Maybe.
“And after you’d noted the French heel?”
“Then I questioned my prejudice concerning gender and footwear since it was clear it was a male-presenting person splayed on the floor.”
“Of course. Fucking queers.”
“Hey! You can’t talk to me like that! I want to report you. Who do I speak to?”
“I can. I have a brother who is queer, so it’s okay.”
Clay gaped at him. Was he completely insane? Had to be. “It does not give you the right to say things like that.” And did he have more brothers? Maybe their mother had more children than Nathan and Jeffrey. He’d only known about the two of them since they were Walter’s children. Or maybe Jeffrey made things up.
“After you’d admired the heel and contemplated your core values, what did you do?”
“Call for Nathan.”
“You called for Nathan?”
“Hell yeah, I didn’t want to move any closer to the corpse.”
“So you called for Nathan? You didn’t think Nathan was the killer?”
Clay stared at him. Damn. “Eh… no.”
“You’re the only two people with a key to the shop. There is, what you believe is a murdered—”
“Dead. There was no blood so… I didn’t think he was…” Had he believed he’d been murdered? He couldn’t remember.
“There is, what you believe, a dead man on the floor. Naked. And you don’t suspect Nathan of having killed him?”
Clay looked at Nathan. Damn, he’d be the first to die in a horror movie, wouldn’t he? He would go into the basement to check what caused the strange noises. “No. I… eh… hoped he’d be able to deal with it.”
“And next?”
“Nathan came through the door and accused me of murder.”
Nathan huffed. “I didn’t accuse you of murder.”
“You said: What the fuck did you do? in an accusing tone.”
Jeffrey scrawled something on the notepad. “And then?”
“Then a customer came in and screamed, and Nathan went to check for a pulse.”
“How long had you been in the shop by then?”
Clay shrugged. “A minute, two at the most.”
“A couple of minutes, and you hadn’t checked for a pulse?”
Wincing didn’t help much. “No… I… eh…” He sent a pleading look at Nathan, but he was watching Jeffrey, not Clay.
“Two minutes next to a body, and you didn’t check if he needed medical care.”
He studied the tiny blue flowers on the toe of his boots. Tomorrow, he should wear his Decayed Roses Docs, blue was too cheerful.
The snap of the notepad being closed made him jump, then Jeffrey crouched and grabbed the doll. “Right, I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”
Clay gaped at him. “But you didn’t ask Nathan any questions.”
Jeffrey shrugged, flung the doll over his shoulder, and headed toward the door. What the fuck?
After the door had closed behind Jeffrey, Clay stared at it for several seconds.
“Perhaps you should take the rest of the day off.”
“What?” He couldn’t afford to take a day off.
“Go home.”
“Why?”
“You’ve had a shock, and there are no customers here.”
Right now, but there would be customers later, and Nathan didn’t know shit about shoes.
“Go home, Clay.”
“No, I don’t want—”
“Go home.”
Fucker. Clay pushed the door open and stepped out on the sidewalk.
About the Author
Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes romance, contemporary, paranormal, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.
Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.
When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from her husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods…if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.
