About the Book
Title: No Way Out
Series: Another England (#3)
Author: Eric Alan Westfall
Publisher: Eric Alan Westfall
Publication Date: September 10, 2018
Word Count: 150k words
Category: MM romance, historical, alternate history, humor
Genre: MM Romance, Historical Fiction
Cover Artist:Roberto Quintero
Purchase Links
Synopsis
It’s April of 1816 in Another England.
And Jeremy—a whore from the Dock—is living in a guest bedroom at the London home of the (in)famous Iron Marquess, with over fifteen days missing from his life.
For someone who remembers everythingfrom his third birthday on, it’s unnerving not to know. Fine, fourteen days for the coma and the infection delirium. But those first thirty-six hours. Do they explain how he got hurt, how he got to Ireton House, and why his lordship’s mountain-sized valet is taking care of him? Or why his ironness looks at him with nothing iron at all in his eyes?
Jeremy and the Iron Marquess both have dark secrets. Forced engagements, an inheritance, a scheme to clap Jeremy in Bedlam, the revelation of the missing hours, a problem with plumage, some numbered accounts, and a long sea voyage, all seem to mean there’s no way out of the snares surrounding them. Or is the old saying true: where there’s a waltz, there’s a way?
All royalties will go to a local LGBT organization.
Review
I will begin by saying that I absolutely love the author’s writing style. It’s elegant and beautiful, and the tone matches well with the content of the story. It’s impressive how he can adjust to fit each story, and that’s what draws me in every time.
The blurb for this one intrigued me, and I saw that it wasn’t necessary to read previous books in the series. I don’t know whether this is true or not, but I assume so, as this read like a self-contained unit. However, part of me wishes I had read them, if only to understand the world a bit better. I suspect it won’t be a problem for some readers; others, like me, will prefer to be immersed in the setting first.
As far as the story itself goes, it’s well-constructed. I found it on the slow-paced side, but I don’t think that’s a problem. Again, reader preference will dictate here how well that goes down. It had the feel to me of the sorts of historical romances I used to read on occasion, all of which had similar pacing. Anyone familiar with those who wants an exceptional example of a much gayer version, this is it.
Unfortunately, I don’t think this was the book for me. That is no reflection on the author’s skill. It boils down purely to personal preference. I really only chose this because I’ve so far loved everything I’ve seen from him, and I figured I’d give it a shot. It was certainly worth it for that, but otherwise, it’s definitely a lot more for fans of historical romance than for me.
It reminded me why I stopped reading them. Primarily, I simply can’t stomach historically accurate misogyny. I don’t find it necessary, not even for context. I’d rather see no women at all than be treated to women repeatedly being compared to dogs or livestock and having their bodies and sexuality shamed. I’m unimpressed at this stage with books (especially MM Romance) that use women for the express purpose of being evil. I found it ironic that the protagonist was a sex worker and yet used other women’s free expression of consensual sex against them. It’s consistent with this type of historical romance, for sure, but I’m past it and don’t want to read it.
That is the only reason this dropped in rating for me. There are probably plenty of people who won’t mind or even notice, and I think this book might be better suited to those kinds of readers.
For beautiful prose, a mostly decent story, and some disappointing misogyny, this gets 6/10 fountain pens.
Excerpt
From Chapter 3: More Aftermath
IRETON
6 April 1816
7:12 p.m.
Ireton House, London
[Lord Ireton has just instructed Harris to gut the library, except for books and business records.]
…
“If any of the servants wish the shelving for their rooms, or for their families, I have no objection. Let them know how serious I am about these limits; anyone stupid enough to disobey will be unemployed, and if the stupidity is egregious enough, unemployable. As for the rest, destroy it all.”
First, surprising him, and then shocking him. His second “my lord?” showed it.
“If those last three words were not clear enough, Harris, then perhaps these words will be. Everythingeasily breakable is to be broken into the smallest possible shards and splinters. Anything more difficult is to be broken by hammers, mallets, axes, whatever it may take, so there is not a useful piece left of any piece of furniture, and yes, I include my desk, and any object in the damned room aside from books, shelves and my papers. All of it is to be hauled away and burned if it is burnable, and if not, then taken wherever trash and debris are taken. The guns? Break them up and melt them down. In other words, destroy it all. I don’t want him to remem—”
I stopped words which were perilously close to a rant, or which perhaps had run beyond the border and become one. “Idon’t want anything to remind me of what the room was like when death was nearly there.”
Harris did not let me get entirely away with my slip of the tongue, and the change of focus to a concern about my memories. “But hewill still remember, my lord. If all he said was true.”
“Why would he and his family lie? Under the circumstances as they originally appeared to be, as I so foolishly assumed them to be, there was no reason for a lie of such magnitude. No, I do not believe his words were a charade. Particularly not when they had such consequences.”
I sighed and decided to confide. At least a little, but not all there was—possibly? probably?, a slight “maybe”?—to confide.
“Yes, I know he will remember, with a horrifying depth of detail you and I can never fully comprehend. I know he’ll undoubtedly relive, will he, nill he, those details far too often. But when he uses the library in the future, I don’t want anything about the room, other than its mere existence, to trigger any of those recollections.”
Harris’s voice was mild. Excessively so. Damn him. “You expect him to be here long enough to make use of the library?”
Oh, he was good. Very good. Not an audible sign of the innuendo we both knew was there. I ignored it, and adhered to the soundness of my logic.
“He will need to recover before he can safely leave here. I am quite sure Dr. Pritchard willagree, it will be a substantial amount of time before he is well enough to leave. It would be most unfair to confine him to the rooms next door.”
“But, of course, my lord. Quite logical.”
Bland bastard.
“And what replacements would you like?”
I looked at him as if he had acquired a second head, which had then started to speak gibberish. Perhaps he had.
“It is a library, Harris,” I said with the utmost patience, my voice making sure he understood how veryutmost my patience was. “It requires shelves, a desk, appropriate furnishings for the next time I must entertain in today’s manner—I would not want, after all, to have insufficient places on which invaders might sit—and appropriate…thingsto go where things belong in the Marquess of Ireton’s personal library.”
“All very well, my lord, but in what style?”
I sighed a vastly false sigh, of a variety which would have appalled the Ton, and destroyed my reputation for ironness, as Brendan called it, both because of its falsity and because it was even sighed at all. One does not sigh such sighs even in private, much less in the presence of servants.
“I fully realize friends of Edward’s have a reputation, for the most part accurate, of innately knowing, without the slightest bit of training or education on the subject, what is and is not fashionable, and what is and is not in good taste. We also have the unfortunate reputation for going to extremes, you might even say into the realm of gaudiness and imminent debauchery, with those fashions, in clothes or otherwise. But as you well know, I have a sadly deficient sense of fashion, and the Iron Marquess cannot be expected to decorate his own home. Find someone.”
“And give this unknown person what instructions, my lord?”
Bland, persistentbastard. I sighed again. An actual sigh. Enough was enough, even for an old and valued friend. I inhaled and hardened my voice. “Something fashionable, damn you. Nothing garish or vulgar. Something you can actually imagine me reading and working in for hours, without compelling someone to rise up like some Tonnish Hercules and destroy it all over again, by himself, because h… because I…remember too much.”
It was Harris’s turn to flush. “I apologize, my lord. I’ll see to it.”
And then it was my turn to apologize. Another unTonnish thing, a ruination of reputation, apologizing to one’s servants. “And I as well. What I said was uncalled for.”
He merely nodded. Anything more might have led us into the entirely unacceptable depths of masculine maudlinity, which is a most disturbing event to observe or participate in unless everyone involved, on the edge or in the center, is thoroughly and gloriously drunk.
He stood, gathered the remnants of the repast and left.
I looked at the longcase clock. Seven forty-six. I looked at the connecting door, and refrained from rising, crossing, going through and checking on the welfare of my unusual guest.
Giveaway
Eric is giving away two backlist eBooks (ePub or mobi) to one luck winner. Enter via Rafflecopter.
Enter via a Rafflecopter giveaway
About the Author
Eric is a Midwesterner, and as Lady Glenhaven might say, “His first sea voyage was with Noah.” He started reading at five with one of the Andrew Lang books (he thinks it was The Blue Fairy Book) and has been a science fiction/fantasy addict ever since. Most of his writing is in those (MM) genres.
The exceptions are his Another England (alternate history) series: The Rake, The Rogue and the Roué(Regency novel), Mr. Felcher’s Grand Emporium, or, The Adventures of a Pair of Spares in the Fine Art of Gentlemanly Portraiture(Victorian), with no way out(Regency) coming out a month after Of Princes.
Two more fairy tales are in progress: 3 Boars & A Wolf Walk Into A Bar (Eric is sure you can figure this one out), and The Truth About Them Damn Goats(of the gruff variety).
Now all he has to do is find the time to write the incomplete stuff! (The real world can be a real pain!)
Social Media
Facebook Author Page | Twitter
Tour Stops
September 17 – Stories That Make You Smile
September 17 – The Novel Approach
September 17 – Valerie Ullmer | Romance Author
September 18 – My Fiction Nook
September 19 – We Three Queens
September 20 – kittenwylde
September 21 – Love bytes
September 22 – Cia’s Stories
September 23 – Cate Ashwood
September 24 – Two Chicks Obsessed
September 25 – Drops of Ink
September 26 – Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words
September 27 – MM Good Book Reviews
September 28 – Sue Brown’s Stories
September 29 – A.M. Leibowitz
September 30 – MM Midnight Cafe
October 1 – Bayou Book Junkie
October 2 – Queer Sci Fi
Octoberr 3 – Jessie G. Books
October 4 – Queeromance Ink
October 5 – Emotion in Motion
October 6 – J. Scott Coatsworth
October 7 – dream, love, imagine
