A love story, only quieter…

So much of romantic fiction ends with a proposal. A kiss. A grand gesture on a windswept hill or a bustling train platform. The implication is always the same: And they lived happily ever after.

But what happens next?

What happens when the honeymoon years blur into routine? When work, family, ambition — and just the passage of time — shift a once-electric connection into something quieter, and harder to define?

That’s the question at the heart of Forever, Maybe, a novel I first wrote in a frenzy in 2016 and returned to (with significantly more thought and editing, flamin’ hell the plot holes and the info dumping!) in late 2022. It follows Nell, a student, and Daniel, a budding entrepreneur, who meet in 1990s Glasgow and build a life together. By the time we catch up with them twenty-two years later, that life is starting to feel… frayed. Not broken, exactly. But not whole either.

(You can read the first chapter of Forever, Maybe here.)

 

I wanted to explore what love looks like midway through. Not the falling in love, but the staying. The compromises, the resentments, the unexpected tenderness that can still catch you off guard after decades.

There aren’t enough stories like that. Or at least, not enough where the focus is on ordinary couples — no secret dukes, no dramatic affairs, just the slow, hopeful work of figuring out if what you’ve built is still worth holding onto.

It’s a quieter story than your usual romantic fireworks. Grown-up, even. No billionaires, no third-act dashes through an airport (though there is an airport scene—romance demands a nod to tradition) and not a single spontaneous declaration of love in the pouring rain. What there is, however, is Glasgow.

Glasgow, where I lived from 2001 to 2010, and which still feels like home. The city seeps into the story—its murals, its gallus banter, the way people say “Thank you, driver” when getting off the bus or out of a taxi. The humour is sharp, sometimes scathing and often absurd. The weather plays its part too, naturally—though these days even that’s changing, with record-breaking summers rolling in, a less welcome subplot courtesy of climate change.

It’s not a flashy love story. But it’s an honest one. A story about the long game—about memory, mistakes, and what happens when you try to rebuild something you thought you’d already lost.

And I’d love to know: do you enjoy reading about long-term love? Or do you prefer your romance stories with fireworks and fresh starts?

Let’s talk about it.

If you would like to pre-order Forever, Maybe, you can do so here Oh, and I’m now on Pinterest in a desperate bid to improve my book sales so do come and have a nosey, I’m begging you…