blog tour

Featured Book: Canopy by Liz Faraim

Books, Featured

About the Book

Title: Canopy

Author: Liz Faraim

Series Title: A Vivian Chastain Novel

Number in Series: #1

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: Monday, October 26 2020

ISBN: 978-1-64890-121-8

Price: 5.99

Length: 72,119 words

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Genres: Contemporary fiction, LGBTQ, crime/thriller,

Pairings: Not a romance, but pairings are FF

LGBTQ+ Identities: lesbian, gay, trans, poly

Keywords/Categories: Contemporary, crime/thriller, lesbian, polyamory, ex-military, bartender, drugs/alcohol abuse, PTSD. lesbian, gay, trans, poly, queer, LGBTQ, crime, thriller, contemporary

Warnings: This book contains sexually explicit material which is only suitable for mature readers, graphic violence, self-harm, abuse of a child by a parent, abuse by a sibling, alcohol abuse, and PTSD

Synopsis

Vivian Chastain is an adrenaline addicted veteran transitioning to civilian life in Sacramento, California. She settles into a new routine while she finishes up college and works as a bartender, covering up her intense anxiety with fake bravado and swagger. All Vivian wants is peace and quiet, but her whole trajectory changes when she stumbles upon a heinous crime in progress, and has to fight for her life to get away.

While recovering from the fight, she falls in love with someone who is tall in stature but short on emotional intelligence, and this toxic union provides Vivian the relationship that she thinks she needs. Given Vivian’s insecurities and traumatic past, she clings to the relationship even while it destroys her.

Prone to fits of rage, the spiraling of Vivian’s temper creates a turning point for her as she looks within to find the peace she seeks.

Vivian’s alcoholic brother and emotionally devoid mother serve as frequent thorns in her side, prompting her turbulent history to often bubble up to the surface. The bubbling turns to a rolling boil when Vivian’s brother lands himself in jail for drunken indiscretions, and not long afterward her partner is arrested for something so atrocious Vivian cannot even fathom it. She is left pondering whether or not to believe that the person she loves could have committed such an inexcusable crime.

Vivian’s relationships are strained to their breaking points as she continues to seek balance. She turns to her best friend for support, only to be left empty handed and alone until she finds comradery and care from the last person she would have thought.

Excerpt

There’s a lot of excitement prior to a book release, and there is also a lot to do to prepare. Writing, for many, is an endless cycle of creativity and self-doubt. So when it comes time to choose a few excerpts of your work to share to garner interest in your new book, hopefully you’re not in the self-doubt part of your creative cycle. Can you take one guess what phase I am in?

Anyway, I am so happy that Canopy has been released out into the wild at last, and wanted to share some of the story with you. Canopy is told from the perspective of Vivian, who is a queer veteran with PTSD who works as a bartender and is trying to adjust to civilian life. She seeks out adrenaline rushes and has a quick temper.

In this scene Vivian is having a conversation with her partner Ang about a recent altercation with Vivian’s stalker.

***

“But seriously, I’ve been watching that red bump on your forehead swell and turn purple since I got here. Your arms are full of road rash, and you’ve been bleeding through your pants.”

“Where?”

“There—” She pointed to my shin.

“Oh. That,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I took a tumble during my trail run this morning. And I also ran into my pal Crystal.”

Ang narrowed her eyes.

“When?” she asked and immediately went into hypervigilant mode, scanning the tree line. She got up, unlocked her glovebox, and pulled out her ankle holster. She strapped it on adeptly and joined me back on the tailgate.

“This morning on the trail. I knew someone had been tailing me, so I made it really easy for them. More predictable for me that way too. Crystal walked up on me. We had a chat. We tussled a bit. Then I left. And I fell on my way back down the mountain.”

I stopped, took a deep breath, and looked into Ang’s eyes for a moment. She held my gaze and hesitated, then asked, “Is Crystal in any kind of condition to get herself back down off that trail?”

I bristled and bit back my temper.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said, looking down at my hands nestled in my lap. The knuckles on my right hand were red and swollen from punching Crystal.

“No, no, that’s not what I was implying. Really. It’s just…” Ang paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s just, look, I know you are very capable of taking care of yourself, and that you’ll defend yourself, when needed.”

“Do you not trust my judgment?” I peered up from my hands and saw that look on Ang’s face. Like she wanted to backpedal and take it all back. I kept going, letting her off the hook.

“Look. I disabled her just enough so that I could safely make it back down off that ridgeline without having to watch my back too much. And before you say anything, no, I am not calling Sergeant Brickhouse. At least, not yet. She’ll be fine. Clearly, she is fine, she managed to track me here and stab my truck!”

Purchase Links

Publisher | Goodreads

Giveaway

Liz is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link

About the Author

Liz Faraim is a recovering workaholic who has mastered multi-tasking, including balancing a day job, solo parenting, writing, and finding some semblance of a social life. In past lives she has been a soldier, a bartender, a shoe salesperson, an assistant museum curator, and even a driving instructor.

Liz writes contemporary fiction that highlights queer characters and often includes complex polyamorous relationships. Her writing has a hefty dose of soul searching and emotional turmoil while also taking the reader on fun adventures. She loves spending time in nature and does her best to share nature with her readers.

Social Media

Author Website | Author Facebook (Personal) | Author Facebook (Author Page) | Author Twitter

Featured Book and Review: Striking Balance by Jeanne G’Fellers

Books, Featured, Reviews

About the Book

Title: Striking Balance – The Peculiar Making of Beatrice Benjamin Sophia Scott Schnell Gow

Series Title: Appalachian Elementals

Number in Series: 3 (can be read as a standalone)

Author: Jeanne G’Fellers

Publisher: Mountain Gap Books

Release Date: Tuesday, July 21 2020

Length: 131,000k words

Cover Artist: Jeanne G’Fellers

Genres: Historical Dark Fantasy, Magic Realism

LGBTQ+ Identities: MC is non-binary bisexual intersex by today’s terms, other rep includes lesbian, ace, aro, gay, bi, gender-fluid, poly

Keywords/Categories: Dark Fantasy, non-binary, historical, magic, Late 18th century, American Colonial Era, Appalachia, Elementals, magic realism, fae, bisexual

Warnings: violence, discussion of past violence, deadnaming by antagonist

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53475021-striking-balance

Synopsis

An Appalachian Elementals Historical Dark Fantasy Side Tale.

Benjamin Schnell is the possessor of secrets he wishes he could bury beneath the rich Nolichucky river flat dirt he farms alongside his dear friend, Conall. But secrets lead to lies, lead to more secrets, and all eventually come home to roost in a bed of distrust, even on the 1779 Appalachian frontier.

After Ben is injured, he realizes there are odd things happening around him that others cannot see. Corner shadows take human shapes, lightning bugs dance in broad daylight, and the farm’s strange owner, Master Gow, returns with an offer Conall cannot refuse if Ben is to live. But making a deal with Master Gow will take them deep into the mountains to where a haunted king reigns and Fire balances Water in a delicate natural friendship.

Ben must learn self-acceptance and trust if he and Conall are going to survive because there can be no secrets in the mountains, only truth.

Another rich tale from the Appalachian Elementals world focusing on complex families containing rich LGBTQIA+ characters.

Series Synopsis

Come dance with the Appalachian fey and drink a little moonshine under the full moon while you hear Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Death share epic, heart-wrenching, love-filled, fantastic stories about families of our blood, families of our making, and magic both long ago and flowing through us now.

Purchase Links

Review

Appalachian Elementals is by far my favorite contemporary (mostly) series. I typically don’t read a lot of historical fiction, and historical fantasy has a tendency to primarily be based on time periods and locales I’m not interested in. But this book takes the series, fantasy in general, and historical fantasy to a whole new level. It’s fresh, different, and heavily seasoned with cultural references and perspectives. It’s exactly what I long for when I pick up a new book.

Because this is a side story within a series, I’m limited to giving somewhat vague descriptions so as to avoid spoilers. This book can definitely be read on its own and should appeal to people who primarily enjoy historical fantasy. However, I think my enjoyment was enhanced by having read the first two books and from anticipation of the next one. I highly recommend reading in order.

There are so many layers to the story. On the surface, it can be viewed as a tale of found family and a quite liberated society hidden within nonmagical society. While those things are true, they only scratch the surface. There are so many different paths the various characters are on that readers should be able to find a kindred soul somewhere on the pages.

I absolutely loved Ben and his “wildcat” ways. He’s the definition of a true hero, even when he’s overstepped or made mistakes or harbors resentment. But it was Conall to whom I was most drawn. I found myself relating hard to his journey and both his desperation for freedom and fear of what it meant. Even though the narrative is from Ben’s perspective, we still see how much Conall grows along the way. It’s handled with so much compassion, and it felt almost like giving permission for us to let go of our hangups and embrace our true selves, much like Ben does.

There’s a whole lot of queer representation on these pages. There are people of just about every sexuality and gender. Yet it doesn’t feel forced. Instead, it feels like a full society in which people who wouldn’t be welcome anywhere else have joined together. It isn’t a utopia by any stretch. There are troubles within this open society, and this is one tale of how they address them. But that’s the heart of it, really. Address them they do, in order to move forward as a family.

The real delights for me are the rowdy humor, the cast of characters (familiar and new), and all the immersive detail. This is right down to the language, regional and time-period. There’s a glossary in the back, but I chose to see how much I could glean from context because words are fun. It was a stretch at first, but soon I was under the spell of the story weaving and the language helped it all feel real.

As for the characters, I don’t want to give anything away. But every time a familiar face appeared, I literally whispered, “Yes!” This is why I recommend reading the other books first, since there’s something fun about recognizing those I’ve “met” before. I have a whole new appreciation for all of them.

Selfishly, I’m highly recommending this book because the more people read it, the more people I will have to discuss it with and unpack the layers. I want to talk about all of it, to dig into all the things I found meaningful and hear what others have to say.

For wonderful characters, a unique world, and a story I couldn’t put down, this gets 10/10 fountain pens.

Excerpt

I open my eyes to whitewashed walls and sunlight streaming through large open windows covered by gauzy curtains. This is a quiet space reminiscent of my youth. The window is wide to the afternoon air, my pillow is soft, my bed comfortable with sweetgrass, and I rest beneath the lightest of patchworks. And my shirt ‘tis cotton. Heaven. Yes, I am certain I have reached the hereafter. Perhaps I can see Mutti again and—

“Get back here ye’ fool!” I turn my head in time to see Alexandria pause before a window. Her face is flushed, and her hands are in fists at her sides. “Get back here wit’ mah pie!”

“Come get it, you flightless baggage!”

My thoughts of Heaven erode when Alexandria launches into a long line of Scots-Gaelic curses of the likes I have not heard since I left the mine. This is not the Alexandria I know and respect, not the voice of a proper lady at all. She hisses as she threatens to cut off his twiddle-diddles with her kitchen knife, cook them in the pottage, and feed them back to him.

“Return Lexy’s hard work, boy.” This is Master Gow’s voice, but ‘tis also not, higher in tone but equally powerful, and I wonder if he has a sister. “And the crust best not be broke!”

“But… ow!” I am unable to see what occurs next, but a man crosses in front of the window with a pie in his hands and something or someone I cannot see is dragging him. “Ow! King Dane, please! I am sorry, Lexy, real sorry!”

King? This woman who I suspect is related to Master Gow is named King Dane? Whatever… My cough returns, deep and fluidic, but ‘tis clearly not to be my death so I look for something to spit into.

“There’s a bucket of sawdust at your bedside, Benjamin.” Master Gow’s sister speaks from just outside the window. “I’ll be there shortly to talk with you.” Her voice turns away. “Go cut two days of wood for the main kitchen,” she tells the man who is still apologizing to Alexandria.

“But I got hides to scrape and…”

“Do it! Then scrape them hides.”

“Ow! Yes, King Dane.”

I crawl deep beneath my quilt when their voices fade. Where am I? At this point, I have no clue, but I believe I am alive. The table beside my bed is laden with bottles, jars, a fleam and cup, but there is also a mug so I sit up, examining the contents, water, before I drink.

I startle when the door to the apartment swings open. “Ah brought ye soup an’ tea.” Ceardach deposits a tray onto my lap. There’s also buttered bread on the tray, along with bacon, eggs, and a bowl of beans.

“Thank ye, but I need to…”

“Of course.” Ceardach pulls the tray away. “Th’ pot’s under th’ bed.”

I hesitate, but my need is too great so I swallow my pride, thankful when he moves to stand in the doorway with his back to me.

“Ye need tae drink more.” Ceardach returns to my side when I am abed and pushes the pot under the bed after he examines the contents. “An’ ye best get over bein’ bashful right quick. Someone will use it against ye.” He drops the tray onto my lap, “Eat.” pulls his pipe and pouch and begins filling the bowl, watching as I take up my spoon. The food has most certainly been made under Alexandria’s watch. I can tell by the seasonings, and… I am nearing famished.

“Slow an’ steady. Let one bite settle afore th’ next.” Ceardach lights his pipe so quickly I see nothing but a flash. The outside din continually grows while I eat, but Ceardach pays it no heed. I hear hammers striking anvils, a proliferation of swearing, wood being split and stacked, the sounds of a wider community. The smells coming through the door would be enough to turn my stomach if I was not so hungry. Baking bread, multiple privies, wood, ash, dirt, burning wood, herbs, and… I smell iron and sulfur, but none of it quells my appetite to the point I cease eating.

“Am I in a town?” I shovel more into my mouth.

“Of sorts. Ye will grow accustomed tae it all.” Ceardach blows out a billow of white smoke that rings his head then drifts away. “Yer cough an’ congestion will fade in time.”

I nod and bite into my bread. My appetite must be part of my recovery, a drive for nourishment so I might heal quickly. There is another bed I have ignored until now, unmade, with blankets folded neatly at the foot. “Where am I?”

“In the kingdom.” He points to my water. “Drink.”

“But…”

“Drink first.”

I am obedient, but he tells me to empty the mug before he will speak further. “Good, now—” Ceardach raises his head. “Ah, here’s yer answer.”

I attempt to sort through all I see, but ‘tis difficult. Is this Master Gow or—

“Stop gawkin’. ‘Twill get you slapped ‘round here.”

“If not hit or cut,” adds Ceardach. “Sit, Dane. Ah will step out but stay close.”

“Aye, Ceardach, thank you.”

I see a woman’s face, a man’s work cap atop her head. “You’re still under my protection. That hasn’t changed, but the rest…” She wears trousers and a calf-length smith’s apron over a man’s red check work shirt with rolled sleeves. “You’re starin’ even longer than Conall did.” She pulls a tobacco twist from her apron pocket and bites off a piece. “Are you as tongue-tied too?”

“I…” This woman bears the same tattows as Master Gow. “No, sir, I mean, miss, I mean…”

“You’ll address me as King Dane ‘til I tell you elsewise.” My spit bucket slides across the floor to her feet. “How will you address me?”

“I…”

“Say it, Benjamin.” She spits into the bucket. “‘Tis important you know my station ‘round here.”

“Yes, King Dane.” But this is a woman. How does she warrant the title of king?

“And you never disobey your king, right, Benjamin?”

“Yes… King Dane?”

“Smart man. ‘Tis why I chose you, but I made Conall in the process, an excellent deal I am pleased we could accommodate.” King Dane seems amused by my gaping mouth. “Calm yourself. I hear your heart poundin’ from here.”

A Word from the Author

It’s Complicated: Gender, Queerness, and the

18^th Century in Striking Balance

Beatrice Benjamin Sophia Scott Schnell Gow – the name is a mouthful, but it’s one that Ben comes to embrace by the end of Striking Balance. The actual process, the journey of self-discovery and Ben’s literal staring down of Death, well, that’s what makes Striking Balance what it is, but we’re not talking about that here. No, this is about one of the larger themes within the novel, the intersection of gender, queerness and the 18^th century that makes Ben who he is.

First off, Ben, in modern terms, would identify as nonbinary, but there was no such word in the late 18^th century, so Ben is simply Ben. He is highly intelligent, often snarky, quirky, and mechanically-inclined, facets he reveals and addresses as the story progresses.

Gender identity – nonbinary. Complication one. Check. Let’s keep going.

Ben is also intersex. (No bombshell there. If you’ve read any of my snippets or tidbits on my website you’ve come across this, and it’s unveiled in Chapter Four within the novel.) That said, given the novel’s historical setting you’ll see the term hermaphrodite used because it was the terminology of the day. In modern medical terms, Ben has the XY intersex variant complicated by a growth hormone deficiency, meaning he appears female externally but possesses malformed internal male genitalia. He was raised as a female but never physically grew past the age of ten or eleven years and never reached puberty. He’s perhaps 4’5” in height, and his childlike appearance has saved him as many times as it has endangered him by the novel’s opening.

Physical Sex – intersex. Complication two. Check. But wait. There’s more.

Ben’s also bisexual, something he links to his being intersex, but that’s probably 18^th-century logic at play more than anything. Yes, I’m calling out my own character on that thinking. I could have removed that particular line of thought from the story, but I chose not to because it’s completely understandable for the story’s time period. 1+1=2, right? Not necessarily. The intersex population is gay, lesbian, or bisexual at the same rate as the rest of humanity, but Ben needs all the self-validation he can get.

Sexual Orientation – Bisexual. Complication three. Check. Let’s keep going.

Now let’s add in late 18^th century Appalachia and the American Revolution into the mix. Frontier life was harsh, settlers were fighting the Native Americans and British alike, and the Little Ice Age was making winters exceptionally harsh.

Setting – 18^th century Southern Appalachia frontier during the American Revolution. Complication four. Check. We have now reached maximum complication velocity. Keep your arms and legs inside the ride at all times.

So how did I research LGBTQIA+ identities in late 18^th century Southern Appalachia while writing Striking Balance? Um, I tried. I truly did, but there is no mention of such identities in the historical records. There are a few mentions in other records of the time period, but I wasn’t touching such handlings for multiple reasons.

History. Let’s not repeat it.

If ever there has been a protagonist who should be jaded and angry at the beginning of a novel, it’s Ben, but he enters Striking Balance semi-content and hopeful though ready to flee at a moment’s notice because he’s been forced to do so many times before.

It’s Ben’s sense of hope and determination I want readers to latch onto as his gender identity, queerness, and the setting interweave throughout Striking Balance, and I want them to walk away with the knowledge that complications not only make us stronger, they make us who we are and, if we’re lucky, those same complications help us become better people.

Giveaway

Jeanne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter.

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47132/?

About the Author

Born and raised in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, Science Fiction and Fantasy author Jeanne G’Fellers’ early memories include watching the original Star Trek series with their father and reading the books their librarian mother brought home. Jeanne’s writing influences include Anne McCaffrey, Ursula K. LeGuin, Octavia Butler, Isaac Asimov, and Frank Herbert.

Jeanne lives in Northeast Tennessee with their spouse and five crazy felines. Their home is tucked against a small woodland where they regularly see deer, turkeys, raccoons, and experience the magic of the natural world.

Social Media

Website | Facebook Author Page | Twitter | Instagram | Amazon

Featured Book: Secrets of Milan by Edale Lane

Books, Featured

About the Book

Title: Secrets of Milan (The Night Flyer #2)

Author: Edale Lane

Publisher: Past and Prologue Press

Release Date: Thursday, May 28 2020

Price: $14.99

Length: 75,000 words

Cover Artist: Enggar Adirasa

Categories: Historical, fantasy (alternative historical), Renaissance, continuing saga, mystery, action

Goodreads

Synopsis

The Night Flyer had brought Florentina and Madelena together but now threatens to drive them apart. While Florentina searches for a mysterious underworld organization that has attempted to murder the woman she loves, Maddie struggles to deal with the danger Florentina is courting. Her brother, Alessandro, has become the most prominent merchant of Milan, but the Night Flyer uncovers a secret so shocking it could destroy them all.

Secrets of Milan is the second book in Edale Lane’s Night Flyer Trilogy, a tale of power, passion, and payback in Renaissance Italy. If you like drama and suspense, rich historical background, three-dimensional characters, and s romance that deepens into true love, then you’ll want to continue the Night Flyer saga. Order your copy today!

Purchase Links

Amazon | Publisher | BookBub

Excerpt

Turning her attention back to the pulpit, Maddie determined to listen to the homily. When they returned home, she would invite Fiore to her room to try to explain the emotions she had been struggling with and to reassure her and ask forgiveness. It was time to put everything right and stop letting fear rule over her life.

Madelena had just cleared away the mental replays to concentrate on the service when a most unusual occurrence diverted her complete attention. Florentina had scooped up Betta and Matteo and was pushing her out of her seat toward the aisle. “Run,” she commanded fiercely as she jerked her chin at the door.

For an instant Maddie was too stunned and confused to move, but for only the blink of an eye. Florentina–the Night Flyer–had the most excellent instincts and if she was bolting out of Epiphany Mass, imminent danger surrounded them. “Get out now!” Florentina shouted as she continued to push Maddie down the center walkway.

There were likely murmurs and stirring among the congregation members at the outburst, but Madelena, heart racing, dashed ahead with a glance over her shoulder to see her tutor with one child under each arm a mere step behind her. The sudden noise was deafening, but it was the shock wave from the blast that sent them all flying. Maddie hit the floor hard amid screams and the sounds of breaking glass and crashing bricks. Smoke began to fill the chapel, and someone stepped on her hand in their haste to evacuate.

“Remain calm!” a tenuous voice intoned as panic broke out in earnest.

“Mama!” Maddie pushed up to her scraped hands and bruised knees and turned toward Betta. The wide-eyed, frantic child clutched her arms around her mother’s neck.

“I’m here, baby; I’ve got you,” she comforted and reached a hand to Matteo. “Are you both alright?”

“Florentina saved us,” Matteo said in astonishment. “We aren’t hurt; don’t be afraid, Mama.”

“Keep moving,” Florentina insisted as she stumbled up to the trio. “Out the door, now.”

Madelena did not argue, but with somber eyes fixed on Fiore’s gave her a nod. Carrying Betta in her arms, she forged on through wreckage and stampeding parishioners toward the open doorway. Florentina followed, holding tight to Matteo’s hand. Once past the archway, they collapsed on the steps.

“Are you injured?” Florentina’s voice was drowned in concern. They were all covered in pink brick dust with small scraps of debris having showered over their hair and clothing.

“No, just some bruises from falling. What about you?” Maddie turned her gaze to Fiore who sat an arm’s length away leaning against the exterior wall of the church.

“I’ll live,” she replied queasily. “My back feels as if it’s on fire and my head is pounding like a chorus of drums.”

“My children,” Maddie uttered in disbelief. “You saved them, and me.”

With smudged face and disheveled hair, Florentina raised radiant eyes to hers. “Si. You may not love me anymore, but I am still devoted to you and to them. I would lay down my life to save any of you without hesitation.”

Panic of a different sort grabbed hold of Madelena’s soul, threatening to undo her. “Is that what you think?” Grief clouded her verdant gaze, and her mouth fell into a gape of horror.

“What am I supposed to think?”

“I am so sorry!” Tears swam in Maddie’s eyes. “That is not the problem; it never was.” Quite the opposite, she thought.

“We love you, Florentina!” Betta declared and left her mother’s lap to hug her tutor. “How did you know the church was going to fall down?”

“It didn’t just fall down,” Matteo stated as he took his turn to embrace his mother.

“No, it didn’t,” Florentina confirmed exchanging a look with Madelena and then it clicked.

Even greater shock swept over Maddie’s features, turning them pale as death. “A bomb? Someone bombed the church?”

“Someone did indeed, and I need to go back and help. People are injured and some may even be dead.” Florentina started to push to her feet but collapsed on the step again with her head in her hands. “Seems I’m a bit dizzy still.”

“You don’t have to do everything,” Maddie said and reached a hand to tenderly stroke her head. “Look, some city watchmen have arrived and the fire brigade will be here any minute. You alerted everyone and saved lives, including ours. How did you know?”

“Paying attention,” she answered with difficulty. “Knew something wasn’t right, then glass breaking, saw the bomb… was on our row… two of them.”

“Fiore, don’t try to talk now,” she instructed. “I’ll secure a carriage to drive us home and then I’m going to inspect you for injuries.”

“It’s only a few blocks,” Florentina dismissed. “I can walk.”

“That may be, but we aren’t sitting here waiting for tomorrow, and that’s about when you’d be able to walk home,” Maddie declared.

“I’m scared,” Betta said in a small voice as she snuggled back against her mother again. “Church is supposed to be a safe place.”

Matteo took her hand in his as he settled on the spot between Florentina and Madelena. “Don’t be scared, Betta,” he said with assurance. “I’m right here.” Then with his other hand he patted Florentina’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’m glad you are the smartest person in Milan and that you’re with us.”

“I’m glad I’m with you, too, Matteo,” she replied and offered him a weak smile.

Maddie could tell by her pained expression and weakness that Florentina had absorbed some measure of shock from the blast. She was also certain that without Fiore’s lighting reflexes they would all be seriously wounded or dead. Feet rushed past the spot where they sat; men called out, women screamed, children cried. She looked around, between those coming and going, to see a gigantic hole in the side of the brick facade, broken windows with smoke trailing out, and a body lying on the ground. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Make way for the fire brigade!” a man shouted.

Madelena pushed to her feet and reached a hand for Fiore. “Come now,” she instructed. “We have to move out of the way. Let’s get you in that carriage and home.”

Christmas in Renaissance Italy

by Edale Lane

I enjoy writing historical fiction because I love learning all the new and fascinating details about people’s lives in centuries gone by. Secrets of Milan opens to the celebration of the Christmas season, which was of great importance to folks in Renaissance Italy. Their festivities were not limited to the 24^th and 25^th of December, but went on for much longer. Let me share a few things you may not have known about Christmas in 16^th century Milan.

The holiday season began with Novena, the 9 days preceding Christmas. This was a time of prayer, reflection, and carol singing. While we often associate the origin of Christmas carols with France and England, Italy’s St Francis of Assisi is credited with starting the practice of singing carols. Missas were composed by the greatest musicians, often in the form of madrigals, and sung by rich and poor alike at the various parties held during Novena.

England had their Yule log; the Italians had their Il Ceppo. During the Christmas season, a large log would burn in the center of the town square. The fire represented the renewed life of the New Year, and the burning log represented leaving behind the negativity of the past year. Additionally, each individual home would burn their family Il Ceppo in the hearth all night to warm the baby Jesus. An olive log was preferred, and sparks flitting up from the log were interpreted as a good sign or omen of things to come.

On the evening of December 24^th, the whole family would gather for the Cenone della Vigilia di Natale, the big dinner before Christmas. The piedmont region of northern Italy focused on rich and warming foods for Cenone della Vigilia. In Milan, bollito misto was typically served as the main course. This dish combines various boiled meats and poultry in a rich sauce served hot and fresh. However, lasagna with anchovies was also a popular choice. Apple mousse or hazelnut cake were often served for dessert, or perhaps a local nougat. Almost everyone attended Christmas Eve Mass, but some may wait for Christmas day.

But for the Italian living during the Renaissance, December 25^th was but the first of the “twelve days of Christmas,” which culminated with the gift-giving day of Epiphany – January 6^th. While children may be awarded sweets and treats on Christmas, the bulk of presents were saved for the day traditionally observed for the occasion when the Magi offered their treasures to the baby Jesus. Mystery plays, reenactments of Biblical stories, were common entertainments during this two week period. The most loved aspect of these mystery plays was the Cavalcade of the Magi, when the Wise Men processed through the streets with gifts for the infant Jesus. Wealthy, powerful men such as the Medici’s in Florence would play the roles of the Magi.

People also adorned their homes for the season, but not with the same ribbons and bows we do today. Oranges and lemons were used as decorations, along with sprigs of evergreen. The center piece of any seasonal décor was the Il Presepe, or manger scene, a tradition that was also begun by St. Francis of Assisi. The representations may be carved from wood or stone, or crafted from ceramics; they even had live manger scenes, which date back to the time of St. Francis. Gifts may be placed in stockings hung by the hearth, wrapped in fir boughs tied with twine, or placed in hollowed out olive logs. Italians did not have a Christmas tree, as that custom began in Germany, but they would hang fruit on outdoor trees as well as display it in their homes and churches.

One of the most interesting traditions I discovered was their version of Santa Claus. Germany had St. Nicholas; Italy had la Befana. According to the legend, La Befana, who looks a bit like a witch, flies on a broomstick to everyone’s house and leaves presents and sweets for the children if they’ve been good, or coal if they’ve been bad. As the tale goes, the three Wise Men stopped at the home of an old woman to ask for directions to the manger. They then asked her if she would like to join them on their journey. She declined, citing that she had too much cleaning to do. However, she soon changed her mind and went to look for the Magi and baby Jesus but could not find them. Ever since, early on Epiphany morning, la Befana visits the home of every child, entering through the chimney, hoping that she might find the baby Jesus.

Christmas was clearly the most important season of celebration on the Renaissance calendar socially, culturally, and religiously. It encompassed twenty days and spanned two months and the changing of years. There were decorations, parties, singing, entertainment, and gifts – everything we look forward to today, only more of it. When the Sforza family ruled Milan, they threw grand festivities at the castle and everyone was invited. It would indeed have been a time to remember!

About the Author

Edale Lane is the penname used by Melodie Romeo for LGBTQ fiction novels. She is a native of Vicksburg, Mississippi, earned a bachelor’s degree in Music Education from the University of Southern Mississippi and a master’s degree in History from the University of West Florida.

Ms Romeo is a retired school teacher who currently travels the country as an over the road truck driver. Her first book, Vlad, a Novel, an historical thriller, was published in 2002. She has had short stories published in anthologies by Seventh Star Press, Charon Coin Press, Alban Lake Press, Less Than Three Press, and Past and Prologue Press.

Edale Lane’s first novel, Heart of Sherwood, is an historical retelling of the Robin Hood story supposing that the hooded outlaw had been a woman:

https://pastandprologuepress.lpages.co/heart-of-sherwood1/

In addition to driving and writing, Melodie is also a musician who plays the French horn, composes, and has spent many years as a choral and instrumental director. She aspires to be a successful enough author to quit driving and devote herself to writing fulltime. Melodie resides in Utica, MS with her longtime partner, Johanna.

Some of her works can be found at http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00WFFFEA4

In 2019 Melodie founded Past and Prologue Press. Please visit her website.

Social Media

Website | Facebook (Personal) | Twitter | Instagram | Amazon

Giveaway

Edale is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:

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Featured Book & Review: Beware Mohawks Bearing Gifts by SA Collins

Books, Featured, Reviews

About the Book

Title: Beware Mohawks Bearing Gifts (The Cove Chronicles Book One)

Author: SA Collins

Publisher: NineStar Press

Publication Date: Monday, October 28, 2019

Format: eBook, Paperback

Price: $6.99 eBook

Length: 140K

Cover Artist: SA Collins

Category: SciFi, Native American, Alt-Universe/Earth, Queer Romance

Tags: SciFi as Magic, Myth Becomes Reality, Native American Centric Cast, Iroquoian Mythology, Mohawk Culture/Language, 1800s,

Warnings: Boy Brothel, child prostitution, violence

Series: The Cove Chronicles

Goodreads

Purchase Links

Publisher | Amazon | Amazon paperback | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords

Synopsis

It’s 1847, New York. William Matthias Hallett is a fashionable dandy of the Manhattan social set. His life is laid out before him: a world of soirees, riches and luxury. Yet all he wants to do is find an adventure so deliciously wicked that it would satiate his soul for an eternity. So, disguised in a lower-class manner, into the notorious Five Points he goes, seeking that spark of adventure. That is until it greets him in the form of his old schoolmates from Dartmouth College – a pair of Mohawk warriors who will up-end his world and all he knew it to be forever.

Series Blurb:

Set in an alternative Earth that deviates from our own known timeline, William Matthias Hallett, a Mohawk/British New York socialite and dandy, who wants very little to do with his upper-crust Manhattan set, sets out to the notorious Five Points, seeking an adventure so decidedly wicked to satiate him for a lifetime. He gets far more than he bargains for when he crosses paths with two Mohawk warriors from their days at Dartmouth college. Thrust into an unseen war that the Mohawks and the rest of the Haudenosuanee Confederacy has been fighting for over 600 years, William must come to terms with his maternal heritage that is pressing ever forward as their newly created sovereign nation rapidly expands, isolating the burgeoning United States along the eastern seaboard and now reaching a boiling point with the new Americans. Central to this sci-fi adventure is the creation story of the Haudenosaunee Confederacy where myth becomes reality in ways that William can scarcely imagine.

Review

SA Collins had me at “hello” with this book. All I had to do was read the blurb to be sure I wanted to read the rest of the book. And the promise of a whole series? Sign me up.

(Please do note before I begin that I cannot speak to the elements of Native mythology and culture because I’m not Native myself. But I don’t believe that means I can’t read, enjoy the tale, and relate to the characters. I am, however, from New York, and anything set in my neck of the woods that includes some of our history is super cool in my opinion.)

On the whole, the novel delivers on its promises. It’s centered on Native American people, mythology, and worldview, from an #OwnVoices perspective. The characters are solid, well-written and fully fleshed out. Even minor characters give me the impression they have a story to tell. The heavy character development is this book’s strongest point.

I also love that it’s a historical novel that largely feels like it comes from the era in which it’s set. Too often, books set in the past still read in a “voice” that sounds contemporary. Will, the first person narrator, speaks and thinks like he belongs in 1847. I did spot a couple of anachronisms that can’t be attributed to the book being alt-history, but I think they’re forgivable and not really of much importance. (Someone more familiar with the era may have a different opinion, of course.)

Blended genre stories are my weakness, and that was something else I enjoyed. The different elements of historical, fantasy, science fiction, romance, and literary fiction are intertwined nicely. The world-building is excellent. There are a few times when it does border on info-dumping, which slows down the pace somewhat. But otherwise, it’s done well, and the prose is absolutely gorgeous.

Speaking of pacing, I think that’s probably the book’s one big weakness. It’s inconsistent. Sometimes we get long passages that describe the setting, and other times we get lightning-speed action with little explanation. It didn’t exactly bother me, but it was noticeable. I would like to hope it will smooth out as the series continues.

Overall, I feel this book does as advertised on the cover, and I think the author does an admirable job bringing to us what I sense he set out to do. A first novel in a planned series is often a little uneven as it sets the stage, so I find any flaws to be outweighed by the positives.

For a fresh storyline, excellent writing, and an intriguing start to the series, I give this 8 fountain pens.

Excerpt

He leaned against the doorway with a slight smile upon his face and placed the message from my sister onto the desk nearest the door.

“So, are you planning to sleep upon the floor, or will you nest down in the kitchen?”

“Just be glad the bed I have in your room is large enough for us both. You will just have a bed mate until we can rectify the situation downstairs.”

“I could always sleep on your sofa in the receiving room, Will.”

“Certainly not. If I am anything, I am a superb host. I will not have you attempting to recline on a sofa that is barelysufficient to sit upon, let alone gain some much-needed rest.”

“Fancy little Indian, are you not?” He indicated the quality of my nightshirt and dressing robe.

“I walk in two worlds now; allow me my fashionable proclivities,” I replied as I began to change out of my clothing and into the nightshirt. For a few moments he stood there shaking his head and smirking at my nightly routine, though I did detect a blush moving across his face as I got down to my undergarments. As I pulled my shirt over my head, I noted he had slipped into the spare bedroom.

I carried the nightshirt and robe over to the spare room to join him as he began to slip off his leggings and mocs. After he shucked his shirt, I paused to appreciate the simple utility of the Haudenosaunee male wardrobe. Moments later, Joss changed from the comfort of his daily outfit into a simple loincloth suitable for sleeping, and here I struggled withovergarments, shirts, pants, undergarments, and various pieces that served only as ornamentation. I began to question for the first time the intelligence of my way of dress.

::But you wear your clothing so well. I do not judge your choice of them. This is simply what I know and have grown comfortable using. Why are you curious as to our way of dress?::

::Well, I suppose I should gain a better understanding of our people’s ways. I feel I know so little about my Mohawk life. I assume I can lean on you for that. Unless you find me a lost cause.::

::Will, have no doubt. You are Mohawk; your lineage is clear. You just have not had much in the way of guidance in our way of life. You can always turn to me for that.::

“Thank you. I cannot tell you how much that means to me. Since I came into this whole new world of the Guardians and Flintlings, I have felt little more than a leaf upon the raging river, with little hope of purchase with which to grant me some sense of security. You have provided the security I desperately need.”

“Wait here…” He gated out of the room, though to where, simply wearing his loincloth for protection against the elements, was beyond me. I did not have to wait long as he returned within a few moments with a beaded side bag in his hand. He threw it upon the bed and began to rummage through it. He extracted a beaded belt and a tightly rolled piece of blood-red cloth.

“Get out of that precious royal swaddling you have encased yourself in,” he chided me as he unrolled the cloth, revealing it to be about the length of the loincloth he was wearing. I realized he had retrieved his spare clothing, though from where I was uncertain.

Reading my musings, he replied, “I have spare clothing set aside in various places. I can retrieve them when needs arise. These shall be yours now.” He indicated the bag on the bed as much as the belt and loincloth he held.

“Oh, Joss…” I gasped, filled with awe at his offering, knowing that to refuse would deeply mar our new relationship. Not something I was willing to risk, given our being inextricably bound to each other.

Forgetting my near nakedness, I knelt upon the bed, running gentle fingers over them, and watched as he completed the folding around the back of the belt. A small smile broke over his face, bringing his eyes to light. Clearly,he was most happy in his offering. I only wished I had something to offer in exchange. As if hearing my thoughts, hehad a reply. “Just your wearing it will be more than enough,” he murmured as he handed me the garment. “Come, let us have you try it on.”

“I am afraid you will have to help me out a bit.”

Shortly thereafter, I found myself wearing my first Mohawk loincloth. My slightly burnished alabaster skin, with a dusting of freckles along my muscular shoulders that mellow as they wend their way over my bare torso, standing in stark contrast to the rich colored fabric of the loincloth.

He placed two gentle hands on my shoulders as we regarded my reflection in the mirror. I felt him course along our link with such gratitude and care that I was undone by his gesture.

Joss beamed, watching me take root in my heritage, pleased he could do this for me. After sheathing myself in some of the finest material and clothing the world could offer, I was amazed at how much comfort, both in movement and luxury, this simple natural garment afforded me.

He pulled out the leggings, a pair of mocs, and a shirt. After another few moments, I was fully clothed in my maternal heritage clothing. A sense of pride seemed to swell within me that I had not anticipated. I nearly wept from the sensation. I know Joss did not miss my eyes misting up from the transformation at his hands.

“Joss, I never knew just how comfortable these really are.”

“You wear them well; as if you were born to them,” he added with a bright grin, no doubt pleased with himself.

I paused, turning this way and that, before bringing Joss into a tight embrace, so thankful for his offering. He moved his head from my shoulder to place my forehead against his, his hands on either side of my face, gently holding methere.

::Like this, Ohnehta’kowa. When it matters most, this is how we share that moment.::

I nodded, thankful for his teaching and his generosity. I knew, being so linked with him, our intimacy would be something I needed to embrace and let flow. It was a part of who we are. If I were truly honest, I longed for it to go on into the night; spending this singular touching moment with him and to share it thusly shattered what I knew about myself and the world around me. Joss sensed this and gradually broke contact between us. I felt bewildered and in a slight stuporfor the loss of him. I needed to regroup.

“Yes, well, now to bed, eh?”

Interview

How did you choose the topic for this book?

This book was a long time in coming to life. In fact, I have been toying with the idea for well over 15 years. It has had many, many, many, revisions and iterations over those years. The inspiration came from two main sources: 1) I wanted to tell a tale with American Indians at the core of it and I knew it had to be sci-fi, because we’re always seen as the shaman, the alcoholic, or mystic, but not as people who struggle just like everyone else; and 2) I wanted to write a tale for my granddaughter with a young female protagonist who is at the core of the story. I started writing this during the first year of her life. Now, at seventeen, she is of an age to read such a tale. Secondly, I wanted to have my native characters have something monumental to push against. So, it had to be on an epic scale. Star Wars or Lord of the Rings, epic.

I decided that the creation myths were a good place to start. It begins with Skywoman and her twin sons, Spruce and Flint. There are three sections to this series – I’ve sort of outlined (I am a pantser by nature) – three books to each section, totaling nine altogether. The first three, of which Beware Mohawks Bearing Giftsis the first in the entire series, is set in 1847 New York city—in a world very much like our own, but not. It is a parallel universe where things did not transpire as they did here. So, it will be both familiar and off kilter for readers at the same time.

How would you describe your writing style/genre?

As a professional actor/stage performer (under a different name) for most of my life, character has always been front and center to my work. It was my husband who identified that my works (which are usually in first person) are really character studies—where the whys and wherefores of the characters’ actions, their perceptions and misconceptions, are central to the story—almost to the point of being more important than what the story is about.

To a great degree, this is central to my works. I am also fairly obsessed with father/son relationships. In one way or another, this familial dynamic is a focus of my works.

Were you a voracious reader as a child?

Yes, and one book more than any other was at the forefront, D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. I checked that book out every week from the school library from the fourth grade to the sixth. Thirty years later, my brother sent me the book for my birthday. It was one of the most heartfelt moments my brother created for me. Proof positive, that thoughtful gifts are always better than overly expensive ones.

What’s your core motivation in this book?

That native characters can be front and center to an epic sci-fi adventure saga. They don’t have to be told from a “white man’s perspective” to engage the reader. If I’ve done my job right, any reader from any background should find commonalities within the characters they can identify with. We aren’t the stoic “Injins.” I also wanted the myths of the Haudenosaunee (aka Iroquois) Confederacy (Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca and Tuscarora), to be at the core of the work. Hopefully, readers will find this world engaging in a way they might not imagine.

It is the road not taken. Not many people know or were taught that when the American Revolution ended, Britain promised the Haudenosaunee for their services to the British crown that they would secure a sovereign native nation during the drafting of the Treaty of Paris. At the last minute, they reneged on that promise. This series deals with the ‘what if’ scenario. What if a sovereign Native nation was established as originally promised? What would that nation look like? How would it interact with other nations on the world stage? That’s at the core of this work. The relations between the newly formed United States and the Akwe:kon nation are not at their best. There is mounting tension that adds a whole other level of drama to the story. Historical sci-fi, what could be better?

Tell us one thing hardly anyone knows about you.

True story: Cher (yes, that Cher) thinks I am a broken gay. Piqued your interest yet?

It all began when I worked for a company here in San Francisco, where I live/work, and one of my co-workers, and great friend, Laura, was dating (then) Chas Bono. I got to know Chas (now, Chaz) a bit through Laura. One weekend Laura called me from Cher’s Malibu house because Cher was having a technical issue with her MacBook. As I am a trained systems engineer in the IT industry, I helped Laura walk through how to get Cher’s computer back up and running. Laura told me that Cher was pleased and wanted to know how much she owed me. I was only too happy to assist and told Laura to tell her that there was no charge. I was just glad I was there to assist.

She said Cher said thanks and I thought that was the end of it. A few days later, when Laura had come back to SF from LA, she informed me that Cher wanted to do something for me for being kind to help her out. I told her it wasn’t necessary. Laura asked if I wanted some piece of memorabilia (she suggested autographed lingerie or something along those lines). I laughed and said no, I am totally fine with just helping out. Evidently Laura called Cher later that day and relayed my message and supposedly Cher asked her, “Is he a broken gay?”

Laura knew I had a very favorite cookie from a local SF baker so she told Cher I might like a cookie from there and gave her the number to the bakery. Cher had her assistant call and had 200 of my favorite cookies sent within the hour of Laura’s call to Cher. There’s more to the story, but that’s the gist of it.

About the Author

SA “Baz” Collins hails from the San Francisco Bay Area where he lives with his husband and Zorro, a character of a cat. A classically trained singer/actor (under a different name), Baz knows a good yarn when he sees it.

Based on years of his work as an actor, Baz specializes in character study pieces. It is more important for him that the reader comes away with a greater understanding of the characters and the reasons they make the decisions they do, rather than the situations they are in. It is this deep dive into their manners, their experiences and how they process the world around them that make up the body of Mr. Collins’ work.

Social Media

Giveaway

SA Collins is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour. For a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:

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Direct Link

Rainbow Snippets: Interfaith

Books, Writing

Happy Saturday! My kids are at an all-day rehearsal to kick off tech week. Kid #2 is in the cast of Aladdin Jr. Kid #1 is too old, so he’s on stage crew.

This week, I’m back to sharing snippets of my YA novella, Year of the Guilty Soul. It just released 11/5 as an audiobook! I’m so excited to be able to offer it with greater accessibility. My narrator, Finley Smith, was perfect.

I’m putting together a blog and review tour for the last two weeks of November, so if anyone is willing to host, please sign up at the links.

REVIEW: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1YTCuq0N1n9YfjcpXfUrW9XN0XLGcz6hnnw9VIHXbk7Q

BLOG ONLY: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ZiVSI5kiKPuA1aazTT37Sh5gKmzLHS8VzS12m6dyDg4

And here’s the snippet. While the MC is not me, there is a lot of my own growing up reflected in this story. This snippet is one example. I’m from an interfaith family that doesn’t look the way it’s often presented on television or in movies.

It wasn’t long after that when I read Judy Blume’s Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Everyone mocks it for being “the period book,” which I guess it kind of is. That’s not why I read it so often the cover fell off and half the pages were dog-eared. Margaret Simon is like me—her father is Jewish. Almost everyone I’ve ever met with one Jewish parent, it’s their mom. This was the first time I ever saw myself in a character. I related a lot more to her search for faith than to her wish to be a grown up. I didn’t care much about periods or training bras, but I sure did want to know what I was supposed to be.

Rainbow Snippets is a safe and welcoming space for LGBTQIA+ authors, readers, and bloggers to share 6 sentences each week from a work of fiction—published or in-progress—or a book recommendation. Feel free to join in!

Review and Blog Tour: No Way Out by Eric Alan Westfall

Books, Featured, Reviews

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

Goodreads

QueeRomance Ink

Purchase Links

Amazon | Universal Buy Link

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.

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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!)

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