Excerpts

Raven’s Hart by Davidson King: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on October 3, 2019 by thebloggergirls

Blogger_Exclusive Excerpt

Exclusive Excerpt from Raven’s Hart

by Davidson King

Christopher Manos was a man who entered the room knowing he was powerful. He demanded the respect that came with it, too. His hair was slicked back, but there was a wave to it. He wore an expensive dark suit, and if it wasn’t for the soft look he gave whenever he was talking to Snow, he’d be scary. Snow wore a long shirt, jeans of some color, and sneakers. Total opposites in every way. Simon brought up the rear wearing clothes similar to Snow’s. His hair was just as dark as his uncle’s, but I had noticed his eyes were a lighter shade. There were many facial similarities to Christopher, but I suspected the ones I couldn’t place belonged to Simon’s mother who had passed of cancer when he was a baby.

“Good afternoon,” I said as I stepped closer to them, hand out hoping Christopher would shake it. He didn’t disappoint. “Hi, Simon.”

Simon lifted his head, his gaze leaving his phone for a moment. “Hey, Poe. You have a nice house. I had no idea you lived so far away.”

“No one did,” Snow mumbled but smiled when I shot him a glare. “What?”

“It’s necessary,” I answered Simon, who shrugged.

“Pops says that whatever the reason means a long and dark explanation.” That earned him a light slap from Christopher and a chuckle.

“You go do what you’re doing there.” He gestured to Simon’s phone. Continue reading →

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Ride the Whirlwind by Jackie North: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on October 1, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from Ride the Whirlwind

by Jackie North

Trent stepped off the stagecoach, took his small, leather-handled carpet bag from the top of the coach, and breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t that he got sick on stagecoaches, no. It was that there were so many people jammed into a space that rocked for hours and became filled with dust, that is, when it wasn’t filled with the smell of stale sweat and the scent of nerves on edge. Stagecoaches had to be the worst way that God invented for man to travel. There were better ways, like on foot or by horseback. Never mind. He had arrived in Dilia.

Taking off his hat, he wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, which left a broad sweat stain on his shirt sleeve. He sighed again, put his hat back on and looked up and down the street for the jail.

He had two telegrams in his breast pocket beneath his vest, but he was no closer to understanding what was going on, or why he’d been waylaid from his plans, his very straightforward plans, to head back to Trinidad from Deming, deep in New Mexico Territory, where he’d been asked to witness a hanging.

Deming had been quite far to travel for such a gory, unsavory task as a hanging. However, the governor of New Mexico Territory, one LaBaron Prince, had asked for him in particular, seeing as how he’d been present at the capture of Fenton Barrow, otherwise known as Pretty Boy Barrow, known for stagecoach holdups and petty larceny and the stealing of cows.

Now that the unpleasant task had been completed, with witness documents signed, he’d been more than ready to head home to Trinidad. Unfortunately, he’d gotten a telegram from the small town of Dilia, instructing him to detour to Dilia to transport one Maxton Barnett to Trinidad.

In Dilia, the sheriff and his two deputies had in their care a young miscreant who they wanted taken away before the whole town rose up in rebellion. It all sounded rather dramatic, and not what he’d expect from a fellow sheriff, even if the telegram explained, in very short words, the crime of picking pockets and, mysteriously, other unsavory acts.

Only his sense of duty would encourage him to follow through with the request to pick up the low-life criminal and escort him back to Trinidad, from whence it was said he’d come. Then, of all the queer things, just before he’d gotten on the stagecoach in Deming, he’d received a second telegram, this time from Mr. Laurie Quinn of the Adeline Hotel in Trinidad.

Mr. Quinn was known to him, a recent newcomer to the town with enough energy for three young men, a dazzling smile, and a sweet laugh that would light up the darkest room. Trent had done his best to remain unmoved, but it was hard, especially when Laurie had the most beautiful brown eyes, and dark auburn hair shot with gold. He was like a handsome out of a painting, with slender hips, and long legs, and a vivacious air and zest for life.

But not only did Laurie’s companion, a dour, grim-faced, broad-shouldered man by the name of John Henton, keep Trent from responding, he was also held back by his own promise to himself. He could not make the same mistake that he’d made back home in Aiken, South Carolina, one that had involved kissing a sweet-faced choir boy after church one Sunday.

The kiss had been brief and there’d been an energy in Trent to pull the choir boy into his arms and do more than just kiss. But he’d been unable to act upon that flash of heat and desire as his father had discovered him, waited till his mother died, and then banished him, separating Trent from his sister Lucy.

It had been five years since he’d talked to either of them, though once in a while a letter would come from his father berating him further and taunting him with news about Lucy, but never really telling him anything about what was going on with her. It was like part of him had been cut off, leaving him numb and aching, staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, wondering how it might have turned out differently if Father hadn’t discovered him.

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Amalgamated by Becca Seymour: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 29, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from Amalgamated

by Becca Seymour

I found him sitting on a small stool, beer in hand and looking directly at me. After the slightest of hesitations, I continued forward. While a part of me considered being a coward and hovering at the door, Zak deserved more than that. The closer I got, the more I struggled not to stumble. Still handsome, still built with a body I’d fantasised over countless nights, and still carrying that fierce gaze with his grey-green eyes that I was sure could see into my soul.

Around this guy, I’d always been the same—dreaming up descriptions on the cusp of damn poetry. Sometimes I wondered how I’d survived for so many years without him catching on to the depth of my feelings, and sometimes I wondered what it would have been like if I’d ever told him the truth. Or certainly done so without me using my words as a weapon.

I shook the thoughts away. Yeah, he still affected me. I snorted internally as he continued to watch me in silence, while I’d stopped just a few short metres away. In truth, affected didn’t even come close. A small, ridiculous part of me had hoped he’d look like shit and hadn’t weathered well over the years. From what I saw of the man before me, he was travelling through his thirties somewhat spectacularly.

When his brow pitched high, I realised I’d been standing before him for Christ knew how long like a damn idiot. Awkwardness had charged into the room and ran around laughing its arse off at me. Not quite the way I’d planned for this to go, but it seemed fitting.

“Hey,” I managed, my voice surprisingly steady. “So I have food for you.” I held out the plate like an offering, hoping he’d do something beyond staring at me with his pretty eyes. When he remained silent, giving me absolutely nothing, I gnawed at the inside of my lip. I took a step forward and swung my gaze to the side where there was another small stool. “I’ll just leave it here.” Placing it down, I didn’t dare risk a glance in his direction, especially considering our closeness.

Jesus, I hated this.

I could barely remember a time growing up without Zak being in the picture, and despite being so close to him, the closest I’d been in five years, I’d never felt further away. I straightened and took a step back. Aware I was going to make my mouth bleed with how damn hard I was worrying it, I needed to take action. To do that, I had to admit what a dick I’d been, and grovel—a lot.

With a sweep of my hand over my hair, I went ahead and blurted out the sorry that should have happened five years ago. “I fucked up.” There was a slight flaring of his eyes. It wasn’t a lot, but it was some sort of reaction at least. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have….” I exhaled heavily, hating myself for being a coward and not doing this sooner. “I shouldn’t have ever put you in that situation. I shouldn’t have caused so much shit then run off.”

My gaze followed his thumb as he brushed it across his lips a moment before he leaned forward, eyes still on me, and propped his elbows on his legs.

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No Good Men by Thea McAlistair: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 24, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from No Good Men

by Thea McAlistair

I knocked, and a maid let me in. I recognized her, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember her name. I had never even bothered to learn it, figuring that Emma would dismiss her after a few months, just like all the others. The girl flitted into another room, and returned with Emma following.

“Hello Mr. Dawson! What brings you here?” she asked.

“I came around to see if you were doing all right.” Not a lie, but not anything resembling the truth either. Was I getting better at this investigating thing? “Is this a bad time?”

She hovered there for a moment, uncertainty in her eyes. Then she stepped to the side with a welcoming gesture. “Mrs. Green is here, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind an additional guest to tea,” she said. “And, well, you are no longer my employee.”

I winced at the dig. Was it even a dig? If it was, would I have to forgive her, since she was technically in mourning? She continued regarding me with blank pleasantness for a second, then led me toward the parlor. I’d been in that house about a million times, and yet it never felt like a home to me. It was so clean, and not in the way that Martin’s place was clean. Everything here was shiny and polished, new and untouched instead of worn and cared for.

The parlor was no different than the rest of the house, though there were a couple antiques that had belonged to Carlisle’s mother. She had been a collector of taxidermy, and there was a cache of overstuffed birds in a china cabinet, as well as fox that was mounted with its mouth pulled into a grimace.

Sitting on a chair next to the fox, also showing distressing signs of age, was Mrs. Green. She held a teacup with crooked but delicate fingers. “What’s this, Emma?” she sniffed. “Has this louse come looking for a bonus he didn’t earn? Failed in his duty, didn’t he.”

I closed my eyes against the insult, though it had hit harder than many a punch I’d taken. “Mrs. Green,” I said as politely as I could through clenched teeth. “It’s good to see you again.”

She huffed and sipped her tea.

Emma took a seat, but didn’t offer me a chair. “Oh, Elizabeth, do be kinder to my guest.” She looked at me. “Though she has something of a point. What brings you around unannounced?”

I cleared my throat. “Um, this probably isn’t the best time to ask, but are you keeping Mr. Carlisle’s records?”

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to be more specific. I have been asked for hundreds of records by at least a dozen people. Police, insurance agents, other employees…”

“What I’m looking for are letters? Not… not private ones. They came to the office every now and then? Political stuff and threats? The Westwick Journal has one now, and I’m helping them see if there are any more.”

“Ah. Those.” She sighed. “Mr. Dawson, being a public figure isn’t easy, and it certainly doesn’t endear you to people. We had at least two threats a day. Luckily we kept them all in case this sort of…” She paused to regain her composure. “The police have them now.”

“Oh.” Dammit, Vern. Sending me on a wild goose chase.

“Although,” Emma continued, “there was the one that came in the mail the next day, after the police had taken the others.” She stood. “Wait one moment, I’ll get it for you.”

She hurried past me and out into the hall, leaving me with Mrs. Green. The old woman sipped her tea in silence. Then she raised her head to stare at me with eyes that age hadn’t dulled at all. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

“So, you’re really here for letters?” she asked. “Because it seems to me there are better reasons for visiting a young widow.”

So that was her problem with me. “I assure you, ma’am, I have no interest in Mrs. Carlisle.”

“Pity.” She put the cup and saucer onto a table. “Truth be told, I never liked Roy much. He had a wandering eye, as I’m sure you noticed.” She looked in the direction Emma had gone. “I can’t imagine she’s too broken up about losing him. I wasn’t when my Henry died. A widow’s money and freedom…” She brought her gaze back to me, letting her eyes track me from head to toe.

I shifted. The last thing I needed was some old lady getting ideas that I was involved in murdering a man so I could sleep with his wife. “I should, um… I should go see if Mrs. Carlisle needs any help,” I mumbled.

Her puckered mouth twisted into what was probably supposed to be a wry smile. “By all means, run along then.”

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Release Blitz: Of Autumn Leaves and New Beginnings by Nell Iris + Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 23, 2019 by thebloggergirls

Of Autumn Leaves and New Beginnings by Nell Iris

Sometimes love finds you even when you’re not looking for it.

At 47, Oren Walker isn’t looking for love. When he knocks on Pete Higgins’ door, all he wants is to thank him for helping his mom after she broke her femur. He never expected that one look at the man would make his knees weak and heart flutter.

Pete is happy—albeit a bit lonely—after divorcing his wife of 20 years and isn’t looking to replace her. But when Oren shows up, all grateful and handsome and in that fancy suit, the longing for the deep connection of a relationship flares up inside him.

As the leaves turn yellow, Oren and Pete spend a lot of time in honest conversations. Their attraction grows. Will the two men recognize the promise of new beginnings, and take the chance to find the happiness they both deserve?

Available at: Amazon

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Yours, Forever After by Beth Bolden: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 20, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from Yours, Forever After

by Beth Bolden

Rory flopped down onto the ground, into much the same position he’d occupied the night before. “I really can’t believe that worked,” he said, grinning. “But as soon as I saw their rings, I knew who they were, and I knew they could be reasoned with.”

“Reasoned with? Asking you to swear an oath on a sword that could bring you a fiery death?” Gray muttered.

“I had to do it,” Rory said.

Except that he hadn’t, and they both knew it.

“I could have done it,” Gray said lowly. “You don’t need my help. What you know is so much more valuable. I lived over this direction when I was a young child, and I’d never heard of that tribe before today.”

Rory gaped at him. “Are you really claiming to be expendable? You?”

At Gray’s refusal to answer, Rory stood up and started pacing back and forth in front of the log he’d slept against the night before. Had it only been the night before? It felt like an eternity had already passed since they’d escaped the valley, but it had been barely forty-eight hours.

“You built a farm from nothing. You’re a fighter. You were going to fight those men off; I saw the way you held the sword. You know how to use it much better than I.” Rory paused. “A pretty princeling. Useless. I believe that was your impression before today.”

Gray couldn’t deny it. He also couldn’t deny that his mind had been forever altered by their encounter with the tribe.

“You’re a prince,” Gray said, because he couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around everything that had changed, so suddenly and so irrevocably. It was easy to condense down all his jumbled feelings into one single fact: Rory was a prince, and he was going to reclaim his throne.

Rory stared incredulously at him. “You don’t think that matters.”

It hadn’t, but somehow, now it did.

Flushing, Gray turned away. “You barely slept before. You should get more sleep now.”

“Stop changing the subject. Were you really going to swear my promise on my sword?” Rory demanded.

Rory’s intelligence had already come in very handy, but now Gray wished he was a little less perceptive. Squaring his shoulders, Gray glanced over at Rory. “It was logical.”

“No,” Rory said with an unbearably attractive decisiveness, “it was all emotional.” Closing the three steps between them, Rory reached out and put a hand on Gray’s chest, right above where his heart beat faster than he’d ever admit. “Try to tell me it wasn’t emotional. I can feel it. Right here.”

Gray could feel it too; his heart, which had been numb and alone for so long, was waking up, the numbness receding. It felt like too much, too soon, but before he could stop Rory and say, that’s plenty close enough, Rory rose up and pressed his lips to Gray’s.

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Flame and Ash by Morgan Brice: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 17, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from Flame and Ash

by Morgan Brice

After all, Evan thought, what value do I bring to the situation? Six months of training had improved his skills, taught him a few more rote spells, and helped him understand more about the kinds of things that went bump in the night. Despite it all, Evan knew he had a long way to go before he could match Seth’s abilities, and he worried that he could be the weak link that cost Seth his life.

The trip from Pittsburgh to Boone would take most of the day, and while Evan offered to take a turn behind the wheel, he knew that Seth preferred to drive. When he wasn’t chasing down loose ends about the Boone situation on his computer, Evan planned to doze in the passenger seat, but dark dreams woke him more than once, earning him worried glances from Seth.

“Hey.” Seth’s voice roused Evan from his thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking—let me in. Don’t keep it to yourself.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” Evan admitted.

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that you’ve saved my ass more than once,” Seth replied. “And that was before we spent the last three months doing more training.” He reached out to take Evan’s hand. “I trust you. I believe in you. There’s no one I’d rather have beside me in a fight. And I love you.”

Evan’s throat tightened. “I love you, too. And I want to be here, doing this, with you. It’s just…I’m not really the action hero type.”

Seth chuckled. “And I am?”

“You were in the army. You’re a soldier. So, yeah.”

Seth sighed. “I went into the army to get away from a bad breakup. Not exactly the most noble reason. I did okay, I guess. I was lucky enough to come home. But I knew I wasn’t going to make a career out of it. Some guys, they get in, and they know that’s where they’re supposed to be. It becomes their home and family, like they were born for it.” He shook his head. “It was never that for me.”

“I made okay money, working at the bar.” Evan looked at the road instead of at Seth. “But something was always missing, you know? What I did didn’t really matter. This…” He gestured to mean the two of them, hunting, the search for the witch-disciples. “It makes a difference. Saves lives. Stops a hundred years of killing. It just seems like fate could have picked someone who was better prepared.”

Seth laid his hand on Evan’s thigh, solid and warm. “Hunting doesn’t work like that. You’ve talked to Travis and Brent and Mark. They didn’t train to be a hunter from the time they were kids. They lost people, and it changed them. And from that point on, they learned on the job,” Seth said. “Just like you.”

Evan managed a wan smile. “If this were a TV show, I’d want to skip to the finale, where we ride off into the sunset.”

“I wish we could,” Seth admitted. “But I’m afraid there’s no fast-forward on real life.”

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Author Q&A: Thea McAlistair + Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 16, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Please welcome Thea McAlistair to The Blogger Girls!

When did you write your first story and what was the inspiration for it?

My first story that I remember was a fan fiction of a book about fairies at the age of 10 or so. It was a school assignment, but I don’t remember exactly what the assignment was.
 My first non-school related piece was something like a YA take on Lord of the Rings around age 14. It didn’t get past a couple pages but I probably put almost as much planning into it as Tolkien himself would have. Sometimes I think I should go back to it, but I’m pretty sure I can’t get my mind wrapped around young YA.

Do you have a writing schedule or do you just write when you can find the time?

Definitely when I find the time. I work full time (45-50 hours a week), so sometimes I have to get creative. I have, however, found that if I have a clear goal or deadline, even one with no consequences like NaNoWriMo, I’m much more likely to sit down and actually work. No Good Men and its sequel Boiling Over are results of NaNoWriMo and Camp NaNoWriMo, respectively

Briefly describe the writing process. Do you create an outline first?  Do you seek out inspirational pictures, videos or music? Do you just let the words flow and then go back and try and make some sense out it?

I start with characters or maybe a brilliant flash of a scene. I piece it out from there: who are these people? How did they end up in this situation? How will they get out of it? That can usually carry me to a couple thousand words and then I need to dip into the well of music or other fiction to bring back the spark. Sometimes it takes longer than I want.

Where did the desire to write LGBT romance come from?

It didn’t start as a particular desire. I consider No Good Men a mystery first, a romance second. But that’s sort of the thing, isn’t it? There isn’t a “reason” for the characters being LGBTQ any more than there’s a “reason” for real LGBTQ people to exist. It’s time we accepted that.

How much research do you do when writing a story and what are the best sources you’ve found for giving an authentic voice to your characters?

I’m very well educated in history, so I know some basics. If I need a particular fact, Google is very much my friend. And I’m fortunate that there are still some films from the period I write in, so I can listen to the cadence and word choice of characters my characters were supposed to have related to if they were real people. 

What’s harder, naming your characters, creating the title for your book or the cover design process?

The book title was hardest, by far. Trying to capture 65,000 words in just one to five? Insanity. I was very fortunate to work with Raevyn and Natasha at NineStar Press on my cover, and we came up with something really great pretty quickly. Character names have never been hard for me. Because I’m writing historic fiction, I can pull up baby name lists for the appropriate era and ta-da I have 100 names to choose from. 

How do you answer the question “Oh, you’re an author…what do you write?”

I say “historical mysteries.” If pressed further I’ll open that out to “LGBTQ noir-style historic mysteries set in the 1930s.” I get a lot of incredulous stares and polite nodding. Niche genres whooo!

What does your family think of your writing?

Don’t know, they haven’t read it yet haha!

Tell us about your current work in process and what you’ve got planned for the future.

Book 2, Boiling Over, is with NineStar going through the publishing process. I have a draft 0 of Book 3 going and I’ve got ideas for four or five more after that. I can’t let my boys go, it seems.

I dabble in fantasy from time to time, but I haven’t gotten very far with them. Not sure what the issue is, but it is an entirely different process than the mysteries. I guess it’s because with a historical book, you know that there are facts you can look up, and with a mystery, you always know where your endgame is. With a fantasy, literally all bets are off.

Do you have any advice for all the aspiring writers out there?

Make friends with other writers. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to give up only to have my writer friends buoy me back up. And their help is invaluable for working through issues with the story. Plus they are always open to commiserating with you.

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Dominated But Not Subdued by JP Sayle: Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway!

Posted on September 13, 2019 by thebloggergirls

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Exclusive Excerpt from Dominated But Not Subdued

by JP Sayle

With his restraint hanging by a thread, he dug his fingernails into his palms while he followed both men into the office. Stepping away from Adam, Carl barely held on to his control. He walked stiffly to the far chair and sat, the leather creaking under his weight. He kept his hands clenched in his lap and looked at Nathan. 

“How the fuck did my boy get in the club without being a member?” he asked, anger lacing his voice. The wary expression Nathan wore made his eyes narrow. Suspicion wormed its way past his anger, but before Nathan could say a word, Adam interrupted. 

“I applied. There’s a form online. And when I completed it, there was an offer to an introduction night, so I asked for an invite,” he offered in a belligerent tone. 

Carl disregarded the loud sigh Nathan released, too busy snarling at Adam, who’d stuck out his chin in defiance. 

“Right, you two, stop it,” Nathan said, giving Carl a hard glare. “Enough. You need to pull your heads out of your arses and try honesty for a change, the pair of you. This is a BDSM club, not a bloody remake of Fantasy Island. Stop pussyfooting about. Tell each other what you want and move the fuck forward.” He walked to the door. 

“Don’t mess this up,” he said and excited the room.

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