can be read as a standalone – Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

Broke Deep (Porthkennack #3) by Charlie Cochrane
Riptide Publishing

Cover by: G.D. Leigh

Read an Excerpt/Buy it Here at Riptide Publishing

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Charlie Cochrane here today talking about titles, inspiration and her latest story Broke Deep. Welcome, Charlie!

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Where did the title “Broke Deep” come from?

by Charlie Cochrane

I’m not very good at coming up with good titles for books. I usually end up picking the brains of friends or colleagues or editors or anybody I can get my paws on. When we brainstorm a good, catchy title it feels like my team winning a game by fifteen points and on the rare occasion I come up with a name for the book all on my own it’s like I won the lottery!

So I am truly Smuggerella about “Broke Deep” which is my idea and mine alone and which works for this story on two levels. My protagonist Morgan is feeling broken, in terms of relationships and his own health but there’s also the story of a shipwreck which plays a pivotal part in the plot – a ship literally broken on the rocks – and it’s from a reference to a famous real shipwreck the title comes. I’ve always enjoyed the music of Gordon Lightfoot, and in 1976 I bought the atmospheric single “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”, which I played and replayed until I almost wore the grooves out. I had no idea at the time it was a story about an actual wreck.

There is something eerily fascinating about the loss of a ship; we all know tales of the Titanic or the Mary Rose. I’ve seen the latter on exhibit in Portsmouth and she’s like a time capsule. Who walked those decks? What were they thinking as they set out? Whether a ship is made of oak (one of the “wooden walls” of old England, maybe) or metal, as the Edmund Fitzgerald was, it’s still at the mercy of wave and weather and the loss of vessel and crew is tragic.

In Lightfoot’s song there is a line that the ship “may have broke deep and took water”, which interested me. Break is an old word for a ship being wrecked; it also means to part the surface of something, so a ship moving through waves will break the surface of the sea. If it breaks deep, that must mean the bow dipping so far into the water that the waves pour over it. Such a powerful image of a mighty vessel being overcome by the power of nature. One day I was listening to the song and I realised that image was redolent of Morgan being overcome by the circumstances of his life. Unlike the ship, though, he finds hope and safety.

Broke Deep is the story that refused to sit down and take no for an answer, a tale that waited patiently in my works-in-progress folder for a setting and a context to do it justice. When the Porthkennack universe opportunity came along, Broke Deep bounced into my mind like the most insistent plot bunny, saying, “That’s my home! Write me there!”

Reader, I did.

About Broke Deep

Morgan Capell’s life is falling apart by small degrees—his father’s dead, his boyfriend dumped him, and his mother’s in the grip of dementia. His state of mind isn’t helped by his all-too-real recurring nightmare of the wreck of the Troilus, a two-hundred-year-old ship he’s been dreaming about since his teenage years.

The story of the Troilus is interwoven with the Capell family history. When amateur historian Dominic Watson inveigles himself into seeing the ship’s timbers which make up part of Morgan’s home, they form a tentative but prickly friendship that keeps threatening to spark into something more romantic.

Unexpectedly, Dominic discovers that one of the Troilus’s midshipman was rescued but subsequently might have been murdered, and persuades Morgan to help him establish the truth. But the more they dig, the more vivid Morgan’s nightmares become, until he’s convinced he’s showing the first signs of dementia. It takes as much patience as Dominic possesses—and a fortuitous discovery in a loft—to bring light out of the darkness.

Now available from Riptide Publishing.

About Porthkennack

Welcome to Porthkennack, a charming Cornish seaside town with a long and sometimes sinister history. Legend says King Arthur’s Black Knight built the fort on the headland here, and it’s a certainty that the town was founded on the proceeds of smuggling, piracy on the high seas, and the deliberate wrecking of cargo ships on the rocky shore. Nowadays it draws in the tourists with sunshine and surfing, but locals know that the ghosts of its Gothic past are never far below the surface.

This collaborative story world is brought to you by five award-winning, best-selling British LGBTQ romance authors: Alex Beecroft, Joanna Chambers, Charlie Cochrane, Garrett Leigh, and JL Merrow. Follow Porthkennack and its inhabitants through the centuries and through the full rainbow spectrum with historical and contemporary stand-alone titles.

Check out Porthkennack! http://www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/universe/porthkennack

About Charlie Cochrane

As Charlie Cochrane couldn’t be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice—like managing a rugby team—she writes, with titles published by Carina, Samhain, Bold Strokes, MLR and Cheyenne.

Charlie’s Cambridge Fellows Series of Edwardian romantic mysteries was instrumental in her being named Author of the Year 2009 by the review site Speak Its Name. She’s a member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association, Mystery People, International Thriller Writers Inc and is on the organising team for UK Meet for readers/writers of GLBT fiction. She regularly appears with The Deadly Dames.

Connect with Charlie:

Website:charliecochrane.co.uk/
Blog: charliecochrane.livejournal.com/
Twitter: @charliecochrane
Facebook profile page: facebook.com/charlie.cochrane.18
Goodreads: goodreads.com/goodreadscomcharlie_cochrane

Giveaway

To celebrate the release of Broke Deep, one lucky winner will receive a goodie bag containing postcards, a notebook, a tea towel, candy and more, all from Charlie Cochrane! Leave a comment with your contact info to enter the contest. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on June 10, 2017. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries. Thanks for following the tour, and don’t forget to leave your contact info!

Bad Magic (Spell Slave #1) by Evelyn Elliott
Release Date: October 28, 2015

Goodreads Link
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Christine Griffin

Blurb

Morality is relative. At least that’s what young sorcerer Regis Teller convinces himself. He’s done what he must to survive: working for a witch since he was nine, helping her throw the kingdom into anarchy, and taking his only comfort in her mysterious son, Crow. And soon, Regis is going to commit his first murder.

A do-gooder named Jonathan White has information the witch needs, and it’s Regis’s job to get that information and slit Jonathan’s throat. But then Regis actually meets Jonathan. And Jonathan is perfect—a hero with a passion for justice and little regard for civility.

Lucky for Regis, Jonathan has a weakness for attractive men. Lucky for Jonathan, Regis is fast developing a conscience and a heart. But for Regis, keeping both of them alive at their adventure’s end means breaking a magical oath and surviving his ruthless boss—all without telling Jonathan the truth. Falling in love is never easy, especially when everyone involved is lying through their teeth.

Pages or Words: 161 pages, 55,000 words
Can be read as a standalone
Categories: Bisexual, Fantasy, M/M Romance, Romance

Exclusive Excerpt

Chartreuse was a dragon, and as such, it took an entire barrel of wine to get her drunk. When she was done, she kicked the barrel over and waddled over to Jonathan. Human friend, she said. What are you doing? Human celebrations are for drinking and mating, yes? So go mate with someone.

“Go away.”

Oh, stop sulking. No one in this kingdom cares if you mate with other males or not. Just make sure you don’t produce an egg, and we’ll be fine.

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his noise. “Produce a—what? It doesn’t work like that.”

She pushed him with her tail. I tire of you. Go mate.

Stumbling upright, he wandered to where a round man was serving mulled wine to anyone sober enough to pay. He headed to the only empty table and sat.

Almost immediately, a man came over. A striking man, at that. His skin was remarkably fine, white as eggshells, and his dark hair cut a line over his shoulder. He looked delicate rather than sturdy. Despite this, he wore a row of throwing knives on his belt. Without asking, he sat across from Jonathan. “Well hello, hero. I hear you killed the baron.”

“I’m not in the mood for talking,” Jonathan said.

“Lovely. Neither am I.”

“Get lost. You’re not my type.”

The stranger smiled wryly. “C’mon. You’re the savior of the whole damn town, and you’re over here looking miserable. I feel bad for you, all right? Let me buy you a drink. I’ll sit here and scowl at anyone who tries to flirt with you.” Jonathan motioned for the barmaid to bring him a drink. “Allow me,” the stranger said, tossing her a coin. “Where you from, hero?”

Gods above. Jonathan put his head down. “The North. You?”

The stranger waved dismissively. “Not important. So, is the North really all ice and mountains and dragons?”

“Yeah.”

“I hear you barbarians can really drink.”

“Also true.” Jonathan chuckled as the stranger raised his cup in a mock toast. They both took a long drink, Jonathan draining his completely. The stranger looked suitably impressed, motioning the barkeep for two more drinks and paying yet again. Jonathan took another draught. He coughed, throat burning. This new drink was quite a bit stronger than his last.

The stranger smiled guiltily. “You look like you need it.”

Jonathan sighed. “I do.”

His new companion didn’t press him for details, something Jonathan was painfully grateful for. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about it, ever.

Gods, but he wanted to kiss Regis again.

The stranger stretched. Jonathan watched from the corners of his eyes and weighed his options. The people of the North didn’t approve of such things. His family had expected him to marry a woman to have children with, an idea Jonathan found repulsive on multiple accounts. He knew what he wanted: a traveling companion. Male. Smart. Mouthy, maybe.

“So,” the stranger said, “what were you sulking about?”

“I’m not sulking. I’m frustrated.” Jonathan sighed. “Have you ever been attracted to someone you shouldn’t be?”

“Haven’t we all?”

“No, I mean, I really shouldn’t be. He’s an ass.” The stranger laughed. “No, seriously. I didn’t care for him at first, but he’s just… so easy to be around.” Jonathan drew out the words, one by one, like he was voicing something he didn’t fully understand. “It’s like there’s no filter between his brain and his mouth. He’s never polite for the sake of being polite. And I guess I’m going to miss him, you know? When all this is over. I’m helping him with this quest, see, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen once we’re done.”

“So why don’t you tell him that?”

“I don’t think he feels the same,” Jonathan said. “I kissed him, and he pushed me away.” He exhaled sharply. “He looked horrified.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” the stranger said. “I bet he already has a lover. Someone dashing and handsome. Funny, too. You can’t compete with that.”

Jonathan shook his head. “He’s attracted to women.”

The stranger leaned back in his chair. “So where you’re from, people are only attracted to one gender or the other?”

“Well, yes. Mostly just the opposite gender. I thought you knew that.”

“I knew Northerners had some bizarre taboos,” the stranger said. “I hear you only have sex to make children. Is it true? That’s disgusting. Who associates sex with childbirth?”

“Wait, so, all Tyrians are… are attracted to everyone?”

“You’re thinking of prostitutes,” the stranger said. “And to be honest, I think most of them are just in it for the money.” Jonathan snorted. “You have something on your mouth,” the stranger said. He made a motion across his lips.

“You mean the scar?”

“Mhm. Is there a story behind it?”

Jonathan took another drink. The man was attractive. There was no denying that. And he wasn’t much like Regis, which was important, because Jonathan would give anything to forget that disaster.

He’d told this story before. He usually made something up. This time, he settled for something close to the truth. “When I was a kid, I kissed my best friend. He bit me, leaving—well, this.” He gestured to the scar. “He told my father, who later confronted me. I lied. I said we’d fought, the mark was a knife wound, and my friend was making up stories to get me in trouble.”

“Did your father believe you?”

Jonathan considered the question. His father hadn’t believed him. His father had known everything. His father had never asked him to enjoy sleeping with women, only to keep his perversions quiet. Take a wife. Have some children. Become jarl. Dance like a puppet. Jonathan had nearly lost his mind.

But Jonathan hadn’t told anyone the full story in a very long time, and he wasn’t about to start now. It hurt too much to say out loud. “I think so,” he said. “My father let it go, but my friend never talked to me again. A while later, I found Chartreuse and realized that I was as bad at hunting dragons as I was at bedding women. So I told my family I was going to become an adventurer, and I left.” There was an extended silence. Jonathan groaned. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear this. I’m just another drunk raving about his troubles.”

The stranger patted him. “I’m here to listen.”

“You’re just trying to sleep with me.”

The stranger grinned. “Is it that obvious?”

“You keep batting your eyes at me. You’re also trying to get me drunk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said the stranger. “You’ve had twice as much as me, and you’re twice as sober. No, I’m trying to get myself drunk. I’m desperately hoping some big, strong alpha-male type will take advantage of me. You know, someone tall, blond, handsome, maybe with a pleasing foreign accent.”

“I bet you think you’re charming.”

“Oh, I do.”

Against his will, Jonathan smiled.

The stranger staggered to his feet. “Alas, it seems you don’t.” He set another coin on the table. “Take my advice. Have another round. Fuck somebody pretty. You might be dead in a week, Jonathan.”

He turned to go. Jonathan reacted purely on instinct, grabbing him by the arm. The stranger looked back, first at Jonathan’s grip, then up, and Jonathan realized what he had done. The contact was illicit, strange. He could feel muscle beneath his grip. “You’re going?” he said.

The stranger chuckled. “To find someone who thinks I’m their type.”

“Types are bullshit,” Jonathan said.

He let go. The stranger didn’t leave. He paused instead, resting his hands on the back of his chair, and rather than sit again, he looked Jonathan up and down. His lips parted, but for once, he seemed to have no witty remark on hand. “Cat got your tongue?” Jonathan asked.

“Hush,” said the stranger. “I’ll think of something in a moment.”

“And here I thought I was being seduced by someone clever. Pity. You almost had me.”

“Oh? I’ll have to try harder.” He laid a hand on Jonathan’s bicep. He ran his thumb over the muscle there, making no coy attempt to hide what he was doing. To be touched so overtly, and by someone he didn’t know… to have this person crowding his personal space… it lit all his senses.

Up close, Jonathan could see that his eyes were not brown, but black as coal. There was a significant pause. Jonathan said, “I thought you were going to try harder.”

“I am trying harder.” He reached out. His fingers brushed past Jonathan’s ear, resting on his nape, and Jonathan held still. The stranger leaned down. A breath away, he held there.

Jonathan had been amused, before.

Now the lighthearted air had transformed into something else entirely. He was keenly aware of how long it had been since he’d had another man, keenly aware of the smell of him: a spicy, heady scent, doubtless something he wore. This was a man who knew what he was doing. “You’re very good at this,” Jonathan said hoarsely.

“I’m very good at a lot of things.”

“Like being arrogant?”

“Among others. I could show you.”

Jonathan kissed him. A curious, chaste brush of lips. The stranger’s breath caught, and the sound of it undid Jonathan completely. He rose from his seat, pulling the man closer to him. Lips parted sweetly, but nothing deepened, each pressing and then drawing away, before at last they let each other go. Jonathan focused on the table. In his haste to stand, he had knocked over his drink.

“I hear the innkeeper put you up for free,” said the stranger. “You have a room?”

Jonathan laughed. “I don’t even know your name.”

He kissed Jonathan’s hand. “Crow,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jonathan.”

Buy the book: Dreamspinner | ARe | Amazon

Meet the Author

At first glance, Evelyn Elliott seems like a perfectly normal person. Do not be deceived.
Her hobbies include watching grisly horror movies, torturing her characters, and tending to her flower garden. She enjoys long walks on the beach and collecting the souls of small children. Whenever she reads a book, she always roots for the villain.

Avoid her at all costs. Certainly do not find her on facebook or befriend her online. You have better things to do.

Where to find the author:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100011035004723

Tour Dates & Stops:

8-Apr: Wicked Faerie’s Tales and Reviews, BFD Book Blog

11-Apr: Nephy Hart, MM Good Book Reviews

12-Apr: Havan Fellows

13-Apr: Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, The Novel Approach

14-Apr: V’s Reads, Sinfully Addicted to All Male Romance

15-Apr: A.M. Leibowitz

18-Apr: Bayou Book Junkie, Alpha Book Club

19-Apr: Kirsty Loves Books