Love Historical Romance? Don’t Miss ‘The Quality of Mercy (Bent Oak Saga #2)’ by Ari McKay (guest post and exclusive excerpt)

The Quality of Mercy (Bent Oak Saga #2) by Ari McKay
Dreamspinner Press

Cover by Reese Dante,Website: https://www.reesedante.com

Preorder Links: Dreamspinner Press: eBookPaperback:  

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to welcome back McKay of Ari McKay, here to talk about their latest release The Quality of Mercy.

♦︎

Hi, everyone! I’m the McKay half of Ari McKay, and I’d like to thank Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words for hosting us on our blog tour for our new historical Western, The Quality of Mercy. This is the second book in our Bent Oak Saga series, set in Texas in the late 19th century.

Today, I’d like to share an exclusive excerpt from the book, one that shows the uphill battle Carlos faces in winning Jules’s heart. I hope you enjoy it!

Exclusive Excerpt

“Tonight we have something new and special for the harvest festival,” Miss McManus announced. “In honor of the season, our schoolmaster, Mr. Jules Wingate, will read a selection of seasonal poetry for us, accompanied by the beautiful music of one of Mercy’s favorite cowboys, Mr. Carlos Hernandez.”

Miss McManus stepped aside and the audience applauded politely. Jules removed several sheets of paper from his coat pocket; he’d copied all the poems down in case nerves got the better of him. He waited while Carlos readied his guitar. Carlos sat down in the chair that had been provided for him, tuned his guitar, and smiled warmly at Jules when he was ready.

Jules began with the Browning poem he’d chosen, modulating his voice to reach to the back of the room so everyone could hear him. Carlos’s music suited the poem perfectly, adding its own beauty to the measured lines of verse. When they finished, there was loud applause. So it went through the other seasonal poetry. Carlos found the perfect accompaniment to enhance the spoken words and make them seem richer and more vibrant. Each was given enthusiastic acknowledgment, and Jules was pleased the people of Mercy were so receptive.

After a brief pause to let the applause die away, Jules recited “Annabel Lee.” The poem had been one of his favorites since school, the pathos of the tale elevated to something transcendent by a poet without peer. It meant even more to him after losing Carlos, for the yearning, even in the face of incredible pain, was something he knew all too well. To have loved and lost made the poem resonate with him in ways that nothing else did. To know the love he had lost and missed so deeply sat only a few feet from him somehow made it all the more heart-wrenching, and he knew the depth of his own loss was reflected in his voice.

When he finished speaking and the last beautiful, melancholy chord of Carlos’s guitar died away, there was utter silence for several moments. Jules looked out on the people who had come to listen, seeing tears glistening in more than a few eyes. Then the applause began, and it shook the very timbers of the building with its power.

Stunned, Jules took a step back, drawing in a deep breath and glancing at Carlos.

“I think they liked it,” he said, pitching his voice to not be lost in the thunderous clapping.

“Of course they did,” Carlos replied with a little nod. “You are a captivating speaker. You always have been.”

Jules smiled, feeling his face grow hot at the compliment, which warmed him far more than it should. “Thank you. But I think your music gave it that extra something.”

“Thank you.” Carlos turned away briefly to pack up his guitar, and then he stood up and moved closer to Jules. “Our talents are well matched,” he said, and a heated gleam appeared in his dark eyes before he leaned over and murmured in Jules’s ear, “We were well-matched in several ways, as I recall.”

Memories of the two of them entwined in passion rose to torment Jules, no doubt as Carlos intended. Jules felt himself flushing again, and he shook his head, taking a step back to put some distance between them, glancing quickly at the audience to make certain no one was paying attention to them. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yet not so long ago that I have forgotten the pleasure of your touch or the sweetness of your kisses,” Carlos said. He winked at Jules before picking up his case and sauntering away, seeming to put a little extra swagger in his step for Jules’s benefit.

Jules wished he could smack Carlos. Carlos knew exactly what he was doing to Jules, and Jules was frustrated with himself that he wasn’t immune to Carlos’s tactics. He watched Carlos walk off, unable to keep from thinking about how different Carlos’s body would be now that he’d filled out, all broad shoulders and lean hips.

Jules bit off a growl. Rather than dwell on it, he joined Al to watch a skit put on by the older students from school, as well as the musical performances to follow. He tried to enjoy himself and put Carlos out of his mind, but he found his gaze straying throughout the evening, watching Carlos as he interacted with other people. He couldn’t seem to help himself, and every time Carlos noticed him looking, he gave Jules a heated smile.

A young cowboy, perhaps a few years older than Al, approached Carlos, and Jules was experienced enough to recognize the subtle flirtation in the way the handsome blond stood a bit too close to Carlos and leaned in whenever Carlos spoke. He wasn’t certain if Carlos was uninterested in the young man or if age had schooled him to more discretion, but Carlos didn’t appear to give the young man any encouragement. Still, the sight gave Jules a pang he had no right whatsoever to feel. It reminded him that Carlos probably hadn’t spent the past ten years alone the way Jules had, and that even if Carlos wanted him now, Jules wouldn’t be able to hold his interest for long.

The performances ended, and Jules rose, ignoring Carlos and the other young man. Feeling deflated, Jules made himself nod politely and accept the compliments of those around him for his own part in the evening, but he didn’t linger. Instead he decided to help the group of people who were cleaning up the tables outside, keeping busy instead of dwelling on what could never be.

Blurb

 

Gil Porter and Matt Grayson’s Bent Oak Ranch in Mercy, Texas is a rare haven for gay men in the 19th century, and their friend Carlos Hernandez will need it when a man from his past unexpectedly comes back into his life.

Jules Wingate hopes to start over in Mercy as the schoolmaster after a scandal sent him and his son fleeing their former home. But he discovers he’s left one bad situation for another when he encounters his former student and lover, Carlos. No matter how Jules tries to resist, he yearns for the passionate connection they once shared… before Carlos broke his heart.

Carlos knows his foolish, immature actions hurt Jules, but he desperately wants a second chance and to show Jules he’s changed. But trust so badly broken is hard to repair. While he works to earn Jules’s forgiveness, someone else at the ranch has his sights set on Carlos—and he doesn’t care how many lives he has to ruin to make Carlos his and his alone.

About the Authors

Ari McKay is the professional pseudonym for Arionrhod and McKay, who have been writing together for over a decade. Their collaborations encompass a wide variety of romance genres, including contemporary, fantasy, science fiction, gothic, and action/adventure. Their work includes the Blood Bathory series of paranormal novels, the Herc’s Mercs series, as well as two historical Westerns: Heart of Stone and Finding Forgiveness. When not writing, they can often be found scheming over costume designs or binge watching TV shows together.

Arionrhod is a systems engineer by day who is eagerly looking forward to (hopefully) becoming a full time writer in the not-too-distant future. Now that she is an empty-nester, she has turned her attentions to finding the perfect piece of land to build a fortress in preparation for the zombie apocalypse, and baking (and eating) far too many cakes.

McKay is an English teacher who has been writing for one reason or another most of her life. She also enjoys knitting, reading, cooking, and playing video games. She has been known to knit in public. Given she has the survival skills of a gnat, she’s relying on Arionrhod to help her survive the zombie apocalypse.

AUTHOR CONTACTS:

Website: http://arimckay.wordpress.com

Facebook author page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ari-Mckay/266185570179748

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/ari.mckay.7

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AriMcKay1

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6153630.Ari_McKay

Release Blitz – The Fortune Hunter by Bonnie Dee (excerpt and giveaway)

 

 
Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK
 
Length: 68,000 words
 
Cover Design: Fantasia Frog Designs
 
Blurb
 

A man with nothing finds everything.

Abandoned at birth, WWI veteran Hal Stanton faces bleak employment prospects in post-war London. Desperation spurs him to reinvent himself to hook a wealthy wife, one he will be devoted to even if he feels no real passion. But when he meets his fiance’s cousin, Julian Needham, it’s all he can do to keep his heart in check and his eye on the prize.

From the moment he’s introduced to the charming stranger Margaret plans to marry, Julian suspects the man’s motives yet fights a relentless attraction. He’s determined to reveal Hal as a fraud but must handle the matter delicately to protect his sweet cousin’s feelings. A weekend at the family estate should allow time and opportunity for him to expose Halstead Wiley.

Even as the men match wits in a battle of attempted unmasking, powerful sexual attraction threatens to overcome them both and win the day. Can a true love connection possibly grow between these adversaries without destroying lives and loved ones?

Excerpt

Drawing up in front of the Needham house on the curved driveway, Hal felt as if he ought to be arriving in a carriage and four rather than Margaret’s Daimler motorcar. The sprawling limestone house was a convoluted collection of roof peaks, turrets, and wings added on over the years. It looked like a castle, proclaiming nobility dwelt within and an outsider like him would never belong.

Hal didn’t resent the upper class their wealth, power, and prestige. He merely wanted to become one of them. Was that so awful? A friend had once come to Hal’s flat begging a sanctuary to spend a night or two. The stay had turned into something more like two months. But Hal certainly understood that desire to lay down the burden of constant struggle to survive and find a quiet, comfortable resting spot.

Margaret would be his safe place, and he would be hers, making certain she never wanted for companionship. In return, he’d have a nice house, good food, and a fine wardrobe. He would guard her fortune as if it were his own, spending wisely and increasing it shrewdly. He wouldn’t be a burden but a life companion in an easygoing, if chaste, arrangement.

He got out of the passenger side of the car, and Margaret came around to join him. “What do you think? The house may appear grand, but don’t let the battlements fool you. Inside, it’s quite shabby. Despite a respectable family name, my aunt and uncle aren’t wealthy by any means.”

Hal tucked her hand through the loop of his arm. “I’m not nervous. I’m quite ready to meet them and explain why I’ve fallen in love with their one-of-a-kind niece. This must have been a wonderful place to grow up with all those nooks and crannies to explore.”

“It truly was. Mother and I could have afforded to stay in our own home after Father died. But I’m so glad we came to live with Aunt Agnes and Uncle Harold; otherwise, I never would’ve had brothers like Julian and James.” She frowned. “After nearly two years, I still have trouble thinking of James in the past tense.”

Hal recalled James had survived France but died in the influenza epidemic almost immediately upon his return home. He put an arm around Margaret and hugged her. “You must miss him terribly.”

“His passing has been difficult for me but nearly killed my aunt and uncle. They’re still mourning. And Julian…” She shook her head.

“Misses his brother and perhaps blames himself for being alive,” Hal guessed. “I understand that feeling, having lost many comrades at the front.”

Margaret stopped at the doorstep and turned to him, eyes shining. “You survived because God had more for you to do in this life. He brought you to me, for which I am ever grateful.”

Hal hated himself just a little more at her declaration. When he’d begun this plan, he’d imagined landing a wealthy older widow who knew the score and didn’t mind so long as she had a handsome young husband to show off to her friends like a trophy. But then he’d met Margaret. He’d been so taken with her blend of sweetness and assertiveness that it had seemed possible to make a sham marriage work. Now he was stuck with the plan he’d devised.

The door opened before they knocked. A stooped older man with a paunch swelling his waistcoat greeted them. “Welcome home, Miss Margaret.”

“Hello, Grover. You’re looking very dapper today. I’m so glad to be back. I’ve missed home these past months. May I present my fiancé, Mr. Halstead Wiley.”

The butler bowed. “Good day, sir. Welcome to Barton Park.”

Hal almost returned the bow, then recalled his proper standing and nodded politely instead. “I’m happy to be here.”

Grover escorted them to the drawing room, where Mr. and Mrs. Needham and Julian were already gathered. Hal assessed the room before following Margaret inside. Pale blue walls and rug offered a sense of tranquility and the room was not overly cluttered. The dark, heavy pieces of furniture from an older century didn’t fit the pale color palette that suggested a more chic, modern décor.

Margaret’s aunt and uncle rose to greet him. The outdated style of Mrs. Needham’s gown didn’t detract from her aura of grace and refinement as she offered her hand. “Mr. Wiley, we’re pleased you could come. Darling Margaret is the daughter we never had, and we were eager to meet the man she’s chosen.”

“Quite so,” Mr. Needham said.

Hal wasn’t certain if he was meant to shake Mrs. Needham’s hand or kiss it. The customs of the gentry weren’t familiar to him. He gave a polite press before letting go, then turned to offer a hearty shake to Mr. Needham. “The pleasure is mine. Your niece is a prize.”

“Yes, she is.” Mr. Needham gave Hal an assessing look with gray eyes very much like his son’s.

Hal scanned the rest of the room to find Julian standing near the window. Sunlight burnished his brown hair with golden highlights. His well-cut profile with its straight nose and strong jawline was haloed in light. When he turned his stern gaze toward Hal, a little hum of anticipation awoke within him.

Hal squelched this reaction to a man he considered an adversary. Needham had invited him here to poke holes in his story, so he must be on guard every moment not to give himself away. If this wedding were to be called off, he’d be jobless and desperate again. One would expect work to be plentiful in the aftermath of the Great War with so few veterans returning, but the economy was in shambles. Odd jobs were all Hal had been able to find, spurring him to his mad scheme to land a wealthy woman.

He offered a bright smile. “Good to see you again, Mr. Needham.”

As much as it wasn’t, it actually was. Needham intrigued Hal, not only his physical demeanor but his affectionate manner with Margaret and his magnetic presence. Had they met under other circumstances, he and Julian might have been friends—or probably something more than friends, for Hal guessed “confirmed bachelor” Julian shared his attraction to men.

Hal dragged his thoughts away from the sorts of activities they might have gotten up to in another time and place, as he sat beside his betrothed on a sofa. “You have a lovely home,” he complimented his hosts. “Its history must be fascinating.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Needham said. “Barton Park was built in 1640 and belonged to several families before the Needhams took possession.”

Her husband added dryly, “You may learn the entire history on every second Wednesday of the month, when the house is open. I daresay the tour guide is more educated on both the history and the architecture than we are.”

“Tours?” Julian abandoned his spot by the window to stride across the room with long-legged grace. “When did this begin?”

“Surely I mentioned this in one of my letters. A company that arranges tours approached us this past summer,” Mrs. Needham explained. “At first, your father refused to speak with their representative, but when we learned other owners of other estates were allowing tours, we decided to give it a go. It’s a respectable way to share one’s heritage and is little trouble at all. Thus far, the tourists, both domestic and foreign, have been orderly and respectful.”

“Not at all annoying having strangers troop through one’s home,” Mr. Needham continued in his sub-Saharan tone. “And you’d know about this if you paid the least attention to what your mother writes, or if you came for a visit every so often.”

Julian stood before his parents, scowling. “You did not mention this in any of your letters. I’d no idea you’d reached such a…” He glanced at Hal and seemed to reconsider airing his family’s financial business. “That you were considering such a thing.”

“It has become quite common these days for historical houses to be on display,” Mrs. Needham pointed out. “As you’ve said, times are changing.”

“More’s the pity,” the elder Needham growled.

Hal sat very still, wishing he were someplace else and not witnessing this family argument. He’d had no idea the Needhams were in such difficult straits until today. Apparently, their children hadn’t either. Surely Margaret would want to offer financial help, which would cut into the inheritance from her father’s side. He was a horrible person to immediately consider how the Needham family’s misfortune might affect him and his plans.

“Honestly, I think it’s rather brilliant to open the house to tours.” Margaret smoothed the folds of her modish knee-length dress. “Tourists enjoy seeing grand houses from a former century. The building should earn its maintenance at the very least. But if you require more financial assistance, please let me know. I want to do my part for the family.”

Julian Needham quickly added, “I can offer help as well. My investments are doing well enough.”

“We’re not quite destitute, although apparently our home has become a museum artifact to be gawked at by strangers,” Mr. Needham said.

“Thank you, my dears, for your generous thought. But such a discussion is most inappropriate at this celebratory occasion.” Mrs. Needham turned her attention to Hal. “Tell us how you two met.”

“We were both browsing at a bookstore. I shared a recommendation with Hal, and we talked for hours. You can see how that conversation ended.” Margaret turned her beaming smile on Hal. “Or never ended, for we always find something to discuss.”

“I was taken with Margaret from the moment we met. She manages to be both imaginative and levelheaded at the same time. One doesn’t let a quality woman like Margaret slip away.”

“Your family approves the arrangement?” Mr. Needham probed.

Hal seized a quick breath before plunging into his embroidered history. He hadn’t tried to pretend to Margaret that he came from any sort of gentility, instead inventing middle-class parents of modest means.

“My parents have passed, and I have no extended family. But I’m certain both Father and Mother would have welcomed Margaret with open arms.”

“Tell us about your parents,” Needham senior pushed.

“My father owned several shipping concerns. But in one year, a freighter was lost at sea and another seized by pirates. This put a great strain on his fortune and took a toll on his health.” Hal patted his chest, indicating possible heart failure or a broken heart. Let them decide which. “He passed away within a year, and my dear mother followed soon after. I believe she couldn’t face life without him.”

Mrs. Needham gave a soft murmur, and Margaret reached to pat Hal’s hand. He bowed his head, hoping he wasn’t overdoing the drama.

“Were you left penniless then?” Julian’s tone was cool and less than sympathetic.

“Julian!” Mrs. Needham exclaimed at his shocking ill manners.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Needham. It is quite reasonable to wonder about the stranger your niece has brought home. I should have followed custom and asked permission for her hand.” Hal offered an apologetic smile, then continued trying to reassure them he had nothing to hide.

“I invested the small inheritance I received and have increased it over the years, so I live quite comfortably. I won’t pretend to be more than I am. I come from a middle-class background, and I’m in love with a woman who is clearly above me. But I care for Margaret very much.”

The last part at least was true. Hal took her hand, gazed into her eyes, and prayed his selfish intentions could be forgiven.

Margaret smiled. “As I care for you.”

Julian made a small sound that might have signaled either acceptance or disgust.

Hal darted a sharp glance at him.

“It’s a lovely afternoon. I should like to take you on a tour of the land before supper,” Margaret said.

“Perfect weather for an invigorating walk,” Hal agreed and blessed her for freeing him from the relentless questioning.

“I’ll go with you.” Julian had not taken a seat during the entire conversation, and now he started for the door. “I should like to see how the farms are doing.”

They bid their elders goodbye and entered the hallway. Margaret excused herself to change into proper attire.

Hal had brought no walking shoes and lingered awkwardly with Julian, who scanned him up and down.

“You’ll want a pair of Wellingtons. The fields and woods are muddy. And a drover’s coat to cover this fine wool.” He fingered the lapel of Hal’s jacket, tailored for a gentleman and discovered by Hal in a secondhand store.

Julian stood so near, Hal felt the heat of his body and inhaled the scent of his shaving lotion. Did Julian mean to be intimidating? Probably, because he stared at Hal with the assessing eyes of judge, jury, and executioner.

When Julian at last stepped back, Hal took a deep breath. Unfortunately, the man wasn’t only a barrier to breach, he also unleashed attraction such as Hal hadn’t felt in a long time. Perhaps Julian sensed his desire and was baiting him to make an impulsive move.

But Hal wouldn’t reveal himself so foolishly. Nothing could come between him and the quiet, calm, comfortable life he craved. He must convince this doubting Thomas before he derailed Hal’s matrimonial plan.

Dear Readers,

I began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, I was the designated ghost tale teller guaranteed to frighten and thrill with macabre tales. I still have a story printed on yellow legal paper in second grade about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat.

As an adult, I enjoy reading stories about people damaged by life who find healing with a like-minded soul. When I couldn’t find enough such books, I began to write them. Whether you’re a fan of contemporary historical or fantasy romance, you’ll find something to enjoy among my books.

To stay informed about new releases, please sign up for my newsletter. You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee.

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A MelanieM Review: The Valet by S.J. Foxx

Rating: 3 stars out of 5

After scandalising his family name, wealthy brat Hugo is kicked out of his parent’s home in NYC, and tossed into the English countryside. There, he must live with his extended family and learn what it means to be a “gentleman,” or be cut off and left without his inheritance.

Brattish, reckless, and out of control, it seems that Hugo may never learn his manners. That is, until he meets his match: a stoic, no-nonsense valet, Sebastian.

Hugo and Sebastian are swept up in a forbidden fling, and they play a game of power.

Can Sebastian get a handle on his master? Or will Hugo’s foolishness leave him penniless?

I enjoy historical fiction and that includes historical romance.  I love it when the author get an era factually correct and then draws me into it, making the times and characters come alive for me.  And I think for the most part S.J. Foxx did that in The Valet.  Set in 1900’s England,  Foxx gives you a very “Upstairs, Downstairs” world of the very rich in England into which tumbles an American cousin called Hugo.

Hugo is the very essence of entitlement and selfishness.  His deeds back home have gotten him banished to England and only if he “turns into an English gentleman”, leaving his caddish ways behind can he hope to return home and claim his own wealth.  Foxx does a great job in giving us Huge the Brat supreme, which he is for most of the story. Too much in my estimation because I absolutely disliked this character.  His personality and likability was so low that I had trouble seeing what attracted Sebastian to him.  If the author had made Hugo Sebastian’s ticket out of England instead of there being an actual emotional tie this book would have made far more sense to me.

So throwing the romance aspect aside because that didn’t work for me, what I thought was interesting (and wished had been enlarged) was “downstairs” or working person element here, including the one that shows  up towards the end of the story.  The imbalance of power and lack of rights is clearly demonstrated here.  Status and money rule and its impact on the lives is reflected accurately in this story.  However, I felt about the romance, this element of The Valet is well done and the writing carries with it emotional heft.

If you like historical fiction, then you might like The Valet as an addition to the stories you have read so far.  I thought the writing was well done, and the author’s take on the times clear and concise.

Cover art by Natasha Snow suits the story well.

Sales Links: 

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Book Details:

ebook
Published October 30th 2017 by NineStar Press
ISBN139781947904125
Edition LanguageEnglish
URLhttps://ninestarpress.com/product/the-valet/

Mark Wildyr on his historical novel Cut Hand (Cut Hand #1) (author guest blog and special excerpt)

Cut Hand (Cut Hand #1) by Mark Wildyr

DSP Publications
Cover art by Maria Fanning
Release Date: October 31, 2017

Available for Purchase at DSP Publications | Amazon

 iBooks  and Kobo  

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to host Mark Wildyr here today on his tour for Cut Hand.  Welcome, Mark.

✒︎

 

May I take a moment to thank Stella and Melanie at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words for agreeing to host this guest post for my upcoming novel CUT HAND. The book blurb captures the theme and intent of my historical novel as well as anything else:

Far from the world he knows, he’ll find a home.

Among strangers, he’ll find acceptance.

And in the arms of an unexpected man, he’ll find love.

Young Billy Strobaw comes West to escape the stigma of his Tory family. In the Dakota Territories, he encounters the Yanube warrior Cut Hand. Billy’s attraction to the other man is as surprising as the Yanube perspective on same-sex love. Unlike Europeans, the Siouan tribe celebrates such unions. Billy and Cut Hand can live as partners and build a life together, which Billy agrees to do.

As Billy struggles to acclimate to a very different culture, quickly discovering the Yanube have as much to teach him as he has to impart to them, a larger struggle is brewing. The white man is barreling through the Great Plains, trampling underfoot anyone who stands in his way. As a leader of his people, Cut Hand must decide whether it will be peace or war.

In a historical romance taking place against the epic backdrop of the early American West, where a single spark can ignite a powder keg of greed, lust for power, and misunderstanding, one man must find his place in history and his role in the preservation of all he has come to value.

I have chosen a passage from well into the story (Chapter 22, in fact) to illustrate the lengths my protagonist, William Joseph Strobaw, a very honest man, feels he has to go in order to protect his adopted people from the ravages of the white man.

*****

YAWKTOWN HAD grown to the point where the city fathers saw fit to change the name to Yanube City. My friends from the old days were now men of substance, and I was about to use their influence to the full extent of my ability. Since it was late when I arrived, I took a room at the Rainbow Hotel, as the establishment was now called, and bathed in one of their new baths. Each floor had a fully equipped bath with a zinc-lined tub.

Early the next morning, I called on the land office and made certain the title to Teacher’s Mead and the one hundred sixty acres around it was correctly entered. The government surveyed some years back, permitting me to exercise my right of purchase under the 1841 Pre-Assumption Act. Now I made a bid for contiguous land. If no one contested my offer, I would own four thousand acres of land lying astride the Yanube River. I bid the minimum provided for by the compromise, virtually destroying my account at the bank. It seemed politic to pacify Banker Crozier, whose influence I would need, by agreeing he could draft most of the cost from my account with the bank at Fort Ramson. Beyond this, I had to surrender a portion of my gold and silver coins to satisfy the bid.

The most crucial part of my scheme rested with the next call. Abraham Kranzmeier, the Jewish tailor, now had four young seamstresses and two sons working for him. Despite his age, he arrived at the shop each day to inspect every stitch that went into garments made in his name. I had given him custom over the years, and we held one another in esteem. He flicked a bushy gray eyebrow when I asked to speak in private but wordlessly led me back to a room furnished like a comfortable parlor in a home. He offered a cup of expensive imperial tea with lemon and settled back to stroke his long beard and listen.

“Abraham, I come to you because if anyone in this town understands the yoke of oppression, it is you. I intend to do something not exactly proper, not for my own personal gain, but for the protection of people who will need it in the years to come.”

I paused for him to volunteer some comment. “I heard what happened to your Indian family. You come on behalf of the survivors.”

“I have a beautiful piece of ground at Teacher’s Mead. When my time comes, I want to make certain it goes to my intended heirs.”

The old man took out a crooked, elaborately carved pipe, and for one minute I thought he was going to offer it in ceremonial observation. “So you see the same future I do,” he said, settling the pipe comfortably in the corner of his mouth.

“Indians are going to become the Jews of America,” I answered. “They will be denied ownership of their own land, citizenship in their own country, and forfeit their very lives if no protection is offered. I seek to provide this protection to a few of them.”

“You want to leave them your property.”

“And my testament will not be honored unless I fix things a little. So I come to a respected member of a community with a long history of surviving hostile systems.”

“In other words, you come to an old Jew. An old Jew whose nephew, although he bears a gentile name, is the clerk for this territory. Tell me what you need.”

I wanted a record of a marriage between me and Butterfly, a woman of the Yanube band, in the spring of 1834, some two years before the actual event, and a marriage license to go with it. I wanted a record of birth and a birth certificate for William Cuthan Strobaw as issue from this marriage for any day in December 1835, plus a baptismal certificate in the Methodist Church, one of the more active in the area. The old man listened and then named a sum, explaining it was not payment to him but the cost of having the items created. I handed over some of my hoarded gold coins and asked him to expedite the process. I wanted as much time between this and my own demise as possible. Time often perfected titles.

*****

“The Indian will become the Jews of America.” Prophetic words from a wise, farseeing man. His story and that of his love, Cut Hand, make up this novel.

Since I am uncomfortable talking about me, I’ll let the Bio at the end of the novel provide the obligatory words about the author:

Mark Wildyr is an Okie by birth and New Mexican by choice who turned a childhood interest in Native American cultures into a career. His seven published novels and approximately sixty short stories detail how attitudes toward homosexuals—who once held places of honor among some of the tribes—began to change upon the coming of the white man, with his suspicion and fear of those who are “different,” ultimately becoming pariahs even among their own people as the Europeans became dominant.

Wildyr continues to be fascinated by how different people interact together to discover who they are when measured against others. He gives back to his community by teaching a free writing class at an Albuquerque community center.

The following are my contact links:

Once again, thanks Melanie and Stella. I really appreciate this opportunity. And thanks to you readers for being… readers.

Release Blitz for Sweet William by Diane Hartsock (excerpt and giveaway)

Title:  Sweet William

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: October 30, 2017

Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 15800

Genre: Historical, student, dub con/non con, historical, abduction, romance, gay

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Synopsis

William Wilkerson leads the life of the privileged rich. Head of his father’s shipping business, he indulges to his heart’s content in the pleasures of the flesh with Boston’s finest young men.

That is, until he reunites with Fredrick: his former tutor and the one man who captured his heart. But William’s father has declared Fredrick off limits. And Fredrick, himself, believes he’s beneath the attention of the Wilkerson heir.

After having lost his current pupil to graduation, and with no prospects of a replacement, Frederick is homeless, hungry, and easy pickings for the men on the docks. When Frederick is shanghaied into service on William’s own merchant ship, will William discover his plight in time to rescue him?

Excerpt

Sweet William
Dianne Hartsock © 2017
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One

Fredrick held up his glass and stared at the candle’s flame through the amber liquid. He took a sip and savored the rich, biting taste on his tongue, welcoming the burn down his throat. This was the very last drink he could afford, and he had to enjoy it.

A giggle erupted from someone out of sight on the back staircase, and a smile tugged his lips, despite the dire state of his wallet. The laugh had been carefree, joyous, naughty. Fredrick shifted on the cushioned bench. The lunch hour had passed, and he was the only customer in the dining room. He wondered if the innkeeper up front would notice if he adjusted his cramped cock as it throbbed in sympathy with the bright laughter that reminded him of his own ardent affair.

Rather than risk it, he watched the fruit vender outside the window beguile a customer. Another giggle and stifled moan floated down to him and he grinned, even though the laughter emphasized his own loneliness. It had been far too long since he’d had someone in his bed.

Fredrick looked up at the clatter of footsteps, distracted from his memory of lush lips, white skin, and wide hazel eyes. He caught a glimpse of red hair and an embarrassed cheek before the gentleman crammed a hat on his head.

“Damned Wilkerson,” the man muttered as he passed him, face averted.

With conscious effort, Fredrick loosened his hold on his glass, but he had no way to stop the wild hammering of his heart. Wilkerson? Could it really be…? Perhaps not, but the Wilkerson family he knew had strong ties to Boston. At least, the father often traveled there. But did William come now? He had to know. Before he lost his courage, he stood and swallowed the last of the brandy and then crossed the room to the staircase.

He shook his head at his eagerness. It had been three years, after all, and they’d parted in anger. Would William acknowledge him? A man stepped onto the landing and Fredrick allowed his gaze to travel up the white spats and checkered trousers. Blood heated his face when he found the silk vest and shirt open at the throat to expose soft white skin.

A sigh brought his gaze up to the attractive face that stirred his dreams. Rich brown curls surrounded lovely hazel eyes and full, pouting lips. Panic swept the pretty face, and then a delighted smile revealed the even white teeth that had nipped his collarbone on more than one glorious occasion.

“Freddie, is it you?”

He hasn’t forgotten! Fredrick stored away the joy to visit later. God knew his pleasures were few and far between these days. “How are you, William? I had no idea you came to Boston.”

“On occasion.” William stepped off the landing, only a slight sway in his lean body betraying his inebriation. Fredrick’s heart skipped. The top of William’s head barely reached his shoulders—perfect for Fredrick to rest his chin on if he gathered him close. To his surprise, William didn’t hesitate, clasping Fredrick in his arms and stretching for a light kiss. Fredrick’s hold tightened instinctively, but William didn’t seem to mind, winding his arms around Fredrick’s neck. He licked Fredrick’s lips, his sweet tongue seeking entrance.

Fredrick laughed, breathless with the need that swept him, but moved his head back, denying the kisses sure to topple the defenses he’d built against this man.

He chuckled wryly at William’s delicious pout. “You promised not to tease me.”

“That was years ago. I made no promises today.” William nibbled at Fredrick’s lips, but eased away when he resisted.

Fredrick glanced over his shoulder at the innkeeper watching them. “William, what are you about? Anyone could have seen you. This is dangerous—”

“It was only a few kisses, but perhaps you’re right.” A scowl darkened William’s face. “The proprietor is paid handsomely for his discretion, but it’s possible I’m growing careless.”

Distracted by William’s open shirt, Fredrick closed his hands into fists to resist the urge to embrace him again. Memories stirred of the slide of fabric under his fingers: images of cool sheets and creamy skin. He longed to run his tongue down the exposed flesh of William’s neck and revisit the delights he’d enjoyed, once upon a time.

“How is Lord Wilkerson these days?” he asked instead, throwing that barrier between them. A shutter seemed to close on William’s eyes, his gaze becoming less warm. In sudden panic, Fredrick touched his arm, afraid William would walk away. “Forgive me. This is hard for me.”

He trembled when William put a hand over his. “For me, as well, darling. I had no idea you lived in Boston.”

“Or you would have stayed away?” Fredrick regretted the jealous words the instant they left his lips and looked aside to hide the blush he knew reddened his face. He always played the fool with William.

“My father’s been ill for some time. I’ve taken control of the shipping portion of the estate and come to Boston from time to time to check the wares from the Orient. We managed without incident these past ten years, since eighteen seventy-four, but recently we’ve had an increase in damaged goods. My presence at the docks seems to deter clumsiness.”

“Of course.” Fredrick chewed his lips as he searched for something to say, his heart heavy.

“And what is my former teacher doing in this wild town?” William asked, his voice kind.

Fredrick shrugged, not about to tell him he’d run as far from William as he could when Lord Wilkerson had humiliated and dismissed him. “I’ve been tutoring Lord Anadaile’s daughter.”

“For truth? That must be hell on earth. A more spoiled child I’ve yet to meet.”

“She has a good heart, but this position is soon over, anyway. Miss Cynthia comes of age next month, with her debutant party in June. No need for me after that.”

A cough from the innkeeper at the far end of the room caught their attention. As if recalling his state of undress, William buttoned his shirt and did up his vest. Fredrick groaned inwardly as he remembered doing similar service for William after an afternoon spent undressing him.

William gave a brilliant smile as if sharing the memory and took Fredrick’s hand. “Will you have a drink with me at the club?”

Longing almost overcame discretion, but the barrier of their positions couldn’t be ignored, by either side. “Forgive me. I’m not dressed appropriately for your friends.”

William’s beautiful eyes widened as if seeing the frayed brown suit for the first time. Fredrick’s heart warmed. William had the fine trait of seeing a man behind his outward trappings. Rank held little interest for him. For an instant, the ugly thought that William could well afford the fine principle pricked him, but he knew it was his own poverty that prompted the emotion. William had a true heart.

He watched in fascination as a blush tinted William’s porcelain cheeks. William kept his gaze on their clasped hands, and his words started an ache in Fredrick’s chest. “Damn convention and society can go to hell. I’ve missed you, Freddie. I want to see you. Not at the club, and not here.” A flirtatious glance. “I wouldn’t want to bring scandal to my favorite tutor.”

“It’s better we don’t—”

“Probably.”

William leaned up and kissed Fredrick full on the mouth. A sweet tongue slid passed his lips to tangle with his, tasting and teasing. Caught unawares, Fredrick opened to him, drowned in memories of sultry afternoons, bodies entwined. William’s scent surrounded him, spiced with tobacco and whiskey and expensive cologne. Underneath, there was the heady fragrance of heated skin.

Fredrick groaned as lust swamped his defenses. His cock swelled to life for its lover, ached for the touch it had missed for far too many lonely nights. He returned William’s kiss with fervor, forgetting where they were, his position, everything but the need to taste again this man he loved with all his being.

William broke off their kiss and leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. They stared at one another and Fredrick bit hard on his lip. Dearest Lord! William stood before him, everything he desired in life, intelligent and beautiful. Mine! Fredrick’s heart broke, while agony twisted in his gut. He had nothing to offer the eldest son of one of New England’s finest families. He’d known that three years ago. Nothing had changed his circumstances.

William had always been able to read him, and he set his pretty lips in a firm line. “I’m in Boston through the week. I want to see you, Freddie. Please don’t be cruel. Meet me at the pier in two hours.”

“But—”

His protest went unheard. With a flash of anger in his eyes, William strode past him without another word.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Amazon | Smashwords | Barnes & Noble | Kobo

Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter |  Instagram | Pinterest

 

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RIPTIDE TOUR and Giveaway: In His Majesty’s Service by Elizabeth Silver and Jenny Urban

In His Majesty’s Service by Elizabeth Silver and Jenny Urban
Riptide Publishing
Cover art by Lou Harper

Read an Excerpt and Buy it here

Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to have Elizabeth Silver and Jenny Urban here today on their tour for In His Majesty’s Service.

♥︎

Hi and welcome to our blog tour for In His Majesty’s Service! We’re Elizabeth Silver and Jenny Urban and we’re so excited to share the next few days with you. Join us as we talk about our writing process, our book, and how we’ve managed not to kill each other after a decade and a half of friendship. And don’t forget to enter for one of two prizes: a swag pack including a t-shirt, a bag, and a $5 Riptide gift card among other goodies; and an all new Kindle Fire 7!

About In His Majesty’s Service

Everyone in the Drion Collective knows that finding your match—the one person in existence with the same soul mark as yours—is the best thing that could ever happen. But the last thing Lord Anders Hawthorne is thinking about when he boards a ship to Drion for the king’s funeral is finding his soul mate.

Captain Zachary O’Connell has the perfect life—his ship, the stars, and no emotional entanglements. When heat sparks between him and Lord Hawthorne, Zach gleefully dives into a no-strings arrangement. He doesn’t expect it to last beyond arrival at Drion, any more than he expects trouble along the way.

Trouble quickly finds them, however, and it soon becomes clear that Lord Hawthorne is not only not who he says he is, but also that he’s the target of a deadly plot. With danger all around them, Zach and Anders must work together to save the Collective. Meanwhile, Zach must come to grips with losing everything he always thought he wanted, to have the one thing he never dreamed he needed.

Now available from Riptide Publishing

About the Authors

About Elizabeth Silver

Elizabeth Silver is a writer, a tarot reader, a Level Two Cat Lady, and an internet junkie. Her day job is terribly dull, her hobbies oddly specific and quirky, and her husband the most patient person a writer could ask for.

A New Jersey native, Liz is a proud nerd and an awkward human being. She likes to think it makes her endearing. When not writing, Liz can be found collecting tarot cards, chasing Pokemon, fighting her way out of YouTube spirals, and/or performing online searches that will probably land her on a government list somewhere someday.

Connect with Liz:

website: www.idkmybff.com

Facebook: Elizabeth Silver

Twitter: @LizSilverWrites

 

About Jenny Urban

Jenny Urban lives not too far from Las Vegas—but not too close—with two cats named after fictional wizards. She has been writing with coauthor Elizabeth Silver for nearly fifteen years, with their first book published in 2010.

When not writing or at the evil day job, she loves to sing, play the piano, read, and watch monster-hunting brothers on TV.

Connect with Jenny:

Website: www.idkmybff.com

Facebook: Jenny Urban

Twitter: @JenUrbanWrites

Giveaway

To celebrate the release of In His Majesty’s Service, one lucky winner will receive a Kindle Fire 7, and a second lucky winner will win a swag pack including a bag, a t-shirt, a $5 Riptide gift card and a collection of paper goodies!

  

Leave a comment with your contact info to enter the contest. Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on September 16, 2017. Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries. Thanks for following the tour, and don’t forget to leave your contact info!

 

A Caryn Review: Stone by Stone by Stevie Woods

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

I really love historicals.  But I do think they are challenging to authors, because so much research is required to do them right.  This book, unfortunately, is an example of what happens when you don’t do your research, and don’t truly immerse yourself into the period.

Andrew Cheyne is an assistant to King Henry VIII’s commissioner, traveling to all the Roman Catholic abbeys, monasteries, and other holdings in England to take inventory of their assets, wealth, and workings before they were forcibly turned over to the newly created Church of England.  Andrew is a man who had sex with men; not a man who wanted or even considered a romantic or long term relationship with another man.  While at Tavistock Abbey, he met Brother Mark who was an apprentice mason – and was powerfully physically attracted to him.  It took less than 48 hours for him to seduce Mark, but instead of just relieving a physical urge, he found himself intrigued, to the point that even after he left a day later, he couldn’t quit thinking about Mark.

Despite being soft spoken and gentle, Mark is not as innocent as he initially seemed.  He grew up with privilege, which he took advantage of, gambling and having sex with “men, so many men” until his mother forced him to go on a pilgrimage to Rome.  During that pilgrimage he repented, came to understand that God was his only hope for forgiveness and salvation, and when he returned to England he gave up the family farm and his possessions and entered the monastery.  Where he continued to pray to be relieved of his unnatural lusts.  Andrew was the first man to tempt him since he became a monk, and he gave in to that temptation easily and completely.

All of this occurred in the first 20% of the book.  The two men fell into insta-lust that immediately turned into insta-love, and caused them to completely reverse their previous feelings on relationships.  There is little to no description of how homosexual men behaved or were regarded in sixteenth century England, and I found Andrew and Mark’s relationship to be much more fitting to a contemporary time.  There was only token angst about sin, or illegality, and at a minimum I would have expected that from Mark who supposedly had a real religious conversion earlier in his life.  There were some blatant anachronisms (for instance, when Mark wanted to “converse with Andrew in preference to stuffing his face”), but mostly what bothered me was the way these men spoke and acted like 20th century guys who just happened to meet in a monastery.  There were too many convenient occurrences before and after they met (I knew from the moment she was introduced that Emily would die) and they kept pulling me right out of the book.  Working through the last 80% of the book was a chore, and I got really tired of Andrew whining, and thinking of having sex with Mark.

In the end, I went up from 2 to 2.5 stars because I felt that there was some character growth in the years they were apart, with Mark becoming less of a doormat, and Andrew becoming more appreciative of who Mark was.  But since the entire basis of their relationship seemed to be physical, or Andrew’s admiration of Mark’s artistry, I never really got involved with their romance and was just happy when the book ended.

Cover art by Melody Pond matches the period.

Sales Links:  MLR Press LLC

Book Details:

Kindle Edition, 181 pages
Published July 7th 2017 by MLR Press (first published August 22nd 2011)
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An Ali Audiobook Review: The Innocent Auction (Innocent #1) by Victoria Sue and Joel Leslie (Narrator)

Rating: 3.5 stars out of 5
London 1810.

Their love was a death sentence.

Deacon, Viscount Carlisle, was aware of the slums and gin-lanes of London. Just as he was aware of the underground traffic that furnished the brothels and bath houses with human innocents. He was also aware that the so-called justice system would hang the accused without much of an attempt at a defense, unless the unfortunate had deep pockets to pay for it.

He just hadn’t expected to be directly involved in any of it.

It started with a plea for help and ended with forbidden love, the love between a Viscount and a stable-boy. An impossible love and a guarantee of the hangman’s noose.

Will Deacon fight for Tom? Will he risk the death sentence and take that fight from the stately halls of his English mansion to the horrors of Newgate Prison and the slums of London?

Or will he realize that if he doesn’t, death will be a welcome end to the loneliness of the sentence he is already living?
 
This story was a mixed bag for me.  I liked Deacon a lot and I enjoyed the overall plot of him inheriting his father’s responsibilities, while trying to fix the horrendous mess he had made.  I found Deacon’s struggle to do right by his employees and township entertaining and I was eager to see how things worked out.  I especially liked the side story revolving around Deacon’s cousin/best friend Beau.  That more than anything, kept me on the edge of my seat.  I loved the relationship between Deacon and Beau.  It was both beautiful and bittersweet and I found myself teary-eyed at one point.
The part of the story that didn’t really work for me was the relationship between Deacon and Tom.  They had an interesting set up and meeting and I liked that part.  Unfortunately when they meet again it’s a total insta-love.  I had a very hard time buying that they would risk all that they had to risk after only meeting a couple of times.  It didn’t seem realistic to me at all.  I wish the author would have spent more time letting us see their relationship develop.  This had the potential to be an excellent book.  That being said, the epilogue was sweet and I was happy to see them get their happily ever after.
This audiobook was narrated by Joel Leslie and I thought he did a very good job.  I listen to this narrator a lot and his English accent books are my favorites of his.  (I’m American and I have no idea if they’re authentic or not though.)  He did a good job with all of the characters and I never struggled to figure out who was speaking.  He also put the appropriate amount of emotion in to the scenes.  
Overall I enjoyed this and would recommend it to others.  I had the above mentioned complaint but I would try this author again and I will probably read the next book in the series.  If you enjoy audiobooks I would also recommend the audio version.
Cover:  I liked this cover but didn’t love it.  It’s a good representation of the beginning of the book but it’s a little too monochromatic for my liking.  It also sets a dark feel for the book which put me off of it for a long time.  I thought it was going to be a very dark, gritty read which it wasn’t.

 

Sales Links:  Amazon

Audiobook Details:

Kindle Edition, 183 pages
Published May 31st 2017 by Victoria Sue (first published December 27th 2015)
Original TitleThe Innocent Auction
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesInnocent #1

In Our Spotlight: Heir of Locksley by N.B. Dixon ~ Guest Post and Giveaway

Heir of Locksley by N.B. Dixon (Tour Banner)

Title: Heir of Locksley

Series: Outlaw’s Legacy, Book 1

Author: N.B. Dixon

Publisher: Beaten Track Publishing

Cover Artist: Natasha Snow

Release Date: December 1st, 2016

Genre(s): Historical, M/M

Words: 108,000

View on Goodreads

Accuracy Versus a Good Story by N.B. Dixon

There is much pressure on authors of historical fiction to be as accurate about their chosen subject as possible. For some it’s more important than others. Some authors pride themselves on their historical accuracy. There are other authors who believe a good story is more important. I’ve had reviewers jump on me for the tiniest little inaccuracy. What’s even more frustrating is when the reviewer turns out to be wrong. They are inaccurate about their inaccuracy. If that isn’t enough to give you a headache, I don’t know what is. So, which is more important: accuracy or a good story?

My mum once told me that when she reads a historical fiction novel, she wants the story, not a history lesson. “If I’d wanted a history lesson, I’d have bought a textbook,” were her exact words, and they have stayed with me. When I first began researching my ‘Outlaw’s Legacy’ series, I was determined to be as accurate as possible, but this caused several problems with the story.

For instance, if I described Sherwood Forest accurately, I would have to say it was some distance from Nottingham, rather than right outside the city gates, as it is often described. However, Robin galloping along open roads pursued by soldiers in a desperate attempt to reach Sherwood might have sounded good the first time around, but not every single time he made an escape. Robin disappearing into the Forest while soldiers blundered around looking for him was, in my opinion, a much more entertaining idea.

Hollywood certainly has a lot to answer for. They never seem to have cared too much about inaccuracies. For example, where the hero is shot with an arrow, that arrow is quite often yanked out on the spot. If that was attempted in real life, it would likely kill the patient. However, our TV heroes struggle manfully through the ordeal and heal in record time. This is perhaps an example of where suspension of disbelief is required.

I personally believe a good author can be both historically accurate and entertaining. Yet, my mum’s words have stood me in good stead. If there are times when it really would make the story better for me to exaggerate the truth somewhat, or deviate ever so slightly from the facts, I believe it’s OK to do so. Major inaccuracies, such as claiming that King Richard the Lionheart ruled after the death of his brother John, are, however, unforgivable. That’s just sloppy. Many authors add historical notes at the end of their work, and use this as a device for explaining why they have told the story a certain way. I find this a nice compromise. At the end of the day, the story is what matters most. After all, we are authors of fiction.

About the Book

Blurb

HeirOfLocksley

Robin of Locksley is a rebel, more comfortable roaming Sherwood Forest with his longbow and courting the village girls than learning how to run a manor.

An innocent flirtation with a peasant girl soon lands Robin in trouble, and worse, he finds himself inexplicably attracted to Will Scathelock, his best friend since childhood. Robin must decide whether to follow the rules of society or his own conscience.

Meanwhile, his neighbour, Guy of Gisborne, is anxious to get his hands on the Locksley estate and he will do anything to make it happen – even murder.

Buy Links

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iTunes | Smashwords

About N.B. Dixon

Author Bio

N.B. Dixon is an author of historical fiction. Her love for the Robin Hood legend began in a neglected corner of the school library and has continued ever since. She is a self-confessed bookworm and also a musician.

She began work on the *Outlaw’s Legacy* Series in 2013, and was accepted by Beaten Track Publishing in 2016. *Outlaw’s Legacy* is a historical series based around the Robin Hood legend. The author describes it as Exciting Historical Adventure with GLBT romance.

Connect with N.B.

Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Giveaway

Three lucky winners will receive an e-copy of Heir of Locksley,, the first in the Outlaw’s Legacy series by N.B. Dixon, a highly original retelling of the Robin Hood legend. To be in with a chance, simply enter via the Rafflecopter below. The contest closes at midnight EST on May 6 and is open to entrants worldwide.

Good luck!

Enter here

Tour Stops

April 24

Exclusive Excerpt at Bloggers from Down Under
Guest Post at Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words

April 25

Exclusive Excerpt at Books, Dreams, Life
Guest Post at Love Bytes Reviews
Exclusive Excerpt at Shh, I Am Reading

April 26

Book Review by BFD Book Blog
Exclusive Excerpt at Bayou Book Junkie

April 27

Author Interview with Stories that Make You Smile
Character Interview at Drops of Ink

April 28

Exclusive Excerpt at MM Good Book Reviews
Author Interview with MM Book Escape

April 29

Guest Post at Making It Happen
Character Interview at Boy Meets Boy Reviews

April 30

Guest Post at Howling for Books

Tour Hosted by LoveBound Promotions

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A Free Dreamer Release Day Review: We Met in Dreams by Rowan McAllister

Rating: 4 stars out of 5

a-free-dreamer-release-day-review-we-met-in-dreams-by-rowan-mcallisterIn Victorian London, during a prolonged and pernicious fog, fantasy and reality are about to collide—at least in one man’s troubled mind.

A childhood fever left Arthur Middleton, Viscount Campden, seeing and hearing things no one else does, afraid of the world outside, and unable to function as a true peer of the realm. To protect him from himself—and to protect others from him—he spends his days heavily medicated and locked in his rooms, and his nights in darkness and solitude, tormented by visions, until a stranger appears.

This apparition is different. Fox says he’s a thief and not an entirely good sort of man, yet he returns night after night to ease Arthur’s loneliness without asking for anything in return. Fox might be the key that sets Arthur free, or he might deliver the final blow to Arthur’s tenuous grasp on sanity. Either way, real or imaginary, Arthur needs him too much to care.

Fox is only one of the many secrets and specters haunting Campden House, and Arthur will have to face them all in order to live the life of his dreams.

I’m usually not big on historical romance novels, but the blurb was sufficiently unusual and slightly creepy to make me curious. I definitely didn’t regret my choice.

First of all, you have to suspend your disbelief for this story. Fox breaks into Arthur’s house, late one foggy winter night. When Arthur catches him, Fox doesn’t knock him out or harm Arthur in any other way. Instead, he stays for a chat.

Once I got past that slightly strange beginning, I started getting caught up in the story. There are so many unanswered questions and so many secrets lurking here. Is Arthur truly hallucinating? Are the apparitions real ghosts? Or is his kindly uncle plotting against him and there’s a much more mundane reason behind those creepy noises Arthur hears every night? There’s an answer to all those questions in the end, rest assured.

The setting was subtly creepy. Not outright horror-story-like, but just enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end every now and then. I like this kind of subtly creepiness and the author did a brilliant job creating an eerie atmosphere.

While the author managed to convey the creepiness of the setting extremely well, it lacked a “British” feel all over. I think it might have been better if she’d chosen to set this in the USA instead of London. Part of it is probably due to the fact that most of the story takes place in Arthur’s rooms and we hardly ever see the outside world. But when I first read “color” instead of “colour”, I found it really jarring and kept looking for the American spelling. I know it’s pronounced the same, but if a story is set in London and has English MCs, then I expect the British spelling. It should only be a minor niggle, but it started to quite bother me after a while.

The MCs were nice. A little too nice, really. I don’t see why Fox would return to the seemingly insane Arthur and risk a prison sentence in doing so. And Arthur was a little too concerned with everybody else’s well-being.

After all the suspense throughout the entire book, the ending was a little anti-climactic. The revelation felt a little mundane, to be honest.

Long story short, “We Met in Dreams” was good. It might not have been brilliant but overall, I quite enjoyed it.  If you like ghost stories and the subtle creepiness they bring, then you’ll like this book.

The cover by Anna Silkorska is perfect for this story. I love the haunted manor.

Sales Links

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Book details:

ebook, 268 pages
Expected publication: February 27th 2017 by Dreamspinner Press
ISBN 1635332966 (ISBN13: 9781635332964)
Edition LanguageEnglish