Category Archives: Excerpt

Exclusive Excerpt Reveal: The Wishing Heart by J.C. Welker

One of the most frequent requests for recommendations I get is for f/f YA fantasy, so I’m thrilled to be bringing you an excerpt from one coming out on May 1! Before we get to it, here’s a little more on The Wishing Heart by J.C. Welker:

TheWishingHeart500With a book in her bag and a switchblade in her pocket, Rebel’s been thieving her way through life while hoping for a cure to fix her ailing heart.

But when the bejeweled vase she just tried to hawk turns out to be a jinni’s vessel, Rebel gets lost to her world and dragged within another. Now every magical being in the city wants the vase for himself.

Thrust into a game of cat and mouse in a world she never knew existed, Rebel must use her uncanny skills to find a way to free Anjeline the Wishmaker.

But wishes have consequences. And contracts. Anjeline’s freedom could unravel a love like Rebel has never known, or it could come at the cost of Rebel’s heart…

And now, the excerpt!

“Hand it over, pigeon.” The officer gestured to her bag.

Rebel sighed. How ironic. Could her life get any worse? “As you can see, I’m poorer than a vagabond.” She gazed down at herself. “There’s nothing in my bag except my hopeless dreams.”

“Is that why it looks so heavy?” His lips curved into a grin, and his teeth gleamed against his beard. He was a beast of man, his vast shoulders pushing the uniform to its absolute limit. “Don’t be foolish. Give it here, girl.”

Woman. You hobnocker,” she spat, in no mood.

A chuckle vibrated in his throat. “Skinner said you were a spitfire and a slippery grift.”

Rebel stiffened as awareness caught up to her, the satchel heavy at her side. He was no officer. Even worse, this had trap written all over it. But was it Skinner’s trap, or whoever had been on the other end of that phone call— someone even more brutal? Her eyes darted about, scouting an escape. Nothing good ever happened when a girl was snatched off the streets from a henchman twice her size.

The man glanced at her satchel. “I’ll be taking that now.”

When in doubt, distract. “Fancy outfit just to rob me of a vase? You’re not overcompensating for something, are you?”

“Don’t play stupid. The vessel’s not the prize, we want what’s inside it.”

Rebel squinted. “There’s nothing inside it, you tool.”

“Wrong answer.” He growled, sounding more animal than man, and something changed in his features. His eyes glowed amber in an extremely inhuman face.

“What the…” She lurched back, her nose twitched at an odd scent, and dizziness emerged. Now wasn’t the time for her heart to hamper reality. “This has got to be the weirdest panic attack.”

“No attack, unless you refuse.” The man inched closer.

“Touch me and I’ll carve Repent on your chest.” Rebel fumbled at her belt, grasping the bone handle of her switchblade. She never actually used it on anyone, never wanted to.

“All’s we want is the vessel,” he warned. “There’s no need for it to go there.”

“You don’t want it to go there,” said another.

Shadows moved out from behind the man.
 A young female appeared, followed by a male version of her, both cloaked in animal-hide coats. The twins’ blood- red hair spilled over their shoulders like lions’ manes, the girl’s pelt trimmed in fur of equal shade. As they moved, between one second and the next, they shifted into a wave of rippling fur. Bones snapped out of place, and jet-black muzzles emerged from their faces, until they formed into four-footed shapes. Their backs contorted, and slowly, bone plates elongated down their spines like an armadillo’s shield.

They were not human. Not even close.

Werewolves.

“Wolves?” she voiced it aloud.

“Lycanthrope,” the man corrected. His eyes burned like embers as his ears tapered skyward, and his vastness seemed to increase compared to the others. Obviously, the alpha. “A thief knows a thief as a wolf knows a wolf. Didn’t legends ever teach you about the big bad one?”

Buy it:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Wishing-Heart-J-C-Welker-ebook/dp/B06Y5WFY1C
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Wishing-Heart-J-C-Welker-ebook/dp/B06Y5WFY1C
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/d/Wishing-Heart-J-C-Welker-ebook/B06Y5WFY1C
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Wishing-Heart-J-C-Welker-ebook/dp/B06Y5WFY1C
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wishing-heart-jc-welker/1126186821?ean=9781633759398
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-wishing-heart/id1225391034
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-wishing-heart

JC Welker Author PhotoJ.C. Welker is a YA author who’s been, among other things, a fashion designer, a filmmaker and a kickboxer (seriously). Her short documentaries, which focused on homeless Iraq veterans and lgbtq+ issues in the military have been featured on CURRENT TV, and her debut novel won first place in the paranormal category of the 2016 YARWA Rosemary Awards. She continues to work towards giving a voice to stories that are needed, while facing magic and monsters along the way.

Website: http://www.jcwelker.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/officialjcwelker
Twitter: https://twitter.com/jcwelker
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jcwelker/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15906616.J_C_Welker
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/J.C.-Welker/e/B06ZYD89TT
Newsletter: http://www.jcwelker.com/about

Exclusive Cover and Excerpt Reveal: The Traitor’s Tunnel by Cal Spivey

Cover reveals are already one of my favorite things to do on this site, and they’re extra fun when I know they’re drawing eyes to some seriously underrepresented characters in lit. The Traitor’s Tunnel is a novella by Cal Spivey that stands alone but takes place prior to his NA High Fantasy, From Under the Mountain. The Traitor’s Tunnel focuses on estranged siblings Theodor and Bridget, who must reunite after more than a decade apart in order to thwart a corrupt nobleman’s conspiracy. Theodor is a panromantic asexual and Bridget is bisexual, and in this novella, both of them are in same-sex relationships. Sooo, it’s already pretty must-read right there, isn’t it?

Buuut just wait until you check out the cover 😉

First, though, a little more on the novella itself:

Witch-blooded robber Bridget has made a reputation for herself in the capital city, but she’s not interested in the attention of the Thieves’ Guild–and she’s not bothered by the rumors of urchin kidnappings, either. With winter coming, she’s looking out for herself and no one else.

Until she picks the wrong pocket, and recognizes her estranged brother Teddy.

Young craftsman Theodor arrives in the capital ready to take the final step toward his dream career as Lord Engineer of Arido. His apprenticeship with a renowned city engineer comes with new rules and challenges, but it’s worth it for the exposure to the Imperial Council.

While spying on her brother, Bridget overhears a secret meeting that reveals a cruel plot. After more than a decade apart, Theodor and Bridget must reunite to stop a traitor whose plan threatens not only their city, but the whole empire.

Set seven years before the events of From Under the Mountain, The Traitor’s Tunnel is the story of two young people presented with a choice–to protect themselves, or to protect others–the consequences of which will change their lives forever.

And now, check out this awesomeness…

T3cover

(Cover illustration and design by Jess Taylor)

Buy it:  Amazon * Barnes & Noble

But wait, there’s more! Check out this excerpt!

Theodor

Though the lord couldn’t see him, Theodor forced a smile over his clenched teeth. “If it please you, Master Roald, I’d like to begin my work as soon as possible.”

Master Roald ceased writing, turned half toward Theodor, and regarded him silently. After several heartbeats of silence, Theodor felt perspiration on his brow. He had misjudged his new master. He had encountered a type of casual artisan before, of course, one who thought relaxation just as important as work; and how rude it was of Theodor to refuse an opportunity to explore Del, which was after all the most beautiful city in Arido, home to some of the greatest and most innovative constructions ever conceived. A groundbreaking city, and here he was, suggesting that a tour of it would be worthless to him. It was crass, and foolish.

At last, Master Roald set down his pencil and stood. Theodor braced himself for chastisement—but Master Roald said, “Then we shall begin. Come with me.”

Theodor followed him downstairs, almost holding his breath, hesitant to relax. Master Roald’s voice was so low, and mild; it would take time before Theodor came to understand his subtleties, and in the meantime, his stomach would remain knotted up. Ogun intercepted their path to the door and, at a word from Master Roald, retrieved a cap and cloak for him. Fastening the cloak beneath his chin, Master Roald said, “Do you require an outer garment, Warren?”

It was already snowing in Javan. Del was balmy by comparison. “I’m quite comfortable, thank you,” Theodor said.

“As you wish.” Master Roald gave him a small, paternal smile. “Let us see where we stand.”

He gestured for Theodor to exit the house first, and he understood. He was not being chastised or given a lecture; not yet, at least. Master Roald planned to test him, out in the streets of a city to which Theodor had never been. It would mark his knowledge and experience; perhaps it would influence whether he was allowed to remain in Master Roald’s service at all. Theodor took a deep breath. He did not know what kind of man his new master was, but he knew stone and wood and metal. He knew the benefits and failings of common building structures; he had an eye for design. The rules of construction were the only ones of which he was sure—and he would prove it.

Bridget

Thrice damn the Frost Owl. Bridget had nicked an extra coat off a laundress in the Second Neighborhood, but even that weren’t doing much to keep her warm. She wished she still had that bearskin she’d had last year, but someone had found her hidey-hole in the Vale forest outside of Del, and taken it. She didn’t hold a grudge; damn if she wasn’t jealous though. She stamped her feet a bit. It was early winter yet, and it’d warm up enough during the day. It looked to be sunny, too, a perfect day to climb up on some slate roof and soak it up.

She scowled and sank against the hot wall of the tannery. She hated winter, hated having to make plans. The cold meant less food to steal, which meant less energy for her little trick of going invisible, which meant stealing got more dangerous. Her stashes of supplies were more crucial than ever, but checking them or even using them too frequently made it easier for others to find them. She had money enough stored that she could take a room on the worst days and nights, but that was visibility she wanted to avoid. She had survived by being unknown to all but a few, ever since she was too old to make use of the orphan houses. Otherwise she’d be too involved in other people’s business, which just created too many chances for things to go bad in ways that had nothing to do with her but would ruin her anyway. She’d learned that lesson. Now she had three friends she just couldn’t shake, and she wasn’t about to make nice to anyone else.

So what be the plan for this winter? she asked herself. She’d gone south a few times—that was what most of Del’s homeless did when the weather got cold; they went downriver. Bridget didn’t much care for that. She didn’t like to lug all her food about, was shit at fishing, and the city of Neva was too damn far. Two years ago, she’d worked in a brothel for the season; that had been alright, but her thieving had taken a hit and it took months to reestablish her under-market connections. They all thought she’d been jailed, thought the Guild of Guards kept tabs on her—what a laugh.

There was a baker in the Third Neighborhood who swapped room and board for work sometimes; she could disguise herself, pretend to be a child. Wouldn’t work on the orphan houses because she’d already been in most of ’em when she was truly a whelp, but it’d be enough to turn away serious questions.

*****

cmspivey2017BW

C.M. Spivey is a speculative fiction writer, author of high fantasy From Under the Mountain and the paranormal series, “The Unliving.” His enduring love of fantasy started young. Now, he explores the rules and ramifications of magic in his own works—and as a trans-masculine panromantic asexual, he’s committed to queering his favorite genres. In his spare time, he plans his next tattoo (there will always be a next tattoo) and watches too much Netflix. Anything left over is devoted to his tireless quest to make America read more. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his darling husband Matt and adorable dog Jay.

(Author photo by Redhawk Photography)

Excerpt from Julia Ember’s F/F YA Little Mermaid Retelling The Seafarer’s Kiss!

Title: The Seafarer’s Kiss
Publisher: Interlude Press (Duet)
Date: May 4 2017
32890474Having long-wondered what lives beyond the ice shelf, nineteen-year-old mermaid Ersel learns of the life she wants when she rescues and befriends Ragna, a shield-maiden stranded on the mermen’s glacier. But when Ersel’s childhood friend and suitor catches them together, he gives Ersel a choice: say goodbye to Ragna or face justice at the hands of the glacier’s brutal king.Determined to forge a different fate, Ersel seeks help from Loki. But such deals are never as one expects, and the outcome sees her exiled from the only home and protection she’s known. To save herself from perishing in the barren, underwater wasteland and be reunited with the human she’s come to love, Ersel must try to outsmart the God of Lies.
*****

I’d never been particularly pious, but praying to Loki before the ceremony had seemed to help. Or at least, it had eased my anxiety even if the god of lies had had nothing to do with the ceremony’s outcome. I didn’t like the idea of adopting the trickster as my patron god, but if ever I needed a trick or two, it was now. The words of a remembered prayer tumbled from my lips. Everything inside me felt too frozen to make up my own plea.

Blue light shimmered against the back wall of my cave. It was pale and strangely electric and reminded me of watching lightning strike the sea from fifteen arm-lengths below. I swam to my crevice’s mouth. Peering out into the gray water, I squinted at the source of the strange glow. The light became so intense I had to look away. It radiated from a little ball I could hardly see. All of a sudden, it blinked and dimmed. A green and yellow sea turtle glided toward me. The electric blue light glowed from his eye sockets, and he stared right at me. A shiver ran up my back, and my blood cooled.

Above me, the patter of hail echoed through the ocean, followed by the crack of thunder. I wondered if I should scream for help. Was stress making me imagine things? Sea turtles couldn’t survive here, could they? With their cold blood, they needed the summer currents to survive. I shook my head to clear the image, blinked, but the turtle still swam toward me. If I screamed and there was no turtle, the king would think I was losing my mind, and I’d have less chance of defending myself against the things Havamal could say. Plus, I didn’t want to wake Mama. I took a deep breath. My heart felt raw and exposed, blistered and stinging, like a wound cleansed with ocean salt. I wasn’t ready to talk to her.

The turtle drifted peacefully toward me, like a moving lullaby propelled by the tide. The creature’s bright eyes dimmed further, and it cocked its head, winking at me as it coasted through a school of silver fish. Then it began to paddle rapidly; its thick flippers pumped faster and faster until its whole body became a green blur. Overhead, the hail and thunder intensified—almost as if Thor himself surfed across the waves. A bolt of lightning struck the sea and a fiery purple and yellow aurora of fiery diffused over the waves.

When I looked up toward the lights, the turtle slammed into me, knocking me back into the cave. Before I could scream, a hand covered my mouth: a hand that was pink, warm, and strangely dry.

The creature spun me around to face them. Their turtle shell had transformed into a billowing cloak of sparkling greens and golds. Caribou antlers covered with strips of fur stuck out on either side of a silver helmet; each antler was tall enough to scrape the ceiling of my little cave. Blue, electric light emanated from their very skin. A sea snake the color of dying coral wound about their waist. Their form was slim and elegant, androgynous. High cheekbones and pursed midnight-blue lips set off hooded, bright eyes, deep-set in their chiseled face.

I wanted desperately to swim away from them, to hide behind my kelp curtain, but they gripped my shoulders so hard I could feel bruises forming under my scales.

“Do you know who I am?” they demanded, raising a turquoise eyebrow.

The blue light shining from them made my scales glow as if I lay under the sun. A bubble of dry air formed in the ice cave and expanded until it filled the space. A warm feeling crept up from the tip of my tail, even while my stomach sank in fear. The horns reminded me of images from our legends that had been carved into the ice sculptures decorating our central hall. The statues in the hall had frozen their stories into our collective memories.

I swallowed. I was seeing the same face I’d seen every day since I was a child, engraved above me in the dining hall.

“You’re Loki,” I whispered. Why would the trickster god choose to help me? This was only the second time in my life I’d prayed to them. From everything I’d heard about Loki, my situation should have amused them. Maybe they were here to taunt me, to mock me for praying to them concerning a ceremony I didn’t care about and wasting whatever favor my birth season entitled me to.

They nodded, but their eyes never left my face.

“Are you here to mock me?” I asked, my voice trembling. It wasn’t a polite thing to ask a god, but after what I’d been through today, I didn’t have energy left for courtesy.

Laughing, Loki shook their great horned head. Their cackle was high and cruel, but then their eyes softened into something that seemed like affection. That look of care on their pale face was even more terrifying. They rested their warm hand on my back. I imagined their nails filled with poisonous venom and pulled away to avoid getting their toxin on my scales.

But Loki only smiled. “I’ve been watching you for a while, Ersel. It’s not normal for your kind to interact so closely with the human world. You’re curious and intelligent and you don’t follow orders like a sheep. I value all those things.”

I didn’t know what a sheep was, but I nodded at the compliment nonetheless. Their fingers played with the edges of their blue eyebrow. “I want to make a deal with you.”

My scales stood up on my back. Whenever the storytellers talked about Loki, they cautioned against making deals with the god. I cursed myself for carelessness, for letting Havamal follow me. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, maybe I wouldn’t have to decide between angering the god standing in front of me or doing what all our legends warned against: making a deal with the being who invented the lie.

 

*****

Interlude Press: http://store.interludepress.com/collections/the-seafarers-kiss-by-julia-ember