Moving On by Felice Stevens blitz with giveaway
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Moving On
Felice Stevens
Publication date: January 2nd 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance
When his roof caves in, Sean Lovett thinks things can’t get any worse. Until he loses his job, adding yet another bump in the rocky road of his life. None of his so-called friends can—or will—help. And asking a favor from his abusive ex? Hard pass. Luckily, his sister comes to the rescue and offers him a great apartment—in the city, no less—until he can get back on his feet.
Sweet deal.
Until a gorgeous man unlocks the front door and strolls right in with a grumpy attitude and a claim that his boss—who happens to be Sean’s brother-in-law—promised him the same apartment.
Former NYPD detective Tristan McDermott hasn’t stopped running since the death of his best friend. After almost two years of living in his own personal hell, he returns home to New York, hoping he can move on, but guilt still follows his every step. He’s grateful to have the perfect apartment until he can settle into a place of his own. But there’s a cute guy already living there. And only one bedroom. And no way is Tristan leaving. He’s staying put.
Sharing the space is tough, but Tristan can ignore sweet Sean and his sunshiny smiles.
Kind of.
Except Sean’s brother-in-law asks Tristan to keep an eye on Sean so he doesn’t make any bad decisions.
Uh oh.
Keeping an eye on Sean is easy. Keeping his hands off him is much, much harder.
And sleeping together…well, that isn’t a bad decision. Not when it feels so good.
Right?
From Lambda Literary award winning author Felice Stevens comes the story of a grumpy, green juice-drinking ex-detective running from the past and a sunshiney singing waiter who can’t catch a break. It features a meet-cute, only one bed, learning to trust, and a surprise lap dance.
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EXCERPT:
“You must have money saved. I’m sure you can afford a better place than this.”
“I do, but I don’t want to rent. I want to buy. And I’m not a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy. I don’t even know where I’d want to live. Plus, I don’t start work for a month or so. I came early to
make sure I’d have enough time to find the place I want. I didn’t plan on this inconvenience.” He waved his hand.
“Well, what seems like merely an inconvenience for you is one step away from me being homeless.” With a glum face, Sean sank onto the couch. “Not only have I lost my apartment, but my sleazebag of a boss fired me. I don’t even have a job anymore. I’m so desperate, I’m about to go panhandle on the sidewalk. All the so-called friends I always helped couldn’t be bothered to do the same for me.”
Sean propped his chin in his hand and stared off with a frown. While Tristan felt sorry for him, Sean’s money problems weren’t his concern. Then he saw the large dark bruise on Sean’s arm where he’d grabbed him the night before, and remorse filled his chest.
Shit.
“Maybe your sister is right. We could share the place.”
Did he just say that?
Author Bio:
Felice Stevens has always been a romantic at heart. She believes that while life is tough, there is always a happy ending around the corner. Her characters have to work for it, because just like life in NYC, nothing comes easy and that includes love.
Felice is the 2020 Lambda Literary Award winning author in best Gay Romance. She lives in New York City and has way too much black in her wardrobe. If she’s not writing, you’ll probably find her watching reality TV or procrastinating on FB in her reader group, Felice’s Breakfast Club.
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Painted to Death by Sarah Vernon blitz with giveaway
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Painted to Death
Sarah Vernon
Publication date: January 10th 2023
Genres: Adult, Cozy Mystery
Sam Green is an art student with some pretty creative habits when it comes to solving mysteries, in this new series from author and artist Sarah Vernon. It’s the coldest part of a Boston winter when her friend Catherine is found dead in the painting studios one evening. The police are quick to rule her death a suicide, but Sam knows that something doesn’t seem right. Despite the protests of her friends Rebecca and Stephanie (although — happily — with the help of her crush Arun), Sam starts to poke around the old art department building. Peering into the dark corners of studios and underneath piles of musty art supplies, Sam soon uncovers some surprising suspects and motives behind Catherine’s death, in an art department simmering with artistic jealousy, resentment, and more relationship drama than a daytime talk show could handle. The only question is, will Sam be able to find out who killed Catherine before that person finds Sam?
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EXCERPT:
It was a dark and stormy night. Yeah, for real. That’s how I’m starting, because why mess with what works?
Also, it really was dark and stormy the night this all started, the wind bursting in through all the tiny cracks around the old, barely insulated windows of our triple-decker apartment. I say started, but this was actually a couple of weeks after Catherine had died. I just thought I’d start right in the middle of it, because we all know the worst Agatha Christies are the ones where Poirot doesn’t even come into it until page seventy-five, and you have to first get through hours and hours of slow English family drama, or worse, a bumbling English inspector.
We were huddled in the living room, with Benny on the floor leaning against the coffee table, and Rebecca, Mel, and me on the couches, mugs of mulled wine steaming in our hands. We would have all preferred to be outside smoking, the distraction of a cigarette easing the conversation, but there’s that dark and stormy night again. Plus, our landlord had recently made it harder to disarm the smoke alarm, so no more smoking inside either.
So here we were, trying to have a casual conversation about a topic that defies casual conversation. Mel – the kind of roommate we weren’t quite close to yet, who still attached herself to any kind of group activity at our apartment – was trying hard to make everyone smile,
telling unfunny jokes and keeping the wine topped up. Rebecca had taken the comforting aunt approach, keeping her hand on Benny’s shoulder while he told us about his afternoon.
“I just feel like they weren’t even asking the right questions,” he was saying. “It’s like, the cops didn’t ask about her family much at all – what kind of mood she had been in. All they wanted to know was things like, did she have a boyfriend?” Rebecca tutted and leaned down to pat his back. “I mean, what is this, twenty years ago? Do they still only go for the boyfriend?” Benny frowned into his cup, the steam blurring his glasses.
In fairness, people are still most often killed by their immediate loved ones. And twenty years ago is not all that long ago. But forgive Benny’s nearsightedness; in fairness, at twenty-two, it was essentially a lifetime to him.
“What did you tell them?” Mel wanted to know.
Rebecca and I shot her a sharp look, but she was innocently fiddling with her hair, short and newly dyed lavender, and wouldn’t meet our eyes. Benny had called us as soon as the police had finished interviewing him, desperate for our company and already on his way over. We had all agreed it would be best not to ask for specifics, but Mel was apparently determined to be as annoying as ever.
“Obviously the truth,” Benny replied. “That she had dated a few different people so far this year, but none was particularly serious. And really,” he continued indignantly, “even if someone had been a serious boyfriend, how can they actually think that proves anything? All that shows, I think, is how easy it was to love her.”
Benny’s chin dropped to his chest and Rebecca was immediately on the floor next to him, her arm around his back. I swear she actually said, “There, there.”
“Sam, maybe you can get out some extra blankets? Benny, why don’t you just spend the night here, on the couch?” Rebecca looked at me expectantly.
“Of course,” I said, a clap of thunder accentuating my voice. “It’s way too stormy out for you to go anywhere, anyway.” I got up, dragging Mel with me. “Mel, help me get the blankets down.”
She followed me, obviously reluctantly, out into the hall. I opened the door to the hall closet, still holding onto her arm.
“Sam, what’s up? Let go of me,” she whined. I rolled my eyes.
“What was all that back there?” I hissed. “We agreed we weren’t going to ask him for specifics. Benny’s been through enough as it is – we don’t have to make him relive everything.”
Her eyes grew wide, an expression of innocence we were familiar with, as Mel always proclaimed that she was never the one who left dirty dishes out or forgot to buy toilet paper. It was frankly gross that she would try to pull the same crap here, in the middle of a murder investigation.
“Sorry, I didn’t think it was prying just to ask what he answered to one question,” she said, still in her most exasperating whine. “And come on, Sam, it’s not like you’re not curious. Benny was her best friend. Basically her brother! Who else is going to know what’s really going on?”
“But you don’t need to know what’s going on,” I said, reaching up to the top shelf for an extra quilt. “If the police want to call you up and tell you everything they’ve found out in the past two weeks, they’ll do that. You don’t have to ask Benny for the recap.” I pushed the quilt into her arms, turning back for sheets.
“Fine,” Mel said. “I’m sorry. But for the record, I’ve heard you and Rebecca whispering. I know I’m not the only one who wants answers.” This last word she delivered in a true crime podcast-perfect whisper.
Author Bio:
Sarah Vernon is an author and artist based in Massachusetts, where she writes the Triple-Decker Mystery Series.
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The Maverick Cowboy by Macie St. James blitz with giveaway
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The Maverick Cowboy
Macie St. James
(Cupid Ridge Dude Ranch, #1)
Publication date: January 6th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance, Western
He’s slow to trust. She can’t seem to keep a secret. Can they overcome their differences to find their happily ever after?
Joshua Ludington is slow to trust. After being betrayed by the woman he loved, he vowed to take a hiatus from dating. But when Lucie Cooper drives onto his family ranch, he finds the beautiful chef hard to resist.
Lucie Cooper is at Cupid Ridge Inn to do a job. They need an interim chef for their dude ranch guests, and she’s determined to fill that position. When she runs into handsome cowboy Joshua Ludington, at first she’s excited to show off her cooking skills. Soon, though, it becomes apparent that what she’s feeling for him goes beyond gratitude for the job.
Although Lucie knows Joshua has been burned, she’s determined to show this handsome cowboy that he can count on her. But Lucie is notoriously bad at keeping secrets, and working for the Ludingtons means keeping things quiet. She means well, but she might just destroy her new relationship before it gets off the ground.
The Cupid Ridge Dude Ranch series is a sweet, clean contemporary western romance series filled with swoon-worthy cowboys in a small-town setting.
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EXCERPT:
Lucie stepped into the doorway, taking in the scene in front of her, her eyebrows arching at what she saw.
A man. His back was to her. He wore a T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and what looked like an apron tied at the waist and neck in messy knots. He wasn’t dancing as much as wiggling around awkwardly while he belted out the chorus.
The biggest surprise of all? The guy could sing.
“Excuse me,” she said.
He kept singing. He hadn’t heard her. The music wasn’t that loud, so he must be so caught up in the song, he’d lost track of his surroundings.
“Excuse me!”
She practically shouted that, and it did the trick. With a loud thud that made her jump, he turned to face her. He’d been holding a pan above the stove burner—she saw it on top of one of
the raised burners—but she only had a second to register it because her gaze was immediately drawn to that face.
That face. She knew that face. Joshua Ludington.
There wasn’t a girl in school who didn’t have a crush on one of the Ludington brothers, but Joshua was the quiet one. He didn’t tend to get as much notice. She’d noticed him, of course, but he’d been two years ahead of her in school.
Not that he would’ve given her a second look, anyway. In high school, she started dating Clayton Mills, who worked on the Knott family ranch. None of the Ludington brothers would speak to her while she was dating Clayton, despite the fact she was still friends with their only sister.
He looked at her curiously. “You were that cheerleader girl.”
Her mouth fell open. That cheerleader girl? Was that what he knew her as?
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t become a lawyer like Clayton, and she certainly wasn’t handed a family business to run like the Ludingtons and Knotts. But she’d accomplished some things of her own since graduation.
Author Bio:
USA Today Bestselling author Macie St. James has written most of her life. After earning a degree in mass communications, she worked in public relations and technology for the government. She spent a full decade as a content writer before realizing her dream of being a full-time novelist. She lives in Nashville with her husband and dog, a spaniel mix.
Visit Macie’s webpage at MacieStJames.com. Sign up for her newsletter and receive a free e-book of The Coolheaded Cowboy, the prequel to the Cupid Ridge Dude Ranch series.
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Unseelie by Ivelisse Housman Blog Tour #bookreview #YA #fantasy
**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**
Title: Unseelie
Author: Ivelisse Housman
Publisher: Inkyard Press
Publication Date: January 3, 2023
Page Count: 387
My rating: 4 stars
About the book:
Six of Crows meets the Iron Fey series in this high-energy YA fantasy that follows the adventures of changeling Seelie and her twin sister as they embark upon the heist of a lifetime for a mystery legacy. As they evade capture by both human and fae forces, Seelie discovers more about her own Autistic identity, her magical powers, and love along the way.
Twin sisters, both on the run, but different as day and night. As one searches for a fabled treasure, the other, a changeling, searches for the truth behind her origins, trying to find a place to fit in with the realm of fae who made her and the humans who shun her.
Iselia “Seelie” Graygrove looks just like her twin, Isolde… but as an autistic changeling trying to navigate her unpredictable magic, Seelie finds it more difficult to fit in with the humans around her. When Seelie and Isolde are caught up in a heist gone wrong and make some unexpected allies, they find themselves unraveling a larger mystery that has its roots in the history of humans and fae alike.
Both sisters soon discover that the secrets of the faeries may be more valuable than any pile of gold and jewels. But can Seelie harness her magic in time to protect her sister, and herself?
Find this book online:
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Excerpt:
chapter one
On the night the faerie world collides with ours, anything can happen and wishes come true—and right now, I’m wishing I had stayed home.
I struggle to keep up with my twin sister as we push our way through the crowd. Revelnox is summer’s closing act, when day and night balance perfectly on the edge of the world. In the smaller villages, where people lead calm, productive lives in predictable patterns—back home, I think, with an ache in my ribs—this means that children stay up late, bonfires are built in the middle of town, and offerings are left on the edges of the fields to prevent unwanted faerie mischief. There are special cakes, and the liquor flows freely, but all the merriment is a thin muzzle over the sharp teeth of the truth. You don’t go anywhere alone, and you don’t go into the forest.
Not if you want to come back, at least.
But here in the city—Auremore, the shining jewel between the forks of the Harrow River—here, it’s something else entirely.
I have to fight not to lose my sister in the crowd of faces and languages blending into a waterfall of color and sound. Children call to each other in the streets, even though it can’t possibly be safe for them to be out alone on this of all nights. But they’re not really alone: it seems like everyone in the city is out, despite the late hour. The ever-present sound of voices crashing over each other is even louder tonight, volume rising with people’s spirits (and the amount of spirits they’ve consumed). Music threads through it all, sparkling and twanging in the air.
The bonfires are the same here at least, adding their roar to the commotion. Each city district has its own, and here in the center of Market Square, everything is golden and cheerful, surrounded by dancers and the sweet smell of candies for sale. Here, they welcome the Seelie, the faerie realm of good intentions, of order and politeness—or, at the very least, neutrality. Pouches of herbed salt meant to ward off evil swing from the torches that keep the darkness at bay and paint the whole block in brilliant amber.
I seriously doubt that the faeries of the Unseelie Court will be scared off by what is essentially steak seasoning, but it’s a nice thought.
We squeeze past a man wearing an elaborate mask with goat horns curling around the back of his head. That’s the other thing about the Revelnox celebrations here: everyone is masked, and no one dares to utter their own name. For just this one night, faeries walk among us—and the less power they can claim over you, the safer you are.
It’s all fun and games for the faeries, whose visits to the Mortal Realm are usually limited to one human at a time, in remote forest glens or moonlit crossroads. For changelings, the not-quite-human-but-definitely-not-faerie in-betweens, walking among mortals is less of a novelty. We grow up with humans, hated for being almost like them but not enough. Most of us find our way back to the faerie realms by adulthood. I’ve never felt that pull, though. My magic and I have what you could generously call a troubled history, and if Revelnox is the closest I ever get to the faerie realms, it’ll be more than close enough.
Also—and on a potentially unrelated note—it’s my twin’s seventeenth birthday.
I can’t exactly say that my twin and I have the same birthday, since I’m not sure if changelings even have birthdays. I don’t think anyone actually knows where we come from. For all I know, my essence might have been floating around in a cloud of faerie dust for centuries.
Or maybe I formed out of thin air the moment a faerie lifted Isolde from her cradle, stiletto fingernails digging into her soft, honey-colored skin, to exchange her for me.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that ever since our parents adopted me, Isolde and I share a birthday every year. Back before it was just the two of us on the run, we always had a homemade cake and presents, and we would all sit outside in the grass and watch the stars come out. It was usually uncomfortable, near the end of summer when everything turns sickly sweet and starts to crumble, but that didn’t matter.
It was still my favorite day of the year. And often, that day happens to fall on Revelnox.
The man in the goat mask meets my eye, flashing white teeth at me before turning sharply and disappearing into the crowd of disguised faces.
I shiver, clinging tighter to my sister’s hand.
“Too loud?” Isolde murmurs, pressing close to my side. She wears all-black, as usual, from the tips of her scuffed boots to the roots of her glossy black hair.
I shake my head. It is loud, but in a weird way the overwhelming sensations are soothing. My boots feel more solid on the cobblestones, my body more real and alive than ever. Even the heat—of all the bodies, the radiant glow of the fire, the last warm breezes of summer—makes me feel strangely at ease, instead of just sticky and miserable.
No. If I seem on edge, it’s thanks to the buzz of magic in the air, a living hum that I don’t hear so much as feel, like a mosquito hovering at the back of my neck. I don’t think Isolde can sense it.
Magic is technically a part of me, fizzing in my faerie blood, and this is the one night when it isn’t considered dangerous and wrong. One night when it’s safe to be the thing I have to be every day. But maybe that’s exactly why I’m so terrified of it—because I’ve seen firsthand what magic does.
I stop short, jerking Isolde’s arm back, as a woman with a small reddish dragon draped over her shoulders cuts in front of me, obliviously strumming a stringed instrument and belting out a song that would make the most seasoned escort blush.
My sister smashes into me, and we both pause to make sure our masks are still in place. They’re the cheapest we could find, a simple painted covering of the eyes and cheekbones held in place by a fraying ribbon. I’m pretty sure they’re made of rowan wood to protect against faeries, because mine is starting to itch abominably. It’s a familiar itch, and for a second, I’m ten years old again, being held down by a clump of other ten-year-olds while they take turns pressing charms of rowan bark and iron to my skin to watch it blister.
The moment passes, and I somehow maintain the willpower not to rip the mask off my face.
As I slide it back into place, my fingers twitching nervously over the surface, I pull Isolde closer. I lower my voice, even though it’s so loud in the streets that no one could possibly hear me anyway. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s Revelnox,” Isolde reassures, her easy grin slipping back onto her face. “The manor is empty, and everyone will be too drunk to even notice us. We’ll be long gone by the time they even realize we were there. Trust me, Seelie.”
This is the part where I pause to say I know it’s an unfortunate nickname considering…what I am. I wish that my parents had thought of that before Isolde’s toddler tongue bumbled Iselia so many times that it stuck.
I hesitate, but I’ve never been good at saying no to my sister. The fight goes out of me with a rush of air before I straighten my shoulders and squeeze the soft, worn fabric of my favorite dress in my fist. “Let’s make it quick, then.”
“Quicker than lightning,” Isolde promises.
I glance up nervously at the clear, dark sky as glittering orange sparks drift up from the bonfire, dancing on the breeze.
As we wind our way upriver, the world flashes by in vignettes of chaos.
People push through the crowds in chains with their friends, arms linked, songs in the air colliding with the louder instrumental music. Some wave flags or toss flowers into the air. Yapping excitedly, a small dog chases at the heels of a group of kids who can’t be older than thirteen. The normally drab buildings are draped in garlands of rainbow-hued flowers and tiny pennant flags.
And then there are the faeries.
Even though faeries are an expected part of tonight’s festivities, they slip through the mortals almost unnoticed. But I’m not quite human, either, and I keep finding my eyes wandering to balls of light floating over the crowds, or catching the smell of a meadow in the breeze of someone running past. I accidentally make eye contact with a woman wearing a feathered mask that covers from her cheekbones up to the crown of her head, then realize with a start that it isn’t a mask.
She winks, her blood-red mouth curving into a smile. Then she turns and blows a kiss towards a pair of revelers sitting at a wobbly wooden table in a brewer’s booth. They’re deep in the conversation of close friends, hands wrapped around their cups and separated by exactly the right amount of distance so their knuckles don’t brush. When the faerie’s breath washes over them, the speaker doesn’t seem to notice at first.
The listener, on the other hand, stiffens noticeably, something strange and hungry coming over their expression.
My heart stops. Faerie magic is dangerous, and I don’t know what—
Then the listener, without a heartbeat’s space to think, surges forward, crashing their lips into their friend’s.
I wince. Not deadly magic, at least.
Still dangerous.
The speaker freezes for a second, mouth still open in the shape of whatever word was cut off by their friend’s lips. Then they melt into the kiss, eyes closing blissfully.
I turn away, blushing hot enough that I worry my mask might burst into flames. The pair will probably regret this tomorrow. They don’t need my invasion of their privacy on top of it.
The feather-faced woman is still staring at me with wide, owlish eyes. Then she turns, and her eyes flash red like a cat’s in the night. If I hadn’t been sure that she was a faerie before, I am now. That gleam in the darkness is the one thing faeries can’t change about their glamours.
The one thing that reveals a changeling’s true nature.
A cold breeze rushes over my skin, trailing chills as we let the scene fade behind us.
Isolde releases my hand, adopting an exaggerated drunken swagger. She crashes into someone with gold leaf painted over their cheekbones and lips and stops, slurring apologies and patting the person’s shoulders.
I roll my eyes as she falls back into step with me. “Can’t you at least save it until we get there?” I mutter, barely moving my lips.
Isolde’s hand slips out of her pocket, withdrawing a silver-plated compact mirror that she definitely didn’t have a few seconds ago. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re not here to have fun. You’re here to get into the house, grab as much as you can, and get out, ideally without getting us arrested.” I know my voice is coming out too harsh, but I don’t know how to fix it, so I settle for nudging her in the ribs with my elbow.
Isolde looks at me sideways for a moment, as if she’s just now remembering the seriousness of our situation, before stuffing her loot back into its hiding spot with a chastened sigh.
I am not a pickpocket.
I don’t mean that in any kind of morally superior way—the truth is that even if I wanted to be a pickpocket, I don’t have the talent for it. Not like Isolde.
Isolde steals, grifts, pickpockets, and pawns. I keep us fed. We don’t need to be wealthy. We just need to survive until we can scrape together enough to reunite, to start over in a place where no one knows my face.
The noise of the festival fades as my fingers drift to the vial on a leather cord around my neck.
Our parents—Mami, a midwife, fierce and tough, with her homemade remedies for everything from a cold to stubborn zits; Papa, gentle and strong and always coming home from his studio with clay under his nails. They wouldn’t want this life for us. They’re good people. Honest people.
And they aren’t safe as long as I’m around.
So we left three years ago to run from city to city, to steal and cheat and lie and scratch out a living, telling ourselves it would be justified. It would all be worth it when we had enough to make our family a new home. When I could walk down the street without flinching every time someone looked at me a little too long, worrying they’d seen my face on a wanted poster somewhere.
We’re coming up to the bridge now, boots pounding an uneven rhythm on the cobblestones as the crowd around us thins. The streets are too choked tonight for horses or wagons to force their way through, leaving extra space on the wide bridge. The sour smells of warm human bodies pressed together and beer subtly ebb away with every step.
This side of the bridge is plain, a smooth transition into the arch of stone over the sluggish water. Weeds poke up through the mortar and along the muddy banks. On the other side, garlands of golden paper flowers curl around the gleaming brass streetlamps, and an enchanted ball of light changes color every few seconds.
“Last chance to back out,” I mutter, as a woman dressed in sky-blue silk passing from the opposite direction stares at us for just a second too long.
“You worry too much.” Isolde catches the woman staring and meets her gaze with a brilliant smile.
I move a half step faster, trying to look casual as the dazzling sights of Gilt Row come into view.
Gilt Row is less of a row and more of a blob-shaped tangle of streets draped in more opulence and wealth than anyone knows what to do with. The houses, like the rest of the city, are pressed tight together, tall and narrow, but here they’re all white stone and pastel-painted brick, with gardens out front and just the right amount of emerald ivy crawling up their fronts.
Entire eight-story houses, each for just one family. It’s hard to imagine what the buildings might look like inside—and I pride myself on my colorful imagination. And presiding over it all, flanked by iron gates and a perfectly manicured lawn, Wildline Manor looms three times the size of any of the others. It’s huge, imposing, and—since Leira Wildfall is sponsoring Gilt Row’s Revelnox celebrations—totally empty. They might as well have painted a glowing target on it.
I haven’t spent much time in this part of the city. Among the perfectly maintained streets populated by well-dressed, respectable families, Isolde’s and my rags stick out like thistles in a bouquet of exotic flowers. Someone who looks like we do can’t just walk around, without someone rich assuming they’re up to no good and signaling the city guard.
To be fair, most of the time we are up to no good…but they have no way of knowing that.
But tonight is different. I can feel it in the air, smell it in the spaces between smoke and sugar and expensive perfume. Tonight, anyone could be a faerie in disguise, and everyone receives equal respect.
Well, besides a few wrinkle-nosed looks from people who think I can’t see them.
Despite that, the crowd we melt into on the other side of the bridge is still almost entirely made up of people dressed in dazzling garments of violet chiffon, tangerine velvet, indigo silk, pure white linen—every color you could imagine and some you couldn’t. Gold gleams on throats and wrists and fingers, in embroidery along skirts and cuffs. Each mask is more impressive than the last, each custom-made and totally unique. Servants, dressed a bit more simply but still wrapped in the decadent midnight-blue velvet of Wildline Manor, mill around serving snacks and drinks.
I couldn’t possibly feel more out of place, with my plain mask, my simple slate-blue dress, my dusty brown boots. For someone like me, there’s no point in throwing away money on a gown that would only be worn for one night—no matter how enchanting it is.
My sister looks even more at odds with our surroundings than I do, but her aura of confidence doesn’t waver, even as tiny beads of sweat trickle under her mask. Isolde is the sweatier twin, but that’s more because she wears layers of all-black every day, no matter the weather, than because of any innate dampness.
Even though we’re identical, I can’t remember a time that we could be mistaken for each other. It seems laughable that the fair folk thought leaving me in her place would be an equal trade. Our olive skin and dark brown eyes are exactly the same, but her wavy hair never falls any longer than her shoulders before she chops it off, and I keep mine in a thick braid tied off neatly at the small of my back. Our identical heavy eyebrows look bold and dashing on her face but almost always seem troubled on mine.
I can feel them bunching into that concerned twist now. “Do you know where you’re going?” My fingers twist in my apron, fidgeting as always. We’ve been planning this for weeks, but we’re not exactly criminal masterminds. Once Isolde sneaks in the servants’ entrance, I don’t think there’s much of a plan beyond grabbing anything that looks shiny.
“Relax,” she replies, taking a flower from a girl dressed in petal-pink handing out bunches to everyone who passes. “Just stay on the lookout, and try to enjoy yourself. This isn’t the kind of party you get to see every day, you know.” The flower twirls between her fingers before she drops it, leaving it to get crushed underfoot.
We follow the trickle of people towards the center of the district and their bonfire. It’s getting late now, and most of the children have been sent to bed.
Which means the party is really getting started.
“Who here’sss try’n’a get…a wisssh granted?” shrieks a faerie, so drunk on Leira Wildfall’s liquor that they don’t even bother hiding the shimmering wings sprouting from their shoulder blades. A shout ripples through the crowd around them. Then there’s a flash of pearly light, and when it fades, the faerie is gone. A stack of gold coins remains where the faerie had been standing, and I don’t know if they intentionally vanished or were banished back home by some Seelie rule about not getting drunk off your ass and offering wishes to mortals.
As people frantically dive for the coins, I lean to speak into my sister’s ear. “Those coins are super cursed, right?”
“Oh, incredibly cursed. For sure.” She squeezes my hand and chuckles. “You know what you’re supposed to do, right?”
I groan. My job, of watching the servants’ entrance and drawing the attention of any guards who might get suspicious, was supposed to be easy. “How can I possibly top that distraction? What goes on around here? There’s something wrong with rich people, Sol. That would have ended the night across town.”
Well, across the bridge. All the way across town, in the Twilight District, I’ve heard rumors that they celebrate the holiday with much more unsavory magic, and a few cursed coins would probably be the least of their problems.
“You’ll figure something out.” Isolde grins, slipping away from me. “See you in an hour.”
Then she turns her drunken saunter back on with all the ease of the highest-quality actor and stumbles into the crowd, ready to dip her hands into their gilded pockets.
Excerpted from Unseelie by Ivelisse Housman, Copyright © 2023 by Ivelisse Housman. Published by Inkyard Press.
Unseelie by Ivelisse Housman is a young adult fantasy novel featuring a world of the fae. This young adult fantasy does have a slight twist to it in that the main character falls on the autism spectrum bringing this very real subject into the fantasy world.
Iselia “Seelie” Graygrove is a changling that was given to her human mother as an infant. When Seelie’s mother discovered this fact she could not give Seelie back to the fae but yet raised her as her own along with her human twin in their human world but life for Seelie has not always been easy fitting into that world.
Unseelie by Ivelisse Housman does seem to be a standalone fantasy but the author could have easily continued on with these characters and made it into a full series. I loved that the author mirrored the main character after herself and gave a voice to her own feelings over the years in such a creative way of a fantasy novel. The story flowed well and was easy to dive into as I got to know the world and characters. After reading I would be interested in reading more from this author in the future too.
I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.
About the author:
Ivelisse Housman is a Puerto Rican-American author and illustrator. At all seven schools she attended throughout her childhood, she was infamously “that kid who gets in trouble for reading during class, but refuses to stop.” She was diagnosed with autism at 15, which made everything make a lot more sense. When she isn’t writing, she can be found making soup or tending to her houseplants. She lives in the Blue Ridge Mountains with her high school sweetheart/archnemesis and their two rescue dogs.
Author website / Instagram / Twitter
Cover Reveal: Eyes of a Snake by Adina Chiles
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Welcome to the cover reveal of the highly anticipated second novel in the Royal Blood series by Adina Chiles, Eyes of a Snake!
Eyes of a Snake (Royal Blood Series #2)
Genre: YA Fantasy
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing
POWERS ARE RISING. AND SECRETS ARE JUST AS DEADLY.
Successfully obtaining the chalice in Noel has put Mellana at risk. Prince Lorian has ordered everyone to turn over those who possess gifts,
and a bounty looms over her head. Mellana may have the help of her friends, but when trouble strikes, the group finds themselves separated.
Stumbling upon a hidden fortress filled with people who have powers like herself, she learns Lorian isn’t the only one she needs to fear.
In search of the next article, Emery’s Emerald, Mellana makes it to the kingdom of Emery. But when the Queen and article come up missing all eyes are on her sister, Princess Opal, who has a deadly obsession with snakes and mirrors. Making Opal a deal, Mellana agrees to find the article in exchange for protection. When the deal creates a countdown Mellana must deliver her side of the bargain before her reality becomes twisted, and her plans of stopping Lorian are shattered.
Pre-Order Here!
Secrets of a Rose (Royal Blood #1)
Publication Date: June 8th, 2022
Genre: YA Fantasy
Publisher: Midnight Tide Publishing
A kingdom built with secrets is bound to unravel.
During the month of Amira, the silver moon emerges, and the kingdom of Zyra comes alive with anticipation for its annual ball. Mellana Goodwick, finally at the rightful age of sixteen, receives her first invitation, but when unexpected events take place, immediate regret sets in. Mellana finds herself caught in a strange storm-casting down green lightning and filling the sky with ear-splitting
thunder. To make matters worse, the kingdom comes under attack by Prince Lorian, a man removed from the line of succession for murdering his sister, the future queen, and her newborn child.
After escaping the attack with her best friends, Mellana stumbles upon a box left by a woman named Rose. With the power to see glimpses of the future, Rose warns Mellana of hidden powers the kingdom has covered up and Lorian’s desire to unleash them all. Rose instructs Mellana to gather the sacred article from each of the seven kingdoms before Lorian and his deadly group can gain access to them. Together, the items unlock a barrier that is meant to stay shut.
In Secrets of a Rose, Mellana will discover remarkable abilities that stir around her and some that even rise within. In order to keep what she loves, she must embark on a race against the person who dares to threaten it all.
About the Author
Adina Chiles is a fantasy author who loves taking her readers on whimsical adventures. She adores stories with endearing friendships, people who possess unique powers, and witty banter.
She lives in Northern California with her family. When she is not writing, she is buying books she knows she doesn’t need or experimenting with new baking recipes.
Adina has partnered with Midnight Tide Publishing to bring you the young adult fantasy series Royal Blood.
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