Tag Archives: fantasy

Blog Tour: Healing Lance by M.D. Grimm

Healing Lance | M.D. Grimm

 Warrior’s Redemption #1

BANNER - Healing Lance

Release Date: July 28th, 2020

Length: 81,810

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Universal Link:

https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com/a-warrior-s-redemption-trilogy

COVER - Healing Lance

Blurb

A baby’s laughter.

A mind uncaged.

Lance is known as Scourge, the warrior in the black armor, the dog of the warlord Ulfr Blackwolf. He was just a boy when Ulfr found him and molded him into the perfect weapon. He slaughters and pillages on command, merciless and numb, devoid of emotions. Then a baby girl laughs at him during a raid.

And everything changes.

When Gust, a talented healer, is out deer hunting and stumbles across a magnificent horse bearing a mortally wounded rider, he has no idea that his life is about to change forever. Gust applies all his skills to his patient, determined to save the rider’s life, and is rewarded when the man opens his eyes.

As friendship, and more, bloom between warrior and healer, so does the danger over the horizon. Ulfr has not forgotten, and Lance must take his first steps on the long road to redemption.

Trigger Warnings: References to past abuse

MEME1 - Healing Lance

Excerpt

Chapter One

The baby shouldn’t matter. But she did.

He easily held her small body in his broad hands. He knew the baby was a girl because she was naked. She kicked her legs as if she wanted to dance, and her wide amber eyes gazed at him in seeming fascination. He stared down at her, wondering why she didn’t scream. Didn’t babies scream? Adults certainly did when they saw him. He didn’t like the sound. All he wanted to do was silence the noise.

The baby stared at him a moment before her mouth curled up at the corners, and she laughed. He froze at the unusual sound. With eyes alight, she grabbed her feet and continued to laugh. It was… all the things foreign to him. It wasn’t cruel or dark but careless, showing a freedom he’d never known. She wiggled in his hands, her pale, pink body flush with life and potential.

Battle roars and the cries of the dying met his ears again, in stark contrast to the little life he held. He wrenched his gaze away from her and looked around the charred hut and over the collapsed roof. The light from the fires consuming the village illuminated the destruction and the blood splattered on the walls and floor. It was a view he was accustomed to, one he understood. The weight of his sword was one he only noticed when it wasn’t there. He returned his gaze to the baby. This was something he didn’t understand. She was confusing.

She laughed again as goosebumps broke out over her body. She was cold. He scanned the area and spotted a blanket that only had blood on one corner. He wrapped her as best he could, another thing unfamiliar to him, and his black armored gloves made the action awkward. Then he pressed her against his steel chest. He wanted her to survive. He didn’t know why—he just knew he didn’t want her to die.

“Please….”

A young woman lay on the floor at his feet, one he thought was dead. It appeared she had only been knocked out. She lay on her side, one arm stretched out to him, her normally golden skin sickly pale. Her dark brown hair was short, barely reaching past her ears, and one side of her head was caked with blood. The southern part of the kingdom of Grekenus didn’t seem too fond of hair as most of the men in the village were bald and beardless while the women grew hair no longer than their chins.

“Please don’t kill her,” she said, dark eyes wide and dazed. “Don’t kill my daughter. Please, I beg you.”

She spoke in Spart, the native language of the kingdom. He knew it well enough to communicate effectively.

He looked at the baby and then back at the woman. If he wanted the baby to survive, she needed a caretaker. Since the woman was her mother, who better? He strode over to the woman where she struggled to rise and grabbed her arm. She winced at his grip as he tugged her to her feet. He shoved the baby into her arms before dragging her outside.

“What are you—?”

“Silence,” he said curtly. He observed the chaos through the smoke and beyond the fires. The broken dead littered the ground and fire ate everything it touched. A horse galloped toward them, one that belonged to the village since there was neither a saddle nor bridle on the beast. He let go of the woman and pointed to the ground.

“Stay.” Then he strode in front of the horse and held up his hands. The beast reared on her hind legs, neighing in fright. Unlike with humans, he knew how to speak to horses. It wasn’t long before he’d calmed her and had her under control. He petted her neck and muzzle, whispering kind words. The frantic look in her eyes eased, and he led her over to the woman and the baby. She swayed on her feet and had stayed where he told her to, not that he’d doubted she would. The hope for escape let her trust him.

He quickly found a length of rope and looped it around the horse’s nose and neck.

“Get on.”

She didn’t question him this time. She struggled to follow his command, and he realized the horse was just too tall for her to mount without help. He shoved her up, and she sat unsteadily on the horse’s back, her daughter clutched to her chest. She stared at him, and he noted the blood from her head now stained the side of her face and dress. She would see nothing of his face since his black armor covered every piece of flesh, and his eyes were barely visible through the narrow visor slit of the helmet.

“Go.” He slapped the horse’s rear and the mare bolted. The woman leaned over the horse and let the mare lead them away from death.

Another warrior, part of the warband, nocked an arrow and leveled it at her. He strode over and kicked the warrior’s knee, sending the man crashing to the ground with a scream of pain. The arrow flew wide. Another warrior was about to give chase on horseback, and he dashed over to grab the sword from his hand before shoving the warrior off the saddle. A few other attempts were made to stop the fleeing woman, and he stopped them all, causing various injuries and not caring in the least. He had no affinity to any of the warriors in the warband. He had no affinity to anyone… except the tiny girl.

He still couldn’t figure out why. He wondered if he ever would.

He stood there, on the muddy ground soaked with blood, staring after the woman. The smoke burned his throat and stung his eyes. The scent, the noise, the mess of battle he knew like he knew his name. He’d never been curious about anything beyond his current life. Now he did.

He hoped she took good care of her daughter.

“Lance!”

He blinked and turned around. The warlord Ulfr, known throughout the Nifdem Empire as Mad Blackwolf, stalked over to him, expression like a thundercloud, his black, bushy beard and thick head of hair obscuring most of his ruddy face. He wasn’t as tall as Lance, although he was much broader, and there wasn’t a weak bone in his burly body. The quality of his black long-sleeved tunic, trousers, and boots showed a hard but fruitful life, and a few glistening red splatters indicated he didn’t leave all the fun to his warriors.

A few of the warriors that Lance had attacked hobbled after their commander, scowling and muttering curses. All the men sported beards of one length or another. Lance remained clean shaven since the helmet made having a beard quite painful as it tugged on the strands and chafed his skin.

“You will explain to me why you disobeyed a direct order!” Ulfr said when he reached Lance. He spoke in Taris, the official language of the empire. His clenched fists and tight jaw indicated his fury, and the rest of the men and women in their warband cowered at such a sight.

Not Lance. He didn’t feel fear.

Lance took off his helmet, long honey blond hair sticking to his face, pressed there by the constriction of the helmet and sweat glistening on his pale skin. Frosty blue eyes stared at Ulfr, eyes hollow from years of war and brutality. Yet, if Ulfr had looked closer, he would have seen a spark of life newly lit in the void.

Lance tucked the helmet in the crook of his arm and smoothed back his hair, the armor grinding and clanking.

“I didn’t want the baby to die.”

Ulfr blinked. “What?”

Lance frowned. He knew Ulfr had heard him clearly enough. “I did not want the baby to die,” he said, slower this time. “She couldn’t survive on her own, so she had to have her mother with her.”

Men and women gathered around them, filthy warriors stained with the evidence of their raid and slaughter. Everyone wore trousers and tunics, though some of the women chose more form-fitting clothing that extenuated their feminine attributes. The ethnicities in Ulfr’s band were as varied as the colors of their wardrobes. Though none dared wear purple or, worse, silver and purple combined. A person could be killed for being so presumptions. Only imperial royalty wore those colors.

Several men were retying their trousers, having violated their victims before killing them. Lance observed the crowd with a detached eye. He knew what would happen now. He’d known it the moment he made the decision to save the infant.

“You disobeyed me!” Ulfr gripped the collar of Lance’s breastplate and yanked him closer until their faces were inches apart. “You showed mercy when I told you all to slaughter those who don’t give us tribute. These people spat on us as if they were better, and so they deserved their punishment. You’ve followed my orders before, Lance. Why not now?”

“I told you.”

Ulfr shoved him away. Lance stumbled back two steps before standing still, like an oak tree against a high wind.

The complete slaughter of a village or town wasn’t what Ulfr usually did. He wouldn’t raid if they paid him. Normally, if they resisted, Lance would only kill one or two people to make a point, and then the villagers would hand over whatever Ulfr wanted to make him go away. This village had done that in the past, and yet they recently decided to fight back against Ulfr’s protection racket. They paid the ultimate price, an example to all who dared defy Mad Blackwolf.

The village was close to the border between the kingdoms of Grekenus and Cairon, and mostly safe from the ravages of the civil war, since it was deep into the protective territory of one of the kings. And yet sometimes, like that day, warlords got through. Ulfr’s band had had scuffles with army units now and then over the years that gave Lance more of a challenge, but none recently.

“You disobeyed me for a wench and her spawn?”

“I did not want the baby to die,” Lance repeated.

“You will go after her.” Ulfr pointed in the direction the woman had fled in. “You will redeem yourself and escape my wrath but only if you go now.”

“No.”

Every single man and woman there gaped, eyes wide.

Ulfr’s eyes bulged and his face grew red. “You ungrateful maggot! Who raised you? Trained you? Who saved you from becoming crow food or sold into slavery? You owe me your loyalty!”

Lance stared at Ulfr. Yes, all he said was true. But there was no way Lance could ever hold his sword over the neck of that baby and kill her. Her laugh echoed in his mind and seemed to unlock something. Something scarred shut.

No, she would live.

He dropped his helmet to the bloody mud, followed by his sword, which had taken countless lives without mercy or hesitation. He stood before the warriors, those he’d trained and slaughtered alongside. Despite living with them, killing with them, he didn’t know them at all. He never cared to.

“I am done,” he said.

About The Author

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M.D. Grimm has wanted to write stories since second grade (kind of young to make life decisions, but whatever) and nothing has changed since then (well, plenty of things actually, but not that!). Thankfully, she has indulgent parents who let her dream, but also made sure she understood she’d need a steady job to pay the bills (they never let her forget it!).

After graduating from the University of Oregon and majoring in English, (let’s be honest: useless degree, what else was she going to do with it?) she started on her writing career and couldn’t be happier.

Working by day and writing by night (or any spare time she can carve out), she enjoys embarking on romantic quests and daring adventures (living vicariously, you could say) and creating characters that always triumph against the villain, (or else what’s the point?) finding their soul mate in the process.

Social Media

Author Website: https://www.mdgrimmwrites.com

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001710645622

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&query=md+grimm

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author Liminal Fiction (LimFic.com): https://www.limfic.com/mbm-book-author/m-d-grimm/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/M.D.Grimm/e/B00I0KZMY6/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Giveaway

M.D. is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Release Blitz: Red Heir by Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey

Red Heir | Lisa Henry & Sarah Honey

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Release Date: July 30th, 2020

Universal Link

Add to Goodreads

REDHEIR_COVER

Blurb

Imprisoned pickpocket Loth isn’t sure why a bunch of idiots just broke into his cell claiming they’re here to rescue the lost prince of Aguillon, and he doesn’t really care. They’re looking for a redheaded prince, and he’s more than happy to play along if it means freedom. Then his cranky cellmate Grub complicates things by claiming to be the prince as well.

Now they’re fleeing across the country and Loth’s stuck sharing a horse and a bedroll with Grub while imitating royalty, eating eel porridge, and dodging swamp monsters and bandits.

Along the way, Loth discovers that there’s more to Grub than meets the eye. Under the dirt and bad attitude, Grub’s not completely awful.

He might even be attractive. In fact, Loth has a terrible suspicion that he’s developing feelings, and he’s not sure what to do about that. He’d probably have more luck figuring it out if people would just stop trying to kill them.

Still, at least they’ve got a dragon, right?

Teaser 1

Excerpt

Loth sighed and rattled the chains of his manacles, but they remained stubbornly affixed to the cold stone wall of the cell in Delacourt castle. Delacourt castle, like the rest of Delacourt, was a total shithole. Loth had only been here a few days after stumbling off the ship from Callier, but he felt more than qualified to make that judgement call.

His head throbbed, either because of how much ale he’d had to drink last night or because the guards hadn’t been gentle with him during his arrest. His memory of the events wasn’t crystal clear, but his favourite blue doublet had a tear in it, and he was fairly certain he’d never get the stains out of the knees of his pants. Which, not for the first time, but Loth preferred to be on his knees by choice, and not because he was being dragged through the muddy streets by a bunch of thugs wearing the livery of the crown. Waking up in chains wasn’t his favourite way to start the day either, that was for sure. Not unless he’d agreed to it beforehand.

“I suppose you’re wondering how I got into this mess,” he announced loudly in the gloom.

The pile of straw on the other side of the cell rustled, and a grubby face appeared. “I wasn’t. I don’t care.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Loth said to his cellmate.

“Then who were you talking to?” his cellmate demanded, jutting his jaw out.

“I was soliloquising,” Loth said. “Well, I was hoping to, but somebody won’t shut their mouth.”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth?”

Loth snorted. “How can I soliloquise if I do that? Now, hush.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re wondering how I got into this mess.”

“I am not wondering!” his cellmate snarled. “I am trying to sleep! Shut up!”

“Since you’re awake,” Loth said, “and apropos of nothing, you wouldn’t happen to know what the penalty is in these parts for pickpocketing, would you?”

“I hope it involves cutting your tongue out.”

Loth hummed. “That would be a terrible loss. My tongue would be mourned throughout the land.”

“I doubt that very much,” his snappish cellmate replied. “You haven’t said anything of import yet.”

Loth grinned. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean for talking.”

Eyes widened in the shadows, and then the straw rustled again as his cellmate attempted to bury himself under it. “Shut up!”

Teaser 4

About the Authors

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Lisa Henry likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.

Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.

She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.

She shares her house with too many cats, a dog, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.

Lisa has been published since 2012, and was a LAMBDA finalist for her quirky, awkward coming-of-age romance Adulting 101, and a Rainbow Awards finalist for 2019’s Anhaga.

She also has a Facebook group where you’ll be kept in the loop with updates on releases, have a chance to win prizes, and probably see lots of lots of pictures of her dog and cats. You can find it here: Lisa Henry’s Hangout.

Social Media

Website | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Bookbub | Twitter

Sarah Honey lives in Western Australia with her partner, two cats, two dogs and a TARDIS.

A teacher once told her life’s not a joke.

She begs to differ.

Her proudest achievements include having kids who will still be seen with her in public, and knowing all the words to Bohemian Rhapsody.

Red Heir is her first published novel.

You can connect with Sarah on Facebook, or send her an email at sarahhoneywriting@gmail.com.

Giveaway

To celebrate Lisa & Sarah’s release, we are giving 2 lucky winners the chance to win an e-copy of Red Heir!

A Rafflecopter Giveaway

Also Head Over to Lisa’s Facebook Group on August 1st for a Release Party. 

Games, Giveaways and Author’s galore!

https://www.facebook.com/groups/LisaHenrysHangout/

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Release Blitz: Facets of the Nether by William C. Tracy

Facets of the Nether | William C. Tracy

The Dissolution Cycle #2

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Publisher: Space Wizard Science Fantasy

Release Date: Tuesday, June 23 2020

Length: 118,000

Buy Link: Amazon

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COVER - Facets of the Nether

Blurb

The Dissolution approaches.

Sam has saved the Assembly of Species, but at a terrible cost. Locked in his apartment, his memories gone and his best friend abducted, he is once again crippled with anxiety. Meanwhile, Enos struggles to free her brother from imprisonment, alone for the first time in her life.

Her true species has been revealed, and there are hints the deadliest of her kind survived an ancient war.

But the Nether contains more secrets. A musical chime disrupts daily life, signaling changes to its very fabric. To solve this mystery, Sam must face his anxiety and confront truths about his memories and unique abilities.

Only then can he save his friends from the machinations of the Life Coalition, by understanding the reality behind the Facets of the Nether.

 

MEME1 - Facets of the Nether

Excerpt

– The appearance of a new house of the maji is not to be as surprising as its origin. My apprentice, who firmly appeared to be of the House of Communication, is the one who is showing me these new things, at my age. Truly, the Nether is changing.

Journal of Origon Cyrysi, Kirian majus of the Houses of Communication and Power

A chime erupted through the Imperium, as if all the crystal plates in the world rang and shattered at once. Samuel van Oen held his ears and, through the window of his mentor’s apartment, watched a flight of alien birds split and scatter at the noise.

“What was that?” Sam dropped his hands from his ears as the sound stabilized into a deep, clear tone he felt in his gut. It was loud, but not as unbearable as it had been. Deep in the back of his mind, the Grand Symphony responded to the noise like a tuning fork against a plate of metal. The different rhythms fractured and multiplied at the chime, like the whole world was vibrating.

No one answered his question, as Majus Cyrysi was out again. The Kirian had spent more time in the libraries of the Spire than in teaching Sam, not that he was ever particularly good at teaching.

The tower of the House of Communication vibrated beneath Sam’s feet as the sound lessened to a background hum. The music normally playing in its halls had ceased during the explosion of sound, but now picked up fitfully, warring with the chime’s resonance. The flock of birds—with crests of orange, and three scaly wings down each side of their body—swooped in an irregular pattern, disrupted by the noise.

Sam went to the window and looked down. To one side, dust fell from the strange stone bridge that ran from the middle height of the House of Communication to the immense wall of the Nether. He’d been out on it before, as it was a curiosity of this House, and maji occasionally used it to take in the view. There were a few maji on it now—a tall Etanela and two Methiemum—looking up at the immense wall of the Nether, bathed in blues and purples like a titanic sheet of ice.

On the ground far below, people milled around in confusion. Sam guessed the bell-like sound wasn’t normal, but he’d only been in this place a little under two months. Before that, things became blurred and hazy in his mind. The presence that had rooted through his head took many of his memories. He remembered Earth, and that he had stayed with his aunt after something happened to his parents. Their faces refused to come to mind. Thinking about what happened at the Dome of the Assembly made him seek the silence of Majus Cyrysi’s apartment, and he couldn’t stop. He was obsessing about what he could have—should have—done differently. He was slowly spiraling down to a place of solitude and loneliness, and his body wouldn’t obey his deeper wish to break the cycle.

Sam jumped back from the window as someone banged on the door. A spike like an icicle in his gut went through him. Sweat pricked his forehead.

Don’t be someone new.

It could only be one of a few people, but his throat threatened to close at the thought of explaining why he was sitting here alone, staring out a window. How long ago had Majus Cyrysi left?

Sam put one eye to the peephole in the door, then sagged in relief. It was Enos. He could ask her about the sound digging its way into his head.

He opened the door and let his friend in, looking her over. There were bags under her eyes and she hadn’t combed her long black hair.

“You haven’t slept either, have you?” said Enos.

Sam let out a burst of air. It wasn’t quite a laugh. “That’s what I was going to say.” He pulled her into the room by her hand, quickly closing the door. The hall should be familiar, but it didn’t feel like the right day to go outside. Again.

“You hear that too, right? Do you know what—”

Enos shook her head. “No idea. I was about to ask you. People are running around like mad. I don’t think anyone knows.”

Then why would she think I knew? He stared at the closed door.

Enos followed his gaze, then took his other hand. “It’s been a ten-day since you left Majus Cyrysi’s apartment.” She winced as if she had a headache. Probably that irritating chime. It was like a dull drill, pressing against the back of his head.

Sam frowned. Now wasn’t the time to talk about going out. Couldn’t Enos see he had other things on his mind?

“Before this noise started I was trying to remember…remember—” He bit his lip and focused over her shoulder. It was something about Earth. He’d almost had it.

“Remember what?’ Enos asked, bringing his focus back. “Is it connected with the attack on the Assembly? Or about the new themes you hear in the Symphony? Can they help us find Inas?”

Sam shook his head. He was letting Enos down.

She won’t want to be with me anymore.

He knew it wasn’t true, but the fact beat against the inside of his head. Inas had been the other side of a scale, balancing him. Without him, everything was harder.

About the Author

AUTHOR PIC - Facets of the Nether - William C. Tracy

William C. Tracy is a North Carolina native and a lifelong fan of science fiction and fantasy. He self-published his Dissolutionverse space opera books and has one epic fantasy published with a small press.

He also has a master’s in mechanical engineering, and has designed and operated heavy construction machinery. He’s trained in Wado-Ryu karate since 2003, and runs his own dojo in Raleigh. He is an avid video and board gamer, a reader, and a writer.

In his spare time, he cosplays with his wife such combinations as Steampunk Agent Carter and Jarvis, Jafar and Maleficent, and Doctor Strange and the Ancient One. They also enjoy putting their pets in handmade costumes and making them cosplay for the annual Christmas card.

Get a novelette by signing up for William’s mailing list or follow him on Twitter at for writing updates, cat pictures, and martial arts.

Social Media

Author Website: http://williamctracy.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/bill.tracy.311

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/williamctracyswsf/

Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/wctracy

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tracywc/

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/60627.William_C_Tracy

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/William-C-Tracy/e/B01D1Z2MD8

Giveaway

William is giving away a $10 Amazon gift card with this tour. Enter via Rafflecopter for a chance to win:

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