On this International Women’s Book Day (OK, I made that up!)

I think International Women’s Book Day sounds great, a day for all us ladies to shamelessly promote our work. So, in it’s honour, I’m sharing extracts of my latest books below. The first two are from my upcoming HF novel Benedict’s Song. The next two from my soon to be released novella which is book 2 in The Dark Stranger series, sapphic romantasy The Storyteller’s Amulet. Enjoy!

He sang to escape his past—but every note carried him closer to it.

Lincoln, England, 1290. Late Summer.

Benedict’s mouth watered as a suckling pig was carried past him. The roasted meat fumes taunted him, and he let them dance on his tongue, but it was a fleeting pleasure, and the familiar smells of sweat, ale and piss soon chased them away. Above him, galley minstrels were playing a song that had been one of his mother’s favourites, “Chantar M’Estuet.” The competition for the new minstrel had attracted a great number of folk, boys dashed here and there with ale jugs, and cheers went up when trenchers were thrown. Shuffling backwards under a table and kicking the stinking reeds away to make a dry patch, he slouched against the leg feeling the scratchy knots of wood at his back. Then his father stepped into the middle of the hall and began to play a tune on his whistle.

Benedict waited until he got the signal from the guard, then he slipped through the door and down into the small ante-room ahead of where the bishop of Pamiers resided. As he had now done many times, Benedict waited until one of the brothers opened the door, then he handed over the letter he’d secretly carried and in return took the money pouch offered. No words were spoken, and no further acknowledgement of him was made. Benedict retraced his steps and was soon back with Richard behind the wall that protected the bishop’s residence.

“How much did you get this time?” Richard asked.

“The usual by the feel of it.”

The Storyteller’s Amulet

Etae as always, mumbled to herself as she read the scene where the girl ends the romance with the queen, ‘go with her, be happy, don’t marry the man!’ and even as she uttered the words, the ending of the story started to re-write itself, and she smiled as she read the ending she preferred. It was her favourite thing to do, re-write the stories with the happiest of outcomes, ones which other girls like her would love to read. She had never knowingly met anyone who felt as she did, but as always when she pondered on this, she reasoned that she couldn’t be the only one. Her thoughts were interrupted by the fluttering of a small piece of paper that fell from the pages. Curious, she retrieved it from the floor, held it in her palm and read the words. ‘Fierce women re-write the “hero’s journey” to make room for women at the centre, they delight in cleverness, surviving by wit rather than brawn, and dream of love and stepping beyond the ordinary, imagining infinite possibilities.’ As she looked at the paper she could have sworn that it seemed to be breathing, and she could feel a slight pulsing as it rested in her palm.

Etae’s heart raced and she couldn’t stop herself from gasping, it took all she had to stand her ground and not run back up to the apartment, locking the door behind her. On seeing her, the intruder visibly jumped and seemed just as startled as she was. They pushed the book away and looked up, and as her hood fell back she finally revealed herself. Etae thought the face was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. The woman’s skin was ebony, her eyes were blue and her lips were full and pink, they looked as soft as rose petals and Etae couldn’t help staring. The stranger’s hair cascaded onto her shoulders, rivulets of tightly woven dark hair with coloured ribbons running through it. She looked like a spirit tree in human form. Etae’s breath left her. This was who she had been scared of and had caused her to sleep fitfully for the last few nights. There was no other colour about the woman apart from a locket that hung around her neck, it’s blue-purple stone shining in the dim light.