Get YOUR copy of THE KING'S THIEF
Click the button above!
* /END Shameless plug *
What is a Rantholic?
I've talked before about words unique to THE KING'S THIEF before.
Well, here's another word that might trip up those who don't know.
Don't remember this word in the story? Let me give you a snippet of where it is!
*Any reason to give you a teaser, right!*
THE KING'S THIEF Excerpt
The two soldiers tipped their heads, and one of them called for others. Detrien squeezed my hand and winked. “Easy as stroking a cat.”
I let out my tension. “You could have told me you were known here.”
“Didn’t I mention I’d been back to Rouelle?”
He had in passing. “You are a brute for torturing me so.”
He chuckled and for that brief moment I was home.
“The problem is getting to the palace alive.” Detrien scanned the crowd. “Any moment they’ll recognize me, and we’ll be the middle of a crush.”
A line of twenty metal-suit escorts surrounded our party, and we walked forward. The rogues had covered their faces the moment they realized they might come under scrutiny. With this many people they didn’t know, the men were edgy. Torg remained in front and scanned the crowd keeping his hand over the pommel of his dagger. The others hunched over, trying to melt into their saddles. But people stayed focused on Detrien… our companions wouldn’t be remembered.
Once people saw my cousin, the whisper mill began, and jittering energy consumed the streets. It grew into a frenzy to take a gander at the singer. People jostled against each other, following our small caravan, staring. I was sure our guides were the only thing preventing dirty faced admirers mobbing Detrien. My cousin walked with a raised chin, eyes straight, hands loose, and shoulders relaxed. He gave the people no eye contact, which for him was unusual. He loved people, loved talking with them. Our walks in Xaxyia had became strolls due to Detrien’s nature of entertaining friends and passers-by taking precedence.
“Don’t stare at them,” Detrien said. “They’re likely to rush the guards if you do.”
But I could not help looking at them. The drab clothing they wore and their scrambling reminded me of rats in the streets. The stench of too many bodies in one place became overwhelming. The further in, the worse it got. The pike-men lowered their weapons as they walked beside us, making us a path. A construction I’d never seen, a wall around the palace, came into view. During my time nothing separated the people from the monarchy. While sentinels were posted, the inhabitants of the city were civil during my uncle’s time as ruler.
I saw a boy of maybe fifteen years of age climb the seven-foot wall and crouch on top watching Detrien with soulful eyes. He was as filthy as the grownups but with his innocence still intact. He looked at Detrien as if he were a god. I heard someone yell for the boy to get down and from the opposite side of the wall I saw the butt end of a pike strike the boy’s head.
I gasped and clutched my steed’s mane watching the boy fall and then disappear behind a crowd of people. “The boy!”
“Dauphine.” Detrien clutched my hand. “Ride.”
“But the boy.”
Detrien shook his head. “It’s too late for him.”
My heart reeled back at the malice in his voice. He blamed these people for the crimes of their regime. Perhaps my cousin burned for the destruction of the Randish more than I believed.
Once past the wall, the palace was more civil. The gate locked, and I halted my steed. Turning to the soldier next to me I said, “Sir, please, a good Rantholic would check on that boy even if he deserved reprimand.”
The guard turned his steely gaze to me, and we locked eyes.
So now you have context.
And now I will give this simple explanation.
My editor said she didn't understand the meaning. But it was my crit partner that eluded to making this a word.
Here's the background.
Lady Dauphine is in Randish territory.
The Randish are super Catholic. Like beyond Catholic's. Their lives are a "celebration" of god. There is nothing else. You don't marry your spouse, you marry god.
So Rantholic is a play on Catholic.
For all catholic's out there that want a piece of me, please take in mind that this world is already in place and is not mine. It's a game, that sadly, might never be. But I have the honor of telling the story of said game and so I shall keep to the confines of the game's rules.
So, that's the easy explanation.
Does it make sense now?
Still don't get it?
Wish you never heard of it?
But if you're looking for more and want to read the story, don't bother looking for it on Amazon. Or Apple. Or Google play. Or anywhere. Because the only place you will find this story, and for FREE, is by joining the sweepstakes.
Want more information? GO HERE or click the button below!
Until next time!
Raiden Out the Storm
An (Off The Rails) Ice Era Chronicle (2:15 a.m.)
Three minds. One heart.
In the harsh reality of the post-apocalyptic frozen tundra, Raiden fights his growing attraction for Ashley Winsor and her handsome shadow, Stone.
Moving closer to separation the threesome navigate a world filled with angry harvesters, subterranean trains, and hungry polar bears. Through this steamy dystopian trek, Raiden discovers that these two people may be the only thing he loves on this ice bound Earth.
Once they arrive at headquarters a decision will be made… Is Raiden the man who will destroy their fragile relationship, or is he the harvester Ash and Stone need to love?
This main saga is going to be a 10 book series that explores the world thoroughly. Facets of the world will come into play in each installment. But these side stories are characters that go "Off the Rails" and love each other without limits. If you like three-somes, menage, male-male, female-female relationships then you will not want to miss these standalone stories encased within a fascinating world.
Let's be clear on these books.
Books with the subtitle of "Off-The-Rails" is going to be on the GLBTQ side of love. Books with just ICE ERA CHRONICLE is going to only have m/f romance.
C.M.Moore will gladly explain it! Send them an email by scrolling down to the end of this post and clicking on the email icon!
Also, the "M" in C.M. stands for Monica. Connor and Monica are a husband/wife team that create these stories and though she's shy and reserves the spot-light for her husband, Monica is very involved in these stories too.
There is no excuse for this late review!
Only that I thought I had but didn't post anything after reading this glorious story.
I'll admit, the first chapter didn't grip me in a choke hold as I like in my stories, but after... oh, after... the slow start was worth the wait.
Two men, polar opposites, but both strong. Both sensitive. Their mysteries unfolding as the tale is weaved in this two point of view novel. The strong female in the story is as strong as they get without being a chick with a dick.
Two men, one woman─who incidentally is masquerading as a man, are "stuck" together by circumstance and by Weaver, a character with a special talent in the previous book.
Now, I know what you're thinking... YOU SAID THIS WAS STANDALONE, STEPHANIE!
And, it is.
All is explained in this story. But you won't get a rehash of 2:05 a.m. (the previous book).
YOU WILL GET the point of view from Raiden & Ash's side of the story. So if you read the previous book (2:05 a.m.) it's not going to be the same story. It's much, much different.
If you haven't read the previous books, know this...
This is a menage where the third wheel (the "extra" person) of the story makes total sense. If you're into three-love, this is your story!
I Would Recommend this Book to Fans of:
Excerpt from RAIDEN OUT THE STORM © C.M.Moore
Stomping his foot, Raiden felt the cold eat at him. He tapped his foot then dug for starter kindling, Harvester Whiskey, and matches. Walking around the shelving near the exit, Raiden looked for items to burn. Starting a fire was the only thing he could think of to stay warm until Doug returned. Fear made his stomach churn. His eyes flipped to the glass doors. What if Doug didn’t come back? No. The harvester was mean, but Doug wouldn’t kill him. Would he?
Just as Raiden turned around to explore the rest of the room, a faint scratching sound at the back of the building caught his attention. He paused and listened. What was that? More snow coming in? Ice cracking? He headed back over to the counter and scanned the area.
The bellow of a polar bear paralyzed Raiden on the spot. He didn’t even look to where the animal might be. Raiden dashed for the exit and squeezed back through the door.
Raiden looked backward. Movement of white flashed next to the glass doors. Terror fueled him. The cold became a forgotten memory. He started up the hill of ice. Slipping and skidding, he tried to climb the pile of snow, but it was difficult without his ice cleats. His leg caught on an ice rock, and his ankle twisted painfully. Another roar broke the air.
Raiden flipped his head back as he crawled over the ice dune. A huge polar bear came out of the building. The animal spotted him and headed his way. Throwing his body off the mini-mountain, he rolled down the other side and landed with an audible crunch. He scrambled to his feet and started a dead run.
Up ahead, Raiden thought he saw the glimpse of a snowmobile on the ice. He said a prayer of thanks to whoever was trekking this way.
Raiden had just stopped to wave and holler for whoever was on the ice when a cramp seized his joints. He hit the ground as his knees and shoulders spasmed. A storm was here. His eyes misted with tears as the familiar soreness dug its claws into his bones. Raiden cried out, but the exclamation was only a muffled scream. The storm would be here in four minutes and thirty-two seconds.
The sound of an engine broke into his daze of agony. Just then another bellow of the polar bear had him spinning backward. The bear was at the top of the ice hill. The animal climbed slowly down the incline toward Raiden. He turned around and leaped to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a snowmobile to his left. He began to sprint toward what he hoped was help. Another mini-mountain of snow rose like a blockade ahead of him. Shoving aside a second spasm of joint pain, he dashed toward the pile of ice. Maybe he could hide behind the snow mound until the person on the snowmobile showed up. Perhaps Doug had returned.
Raiden’s ankle hurt, but the sting was no worse than his knees and shoulders. His empty pack felt like the straps alone weighed about two hundred pounds. The canvas strap that ripped on the train began to give out.
He hit the ice mountain and started to pull himself over the top. This ice was smoother, and it was harder to get solid footing. He slipped at the top where an area was particularly flattened and fell onto his belly. He held onto the one band of material that still held his bag onto his back.
Just as he was about to throw his legs over, he heard another roar. The bear had caught up with him…
C.M. Moore was raised with a combination of military and Catholic values. He didn’t do a lot of writing as a kid. He did, however, master the art of sarcastic guilt trips.
After grumbling and whining his way through the “hardest” part of his life (high school), he joined the Army. The grumbling and whining stopped immediately. Uncle Sam was not accepting of those antics, and instead, the military nurtured his core values and solidified the sarcastic traits. He also had to write reports, which were not allowed to be sarcastic.
Connor served his country on three separate tours. His first tour was like a six-month spring break in England. Easy duties requiring minor brain synopsis; his kind of work. His following tour to Iraq tested his metal, and proved to his wife, who had previously served overseas, that he could survive it too. His third and final tour to Afghanistan rocked his world. In Afghanistan, Connor was tasked to a Route Clearance Platoon, where he cleared routes of roadside bombs. The job was pure boredom interjected with moments of sheer terror. Connor is attributed with five finds, and nine strikes to his vehicle over a one year period. He finished his tour and came home with several new medals upon his chest. A Purple Heart being one of them.
Connor has several injuries which limit his mobility and his career options. He has a Traumatic Brain Injury and other physical issues. He now volunteers with veteran organizations and helps with a small bookstore his wife and he built. After Connor had returned to civilian life, he took a few writing courses which inspired him to put pen to paper. He’s not sure why that metaphor is still in use when everything is done on the computer. Connor believes it should be, give your fingers hours of cramped exhaustion.
Years of watching his wife devour romances caused him to want to write a book she would want to read. With the support of family and friends, Connor began writing his first book with his wife, Monica. There were many, many copies that ended up under his bed until now.
The final draft of his romance 1:05 a.m. follows an assassin trying to get out of the game, and a base security officer who is looking for the same peace of mind. This book is a sexy love story in a world covered in ice and snow. His home in Minnesota gives him plenty of inspiration.
When Connor can step away from his finger exercise on the keyboard. He is a stay at home husband and father. He helps his two daughters with their homework (yet he distinctly remembers graduating from homework) and aids his wife with their bookstore. He also enjoys hunting and fishing near his home in central Minnesota, and his hobbies are building projects and growing a white trashy beard.
If you wish to contact him, he loves to talk to his fans. Send him a message at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Find C.M.Moore on Social Media
“Narcissistic, arrogant, gallish mage.”
I don't ever think I'll tire of this image when I think of Bowden.
Long & Lean.
This also brings me to why I wrote this article. When going through my manuscript, my editor asked me "What does gallish mean?" it made me go back to the scene where Chartan was teasing Bowden. I'll expand just in case you haven't read THE KING'S THIEF in which case, get thee to THE KING'S THIEF SWEEPSTAKES right now!
No, really. I mean it. We'll wait.
Okay, for everyone who has read The King's Thief, here's the scene:
Excerpt from THE KING'S THIEF
“Bowden…” I framed my loose curls around his face. “I promise to make up for this horrible place. You’ll come with me to Xaxyia, you’ll have the best food, wine from all trades of the globe, any woman from my stable—all of them, just stay alive.”
He smiled wide, then his mirth fell. “From your stable?”
“She’s guild master of the courtesans.” Chartan bent a knee and examined the mage.
Bowden slid a venomous gaze to Chartan, raised his arm, and wrapped his hand around Le Beau’s neck. The mage, too weak to do any damage, barely kept his hold. Amazingly, Chartan did not try to stop him.
“You let her become a courtesan?” Bowden’s fury was going to keep him alive, so I didn’t argue.
“I let her choose her own destiny.” Chartan took hold of Bowden’s wrist and moved out of the mage’s grip.
“When I’m stronger, we will discuss your failures later.” Bowden folded his arm over his chest.
“Narcissistic, arrogant, gallish mage.” Chartan softened the words with affection. “You could have dropped in on her at any time.”
“Conceited, self-important, vain thief.” A faint smile emerged from Bowden’s lips. “You were charged with protecting her.”
Chartan chuckled, and Bowden listed his head to the side. Like most mages, Bowden slept with his eyes half open.
Okay, so now that your memory is refreshed, and if you too were wondering what the hell did he mean by gallish? Or thought the author (me) spelled galling wrong, then you're in the right place.
Let me explain.
First, this is a fantasy world. Please take that in mind.
Gallish is a play on galling meaning vexing.
Why didn't I use vexing?
Because this is a FANTASY world and in this FANTASY world there are Gauls.
BEFORE you go rushing to the map of Inestra with your microscopes let me save you some time. You will not find Gaul on the map. In fact, you only get a 4th of the map in the book. I limited the map to relevant areas. Gaul was not one of them. Maybe it should be, but no.
Gallish is a play on Gauls, yes, but what are Gauls?
I actually don't want to say, yet.
Yes, it's a cop-out but I have an idea of what they are though I'm not ready to reveal them. Perhaps in the future I will. If the book is well received, there is a story-line and a chance for more books in the Inestra world. If not, then all you need to know is that gallish means "you're standing on my last nerve".
If this isn't enough of an explanation, perhaps this would be a good time to get in on the V.I.R. Lounge and send me an email.
Of course if you want your own copy of THE KING'S THIEF, you can join by clicking the button below and entering in the Sweepstakes!
Upon entry you will receive an email with a link to get the FREE ebook download. It's an awesome value because I am not selling the ebook anywhere. It's my exclusive gift to you. This story is special and only my best fans get to read it.
It's up to you whether you want to be a V.I.R. but you'll never know if you're missing something unless you give it (and me) a try!
To my already V.I.R. ─ thank you. I hope you loved the book as much as I had fun writing it! Go ahead and get another entry by clicking the button above and ticking the "click here for another entry" so you can rack up the chances of winning!
Until next time!
The disappearance of rich-girl-turned-political-activist Julie Mao links the lives of Ceres detective Joe Miller (Thomas Jane), accidental ship captain James Holden (Steven Strait) and U.N. politician Chrisjen Avasarala (Shohreh Aghdashloo). Amidst political tension between Earth, Mars and the Belt, they unravel the single greatest conspiracy of all time.
If you haven't watched The Expanse, then we can't be friends.
Okay, that's harsh, but this show has become one of the fundamentals of Sci-Fy that any who call them a fan of the genre need to at least watch it.
Encountering aliens isn't new. In fact, I'd say it's an important part of many Sci-Fy plots and The Expanse is no different. But the realism of this show is scary. How people adapt, how people differentiate others of even their own kind, reflects the strong value of this series. Belters vs. Inners shows the relationship between poor vs. rich.
But it's the many layers of each character and what they represent that makes me and others love this show so much. We root for Holden, the unlikely ship captain. We root for the underdog, corrupt cop in love. We root for the politician who wants to get to the truth even as she pulls her capitol strings. We cheer for the space marine with an altruistic goal. We go absolutely ballistic in joy when the underdog, cast-aside pilot saves his crew against all odds. We hold our breath and pray for the gunner finding his way from right and wrong. We listen to a mechanic's moral arguments.
Love them. Hate them. But they won't be forgotten.
How can they when each is the flag ship of a moral dilemma. A contrast of ethics.
Of course there are ships in this world and I root for many of them. These hunks of metal have a personality along with a crew.
If you're interested in my blog then let me convince you to become part of my readers group!
Get a free read to see if you like my style.
I'll send you
THE KING'S THIEF!
Just fill in the form below and let's connect!