Many things

First, and most important, many many thanks yous to everyone who has left me a comment about Treasure. I’m having the time of my life rewriting these books, and making them all the shinier, so I’m glad peeps are enjoying them so far.

I am nearly done writing Burning Bright. I’d meant to be done by yesterday, but as ever I wind up busier than I’d like and so most of it will be done the rest of this week and the weekend. But, I do have the outline for Stone Rose nearly complete and already started the beginning of that. Multitasking skillz, I has them 😀

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Next up, as I’m sure most peeps have seen, Less Than Three Press has finally launched our first collection, Kiss Me Quick

We are extremely proud of this collection. Stories range from 1500-5000 words, and we have fantasy, contemporary, and almost everything in between 😀

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On a more personal note, February 10th is my last day of work at my day job. No more office drudgery for me! At least, not there. I’ll just be LT3’s head minion :3

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAY 😀

Of course, two weeks after that I am returning to North Carolina to crash with my parents while I find a new place to live for me and my roomies :3 So, starting about March 2nd, I’m going to be mostly invisible.

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I’m sure there were lots of other things I’m supposed to say. I need to do a lot of work around my website, but it’s going to have to wait until I have the free time ^^

For now, in parting, I leave you with a Burning Bright excerpt. I do love these boys so ^___^
 

 
 
Ivan lightly cuffed Gleb as he took a seat at the table they’d commandeered in the pavilion, snatching up one of the small loaves of black bread on a platter in the middle of the table. Snagging a cup, he helped himself to the pot of soup, piling on soured cream before pulling it close and devouring it in several quick, neat bites. He sopped up the remains with the bread, and stole Luka’s vodka to wash it all down.

“Hey!” Luka protested lightly.

“Douse it,” Ivan said, and looked around, gesturing to a wench to bring them more. He wiped his face with his handkerchief, and grabbed another loaf of bread. “When did we last eat? Fire and ash, I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.”

Opposite Gleb, Maksim snorted in amusement. “Been nearly that, boss. We need to remember not to take any more jobs from that Piedre lot. Nothing but trouble, those roses.”

Ivan grunted in agreement and helped himself to more soup. “More vodka,” he told the wench as she reached them, and flipped her a copper. “Quick as you can.”

She bustled away, and Ivan returned all of his attention to his food, eager to ease the gnawing ache in his stomach. “However much trouble they are, the job is done and we do not lack for funds. We shouldn’t need to take another job for a bit.”

Directly opposite him, sitting between Luka and Maksim, Isidor laughed. “Whatever you say, boss. By tomorrow night we’ll all be bored.” The others laughed in agreement.

Two more men strode up, taking up seats at the very end of the table. Ivan nodded to them. “Ferapont. Karp. How did the delivery go?”

“Well enough,” Karp groused, stealing Maksim’s beer. “They tried to cheat us out of full payment, but we took care of that right enough–with interest.”

“Good,” Ivan said. He finished his second bowl of soup right as the wench brought them more vodka, along with a dish of pickles and more bread. He gave her another coin, and looked his men over. Luka, his second in command, good with a blade and better with his brain. Maksim, his main muscle and twice the size of the rest of them. Gleb, small and quick and sharp. Isidor, resourceful and nearly as deadly as Luka with his blade. Ferapont, who could be falling over drunk and bleeding to death but still able to find his way home no matter where he started. And Karp, so good with money he could probably make the royal treasury look like incompetents.

They all looked tired, but satisfied. A very good team, his men. No better pack of mercenaries were to be found anywhere in Pozhar–or the world, he would be happy to wager. “At least the job is done,” he finally said. “We can rest for a bit, as I was just saying, then get back into it with lighter work. But no more of those roses. Fire and ash, I’ve had enough of them to last three lifetimes.”

“Agreed,” Luka muttered, the others adding their agreement in grunts around them. “So where shall we head, to rest and recover? We could go north, Shade village is a good place this time of year.”

Maksim snorted. “Assuming you can reach it, now. The way the snow was falling this morning, and the look of those clouds? We’re not going anywhere.”

Ivan took a swig of vodka from the bottle the wench had set down, setting it down with a thump. He scratched at his chin, longing for a shave–for a bath, and he might just indulge in a proper bath once he bothered to get around to obtaining rooms for the night. “We’ll stay here a few days,” he said. “Maksim is right, the snow—”

He stopped as shouting erupted, and some of it in an accent he recognized as Verde in origin. No one else had those smooth, snotty tones to their words. Whipping around, he watched avidly along with everyone else at the fight between—

Oh, fire and ash, that faerie child had white hair. No good would come of scorching him, and Ivan knew the ruffians bothering him could not afford to piss of the man they were assaulting. Too late, of course, but maybe something could yet be done. “Stop them,” he ordered his men. “That’s a White Beast.”

Not waiting for his men to reply, Ivan abandoned the table and bolted to the fight that was spinning increasingly out of control. Reaching the group of a half dozen men or so he grabbed one by the back of the shirt and yanked him back, threw him aside.

After that, everything turned into an inferno. Ivan fought his way through the chaos, punching and kicking aside all the fiery idiots stupid enough to attack him. Distantly he noted his men, but his attention was solely for rescuing the source of the fire: the White Beast of Verde.

Finally reaching the man, Ivan grabbed him close and dragged him out of the fray, not slowing down until they had sprinted across the pavilion and were well out of sight. Just in time, to judge by the whistles that started blowing as the useless royal guard showed up to put an end to the street brawl.

Panting, wiping sweat and blood—some his own, some not, he established after a moment—from his face, Ivan finally got a good look at the fiery idiot he had just saved. He blinked, stared some more, trying desperately to recall whatever he had intended to say.

The man was tall, slender but fit. Handsome, but not pretty, his white hair a messy tumble around his face, falling to just past his shoulders. There was a cut on his lip, the blood an especially lurid red against his fair skin. Ivan reached out without thinking to wipe it away with his thumb. When the man stared at him in surprise, Ivan recalled himself and jerked his hand away. “Beg pardon, your grace. Are you all right?”

“Quite,” the man replied. “Thank you for the assistance. I did not expect them to be that angry about my refusing to pay them, given they did not do the job I asked.”

Ivan grunted in amusement. “You should have picked better mercs than that lot. They can’t even jerk off correctly. Why do you think they pay the whores for instructions?”

The man burst into laughter, and was all the more beautiful for it–something Ivan tried and failed not to notice. Nothing came of admiring a beautiful lord but frustration and a sore wrist. When his laughter finally subsided, the man said, “Well, that is certainly my lesson learned.” He looked at Ivan, gave him an appraising look, followed by an appraising look of an entirely different nature. “What about you, are you for hire?”

“Depends on what you’re hiring me to do, your grace,” Ivan said dryly.

Sighing, the man said, “Given that you keep calling me ‘your grace’ I suspect you’re going to refuse my more entertaining offer. But, there is a job I need done and if you are for hire to do that, I will take my victory where I find it.”

“Boss!”

Ivan turned toward the front of the alley as Gleb’s thin face appeared, a small line of blood dripping from his temple and down his cheek. He wiped it away absently on his sleeve. “Oi, boss. You and his grace alright, then?”

“We’re fine,” Ivan said, pushing away from the wall. “How is it out there?”

“Coast is all clear; the others headed for the Sword.”

Ivan nodded and gestured to the duke. “Want to come along and tell me more about this job?”

The man nodded, and followed them to the Sword & Sorcerer