Okay, I’ve dusted off the big guns. This contest just went nuclear.
Ho, ho, ho! I’m giving away one $50 Amazon Gift Card. That’s fifty whole bucks you can spend on friends and family. ‘Cause the Holidays are a time to think about others. Right? YEAH RIGHT! Use the money to sweeten up your Kindle, trade it in for 5000 pennies, or buy yourself somethin’ nice (like Rogue’s Curse, for example. I’m just saying…)
My editor for Rogue’s Curse, Adrien-Luc Sanders is putting up most of the jack (Visit his blog here). Why are we doing this? Because both of us believe in the book and want you to buy it. And…well, you know…we like the attention.
Entering the contest is easy. We want to give away this money, so qualifying requires minimal effort on your part:
STEP ONE: If you haven’t already, connect with me on one of these social sites (the links will take you there):
“Follow me” or “Become a Fan” or “Add my Book”, or “Friend” me (or whatever else you want to do). If you’ve already done this in the past, you’re halfway there! Proceed to Step Two.
STEP TWO: Leave a comment here. Say howdy, or something. Or…maybe tell people why they should buy Rogue’s Curse? (again, I’m just saying…)
On Wednesday, December 22, I’ll draw the winner’s name from a highly technical and complicated lottery mechanism. Then I’ll reveal the winner and email the gift card.
Please spread the word.
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For those of you who still haven’t purchased Rogue’s Curse, here’s a longer excerpt to entice you into buying it. You can get it at Amazon, or at Lyrical Press, and lots of other online distributers (a Google search shows a bunch). If you have any questions about the format, how to purchase or anything else please ask me: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Doban scavenged the dead bodies for a replacement leather tunic. Oompus hadn’t shown much restraint with his claws, leaving the flayed flesh of his victims indistinguishable from their leather apparel. But since Doban didn’t mind the blood, his choices were numerous. He discovered the perfect tunic, one slathered with innards and clovort drool.
“Your fashion sense hasn’t changed much,” Mona said, stepping off the table. She threw the fallen cloak around her shoulders.
Doban gave Mona a stern look. “I guess we can leave now. Tag’s horse is around back. We could take mine, but he probably starved to death by the hitching post.”
Mona folded her arms. “I brought my own horse.”
Doban stirred a bloody puddle on the floor with his boot. “Oh. Well, I thought we could share. But I guess if you want to do it that way–”
Mona slapped him. It wasn’t the first time, as evidenced by a large permanent callus on his left cheek. Her palm contained a matching callus.
“Did you actually think I would share a horse with you?” she asked.
“Well, sort of.”
“Could you be any more presumptuous? Stop staring at me like that. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I want you to rip off my clothes and have sex with me.”
Doban cocked his head. “What does sharing a horse have to do with sex? Did an off-color metaphor suddenly whizz past my head?”
“I’m not sharing a horse with you. Stop being a baby.”
“I’m not being a baby. Besides, you’re not supposed to be alive.”
“Would you prefer I wasn’t?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m not sharing a horse with you,” Mona said.
“Would you stop saying that? I get it already.”
“Good.” She thrust out her chin. “Because I’m not.”
“Does that mean you’re sharing a horse with somebody else?”
She slapped him again.
“Wow, your aim is a lot better.”
“You have no right to ask me that question.”
“At least tell me why you’re here. Why would you help me after what I…I mean, after what happened?”
She took a while to answer. “I have my reasons.”
“Can you share those–”
A gut-rumbling belch cut him off. Oompus opened his mouth and expunged a finger. It bounced on the floor and rolled. The clovort grinned, then wiped his mouth. “Yum.” He lifted the ankle chains. “You take these off?”
“Conference time,” Doban said. He summoned Mona to the corner of the bar.
“Conference. Get your supposed-to-be-dead ass away from the toothy monster. I want to discuss him without getting eaten.” Mona joined Doban in the corner. “Do we really want to unchain him?” he whispered.
“We can’t just leave him like that. You should ask him to come with us.”
“Us?” Doban said. “You’re serious about helping me, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Go free Oompus so we can get out of this tavern.”
“What if he gets hungry?”
“Then I guess we’ll feed him.”
Doban grimaced at the chained behemoth. “What if he gets hungry for one of us? I don’t think we should chance it.”
“Come on. Look at him. He’s cute.” Mona tilted her head. “In an ‘Ah shucks, sorry I ate the cat’ sort of way.”
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