You've got to be in it to win it!!!

Cheyenne Publishing and Bristlecone Pine Press are doing a special promotion today to promote Hidden Conflict: Tales from Lost Voices in Battle and Speak Its Name: A Trilogy. To read excerpts from the two anthologies, watch the book trailer, or to get details on how to enter the drawings to win some really cool prizes, visit The Kindle Boards or Speak Its Name Yahoo Group.

Bristlecone Pine Press will give away a free eBook of each title, and Cheyenne Publishing has a brand new paperback of Hidden Conflict with a bookplate signed by all four authors, and a paperback copy of Speak Its Name with a bookplate signed by all three authors. Everyone who enters the drawings will be eligible to win Hidden Conflict bookmarks. Come on by for full details on how to enter.

Come on over - these are lovely books, well worth winning.

Another drabble

This is for jl_merrow who wanted Jonty/Orlando with the prompt Bonfire Night. Also for trusea who'll know why at the end.

I love fanficcing myself.


The green behind St. Bride’s was swarming with people. Dunderheads, dons, porters and their families - right up to the Vice Chancellor himself, guest of Dr. Peters and his sister. No other college could celebrate Bonfire Night the way St. Bride’s did – an impressive array of fireworks was awaiting ignition and a huge bonfire was already alight.

The flames licked the feet of the effigy which sat atop the edifice. It was supposedly Guido Fawkes himself, although in recent times the ‘guy’ had borne a striking resemblance to Dr. Owens, from the college next door, arch-enemy of Bride’s and attempted besmircher of Miss Peters’ honour.

A chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ broke out around Jonty and Orlando as the first of the rockets took to the air. Vivid reds and greens split the night sky, showers of stars and sparks bursting overhead. By the time the final little Catherine wheel had whizzed its last they were deafened, blinded and had lungs full of smoke, all of which were worth it.

“Remember, remember, the fifth of November,” a group of dunderheads started to chant as they wandered back to college.

“Do you remember the fifteenth of November?” Jonty’s breath was hot on Orlando’s neck, the crowds giving them every excuse to be close.

“I do. It’s the day you stole my chair.” Orlando let a knot of undergraduates pass them, dropping back through the throng by stages until they were almost alone.

Jonty laid his hand briefly on is lover’s arm. “The day you stole my heart.”