This is a lovely blog review for The Cultist’s Wife!
Chattering
It’s Release Day for The Cultist’s Wife!
This book o’ mine had a long, strange, and winding journey to publication but it’s HERE.
Long time readers of this blog first encountered it as a story about a little girl going to the Bahamas called Sand and Bones. Then I re-wrote it to be Clara’s story, and it became Escaping Andronicus. And then I let my Beta readers (thank you Dover and Thena!) at it (again) and it was finally titled The Cultist’s Wife.
Then it sat in my To Be Edited folder while I worked on The Vitruvian Mask because I had people asking me for a sequel to The Archimedean Heart and I am nothing if not responsive to my readers. <grin>
But finally, I returned to this book and polished it up to a shine. I had my developmental editor give it another pass. A sensitivity reader took a look at it from a Black Bahamian perspective. I hired a proofreader (thanks, Alison!) and got a great cover designer (Kelley York at Sleepy Fox Studios). I think it’s the story I wanted to tell now.
I have had some lovely people look at the ARCs and wanted to share snippets of their reviews:
The book took my breath away…
It had everything that I was looking for…
I was so enthralled in this story I couldn’t stop thinking about it when I couldn’t be reading it.
This was a quick read and it sucked me in right away!
Read this in 2 days. Very readable!
Awww, you folks are so sweet! <BLUSH> I was so pleased to read these reviews!
If you want your own copy, The Cultist’s Wife is on sale through the month of May.
It’s part of a promo package with a ton of other horror, mystery, and suspense books here or by itself here.
COVER REVEAL! The Cultist’s Wife
Here it is, the cover for my next book, The Cultist’s Wife! It was designed by the very talented Kelley York at Sleepy Fox Studios. I am thrilled! It really captures the essence of the book, a historical gothic horror set in 1908 Bahamas.
I am doing a pre-release sale right now through the release day (1 May 2024).
My goth tea party playlist
As always, we threw a tea party for my birthday and this year, went a little goth with black skull china and such. So I made a playlist to listen to at the party. Since most of you weren’t at the party, here’s the music. Brew up your fave tea blend and enjoy.
It’s all my grandad’s fault
Daily writing prompt
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
For most of my young life, I HATED my middle name. It seemed so boring. So Plain. It even rhymes with plain. Plain Jane. I mean, yuk, right? That was young me. I appreciate it a bit more now. But back then, Belinda Jane just struck me as a terrible combination. It was my grandad’s idea. Apparently, there were a couple of newspaper comics during WWII that he was fond of. He told me when I was little that he named me after the characters, Belinda and Jane.
Let’s unpack that for just a moment, Grandad. So One: my parents let you name their firstborn? Okay, I guess they were young? And Two: you decided to name me after a couple of comic strip characters? WTH?
It gets better. I finally looked up these comic strips and they were not exactly as described to me by my dearest grandfather. He said they were a couple of cute blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls, just like me. Not that I was particularly blonde but okay…
So here’s Belinda. Uh huh. Cute little blond-haired girl. I can see that my grandad would’ve seen his baby granddaughter here.
But back to the topic of this post, my middle name, Jane. Apparently not everyone thought that Jane was Plain. Here’s the inspiration for my middle name, Jane from the Misadventures of Jane.
Well. Grandad. Weren’t you the lad?
The Hencha Queen by J. Scott Coatsworth
An author friend of mine, the prolific and talented Scott Coatsworth is releasing the third book in his Tharassas Cycle series, The Hencha Queen, a sci-fi fantasy with queer romance elements.
SILYA COMES INTO HER OWN, BUT WILL SHE BE ENOUGH?
Silya finally has everything she always wanted. She’s the Hencha Queen, head of the Temple, and is working to master her newfound talents. So why does the world pick now to fall apart?
Her once-nemesis Raven is off riding dragons, and their mutual friend (and her ex) Aik is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, a new threat menaces the Heartland from the East, and if she can’t convince a reluctant Gullton city council to prepare for the worst, she may lose everyone and everything she’s ever cared about.
As she uses her magic-like abilities, wit and sheer determination to try to save the city, she’s joined by Raven and his new friends. Will their help tip the scales? And will they finally find out what happened to Aik as a dark storm threatens to sweep them all away?
Forget messy. Things just got apocalyptic.
Universal Buy Link: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com/book/the-hencha-queen/
The Tharassas Cycle is a four book sci-fantasy series set on the recently colonized world of Tharassas. When humans first arrived on planet, they thought they were alone until the hencha mind made itself known. But now a new threat has arisen to challenge both humankind and their new allies on this alien world.
The First Two Books are On Sale (& Get a Free Book)
Books 1 & 2 are on sale through March 31st for just 99¢ each (eBooks, all vendors). And if you buy one (or all three) of the main series books, email scott@jscottcoatsworth.com and let him know and he’ll send you a free copy of Tales From Tharassas, the prequel.
Sale Details: https://www.jscottcoatsworth.com/the-hencha-queen-pre-release-deals/
Ban the word “utilize”
If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?
I have an irrational hatred for the word “utilize” for REASONS.
Okay maybe just one. It means practically the same thing as “use” but sounds more, I don’t know, fancy? Educated? And people just drop it in here and there for no good reason. Just say use, folks! Really. You don’t sound more intelligent when you say utilize.
I dug around looking to see when it’s the right word. Basically, if you’re using something for an unintended purpose. So if you are hammering something with your shoe, you are utilizing your shoe. You can still say use and it’s correct though.
That’s it. So I am in favor of banning “utilize.” Please?
ARCs available now for The Cultist’s Wife
1908, the height of the British Empire. Clara’s autonomy is shattered when her long-absent husband summons her to join him at his eerie sect’s headquarters, insulated on a sparsely inhabited island in the Bahamas.
After a harrowing sea voyage, Clara and her children disembark into an unfamiliar landscape and climate. The children explore the marvels and mysteries of Andros Island and develop friendships with a Bahamian family, while Clara struggles to find her place as a woman within the cult.
But what seems at first to be a spiritual haven for Clara reveals itself to be a monster-worshiping cult intent on draining her family of more than their fortune.
Clara realizes that her quest for independence must mesh with her need to protect her children from the cult’s depraved attempts to consume their life essence.
Thanks for your interest. The ARC signups are now closed. To be part of the next ARC campaign, sign up for my email newsletter.
SNEAK PEAK: The Cultist’s Wife
I will be publishing The Cultist’s Wife on the 1st May 2024 (YES, FINALLY) so for my dearest subscribers, I am giving you a sneak peak. This is the first scene of the book. Enjoy!
Near Bath, England, 1908
Fragrant smoke swirled around Clara, its spicy, musky scent relaxing her. She breathed deeply, released from her corset’s constraints. She was free for at least an hour or two this morning before her obligations descended again. Clara’s heavy silk robe caressed her body and she shivered with pleasure. She settled more comfortably onto the large cushion on the floor of her darkened sitting room and focused on the single candle flame in front of her.
A childish voice shrieked outside her sitting room. Clara sighed and glanced at the door.
Can’t Nanny manage the children for an hour? I just need some time to myself.
The noise faded and her sitting room grew quiet. She took a long steadying breath, trying to regain her inner peace. Her reading into Esoterica and Spiritualism had hinted at possibilities of life beyond the constraints and expectations of society. Her marriage, her home, even having children had all been others’ choices. She needed guidance on how to become her own person, to find her own happiness. Her knees ached as she knelt on the cushion, and she shifted. Her feet were numb and tingling. She wiggled her toes and exhaled.
How do the gurus sit like this for hours?
Gathering her focus again, she determined to sit still until her spirit guide manifested and gave her the advice she sought. She had never actually seen her spirit guide or spoken to him, but her references assured her of his presence. She just needed to focus long enough. It had been so much easier to see the spirit world when she was a child. Clara leaned forward and sprinkled more incense on the brazier. A cloud billowed up and she watched as patterns formed in the musky, intoxicating smoke. Coughing a little, Clara squinted in the darkness.
Was that a face in the smoke? Could he be manifesting to her finally?
Clara struggled to sit still. Her body tensed with excitement and her breathing came fast and shallow. The image coalesced further, and the face began to look familiar. She squinted in the gloom.
That face…it’s so familiar. Who is it? Oh no…it can’t be…
Disappointment fell heavy upon her. The face in the smoke resembled her long-absent husband Theophilus. But why would her spirit guide look like him? Clara scowled at the likeness of her husband’s face. This apparition couldn’t be her spirit guide. She had somehow conjured up a vision of Theophilus. Her heart thumped hard. Why should he appear to her now when he had been in the Bahamas for five years? Was he dead and his ghost was haunting her? As if in answer to her questioning, the mouth opened in a silent scream and the eyes grew wide in terror. Clara gasped and cringed back from the brazier. Cold crept across her skin. She shivered and reached for her shawl, draping it around her shoulders without shifting her stare from the phantasm. It continued to scream without making a sound, its gaping mouth opening and closing. She pulled the shawl closer, her hands clenching the fabric.
The ghosts I saw as a child never looked like that. I don’t think he’s dead. Perhaps he’s in danger.
The smoke drifted higher, and the phantasm dissipated. Tears filled her eyes. Clara rose off her pillow, wincing at the tingling in her feet. Theophilus’s portrait above the mantel, illuminated by the single candle, glared down at her. Life with that cold, brutal man had been joyless. She glowered back at the image, wishing she had the courage to take the painting down.
I wanted insight into becoming happy. Does the road to my happiness lie with helping Theophilus?
She shook her head, remembering all the times when he had laughed at her spiritual explorations. He would find it ludicrous if she told him about having a vision of him being in trouble. But she had been seeking guidance from her spirit guide. Would she have to go to the Bahamas to help Theophilus? She paced across the little sitting room to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. The misty green countryside stretched away into the distance.
I don’t want to leave England to be with Theophilus. He’ll take over my life like he did when he was here.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she gulped, trying to suppress them. They poured hot down her cheeks. Clara pressed her trembling hands against her face, but the tears kept coming. Her sobs shook her body and she moaned, trying to catch her breath.
Stop it, stop it. Control yourself, Clara.
She shoved a fist into her mouth to stifle the undignified sounds and sank to her knees, head resting on the windowsill. She fought the urge to shriek her fury.
I can’t go. I hate him. I hate him.
Clara sucked in a harsh breath, shuddering. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had overtaken her, leaving Clara weak and empty, her face wet. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her tears away. She’d need to repair her ravaged face before tea. She looked back at the brazier. The manifestation had been so vivid. Was it a true seeing or guilt over her hatred of her husband? She couldn’t give up her quest for happiness to go to Theophilus because of this vision. Could she?
If you want to read more, I have advance reading copies available NOW. Fill out my Google form if you want to join my ARC team and get a free ebook of the full manuscript. https://forms.gle/P6wByjARvdjHNQ4E9
Hunting Sirens: a romance?
Mary Mecham’s Hunting Sirens is billed as a sweet romantic retelling of the Little Mermaid.
But I wasn’t sure what to expect: how do you make a romance with a Deaf, grumpy blacksmith and the creature she’s sworn to kill? While one lives on land while the other in the sea? No spoilers here but Mary Mecham managed it very cleverly.
There’s a lot of action and adventure with plenty of thrilling heroics. Mostly on the part of Treva, the Siren Hunter, a very tough young woman forced into fighting the sirens because of her immunity to their call. Her resistance to her feelings for one of the sirens and her (eventual) falling in love with him feels real, not forced by the plot.
I enjoyed this gender-switched retelling of the Little Mermaid a lot. The main characters are great and even the side characters well-fleshed out with plenty of their own agency and motivations.
Sirens. With every fiber of my being, I hated them. I hated that their existence trapped us on our island and that our people were starving. More than anything, I hated the feeling that we were powerless to stop them.
BJ Sikes, author 