June 7, 2015

ML Guida’s News: Sizzling Summer Party!

Welcome Readers! I hope you’ve been having fun at TRR’s Sizzling Summer Party. Summer is such a fun time to sit down with a good book. Not only can you win a prize for answering my question correctly, but if you sign up for my newsletter, you’ll win a copy of A Pirate’s Curse, the first book in the trilogy. Good luck to playing and have a great summer!

ML Guida - A Pirates Agony cover

Here’s a snippet with the answer to: What is the name of Celeste’s brother?

“Amadi?” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne said slowly and frowned as if she was trying to remember. “Are you originally from Saint Kitts?”

“No.” Amadi sucked in his gut. Please, don’t let her remember he was once a slave on the Sorcière de Mer. Runaway slaves were swiftly punished—dismembered, lashed, burned.

“No, he’s not.”

Amadi kept his face frozen.

But a huge red blotch formed on Violet’s face. It looked like someone had slapped her and left a handprint.

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne pointed her parasol at Violet. “Violet.” Her voice was sharp.

“I’m tellin’ da truth.”

A similar blotch formed on her cheek, blistering. She rubbed her cheeks and hung her head. “No, no,” she whispered.

“No, he’s not from Saint Kitts?”

“He’s from here.”

Amadi wanted to slap the wench. Did she have any idea what she’d just done?

She raised her head. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed silently.

He blinked. The blotches had completely vanished. What the hell?

Owen slapped him on the back of the head. “You were a slave, here? Who owns you?”

Amadi gritted his teeth. “No one owns me.”

“Violet,” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne said.

Violet wiped her eyes. She glanced between Amadi and Mademoiselle D’Aubigne. “I don’t…”

“Before you answer,” Mademoiselle D’Aubigne said. “Just to let you know, I’ve decided to buy Chloe, and if I see one blotch on that little creamy face of yours, she’ll pay the price. Comprenez-vous?

This place was monstrous, worse than the bowels of the Fiery Damsel. Not even Quinton Palmer threatened to torture a child.

Violet bit her lip. The same pulling sensation fell over Amadi, and he turned his head, trying to fight it. Willing Violet not to betray him.

Mademoiselle D’Aubigne tapped her parasol on the ground. “I’m waiting, Violet.”

Amadi clenched his fists. Terror pulled into his gut. Don’t say it.

Chloe sniffed.

Violet looked at the little girl. Compassion flooded her eyes. She sighed. “He’s yours.”

The corners of Mademoiselle D’Aubigne’s mouth turned up into a smirk. He remembered that smile.’Twas the same one Jacques gave him before he tortured him.

 

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