It is New Year's Eve, 1875. In this humorously told Steampunk tale, adventure-prone Ichabod Temperance and his lovely sweetheart, Miss Persephone Plumtartt, once again find themselves swept up into a whirlwind of misadventure and international catastrophe. The entire world totters on the brink of war, as various nations develop arsenals of dreadful power. It seems as though every nation on Earth lusts for Empire. A sinister plot boils to change the course of human history. Along with a remarkable cast of characters, including sapient animals and clockwork men, our heroes find themselves plunged into unimaginable peril!
Welcome back with another book spotlight with Ichabod Temperance's second book, A World of InTemperance! Last week, I featured his first book A World of Temperance. I mentioned that it's very different from usual YA. It's set way back when and the writing fits it too. The writing is amazing! You can see a taste of it in the excerpt below if you keep reading.
Just like last time, there's a giveaway! You get A World of InTemperance and a book of choice. They will both be e-copies and will be supplied by both the author and myself. Like last time, if you buy the book, and you win this giveaway, you get his other book instead! And you still get the book of choice from me. Like all my giveaways, it's INTERNATIONAL! Make sure you enter because not many people have yet. Enter the other one too because then you could have another chance to win a book of choice. This giveaway will last a whole month. I'm extending the other giveaway to make it last until the same date as this one. 10th of November. Good luck! a Rafflecopter giveaway
Excerpt:
With the help of some simple rake and pull lockpick tools that I keep about my person for the odd emergency, I defeat a locked door, and entry to the house, bordering on mansion, is achieved.
No one seems to be about downstairs. Except in the kitchen. We do not think we will get much good data from the cooking staff, so we easily avoid them. Movement is heard above, but it seems pretty distant.
An investigation reveals two large living areas, filled with cushy chairs and forest-devouring fireplaces.
A large dining room.
A library.
“I have always enjoyed success while conducting investigations at libraries,” I add.
We are pursuing our investigations in the library, as such places are ubiquitously notorious for their valued contents.
Mademoiselle looks up.
“Ladies, be sharp! Oui!”
A set of double doors bursts open and half a dozen troopers rush in, rifles at the ready.
“There you are! We were afraid you girls wouldn't make it. It seems that there has been some trouble down the road at the other secret factory, er, that is, I mean, cannery.”
“Here we are! Oui! I think we get here before you have zee trouble? Oui! So! Where is zee birthday boy!Oui! Oui!”
Mademoiselle sweeps in upon an officious little fellow with spectacles before his tiny eyes.
“Oh! I say! A party! Good show!” I quickly catch onto Mademoiselle's game. Miss GoldenBear appears to be a little slower to catch on. I think she is about to do something rash. I give her a good nudge and a gentle elbow. A ferocious winking and pulling of head gestures follow. “Good show, right Miss GoldenBear?”
“Good show?” Miss GoldenBear hisses under her breath. “I think we can take 'em! Oooph! ... Oh, well, .... Party! Sure! That's why I came to this place tonight. A, uh, party.”
Mademoiselle cradles the bespectacled man's bald head. “And what,” (smooch, smooch, on his blushing forehead) is your name, my little hostie wostie.”
“Hee hee! My name is Howard C. Goodwinkle. But I am afraid that I am not your host, That would be Mr. Thraschewright.”
“Three beautiful girls for one lucky man! He must be French! Oui! But no, his name is not French. What did you say this man was, and who does he do?”
“Millicent Pernicious ThrascheWright. He's a big canner.”
“Oh! Canning! How interesting! One canner, three girls. Big fun! Oui! Oui!”
“We-ell,” Howard C. says, “there will be three gentlemen. Along with Mr. ThrascheWright, are two very important men. A military big-wig, and a, and a, um, priest. Yeah. That's it. A priest.”
“Oh! The Mademoiselle DeeDee likes zee man in zee uniform! Oui! But I think the priest, he eez not so much fun? No?”
We 'Ladies' are escorted upstairs. The distinctive crack of one billiard ball striking another can be distinguished at a distance, before loud, angry male voices can be heard.
Howard C. Goodwinkle hesitates at the door. There is a heated argument within, and he is loath to interrupt his superiors.
Mademoiselle DeeDee Gauzot sweeps past, throwing open the door and making a grand and sparkling entrance.
“Bonjour! Party time! Where eez my Birthday Boy? Is it schoo, my magnificent, and gargantuan, Man of Industry! Oh! You are so beeg! So much for DeeDee to love! And, oh! A soldier! Zee uniform! It makes DeeDee zee romantic girl! I tell you! Too! Oui! And who is this? A priest? If you are a Man of the cloth, then why do you wear the leather? Maybe you have some dark and wonderful fetish? No? You want to tell DeeDee, yes? Oui! Girls! Come join zee party! Persephone, why don't you loosen Monsieur Thraschy Wrighty's tie? Oui? Abigail, I know you just love zee man in zee uniform. Oui, Oui, too!
“What is this? Who are these girls?” hisses Lord Bar'Bazaul, “Did you plan this, ThrascheWright? Is this just another checkmark in today's list of your failures and incompetences?”
“Oh! Well. Burbityburb. Let's not be hasty. What. Spoils of war and all that, don't you know. Burbityburb. Right.”
“You see! Zee Commodore, he agrees with DeeDee! Too!
“That's Field Marshall.” from beneath the massive moustachio that any walrus would give his left rear flipper to own.
“Of course, my Admiral!” Too!
“We were in the middle of something!” fumes the angry Lord Bar'Bazaul. His heated anger threatens to melt his eyebrow wax and wilt his lip whiskers.
“Er, well, I think we can continue. These silly girls won't comprehend what we're talking about.”
“That eez, unless you talk about zee party, oui! Eezn't zat right, girls?”
“Oh. Oh I see. It's my turn, then is it? Rather. That is, perhaps I should say, party!, party!, as it were.”
“Oh! Oui! You are zee wild one I think for sure! A tiger, no? Persephone eez zee wild animal, Mr ThrascheWright. I hope she does not give you a beeg bite! He he! Oui!”
Miss GoldenBear joins the Field Marshall.
“This is more like it.” says a voice from deep behind the gray nose bush and eyebrow shrubbery. “Sit down, young lady.”
“I am sitting down.” replies Miss GoldenBear.
“Yes. Harumph. Back to what you were going on about, Thrashgummy.”
“Yes. As concerns the 'accident' from earlier, there's no evidence to suggest it was anything but an accident. Before you go sending in any bad reports on me, just remember that the only witness to tonight's activities was conveniently ki.. disposed of, by none other than you, yourself. If you want to send in a negative report, go ahead. Just make sure you are ready to accept the blame. … And punishments.”
“You worm, I stand ready to make the World grovel, and you would threaten me?”
“The World may grovel before you, but not Millicent Pernicious ThrascheWriulllgh!”
The leather robed Sorcerer moves with remarkable quickness snatching the arms executive by the windpipe.
“Do not threaten that which stands ready to devour you!”
“Burbityburb! Gentlemen, please!” from the voice of reason within the Field Marshall's uniform. “I realize the factory was a complete loss. But did any of the germs... er bug bombs survive?
Only what was shipped to Europe last week, and the wagon that barely survived tonight's accident. It is headed for Winniedepuh, then Kuetinpeenk, and that one wagon has enough bad news on it to give every fleet surrounding the Pacific to have a sample.”
“What about my mechanized armies. Once all these traitorous recruits are replaced with units that know how to take orders, we'll really get things done. Harumph.”
“All units are scheduled for on time delivery, General. Oops. I mean Field Marshal.”
Millicent Pernicious ThrascheWright's jowly face gains a trace of firmness. “I guess things are in your hands now, at your double secret, 'Location Z' … Lord Bar'Bazaul.”
In another building, on the sprawling, fortress factory grounds, a bell is ringing.
ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.ring.
The 'Ladies' exchange furtive glances.
“What is that infernal ringing? Is that some sort of summons to general quarters? Is this facility under attack? Burbityburb.”
“Just a drill, Colonel. I mean, Field Marshal. Gotta keep the boys on their toes, what, what.”
“I should think a clockwork soldier would not need to be drilled in staying on his toes, Mr ThrascheWright. Harumph!”
“Hisss!” Lord Bar'Bazaul hisses. “Field Marshal! This might be just the time to spring a surprise inspection on 'Location Z'. If you should be so kind as to accompany me.” He holds a door open for the Field Marshall.
“Oh! Merci Boucoup! Ladies! Let's not dally! Too!”
With supreme effort, Miss Plumtartt helps Mr. ThrascheWright to his over-burdened feet. She slips out of reach as the Executive looks for more assistance.
“All right my little battle booty, you're coming with me.” says the Field Marshal grabbing Miss GoldenBear by the wrist and pulling her along after. He very nearly dislocates his own shoulder.
“Oh, yeah.” as Miss GoldenBear remembers to be coquettish. She manages to prance a bit as she allows herself to be dragged along, the spoils of war.
END EXCERPT
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