Thursday, September 19, 2019

Blog Tour Excerpt with Giveaway: Nemesis (Circuit Fae #4) by Genevieve Iseult Eldredge

Book info:
Author:  Genevieve Iseult Eldredge
Series:  Circuit Fae #4
Published by: Monster House Books
Publication date: March 26th 2019
Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
“I found the writing to be on par with Queen [Sarah J. ] Maas and Elise Kova; I recommend this to anyone who enjoys a good fantasy read that steps out of the box and makes a name for itself.”FairestSkyeBooks
What would you do if your beloved girlfriend suddenly became your worst enemy?
That dilemma’s all too real for Syl Skye, the last princess of the fair Fae.Even though Syl is all things sun and Summer, she’s drawn to her polar opposite, Rouen Rivoche, the dark Fae princess-assassin of the Winter Court.
They should be mortal enemies, but they’re best friends. Girlfriends. In love.
That is, until Roue falls under a dark spell that makes her forget all about Syl, their lives and their love. Now Roue rules Dark Faerie as a cruel and cold Queen. A Circuit Fae who can harness the killing magic in technology, she wants nothing more than to destroy Syl and her fair Fae people.
But when an old enemy brings both Faerie realms to the brink of destruction, only their queens, Syl and Rouen, can save the day—and only if they can put their differences aside for two seconds and team up.
With the clock’s ticking on Syl and Roue’s relationship—not to mention all of Faerie—will Rouen remember the love she and Syl once shared, or is she destined to be Syl’s nemesis forever?


Standing outside the arcade bar, smelling the alcohol, the sweaty press of human bodies, the coppery-rich tang of blood, a headache pulses behind my eyes.
      Yes, low blood sugar is making the Dark Fae queen cranky.
      Ahead of me, the door to Circuit Bar opens, spilling the sounds of pinball machines and fighting games and a group of drunk college dudes into the street. One’s got toilet paper stuck to his shoe, and they all stink of beer and stupidity. My nose wrinkles. I keep walking, even though my dark urges try to make me linger.
      There’s easy blood right there.
      Hush you.
      “Hey!” the toilet-paper guy yells. He’s so drunk his friends have to hold him up. His breath could knock a harpy off a hell wagon. “Hey, sweetie-pie!”
      I sling Wasteland over my shoulder and keep walking. The last thing this guy really wants is for me to turn around.
      “I’m talking to you!”
       “No answer means no, pal.”
      “Tch!” I hear a disgusted snort from the shadows. Wrapped in her cobwebby green gown and red cloaks, the bain sidhe lingers nearby in a trash-filled alleyway. What’s she doing here? Generally speaking, bain sidhe exist for one reason: to wail for the Doom or Death of the royal family. She hobbles over to the gutter, snatches an empty Big Mac container, sniffs it.
      Looks like she’s not here to wail, but she’s not going to be any help, either.
      “Dumb chick can’t hear too well, can you?”
      I stop dead. I swear, you can hear the sinews in my neck creak as I turn toward Mr Sweetie Pie. On my periphery, the bain sidhe mutters as she tears at the Styrofoam with serrated teeth. “Starting a fight…”
      Starting one? No. Ending one? Hells yes.
      I stride over to Sweetie Pie and pals. “I couldn’t quite here you from over there. Why don’t you say that again?”
      His friends snicker, but something about my height, the look in my eyes, or maybe it’s the timbre of my voice—like I’m going to rip his spleen out and eat it right here—makes Sweetie Pie back off a step. I’m looking at him like he’s dinner, my dark self licking her chops. His blood smells delicious. Wasteland’s Moribund circuits pull and whine hungrily.
      Sweat crawls down his face. “I…uh…”
      “Yeah.” I pause to meet every one of their gazes. “That’s what I thought.”
      I turn on my heel. A huntress of my caliber doesn’t need to waste time with bozos.
      Smash! A beer bottle shatters on the ground, peppering my boots with glass. “You should smile more,” Sweetie Pie catcalls. “Because you’re one heck of a bi—”
      “Get him,” I whisper to the Moribund. I hold up Wasteland, and the black circuitry leaps at my command. Its power slams into me, dark, sinister. Unforgiving.
      Oh well, I gave him a chance.
      My Glamoury shatters as liquid-black Moribund chains lash from my mother’s violin. Circuitry zapping, they wrap the drunk college guys up like living mummies, swallowing their screams. Across the street, a couple turns to look, but I renew my Glamoury, bolstering it with the power of Dark Faerie. Shimmers cascade over my skin as the magic settles into place.
      Now, I’d be able to have a parade and a three-ring circus in the middle of the street, and no one would bat an eyelash.
      Sweetie Pie shouts, “Let us go, you crazy bi—”
      “I thought you wanted to see me smile.” Grinning my face off, I don’t stop the laugh bubbling up my throat. It feels so damn good. I revel in my power, letting it dizzy me. The Moribund chains tighten around them, ravenous and chittering, undulating like ink. They want to devour their prey, but I hold them in check.
      For now.
      I pace around my prey. “I have better uses for you. Every huntress needs a Wild Hunt.”
      “Yessss…” The bain sidhe capers at my side, her six-inch claws clackering hungrily as she looks at them with her black-pool eyes.
      The guys whimper. One of them starts begging. “Please don’t hurt me, please—”
      Typical. Now that they realize they’re not predators, they’re prey, they change their tune. “Quiet. I’m trying to concentrate.”
      I’ve never done this before—combined Moribund magic with dark Fae magic—but I’m feeling strong, reckless.
      Silently, I call upon UnderHollow, the center of my dark Fae realm. Wham! Its throbbing power slams into me, filling me up with storm and shadow until I’m sure my skin will split. In a flood, inky black power erupts from me in thrashing tendrils, like I’m some kind of sea witch rising from the depths.
      The guys’ screams get really shrill now.
      My tendrils hit them in the chest, mingling with the Moribund chains, and explode into a thousand smaller tendrils that wrap them up in liquid darkness. All except Sweetie Pie. He watches, freaking out as his friends drop to all fours, their bodies warping, snapping as they transform into—
      “What you calls them, poppet?” The bain sidhe squints a black-pool eye at me and sucks at her teeth.
      Good question. Agravaine had his hounds of the Hunt. Fiann had her Môrgrim.
      Something simpler, less pretentious. Syl’s got her Glamma’s Grimm… “My Grymm.”

Author Bio:
Raised by witches and dragons in the northern wilds, GIE writes angsty urban fantasy YA romance–where girls who are mortal enemies kick butt, take names, and fall in love against all odds.
She enjoys long hikes in the woods (where better to find the fair folk?), believing in fairies (in fact, she’s clapping right now), dancing with dark elves (always wear your best shoes), being a self-rescuing princess (hello, black belt!), and writing diverse books about teenage girls finding love, romance, and their own inner power.
She might be planning high tea at the Fae Court right now.
GIE is multi-published, and in her role as an editor has helped hundreds of authors make their dream of being published a reality.




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