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Thursday, April 23, 2015

Blog Tour- NOBODY'S GODDESS by Amy McNulty A Special Excerpt and a Giveaway!

Hey y'all! I have an awesome exclusive excerpt from Amy McNulty the author of the amazing High Fantasy book NOBODY'S GODDESS for you today! Oh and stick around for the giveaway!

Haven't heard of NOBODY'S GODDESS ? Check it out!

Author: Amy McNulty
Pub. Date: April 21, 2015
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Pages: 274
Formats: Paperback, eBook

In a village of masked men, magic compels each man to love only one woman and to follow the commands of his “goddess” without question. A woman may reject the only man who will love her if she pleases, but she will be alone forever. And a man must stay masked until his goddess returns his love—and if she can’t or won’t, he remains masked forever.

Seventeen-year-old Noll isn't in the mood to celebrate. Her childhood friends have paired off and her closest companion, Jurij, found his goddess in Noll’s own sister. Desperate to find a way to break this ancient spell, Noll instead discovers why no man has ever chosen her.

Thus begins a dangerous game between the choice of woman versus the magic of man. And the stakes are no less than freedom and happiness, life and death—and neither is willing to lose.

Now on to the excerpt! 

A NOBODY’S GODDESS Scene from the Lord’s POV

If this did not go well, there would never again be an opportunity to gaze upon her through anything but this veil before my face. I had been a fool during that first meeting all those months prior, and it was only by her kindness and determination to keep her eyes shut that I still breathed.
          I was beginning to think it was a kindness I had imagined.
          We were eating now, and I had removed the veil I usually wrapped around my face, instead relying on a curtain of the same material that separated my end of the table from hers. That kept my face safe from the scorn in her eyes. That kept her beauty swathed in a haze of material through which I could never truly see her.
          She was not eating much. The food ought to have satisfied her. My servants were surely better cooks than her sister had been. I did not taste the stew the woman had offered, but I could tell from scent alone she had a long way to go before she could match the skill of one who had more years to perfect his art than she could imagine living. “Is the venison not to your liking?”
          The clink of her fork on the plate was too loud for it to have been an accident. I waited for her reply. There was none. “Olivière?” I asked instead.
Still, she did not answer. The end of the table at which she sat was far from my own end, and I strained to hear what she might be doing. Damn this veil. I could not see clear enough. My own appetite unsettled, I carefully set my knife and fork on my plate. “Olivière? Are you all right?”
There was no response. By now, that did not astonish me. I was certain my voice carried well enough over the length of the table in the cavernous room. She would not make any of this easy for me.
I motioned for the nearest servant to refill her drink, hoping for some sort of response, even if it just be for her to refuse my hospitality. She did not. Even through the veil, I could see her snatch the goblet out of the servant’s hand as she tossed her head back and downed the entire beverage at once.
Oh. She was choking. She was in danger. My goddess was…
 “Are you all right now?” My hands clutched the edge of the table so tightly, I almost tore the delicate lace. I could not go to help her, even if she were dying. I had to go, but I could not. I wanted to—but I would not. I could not risk it. I had to… “Olivière? Answer me!”
“Yes!” It was the first word she had spoken all evening—all day, since the moment she had arrived in my castle. The sound of her dropping the goblet onto the table was loud enough to make me think the glass had broken.
She was fine. But she had nothing more to say. I picked up the knife and fork again and went back to cutting the meat on my plate. If she refused to enjoy the resplendent meal before her, there was no reason I had to do the same.
Her response was to push her plate away from her.
I had to take a deep breath to calm my beating heart and that cursed notion inside of me to satisfy her every whim. She could not think she ruled over me like all of the rest of the goddesses did over their men in the village. She could not know how hard it was for me to stay calm. “Would you care for another dish for dinner?” I speared the meat on my plate with a little too much vigor, shoving the piece inside of my mouth to force myself to remain focused on the task instead of on that voice inside me that wanted me to worship her. That foolish voice that had almost gotten me killed the moment I had seen her trespass into my castle.
 “I’d like to be excused now.” Olivière pushed her chair back and stood.
Six of my servants moved toward her without my having to order them. Their primary instruction was my safety, even above the quiet forcefulness of obligation they or I might feel toward her as my goddess.
“Sit down,” I said. “Please.”
Her response sounded strained. “I’m not feeling well.”
I would not give in. I could not. If I let her know how easily she could harm me, if I gave her even the slightest indication that I valued her satisfaction over my own life—and damn it, there was a part of me that did just that, that cursed part of me, that cursed woman—she would never see me as her equal, as someone she could love. I attempted to keep eating, to diffuse the anger I knew she was feeling. The anger that seeped into my every pore, that cried out to be assuaged. “You have not eaten enough. Food will improve your temper.”
I could hear her take a deep breath, and I knew, before she even spoke, that the words she would say next would challenge all of my strength to resist her every whim.
“Let. Me. Leave.”
The fork fell from my hand and I held onto the table tightly if only to weigh myself down in my chair. I wanted to let her go. My servants were already complying without thinking, some making way for her to pass by. If she pushed it, she could walk outside the door and I would be powerless to stop her—and she would walk right past where I was seated, my face only protected by the veil that hung between us.
She could not know how much my every bone screamed out to gratify her. I would not have it.
I let go of the table, taking careful measures to draw in my bated breath quietly, so she would not hear the inner struggle. I picked up my napkin. “She means to let her retire from the dining hall for the night. And so shall I.” I dabbed at my face and felt my muscles relaxing. Yes. I could do this. I could interpret her commands in such a way she might be satisfied but might not be tempted to use her power over me so often, so harshly. She wanted to leave, and I would let her. We could end this first dinner together pleasantly. There was hope for me. For us. For this village.
The servants sensed my calm and went back to their work attending to me. One picked up the fork I had let fall from my fingers, while the others formed a line between me and the doorway, keeping me from view should Olivière immediately exit.
She did not.  “No, that’s not the full extent of my wishes,” she said, a strange falseness to her voice. “Let—”
“Do not speak further!” My hands shook. My legs would not support me. I leaned against the table with my fists, forgetting for a moment how I came to be standing, how the veil curtain wafted as if in a breeze. A servant righted my chair behind me. I must have knocked it down trying to stop her from speaking.
My words had been so loud, they continued to echo against the walls.
She would not let that be the end of it. “I don’t think you understand how this works—”
“No! Who do you think you are? What do you think you’re supposed to mean to me? I don’t even know you. I don’t want to be here, and you’re expecting me to perform the Returning!”
That felt like a rather low blow. When I had so foolishly thought today would be our Returning, that today I would be free of this curse, free of this veil, free of… I was blinded by these feelings I had for her. Feelings I never asked for. I pounded the table with both of my fists. “Was it not you who first sought me out?”
She flung her hands around her wildly. “Not for this! I never asked to be your goddess! I just wanted—” She stopped suddenly.
I knew what she had wanted. “You wished to free your friend so you could steal him from his goddess.” I summoned the nearest servants, and they went to her side, escorting her by the arms. I could not look at her. I could not stop my heart from pounding. It was maddening. She had not asked to be my goddess? I had not asked for it to be her. I was so tired of this. Of hope. Of everything. “How unfortunate that I was unable to help you with such a generous act.”
I would have to show her. There seemed to be no other way to win her love, to get this wretched existence over with. I moved toward the doorway, knowing my servants would step in to protect my face from her if she did not think to stop them. They did, wrapping my veil over my head, pinning it at my shoulder and placing my hat atop it before I appeared around the other side of the curtain.
Now the whole world was veiled to me, but that was the price I had to pay for movement around the eyes of one who would not love me.
I exited the room first, leading the way. “Come with me!” I heard her struggling to escape from my servants’ escort behind me, but I did not hesitate.
“Stop!” she screamed.
I stopped. I had no choice. There was such power and anger in that one word.
“Let me—”
She could kill me, if I let her.
“Silence her!” I ordered, and one of the servants holding her produced a piece of the veil material from his pocket and wrapped it around her mouth. She stared at me as it happened, and it was as if she were studying the veil keeping me from her, keeping her forever in a haze before my eyes, looking for a rip through which she could send me to my death.
The look pained me. My whole body hurt.
I walked forward again. I had stopped when she had asked me to stop, after all. I was under no obligation to stay that way.
My legs throbbed with the effort it took to move forward, knowing as I did, beneath my conscious thought, I was disobeying her desire.
Stop her from speaking, and I will not have to hear of her desire. Let me show her that she is not the only one here with desires. Let me show her that she has a reason to be grateful to me. Let me show her the gift I would have happily bestowed upon her today, if she had been willing to perform the Returning.

About Amy:

Amy McNulty is a freelance writer and editor from Wisconsin with an honors degree in English. She was first published in a national scholarly journal (The Concord Review) while in high school and currently spends her days alternatively writing on business and marketing topics and primarily crafting stories with dastardly villains and antiheroes set in fantastical medieval settings.

Connect with the Author:  Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

Giveaway Details:

Five (5) winners will receive a digital copy of Nobody's Goddess (The Never Veil #1) by Amy McNulty (INT)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Go to Chapter by Chapter to check out the Tour Schedule for more awesome posts!

1 comment:

  1. Wow - this book sounds really unique. I can't say I've ever heard of anything quite like it before. That excerpt was really interesting and intense!
    Great post!


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