Nest of Thornes by Lorel Clayton #RomanticFantasy #Mystery #Paranormal #Steampunk

Nest of ThornesEva Thorne Book 5Lorel Clayton
Genre: Romantic Fantasy/Mystery/Paranormal/SteampunkPublisher: LC BooksDate of Publication: 15 June 2024ISBN: 9780648676072ASIN: B0D3ZRH22FNumber of pages: 351Word Count: 73,249Cover Artist: Clayton Colgin
Tagline: Coming home again can be a killer. 
Book Description: 
Eva Thorne saved the world but hopes no one remembers when she returns to Highcrowne six years later to start a new life. Low key this time. Right.
All she ever wanted was some independence, including the freedom to knock bad guys in the head when needed, but the private investigator gig never worked out for her. She has no choice but to try, yet again, when the Elf Queen commands her to track down the political rival plotting her assassination—there’s no proof but the queen knows someone wants her dead.
As if that wasn’t already the antithesis of a low-key case, the first egg produced by their near-extinct Avian rulers in centuries is stolen. Only the famed Eva Thorne can solve the case. No one understands that she’s not the same person she used to be. She’s been learning necromancy, not detective work, and they won’t think so highly of her when they realize she tried to bring back the God of Death, who they all fought so hard to defeat in the first place.

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Excerpt:

A flash of lightning sent shadows looming, blocky figures indark raincoats, as they hefted my steamer trunk from the hold and onto the deckof the airship. Rain pummelled them, driven sideways by the wind. Crewscrambled to tie ropes after several corroded brass moorings tore free of theold dock. The deck swayed beneath me, so I widened my stance. I shifted into afighting pose and pulled the serrated sword from its bone sheath. My Ashur wasthe weapon of choice for Solhan ladies, but I was no lady.

“Where do you think you’re taking that?” I asked, my ominoustone punctuated with thunder.

The thugs in raincoats froze, surprised to see me. Someonehad drugged my meal and barred my cabin door from the outside. Fortunately, Ihad invisible Bogle companions following me everywhere, always the first to eatmy meals, not because they were official food testers but because they wereeternally hungry. They also removed the metal bar from the outside, so Iescaped without needing to cut through the cabin wall, which I would have done.I would do anything to protect that trunk.

“No pithy comeback or plausible excuse?” I said,disappointed. “You two really are thick. Who do you work for?”

The deckhands saw my drawn blade and froze too. This olddock was not Highcrowne, likely a pirate mooring off the usual air routes.Either they were trying to find refuge in the storm, or they were in on it too.I didn’t think they were pirates, else they would all be armed and coming at mewith swords, but something was off about them. That’s what I got for eschewingthe premier airship liners with their security protection, courtesy of RoseIndustries. I’d been trying to lay low, but it looked like I would need to belaying low a few bad guys instead.

“We don’t want any trouble,” one of the crew said, raisinghis hands.

“Untie us and get us back underway and there won’t be any,”I said. I didn’t know how to fly this thing, and so I couldn’t kill them, astempting as it was. The two holding my trunk, however…. “I told you both to setthat down. Gently.”

They obeyed. Never trust anyone who complies so quickly. Notin this line of work. I ignored the crew, their hands full of ropes, theirbedraggled clothing too threadbare to hide any weapons, and I went for theraincoats.

One whipped out a flintlock pistol. Fool. It was too wet tofire. The other was slightly smarter, revealing a bullwhip. He was fast too. Hestruck, wrapping it around the tip of my sword before I got to him.

The one weakness of a serrated blade was howeasily it could be caught, but that usually worked both ways. It was fantasticfor disarming an opponent, and if it was sharp enough—as mine was—it slicedright through anything, including leather. His whip lost a third of its length,and a heartbeat later I had the tip of my sword pointed at his eye. The onewith the useless pistol donned brass knuckles and came for me, but I wasn’tonly a good swordswoman, I was a necromancer. Big mistake.

About the Author:

Lorel and Clayton were teen sweethearts, brought together by a fierce love ofbooks (and hormones). Despite being married for almost 35 years, they are stillmadly in love and still writing. As writing partners, they meld logic,creativity, and genres. Fantasy, science-fiction, mystery, horror, steampunk,thriller, romance, classics … they read them all, and if they can mix them theywill!

Still reading? Want to know more?

Lorel has a PhD in molecular biology and Once Upon a Time did cancer researchbefore turning to the dark side (aka marketing), but she uses her powers forgood, helping raise funds for charity. She loves books, movies and animals, andwould gladly spend all day with a cat on her lap and the wind in her hair(Conan reference there), while tapping out a story on her keyboard. Or maybe amovie script. With coffee of course. And lots of chocolate!

Clayton is a classically trained painter turned digital artist who now glaresat the AI generated images currently obliterating the slim chance artists oncehad of earning a living. Clayton is severely dyslexic but loves books andstorytelling. He adds vast imagination and a discerning ear for effective proseto their creative collaboration, not to mention the book cover art.

Born and raised in the western United States, they traveled to Sydney,Australia in 1997 and never left, finding the sunshine and beaches of “Oz” tooirresistible.

Lookthem up if ever you’re Down Under.

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