An enchanted tale of intrigue where a
duke's daughter is the only survivor of a magical curse.
When Ekata's brother is finally named
heir, there will be nothing to keep her at home in Kylma Above with her
murderous family. Not her books or science experiments, not her family's icy
castle atop a frozen lake, not even the tantalizingly close Kylma Below, a
mesmerizing underwater kingdom that provides her family with magic. But just as
escape is within reach, her parents and twelve siblings fall under a strange
sleeping sickness.
In the space of a single night, Ekata
inherits the title of duke, her brother's warrior bride, and ever-encroaching
challengers from without—and within—her own ministry. Nothing has prepared
Ekata for diplomacy, for war, for love...or for a crown she has never wanted.
If Kylma Above is to survive, Ekata must seize her family's power. And if Ekata
is to survive, she must quickly decide how she will wield it.
Part Sleeping Beauty, part Anastasia,
with a thrilling political mystery, The Winter Duke is a spellbinding story
about choosing what's right in the face of danger.
The Winter Duke
by Claire Eliza Bartlett
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Release Date: March 3rd 2020
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Release Date: March 3rd 2020
Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, LGBT, Queer, Magic, Retellings, Romance
Links:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2PHbsAy
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-winter-duke-claire-eliza-bartlett/1132404574?ean=9780316417341
Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Winter-Duke-Claire-Eliza-Bartlett/9780316417341?ref=grid-view&qid=1576273869932&sr=1-1
Google Books: https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/The_Winter_Duke.html?id=TxFoxwEACAAJ&redir_esc=y
Review:
The Winter Duke by Claire Eliza Bartlett is different. I
wish I could come up with a better word but this is all I got. The world is split into two parts. Kylma
Above and the Kylma Below. Our featured family lives in an ice palace.
Ekata is
our main characters and she is more interested in medicine rather than her
families politics. All she really wants to do is go off to school. Then
everything goes wrong and unplanned during her brother’s “Brideshow.” This is a
ceremony where he chooses his future spouse. The whole family ends up in some
form of sleeping sickness except for Ekata. Ekata now has to play the part of
the Grand Duke. She ends up eloping with of her brother’s would be brides named
Inkar. Inkar is a warrior from a lesser kingdom. These two women are now off to
figure out what is going on in the palace.
I found that the world building is pretty amazing. I thought
it was very thought out and was planned for the reader to feel like they were
immersed in the world. The Duke title is unisex so that no matter who inherits
the title it will be the same no matter the person’s gender. I wish Ekata was a
bit stronger in the beginning. I thought she was being pushed around way too
much. I would have loved to see her be a bit stronger. I definitely think my
favorite was the underwater kingdom. It was definitely the best world building
to me. The plot was very slow. I really wish that it moved along faster.
Excerpt:
Original post: https://www.thenovl.com/blog/2019/7/2/cover-reveal-the-winter-duke-by-claire-eliza-bartlett
CHAPTER ONE
The night could be worse, considering. The likelihood of
a public death was low.
All the same, I kept my opulent coat buttoned up,
despite how my neck itched in it. The more layers I had between me and my
sister Velosha, the better. Last week she’d nicked our brother Kevro’s arm with
a poisoned stiletto at Wintertide mass, and I wasn’t about to let her try her
tricks on me. “Ekata,” she whispered. I pretended not to hear.
My favorite tutor said that other people’s siblings were
noisy, argumentative telltales. My siblings tried to murder one another.
But not this night. Tonight we had a strict no-murder
policy. Tonight we had a brideshow, and the world was watching us. And nothing
said get out of here like an unstable, bloodthirsty family. I should know. I’d
been begging my father for the chance to leave from the moment I was old enough
to take a place at a university. He’d promised that when the brideshow was
finally over, I’d be free to do it. Provided I lived so long.
The brideshow candidates stood on the long, narrow
balcony that ran around the Great Hall. Fifteen people who thought that
marrying into our family was a good idea. Some of them giggled with one
another. Some observed the floor, pointing out their delegates to the
candidates next to them. More than one looked tired of waiting. A pretty girl
with a dark ponytail and an emerald-and-gold riding suit covered a yawn with
her hand, earning a laugh from the girl next to her. Her arms were bare, tan
from the kiss of a foreign sun. A bold choice for a palace made of ice. But
something about her seemed bold. When she caught me watching her, she raised an
eyebrow. I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of it all. Her mouth twitched into a
lazy smile.
My stomach lurched. I flushed, looking away before I
could cause a scene. I wasn’t there to create an international incident, and
she was here for my brother, not me. Mother had sent written invitations to
twenty empires, duchies, and kingdoms. Fifteen of the invitations had been
answered with delegations, who now stood on the floor of the Great Hall and
waited for the festivities to finally begin. Most eligible royals would be
interested in a deal with Kylma Above and access to trade with the prosperous
duchy Below. Kylma Below was the only source of distillable magic in the world,
which meant that our cold, tiny country on a frozen lake commanded policy
alongside kingdoms a hundred times our size.
Even so, it surprised me that fifteen people could be
interested in Lyosha. That, more than anything, was a clear indication they’d
never met him.
The restlessness was infectious. We’d been waiting for
my father, mother, and brother for half an hour, and up on the royal dais, we
didn’t talk. I glanced back at my maid, Aino; she lifted her chin, and I did
the same. Aino had never steered me wrong at a social function.
A door on the side of the Great Hall opened, but it was
only Prime Minister Eirhan. He’d been prime minister longer than I’d been
alive, and his oily demeanor left me with a sour taste every time I had to
speak with him. That was happily rare; I preferred the study of bones and trees
and the denizens Below to the study of politics.
Eirhan spoke to a guard next to the door. The guard,
dressed in ceremonial silver and blue, struck his iron-tipped halberd on the
ground. The guards lining the hall took up the movement, creating the iron
tempo that announced my father.
The hall went dark, and whispering began. A dark hall
heralded magic, for magic did not work well with fire. The candles burned low
in their sconces, reflected like diamonds by the ice walls.
Light descended from above, instead, in round pearls
that fell like feathers. They glittered as they drifted, shimmering blue one
moment, orange the next, clumping together like the thick pollen that blew in
from the mountains during what passed for summer in Kylma Above. There was a
great intake of breath from the hall, and I tilted my face up to catch some of
the pearls as they fell. My father was the only man in the world Above who
could refine magic and control how it manifested, and it never failed to
mesmerize. It was his declaration of wealth, his declaration of power, and it
reminded the rest of us what magic could do, if we only had the imagination for
it.
The pearls turned into flower petals, filling the air
with a sweet scent. Rosaeus brumalis, I thought, breathing in the faint smell
of winter roses, the only kind that grew here. Before they kissed our faces,
they burst apart again, showering us with needled points. I covered my face
with my sleeves. A few of the delegates shouted. A crack shook the palace
walls, and dark wings snapped above us. An enormous eagle winged around the top
of the dome, golden eyes flashing in the dark. Its cry made my ears throb, and
its wingbeat nearly blew me into Velosha.
The eagle pulled its wings in and hurtled to the ground.
Delegates stumbled out of its way, and even I, who’d seen his displays at least
twice a year, flinched. With a screech, the eagle raked its talons across the
floor, leaving deep gouges that would stay long after the bird had disappeared.
The power of magic: It was temporary, but the effects were permanent. And only
my father had the secret to it.
I hated him for that more than I hated him for other
things.
The eagle launched back into the air, knocking over the
nearest delegates, and sped toward the ceiling. I was certain it would slow
down or disappear—but instead, it crashed through the dome. Ice shattered and
plummeted toward us. We ducked again, but the ice slowed and spun, turning into
snowflakes that dusted our shoulders like sugar. Wind howled through the
cracked dome, but winter roses grew over the cracks, smoothing the wall; ice
climbed toward the starred sky. The hole became smaller and smaller until the
last of the roses knit together, leaving us with our ice dome and sealing us
off from the elements once more.
Light flared. The room became golden and warm. The show
was over, and the grand duke stood before us. Everyone knelt.
That was Father’s grand trick for our guests. Show them
the power of magic—its constructive, destructive, and transformative glory.
Because magic was our most exported resource, Father wanted the wealthy
delegates to imagine what they could do with it. They could impress kings. They
could bring down city walls. With the correctly refined pearl, they could
change the world.
My father’s very presence demanded silence. I’d feared
him for almost as long as I could remember. Where he walked, the air seemed
thin and sparse, as if his broad shoulders and fur coat pushed it out of a
room. As if it tangled in his snow-and-stone beard or got bitten off by his
sharp teeth when he smiled. As if his brown eyes could pin it down.
Mother stood next to him in a dress of white doeskin.
She and I shared the same pale hair and skin, the same gray eyes, the same
pointed chin and nose. I hadn’t managed to inherit her elegance, but I made up
for it by being less abhorrent. And on Father’s other side stood Lyosha—eldest
brother, heir-elect, and groom for the brideshow—who had Father’s height and
dark hair and pale skin, but still looked like a weasel in a coat. Unlike the
rest of us, he wore the brown-and-white wool that was spun from the shaggy
goats we kept at the base of the mountains, eschewing the bright colors and
fine-spun cottons that could be purchased from abroad. Lyosha liked to consider
himself a man of the people—provided the people wanted nothing from him.
My father motioned for the hall to rise. I straightened
reflexively. As Father began his welcome speech, I kept my hands clasped in
front of me; I knew if Lyosha caught any of us fidgeting, he’d have harsh words
and harsher actions forlater. As subtly as I could, I let my eyes and mind
wander over the motifs on the walls. They told the story of the duchies—the
duchy Above, and the duchy Below. Our duchy, which sat on a frozen lake, and
the land that thrived beneath the ice. More than anything, I wanted to see what
truly lay Below. But I would never get the chance. Only Father was allowed to
enter that realm.
I focused next on a hunting scene with a former grand
duke and a cornered bear. I recalled bones, starting with the bear’s nose.
Nasal, premaxilla, maxilla. When ground, stabilizer for liquids that tend to
curdle. Incisors, canines. Amulets for strength with no demonstrable benefit.
I was nearing the ilium when the patter of applause
interrupted me. The speech was over. I joined in, lifting my chin so that I
could look properly impressed. Father offered Mother his arm, and she took it
with barely a sneer. They stepped down from the dais together. The brideshow
had formally begun.
Prime Minister Eirhan came forward and bowed
perfunctorily before murmuring something in Father’s ear. Father nodded coldly
to the Kylmian ministers, who clustered off to the side. It was no secret that
Father and Lyosha fought over the ministers; they fought over everything.
Lyosha couldn’t mount a successful coup without the majority of the ministers
on his side, but Mother’s support lent him strength; a coup had been rumored
for years. My maid Aino had been predicting it once a night for weeks. After
all, it was the traditional way for Kylmian children to inherit the dukedom.
Poor Aino had taken to double-locking my door each night, and she spent hours
fretting right inside it. As though I’d be the first one slaughtered in a coup.
It doesn’t matter anyway. The coup wouldn’t take place
in the next five days, and after that, I’d be down south at the university,
where the world was civilized and people didn’t kill their relatives as a
matter of course.
As the brideshow candidates filed down from the balcony,
the first of the guests began to greet my father. King Sigis of Drysiak
approached first, and I slunk behind Velosha. Sigis was an observer, not a
delegate, but in my opinion, he was more of a royal pain than anything else.
He’d oiled his golden beard to catch the lamplight, and aside from a
scarlet-and-diamond pin that signified his own colors, he wore our family blue.
He’d fostered with us for five years, learning to swagger like Father and
manufacture “accidents” leading to broken legs and broken skulls among more
than one sibling. Father favored Sigis over any natural-born child of his own,
and he had taught him the worst of his tricks. Maybe it was the cruelty they
had in common. The Gods knew arrogance was something we all shared.
Sigis embraced Father, and Father clapped him hard on
the back. “Welcome, as always.”
“As always, I am honored to be welcome,” Sigis said. I
didn’t snort at that. I didn’t want to attract attention. But Sigis’s
politeness was always an act. He always made me think of a bear—except he
lacked the bear’s manners. “I was surprised by the size of the magic display.”
“It’s only the preliminary night,” Father said. “I’ve
saved a more impressive show for when the rest of the delegates arrive.”
Sigis’s eyes glinted strangely. “I look forward to it.”
As he moved away, Father leaned over to speak in
Mother’s ear. “I could have gotten him to stand up in the brideshow.”
“Sigis doesn’t like boys,” she replied out of the side
of her mouth.
Lucky boys, I thought.
Father rolled his shoulders. “I could have done it.”
“Maybe you should have given him a daughter when you had
the chance.” Mother sneered. Father shot her a murderous look in response. How
those two stayed in the same room long enough to make thirteen children, I’ll
never guess.
My dress itched in a number of awkward places, and the
noise that bounced off the ice walls threatened to give me a headache. But I
had to stay until each of the brideshow guests had been greeted and we’d been
dismissed from our formal duties. I curtsied to the first candidate, a
blushing, stuttering boy. He muttered a name too soft for me to hear, though I
ought to have known it from the crest on his shoulder, a wheel flanked by
rearing horses. Father and Mother treated him courteously; Lyosha dismissed him
with a curled lip. I didn’t know much about the candidates, but I did know
this: My parents and my brother each had a favorite, and it wasn’t the same
person.
“Show respect,” said Father as the boy retreated. His
voice was soft—dangerous.
Lyosha’s lip curled. “Why? Omsara is a paupers’ kingdom.
We don’t need them.”
“The point of the brideshow is to strengthen
friendships, not create rifts,” Father said. “I asked you to think about that
when you started considering your choices.”
The next candidate came up, a girl who was graceful and
tall, brown-skinned and wide-eyed, and dressed in a white-and-green shift
dress. It looked loose and free compared with the tight bodices we wore under
our coats. She dipped a curtsy to each of us, smiling. I stifled a sigh as I
curtsied back and pressed her hand. This was going to take hours. I could be
spending the time packing, or studying, or making my university portfolio.
Maybe I could persuade Aino to claim I was ill. Anything would be better than
pretending I cared about a brother who thought I’d be more convenient dead and
about the poor person who was about to marry him.
I spotted Farhod, my alchemy tutor. Like me, he tried to
eschew major functions; unlike me, he usually had more success. I rolled my eyes
for his benefit. He shook his head reproachfully. His dark, wide eyes were
uniquely suited to disapproval.
“I like her,” Lyosha said as the snowdrop girl
retreated. “She can be considered.”
“Not so obviously, my love,” Mother warned him.
“Everyone needs to start off on equal footing.”
“They’re not equal,” Lyosha replied. “And I don’t see
the point in wasting my time.”
“Then perhaps I should select a different heir,” Father
replied. “Being grand duke is a balance, not a life of doing whatever suits
you, and when.”
Lyosha stiffened, as though he’d been hit by a blast of
cold wind. Rage gathered around him like lightning waiting to ground on
something. “The future of the duchy is mine. My choice. I don’t have to run it
as inefficiently as you have.”
The next candidate faltered. Father motioned them
forward with a gracious sweep of his hand, but I couldn’t blame them for moving
with reluctance. They introduced themselves in a hurry and retreated as soon as
they could.
“Come now.” Mother touched Lyosha’s shoulder, on
Father’s side for the first time in years. “There are many considerations to be
met. We can’t afford to offend anyone before we know what they’re offering for
the marriage.”
Lyosha sulked. “You just don’t like her because she’s
not your choice.”
“We talked about this,” Father said.
Lyosha spoke in a voice not quite low enough, not quite
practiced enough to reach only our ears. “You talked about this. You didn’t
bother to ask.”
“This is a political endeavor—” Father began.
Lyosha’s voice rose. “I have my politics. I make my
choices.” A small circle of space began to grow around us. “And if I can’t make
my own choice, I’ll make no choice.”
“You are jeopardizing years of statecraft,” Father
growled.
“The duchy doesn’t need fat, old men deciding statecraft,”
Lyosha hissed. “And neither do I.” His words slid through the air like a red
sword. The brideshow candidates stared. The tan, dark-haired girl in the
emerald-and-gold riding suit no longer smiled. Lyosha’s anger crackled, so
palpable I could almost see it. “This isn’t your brideshow,” he choked out.
“This isn’t your duchy,” Father replied. He sounded
almost contemplative. “And the more you try to take it, the more I think it
never should be.”
The whole hall was silent for a breath, waiting for Lyosha’s
lightning to finally ground.
“The brideshow’s off,” Lyosha called, his voice bouncing
off the hard ice walls.
Noise rippled across the hall. Father grabbed for
Lyosha’s arm, but Lyosha had spun on his heel and was already striding through
the candidates, who scattered and regrouped like a herd of animals.
Father clapped his hands. In response, the guards around
the hall slammed their halberds against the ground with a crack. In the silence
that followed, he said in an impossibly calm voice, “The brideshow will resume
tomorrow. Please enjoy yourselves.”
By the time he was finished, most of the foreign
delegates had begun to shout.
“Excellent,” Velosha murmured beside me, and I
shuddered. If Lyosha lost the title of heir-elect, she’d look to win it through
a process of elimination—specifically, by eliminating her sibling rivals. Half
the court ministers disappeared; the rest decided to settle the matter by
arguing at the top of their lungs.
A hand gripped my elbow and yanked me sideways. Aino.
She was supposed to stand at the edge of the hall as a lesser lady, but she’d
squeezed her way over to me. “Come on,” she said, pulling me toward a side
door. She elbowed past the minister of the People, and I tripped over the
minister of trade’s robe. He stumbled past me, steadying himself by putting a
hand on top of my head for balance. Had it been a normal night, I would have
confronted him for his rudeness.
Aino dragged me past anxious servants to the corridor,
barely letting me get my feet under me. The flickering lamps set into the walls
caught the red in her auburn hair, and her knuckles were white around my arm.
We hurried past officials and servants who rushed the other way, alarmed, no
doubt, by the noise. “Slow down,” I protested, tripping over the heavy hem of
my coat. Aino didn’t answer. “Aino,” I squeaked as she wrenched me around a
corner, nearly dislocating my shoulder. The iron grips on the bottoms of my
shoes dug into the ice.
She didn’t slow down until we reached the royal wing and
passed beyond the guards there. We scurried down corridors carved with the
scenes of my family—grand dukes battling with enemies, treating with the duchy
Below, choosing brides from their own brideshows. Winter roses twined above us,
their ice petals stretching at a two-thirds bloom.
Aino dug out a key and unlocked my door with trembling
fingers. Then she shoved me inside.
The fire was out. The ice walls of my rooms glowed
blue-white in moonlight that streamed through thin windowpanes. Aino dumped
firewood into the metal basin that served as the fireplace, then started the
fire with dry moss and a flint.
The fire basin sat on a thick stone shelf to protect the
ice floor beneath, and white and blue tiles lined its chimney. A bearskin rug
lay in front of the fire, and I sat in the oak chair there, shifting a blanket
to one side. I slid my feet out of my wooden shoes and dug my socks into the
rug. A tightness began to uncoil in me. No siblings to murder me, no Father or
Mother to examine me, balancing my usefulness and irrelevance against my
potential as a threat. I pulled diamond-studded pins from my hair, which has
Mother’s paleness but not its curl.
My rooms always meant safety to me, but not to Aino. She
locked the door, slid the bolt, and heaved a chair from next to the door until
it blocked the handle. Then she went to lock the door to the servants’
corridor.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Making sure no one separates your head from your neck
in whatever happens tonight.” Aino’s braid had come undone, and she pinned it
back up with thin-lipped determination. “This is a coup, and Lyosha and your
father are in the middle of it. You don’t have to be. How packed are you?”
“Fairly packed.” My trunk sat in a corner of the room,
stuffed with all the things I thought I’d need at the university—clothes,
books, sketches of the biology of Above, a few plates with detail on flora from
Below sent up as a sample and gift to Farhod. I was still working on copying
his dissection report, a recent—and generous—gift from the duchy Below to expand
our academic knowledge.
“Good. We’ll set out tonight, and we won’t come back
until one of them is grand duke and one of them is dead.”
No one could boss me around like Aino could. She was
more of a mother to me than Mother. She was shorter and slimmer than our
family, with wide blue eyes that always looked alarmed and a nose made for
poking into my business. She knew the intrigues of Lyosha and my parents before
I did, and she made sure I was always well dressed for events of the court,
well versed in what to say, and well protected from the worst of my family’s
wrath. She tasted my coffee every morning and ran her fingers along the seams
of my new clothes to check for razors my siblings might have slipped in.
Worrying for my safety lined her mouth and forehead and streaked her hair with
gray before its time. In the weeks before, she’d looked more and more worn out
as she updated me on which minister backed which family member and how many
siblings were trying to get involved in the imminent coup.
I didn’t pay much attention to it. I cared less for
Lyosha’s political ambitions than I did for a vial of wolf urine. At least I
could learn something interesting from wolf urine. And as long as my chief
interests were the flora and fauna of Above and Below, I doubted any ministers
or ambitious family members cared about me. All the same: “I can’t leave yet.”
Even if I had no interest in the duchy, I had a duty. Our family was Kylma
Above, and we had responsibilities to uphold. Father had stipulated that I could
go south when the brideshow was over, not before. If I violated his order, he
might find some way to prevent me from going to the university at all.
I went over to my desk, skipping across the floor in my
wool socks. “What are you doing?” Aino asked.
“I might as well get some work done.” I pulled my
technical drawings from the middle drawer of the desk. I was copying Minister
Farhod’s, and I had to finish them before I went south. They’d be part of my
university portfolio and application. Farhod had warned me that gaining
admittance was hard, even for the daughter of a grand duke—but detailed
dissection notes of a creature never seen before was sure to catch their
attention.
“You ought to rest.” Aino checked the door, then paced
back to the fire, dispersing the logs with a poker. “We shouldn’t have lit
this. What if someone realizes you’re here?”
I rolled my eyes as I lit the little candle under my
frozen inkwell. Aino was back to her favorite hobby: fretting. “No one can see
me, and no one’s going to care. Fetch my robe, won’t you?”
She stomped off, muttering about ungrateful brats and
coups and heads. I was restless, too, and opened the window next to my desk,
leaning out to let the cold air sting my cheeks.
The palace was quieter than usual. Maybe we really were
on the cusp of a coup. Or maybe the brideshow was canceled, and nobody wanted
to celebrate. From here, I could just see the bridal tower, and I wondered if
the candidates had retreated to it. The girl in the riding suit didn’t seem
like the type to retreat from anything. A lone figure hurried across a
decorative wall, and four stories beneath me lay the thick ice sheet that
separated Above and Below.
I wanted to crack that ice so badly that it split my
heart to think about it. Beneath that ice swam undulating bodies with
serpentine legs, vague shapes I could nearly recognize when I walked on the
lake’s frozen surface. The duchy Below was our closest ally and our dearest
friend. It was the only political matter I had any interest in. It was the greatest
thing Father had denied me—and denied me, and denied me.
Aino draped my robe around my shoulders. “Shut the
window,” she said, reaching past me to do it herself.
I pulled my head inside. “No one’s going to shoot me
from the palace walls.”
“Honestly, Ekata. If there is one night my worrying
might save your life, it’s tonight.” She cinched the robe around my waist.
“You’ve never been the sweet, obedient type. Humor me.”
“I’ll keep the doors and windows locked.” I forced
myself not to roll my eyes again. “But don’t call for a sled. And let me work
for a few hours before bed. There’s nothing unsafe about sitting at my desk.”
“You can work for half an hour, then I’m dousing the
fire. And if anyone knocks, say nothing. You’re not here.”
I shook my head and tucked my chin to hide a smile. “All
right.”
I didn’t hide it well enough. “Don’t treat this like a
joke, my lady,” Aino snapped. She only used my lady when she was really cross.
“I’m concerned about your life, and all you can think of is livers and cross sections.”
She curled her lip at the sheet on my desk on which Minister Farhod had
painstakingly drawn a number of internal organs in a hand so fine they still
seemed to glisten.
I licked the nib of my pen. “Aino, relax,” I said. “The
kitchen boy’s more politically involved than I am. Whatever occurs tonight,
it’s hardly going to concern us.”
As it happened, I was wrong.
About the Author:
I am a writer and tour guide in Copenhagen, Denmark. Though I originally come from Colorado, I left the US when I was eighteen and I haven’t lived there since.
More permanent stops on my travels have included Switzerland, Wales and Denmark. The arrival of a Danish husband has somewhat cemented my living situation, but I get my travel in smaller doses these days.
I like to write fantasy, mostly, though I dabble in soft sci-fi. My short stories are more adult, my novels more YA.
I’ve studied history, archaeology, and writing. I like to take my inspiration from historical events, and the more unknown and inspiring the event, the better.
I am represented by Kurestin Armada of P.S. Literary.
To keep up with what strange things I’m researching and writing, you can sign up for my newsletter here. I send out a short newsletter once a month.
Links:
Website: https://authorclaire.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/bartlebett
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bartlebett/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/bartlebett/
Giveaway:
Prize: Win (1) of (2) finished copies of
THE WINTER DUKE by Claire Eliza Bartlett (US Only)
Starts: 3rd March 2020
Ends: 18th March 2020
Tour Schedule:
March 3rd
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The Everlasting Library - Review + Favourite Quotes
March 5th
Bibliobibuli YA - Interview
Whispers & Wonder - Review
The.magicalpages - Review + Favourite Quotes
Caitsbooks - Review + Dream Cast + Favourite Quotes
@onemused - Review
March 6th
NovelKnight - Guest Post
Booked J - Review + Playlist + Favourite Quotes
The Reading Chemist - Review
Dazzled by Books - Review
The art of living - Review
March 7th
Ya It’s Lit - Review + Favourite Quotes
@womanon - Review
The Layaway Dragon - Review + Favourite Quotes
Inky Moments - Review + Dream Cast
Magical Reads - Review + Playlist
March 8th
Moonlight Rendezvous - Review + Favourite Quotes
Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Playlist
Ink & Myths - Review + Favourite Quotes
Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes
Enthralled Bookworm - Review + Favourite Quotes
March 9th
Kait Plus Books - Interview
The Reading Corner for All - Review + Favourite Quotes
Frayed Books - Review
Your Words My Ink - Review + Dream Cast
Confessions of a YA Reader - Review + Favourite Quotes
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