I’m not sure if I should never do a contest like this one again because it was so hard to decide on winners, or to do a contest like this every time because I laughed so hard while making my decisions.
For the record, I have three ARCs left, and you lot have convinced me to give away all three. Without further ado, the winners:
Queen Elizabeth herself has begun her Spring Progress and shall be visiting a small town quite near my own home. I have been hired by the Fareham Harbourmaster to attend to a bit of the entertainment. I hear that Drake, the Queen’s Dragon, and her Secret-Keeper Walsingham will me among her party, along with all manner of rogues and ne’er-do-wells. While I had been looking to enjoy a relaxing two days of merry-making and ale in the presence of HRM, it was whispered into my dreams these last three nights that there shall be more that just a bit of piracy and mortal intrigues a-foot. For in my dreams I see shadows that flutter without any wind and hear music echoing where none should be. I catch glimpses of the Queen’s Huntmaster beside a great white hound, the tiniest of arrows tangle in my hair, and the air is tinged with the spark of moonlight and marigolds.
It does occur to me that the information in your ARC might be of vital importance to my continued survival.
From the posting, anachred, for shameless bribery with promises of future flattery.
Upcoming Young Author Seeks Established Writer To Whom to Owe Great Allegiance and Copious Marks of Gratitude Including But Not Limited To High-Profile Dedications, Gratuitous Reference During Interviews with New Yorker, And Embedded Tributes to Be Unearthed By Scholars Hundreds of Years in the Future to Fuel Great Speculations. Some Material Indebtedness Required – Hobbit-like Love of Books and Gifts.
And from the entries sent in by e-mail, an individual whose name I’ll withhold (since I don’t know if she wants it public), so that she may win back the favor of her feline king and queen.
The King and Queen of Sandcherry Street demand only the best literature. The King, Bagheera McGrew, the finest black feline of round shape has often looked over the shoulders of his servants to see what they’re reading. He is disgusted and repelled to see them devouring less than worthy words of literature. The Queen, Nala McGrew, the sleekest black feline of bitchiness, has long since complained of the servants’ lack of taste in books. Just recently they have released a notice that until I get Midnight Never Come, I will be exiled from their estate. I have the strongest wish to retrieve the book they request so that I may return to their estate to continue my services of petting them, and making laps for them to sit in.
If you’re a winner, e-mail your address to marie DOT brennan AT gmail DOT com, and I’ll send you a book!
A million thanks to everyone who participated — this was highly entertaining!