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  • Writer's pictureMorgan Hagey

Book 2 News and a Sneak Peek

Okay so book news! My editor is going through the second book, and that is such an exciting time! It's also really hard because I am a tinkerer of manuscripts. I just go in and mess with stuff constantly, and eventually give up and call it done. When she has it, I'm not allowed. What I *should* be doing is writing book 3, and I will. I promise. I just haven't gotten started yet. Well, in my head, I have like 20k words. Do you know what a pain in the butt it is to make those words appear outside of one's head. A big pain. I'll tell you what. But in the end, I love it, and I will finish this story!

We are aiming for an end of June release, so like the 20th or 27th. (Did you know new books typically are released on Tuesdays?) Not sure which one yet. Audio will come after of course.

This book... I worried about it. Second books often get a bad reputation, and I didn't want that for these characters. They deserve an awesome story. I hope that this delivers.

Want a little tiny taste?

Okay, since you begged:

New York City August 1779


I rolled over in bed and found the spot where Gwen should have been, empty. It was warm and rumpled, so she hadn’t been gone long. “Gwen?” No answer. I sat up, “Gwen!” I said more loudly. I looked quickly around the cramped boarding house room. The dim light from the slatted shutter showed it wasn’t yet dawn.

“Shh, I’m here,” she whispered from the dressing table at the foot of the bed. “I’m just too damn hot to sleep.” She splashed water from the wash basin on her face, and dried it with a strip of cloth acting as a towel that hung on the rod.

It was stifling in the room. I noticed sweat running down my bare back. I shoved the scratchy sheet off myself and stood on the creaky floor boards, stretching. The space was so small that I was nearly touching the wall, and my hands grazed the ceiling when I stretched. The bed was narrow enough that we’d been skin to skin all night. I wasn’t surprised Gwen had finally given up.

“It’s going to be unbearable today,” I said to her, crossing the tiny room in two steps. Gwen nodded, looking at me in the silvered mirror that hung above the dressing table. I leaned over and kissed her shoulder, bare except for the thick strap of the linen shift she wore. She closed her eyes and leaned her head to the side as I kissed up her neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to bed?” I asked.

She smiled and opened her eyes. “Ephraim, that bed can barely hold us when we’re laying as still as possible. I do not think it can handle anything…aerobic.” I eyed the tiny four-poster frame with two layers of straw under a feather top, all held together with tightly pulled ropes, and nodded.

“Yeah… guess you’re right.” She smirked at me as I made my way back to the bed and sat carefully atop it. “So we’re good on the plan for today?” I asked.

“I think so. I’m to go to the Bleekers to sit with the women. Dolley Madison will be there. I’ll bring up the discussion of constitutional amendments."

“Meanwhile, I’ll be in the meeting, pushing for the Department of War to be established. They’ll vote in favor tomorrow, if I don’t screw it up. Hamilton is such a pain in my ass,” I said.

“Once Dolley gets James to agree to push for amendments, and you get the Department of War settled, we can go home to a New York that has A/C,” Gwen said.

“And beds big enough for aerobics,” I added. She rolled her eyes.

Hours later, the sun finally shining, the humidity creeping up to those unbearable levels I’d expected, Gwen and I made our way down the cobblestone street. It had taken us an hour to get Gwen dressed in all the layers Declan insisted she had to wear. I was sweating in my linen and wool, with socks pulled up and tucked in, so no air got to my skin whatsoever. Gwen would be lucky not to pass out from the heat. We’d only walked two blocks before my hair was soaked under my hat. As we came to the crossroad, Gwen brushed a hand to my face.

“I’ll see you after,” she whispered, and turned down a side street and was soon swallowed up in the crowd.

I knew she’d be alright--she could take care of herself. That didn’t stop my heart from clanging against my chest with nerves. We’d jumped together and apart several times in the last year, but it still always made us both jumpy to be separated. I knew she had a jump drive strapped to her thigh. Mine was tucked into my breeches, secured with a leather strap. I knew we could both get home, if all else failed.

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