Welcome to the Grand Finale with the amazing
and a first, exclusive look at his upcoming book,
Slaying Isidore’s Dragons! This book is due to be published in 2015, and we get a look inside it! Yay!!
Let's start!
Are you excited? WE are!!
The reveal of the cover of
Slaying Isidore’s Dragons:
Slaying Isidore’s Dragons, by C. Kennedy
From the blurb:
5 Best friends
4 Vicious brothers
3 STD tests
2 Guys in love
1 Car bombing
&
Nowhere to run
Slaying Isidore’s Dragons follows the burgeoning love of two high school seniors during the worst year of their lives.
Irish born Declan David de Quirke II is the son of two ambassadors, one Irish and one American. He’s come out to his parents but to no one else.
French born Jean-Isidore de Sauveterre is the son of two ambassadors, one Catalan and one Parisian. His four half brothers have been told to cure him of his homosexuality.
Declan and Isidore meet at the beginning of their senior year at a private academy in the United States. Declan is immediately smitten with Isidore and becomes his knight in shining armor. Isidore wants to keep what little is left of his sanity and needs Declan’s love to do it.
5 Weeks of hell
4 Attempts on their lives
3 Law enforcement agencies
2 Dead high school seniors
1 Jealous friend
&
A love that won’t be denied
One is beaten, one is drugged, one is nearly raped, one has been raped, they are harassed by professors and police, and have fights at school, but none of it compares to running for their lives. When the headmaster’s popular son attempts suicide and someone attempts to assassinate Declan’s mother, they are thrown headlong into chaos, betrayal, conspiracy, allegations of sexual coercion, pornography, even murder. And one of them carries a secret that may get them killed.
5 New family members
4 BFF’s
3 Countries
2 Extraordinary Psychologists
1 Courageous Mother
&
A new beginning for two young men in love
And here, for us at My Fiction Nook, an exclusive and never before seen excerpt from the upcoming book:
Isidore stood in an alcove, a hollow smile plastered on his face as he offered stiff, shallow bows to passing dignitaries. Declan watched him intently, wondering why the liquid grace of yesterday had fled him. A young guy who looked to be about Declan’s age, dressed in a black dinner jacket, came up and clapped Isidore on the shoulder. Isidore grimaced and froze. The guy chucked his chin and Isidore jerked away, anger filling his mien before he quickly regained his composure and his face smoothed. The guy chucked his chin again.
Who was this jerk? Get away from him, stook!
The jerk studied the crowd and headed away. He turned back and said something to Isidore that caused his face to crumple in…. What? Sadness? Declan looked on as Isidore gathered himself up, seeming to search the air for emotional purchase. He finally settled his face into a neutral expression. Then it dawned on Declan, and a sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach. Isidore’s expression had crumpled just before he fell apart in the locker room. “Pain,” Declan said under his breath.
“What did you say, darling?”
“Look in the alcove, Mum. That’s Jean-Isidore. Something’s wrong with him.”
“What do you mean something’s wrong with him?” She casually looked past Declan’s arm in time to see another young man come up and clap Isidore on the back, hard. This jerk looked surprisingly like the first jerk, and Declan wondered if they were his half brothers. Isidore stumbled forward two steps and politely excused himself for nearly running into a garishly dressed woman. His struggle not to double over in pain as he held his stomach was obvious.
Sorcha hitched a small breath and recaptured her aplomb. “What do you think is wrong with him?” she whispered.
“Don’t know. But after Thing One and Thing Two clapped him on the shoulder and back, I can tell he’s in serious pain. How do you want me to go to him?”
Sorcha searched the room quickly. “Ah, Ambassador de Sauveterre,” she called.
The ambassador turned, openly irritated by her display.
“Good to see you again, Ambassador. Please accept my condolences once again with regard to your lovely wife. We all miss her so,” she said politely.
“Madame de Quirke, and to you for the loss of your husband,” he said stiffly.
“Ambassador,” she corrected.
“Ah, yes, Ambassador de Quirke. How careless of me. How could I forget that there were two of you among us?” He kissed the back of Sorcha’s hand gently and in contrast to his blatantly condescending tone.
The uncalled-for air of disdain for his mum wasn’t lost on Declan, and anger welled. The ambassador was a class A bastard.
“How are you and yours?” Sorcha asked politely, though he made no such inquiry of her.
“Excellent, thank you.”
“I understand that you had the pleasure of speaking with my son this afternoon. Here he is in person. Declan, may I introduce Ambassador Jean-Baptiste de Sauveterre, French ambassador to the United States.”
Declan shook the man’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
Ambassador de Sauveterre didn’t respond. Rather, he gave Declan an icy glower that caused his balls to quiver and run for cover into his body cavity.
“And how is your son, Jean-Isidore?” Sorcha asked pointedly, quipping right along.
“I have five sons, Ambassador de Quirke.”
“Oh yes. How careless of me. How could I forget that there are five of you among us? Of them, I mean.”
Declan bit the inside of his cheek as he fought to keep a straight face.
Back off, Mum. The guy looks like he wants to punch you.
Ambassador de Sauveterre gave her an openly angry look, which she brazenly disregarded. “How is Jean-Isidore?” she asked pointedly again, ignoring the matter of the other four sons.
Declan could have sworn that Ambassador de Sauveterre’s black eyes flashed red like a devil’s before he spoke again. “He is here,” he said calmly before motioning Isidore over with a hand signal that looked made for a dog.
Isidore made his way slowly through the crowd, careful to avoid bodily contact with anyone.
“Oui, Père?”
Be still my heart. Declan was left breathless by Isidore’s looks, and the mere scent of him sent his senses reeling again.
Jeez, I’m a freak. I’m getting high on him.
“Jean-Isidore, this is Ambassador de Quirke of Ireland,” the ambassador introduced.
“It is an honor to meet you, Madame Ambassador de Quirke,” Isidore greeted and bent to kiss the back of her hand with considerable bodily effort.
“A wonderful pleasure to meet you, Master de Sauveterre. Oh, and my, aren’t your eyes just lovely! What an amazing shade of green!” she exclaimed.
“Thank you, Madame Ambassador. A gift from my beloved mother.” He turned stiffly and extended a hand to Declan. “Master de Quirke, it is a pleasure to see you again.”
Declan wanted to skip the formality and call him Isidore just to piss the ambassador off but knew it would only bode ill for Isidore in the end. Declan shook his hand gently, luxuriating in the soft warmth. “Master de Sauveterre, we missed you at school today.”
Not waiting for further comment, Sorcha threaded her arm through the ambassador’s and led him away. “Ambassador de Sauveterre, it would seem we need to have a word. You see, the school has this buddy system now….”
Isidore stared at his father’s departing back as the petite, dark-haired Sorcha led him away. “Your mother is a brave woman. Not many would presume to tell my father anything.”
“You have no idea. She’s a tempest in her own right.” Declan leaned in. “You’re in pain,” he said quietly.
Isidore’s face began to crumple, and he visibly fought for control. “I’m fine. Please. Go, before my father sees us speaking together.”
“Why weren’t you in school today?”
“I cannot… I can’t say.”
“Isidore—”
“Please, Master de Quirke—” The effort to speak made Isidore wince, and his words caught in his throat.
Righting his posture, Declan made to smile for appearance’s sake and gestured for Isidore to precede him to the balcony. Isidore hesitated before moving forward. Declan followed, snagging two glasses of sparkling cider from a tray on the way. When they came to the heavy glass balcony door, Declan reached above Isidore’s head and pushed it open for him.
Getting to the balcony table left Isidore winded.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Declan said.
“I cannot. My father will expect me in the room.”
“Sit down,” Declan repeated as he set the glasses of cider on the table.
Isidore gripped the arms of a chair fiercely as he lowered himself into it. He breathed a long, silent sigh of relief as his small frame settled.
Declan took the seat next to him and studied him. “You look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”
Isidore said nothing as he put his trembling hands in his lap and curled them into tight fists.
“You’re hurt.”
Isidore brought his chin up quickly, his head high. “What would make you think that I am hurt?”
“Let’s skip the bullshite. I play rugby. I’ve had broken ribs before.”
Isidore frowned. “You presume to know much.”
“Take a deep breath,” Declan challenged.
Isidore looked away.
“Who beat the shite out of you?” Declan asked pointedly.
“Declan, please, this is none of your concern.”
All content ©2011-2014 C. Kennedy. All Rights Reserved.
Read an early review of the coming Slaying Isidore's Dragons, by young Timmy here.
Slaying Isidore’s Dragons partly takes place outside of the US, so here are a couple of questions for you, Cody:
What was your inspiration for Slaying Isidore’s Dragons?
As an abused youth, I was fortunate enough to have been taken into safe care by my grandfather at a young age. Being the world traveler he was, he knew all kinds of people in all sorts of places, and we traveled a lot! He also happened to know a wonderful married couple who were diplomats. Though they were stationed in different countries, the countries were near and they saw each other on weekends. We traveled frequently and saw them no matter what country they were in at any given time. Finally, I wanted to bring a little bit of that world travel into a story and, in Slaying Isidore’s Dragons, Isidore is French, Declan is Irish, and yet they attend school at an academy in the United States. To wit, the adventure spans the United Kingdom, Ireland, France, and the United States.
What are your personal longings?
I hope to change the world one abused boy at a time by helping them through my writing and the work I do for and with them. And world travel. I love to travel. MUST.HAVE.TRAVEL.
Which country have you visited that you would love to live in? Why?
One? I must choose ONE country? Impossible. My top three? Greece, Spain, and California (California thinks it’s a country, so it’s all good). Why? Why not?
Thank you, Cody.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us this month. You shine the light on so many things that we simply do not know, or that many of us tend to ignore, because it hurts too much to think about. But you have shown us that there are things we can do.
About Cody
Kennedy:
Raised on the mean streets and back
lots of Hollywood by a Yoda-look-alike grandfather, Cody doesn’t conform,
doesn’t fit in, is epic awkward, and lives to perfect a deep-seated
oppositional defiance disorder. In a constant state of fascination with the
trivial, Cody contemplates such weighty questions as: If time and space are
curved, then where do all the straight people come from? When not writing, Cody
can be found taming waves on western shores, pondering the nutritional value of
sunsets, appreciating the much maligned dandelion, unhooking guide ropes from
stanchions, and marveling at all things ordinary.
Check out Cody’s Blog
here.
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