{"id":14155,"date":"2017-12-15T00:01:34","date_gmt":"2017-12-15T05:01:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/melanierobertson-king.com\/wp02\/?p=14155"},"modified":"2017-12-08T08:26:33","modified_gmt":"2017-12-08T13:26:33","slug":"penhaligons-pride-by-terri-nixon-extract-giveaway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/melanierobertson-king.com\/wp02\/?p=14155","title":{"rendered":"PENHALIGON’S PRIDE by Terri Nixon #extract #giveaway"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Terri<\/a><\/h1>\n

Penaligon’s Pride<\/span><\/h1>\n

by<\/span><\/h1>\n

Terri Nixon<\/span><\/h1>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Terri<\/a>Series:<\/span> <\/strong>The Penhaligon Saga<\/p>\n

Genre:<\/span> <\/strong>Historical Saga<\/p>\n

Release Date:<\/span> <\/strong>07 Dec 2017<\/p>\n

Publisher: <\/strong><\/span>Piatkus<\/p>\n

1910. Anna Garvey and her daughter are still running the Tin Streamer’s Arms in Caernoweth, Cornwall, and it finally seems like she has left her tumultuous history behind in Ireland. Meanwhile Freya Penhaligon has blossomed and is now the object of increasing affection of Hugh, the elder son of the wealthy Batten family.<\/p>\n

After the dramatic events of the previous months, it feels like everything is finally getting back to normal. But when Anna inadvertently reveals something she shouldn’t, she finds herself at the centre of a blackmail plot and it seems like the past she longed to escape is coming back to haunt her. To make matters worse, the tiny fishing hamlet is battered by a terrible storm and shifting relationships find themselves under more scrutiny than ever before.<\/p>\n

With the Penhaligon family at breaking point it will take enormous strength and courage to bring them back together – but is it already too late?<\/p>\n

Extract from Penhaligon\u2019s Pride<\/span><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

(Matthew Penhaligon is working in the tin mine, and his old adversary David Donithorn, his shift captain, has been uncharacteristically distant all morning. The men are on their lunch break.)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alan had broken off from talking to cough; a deep, hacking sound, appalling enough in an old man, never mind in a nineteen-year-old. Matthew swallowed hard, wondering if he was imagining the tickle in his own throat, and determined not to cough himself\u2026 it sounded as if Alan would never stop. He\u2019d surely returned to work too soon, but during his time working with Tommy, Matthew had learned the Trevellicks had no living parents, just aging grandparents Esther and Joe. There had been little choice in the matter, Alan\u2019s wage was needed.<\/p>\n

At thirty-eight, Matthew was probably one of the oldest men working the underground levels, particularly down this far; most had succumbed to injury or illness long before they reached such an advanced age, but then most of the others had been doing it all their lives. He wondered, with a returning bleakness, how long it would be before he too sounded as if he were tearing himself apart inside. The tickle in his throat grew, and he cleared it, tasting rock dust. A swig of water helped, but as he pictured the dust swirling down his throat he wished he\u2019d spat instead.<\/p>\n

Donithorn came back, and picked up the coil of fuse and the tamping bar. \u2018Time.\u2019 He started back down the tunnel, but Alan spoke up.<\/p>\n

\u2018Powder, Cap\u2019n? Or be we not botherin\u2019 with that today?\u2019 The sarcasm made Tommy visibly flinch, and Donithorn stopped. Matthew couldn\u2019t see his face properly, but he gave a little shake of his head, as if coming back from some other place his mind had been inhabiting. \u2018Yes. And, um… bring the bar.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018You\u2019ve got that,\u2019 Alan pointed out.<\/p>\n

Donithorn looked down at his hand. \u2018Right. Swab stick then.\u2019 Irritation crept in. \u2018Just make haste.\u2019 Then he was gone into the dark again, and Matthew and the others put their water bottles and lunch tins back in their bags.<\/p>\n

\u2018Well he\u2019s changed,\u2019 Alan observed. \u2018Time was you couldn\u2019t speak to \u2019un like that without getting a right ear-bashin\u2019 back.\u2019 He nudged his brother. \u2018Why din\u2019t you tell me he\u2019d turned into a purring kitten? I\u2019d have come back sooner.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018He\u2019s only been like it today,\u2019 Tommy said. \u2018And you wouldn\u2019t anyway, you\u2019ve been too sick.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018I was joking,\u2019 Alan pointed out patiently. \u2018Come on, boy, grab what\u2019s needed, and let\u2019s get this bloody stuff out.\u2019 As they started down the tunnel he caught at Matthew\u2019s shirt. \u2018You take this. Nature\u2019s callin\u2019 an\u2019 she\u2019ve got a bleddy loud voice.\u2019<\/p>\n

He pushed the swab stick into Matthew\u2019s hand, and went back out to one of the worked-out tunnels to relieve himself, while Matthew and Tommy rejoined their captain.<\/p>\n

When they reached him he had already cut the three fuses, and was neatly re-coiling what was left. He looked up, and dropped the depleted coil of fuse on the floor, then nodded at the cart. \u2018Tommy, finish getting that loaded, and get it out.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yes, Cap\u2019n.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018On you go, Pen\u2019aligon, since you\u2019ve got the stick.\u2019<\/p>\n

Matthew cleaned the loose grit and dust out of the three holes, and Alan arrived and began pouring the gunpowder into the scraper. When he and Donithorn started to pack and tamp the shot-holes, Matthew turned to help Tommy push the almost-full cart back out to the main shaft.<\/p>\n

\u2018Get in,\u2019 he said, when he was sure they were out of Donithorn\u2019s hearing.<\/p>\n

Tommy looked at him, puzzled. \u2018What?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Get in!\u2019 Matthew knocked the side of the cart, and grinned.<\/p>\n

Tommy gave a snort of surprised laughter, and climbed into the cart, where he huddled down on the lumps of ore, making himself as small as possible. Matthew pushed, enjoying the sound of Tommy\u2019s chuckling as they went, and only just remembering in time to duck his own head to avoid an ear-ringing collision with the low, rocky roof. The boy worked so hard it was easy to forget he was still a child, and it was good to be able to give him a rest, even a brief one, though the ground was almost impossible to navigate without stopping every minute or so to kick rubble out of the way.<\/p>\n

Together Matthew and the cart rattled and slid around the last bend, where the tunnel opened up and the ore could be unloaded onto a kibble for its journey to the surface. Tommy climbed out, and Matthew manoeuvred the cart into position. He glanced around as the boy started back up the tunnel.<\/p>\n

\u2018Where are you going now? Alan\u2019s here, there\u2019s no need for either of us to go back.\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018My coat,\u2019 Tommy said. \u2018I tied it around one of the props. It\u2019s the only one I got,\u2019 he added, almost apologetically. He needn\u2019t have; Matthew was only too well aware of the consequences of losing clothing, when you earned so little money.<\/p>\n

\u2018I\u2019ll fetch it. Stay put.\u2019<\/p>\n

Donithorn was removing the candle from his helmet as Matthew returned to the end of the tunnel. \u2018What\u2019re you back for?\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Tommy\u2019s coat.\u2019 Matthew stepped past him and saw the coat, tied by the arms around one of the roughly sawn props.<\/p>\n

\u2018Get it then, and be quick.\u2019 Donithorn touched the candle to the end of the first fuse. \u2018Fire in the hole!\u2019 Alan quickly lit the other two, and flashed a grin at Matthew, who swore and ripped the coat sleeves free. Turning to follow, Matthew\u2019s foot slid on loose rubble, and, as he reached out to steady himself on the wall he glanced at the nearest burning fuse and blinked. Something was\u2026 then he froze. Almost burned through\u2026<\/p>\n

\u2018Run!\u2019 It came out weak and dismayed, so he snatched a short breath and bellowed, \u2018RUN!\u2019<\/p>\n

Donithorn half-turned to question the sudden panic, but there was no time to explain. Matthew\u2019s heart hammered against his ribs, the sweat of terror mingled with that of the natural heat, and made his free hand slip and slide on the rock wall. The hand holding Tommy\u2019s coat gave him better purchase, and he leaned hard to his left, pushing against the wall to drive himself forward.<\/p>\n

Donithorn, still blankly unmoving, looked past Matthew and, coming to life, gave a low cry of horror. Alan had heeded Matthew\u2019s urgency and disappeared around the first bend, but Donithorn seemed locked in place and his face, in the thin light of the candle, was whiter than ever. \u2018How\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Go!\u2019 Matthew shoved at him. He ducked low beneath the uneven roof, pushing Donithorn ahead of him. Even as he slipped and slid, and the skin was torn from his hands by sharp rock, he tried to calculate how long they had left. In his mind\u2019s eye was only the sparking burn of the safety fuse, working its lazy, but unstoppable way towards the densely-packed gunpowder.<\/p>\n

\"Terri<\/a>\"Terri<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

BUY LINKS<\/span><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

Amazon UK:<\/span><\/strong> www.amazon.co.uk\/Penhaligons-Pride-Penhaligon-Terri-Nixon\/dp\/0349418780<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Amazon US:<\/span> <\/strong>www.amazon.com\/Penhaligons-Pride-Penhaligon-Terri-Nixon\/dp\/0349418780<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Waterstones Online: <\/span><\/strong>www.waterstones.com\/book\/penhaligons-pride\/terri-nixon\/9780349418780<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

ABOUT TERRI NIXON<\/span><\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Terri<\/a><\/p>\n

Terri was born in Plymouth, UK. At the age of 9 she moved with her family to Cornwall, to the village featured in Jamaica Inn — North Hill — where she discovered a love of writing that has stayed with her ever since. She also discovered apple-scrumping, and how to jump out of a hayloft without breaking any bones, but no-one’s ever offered to pay her for doing those.<\/p>\n

Since publishing in paperback for the first time in 2002, Terri has appeared in both print and online fiction collections, and is proud to have contributed to the Shirley Jackson award-nominated hardback collection: Bound for Evil, by Dead Letter Press.
\nPenhaligon\u2019s Pride is her eighth novel to be published.<\/p>\n

Terri also writes under the name T Nixon, and has contributed to anthologies under the names Terri Pine and Teresa Nixon. She is represented by the Kate Nash Literary Agency. She now lives in Plymouth with her youngest son, and works in the Faculty of Arts and Humanities at Plymouth University, where she is constantly baffled by the number of students who don’t possess pens.<\/p>\n

Facebook: <\/strong><\/span>www.facebook.com\/terri.nixon.page<\/a><\/p>\n

Twitter:<\/span> <\/strong>twitter.com\/TerriNixon<\/a><\/p>\n

Goodreads Author Page:<\/span> <\/strong>www.goodreads.com\/author\/show\/7161840.Terri_Nixon<\/a><\/p>\n

Instagram:<\/span> <\/strong>www.instagram.com\/telnixon<\/a><\/p>\n

LinkedIn: <\/strong><\/span>www.linkedin.com\/in\/telnix\/<\/a><\/p>\n

Blog: <\/strong><\/span>www.terrinixon.wordpress.com<\/a><\/p>\n

Website:<\/span> <\/strong>www.terrinixon.com<\/a><\/p>\n

GIVEAWAY<\/span><\/h1>\n

One lucky winner will receive signed paperbacks of Books 1 & 2!<\/span> <\/strong><\/p>\n

(UK & Ireland only)<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

a Rafflecopter giveaway<\/a>
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