by February Grace
Publisher: Booktrope Editions (18 Jun 2013)
"What is a heart if not the ultimate clockwork?"
Abigail’s young life was saved by the kindness of strangers: Schuyler Algernon, the man who found her collapsed on cold city streets, and Quinn Godspeed, the doctor who risked everything by breaking the law to keep her fragile heart beating.
As the truth about what she’s become and her feelings for her saviour overtake her, Abigail is forced to ask what constitutes life, living, and what dark secrets are contained within Godspeed’s past and the walls of Schuyler’s house.
By February Grace
What is it about a dark, brooding hero that draws me in like no other? Men with a secret, a tormented past, or some other reason to keep the world at a distance…those are the sort I have always been fascinated by.
They speak to me in a way that no other can— and so a dark hero is the focus of my Literary Romance/Steampunk novel, GODSPEED.
Originally, the book was supposed to be much different. I started writing it in third person, from the perspective of a teen boy who sought out a kind, brilliant doctor for help.
A few thousand words in, however, a different voice began to whisper to me—that of a young woman. It was her plight that was to be the catalyst for revealing the most important part of the story: the true nature of the tormented Doctor Quinn Godspeed.
From then on, it was Quinn’s own will and stubbornness that directed the story. What I could tell, and when. What I couldn’t tell, and why. For almost two years as I worked on the book, the very idea of the man would keep me up at night as he seemed to urge me on, and kept me working on the story in my head even at times when I was too ill to write. He gave me pieces of the puzzle one step at a time and only as much information as needed to keep writing.
Writing GODSPEED was like being on a grand treasure hunt— and in the end, I found the trove.
I had no choice but to tell the story his way because, like heroine Abigail, I wanted so much to unlock the mystery of who he had become, and why.
Even though he warned her, and thereby me, during the writing process that this was not going to be an easy task, as is shown in the following excerpt:
“Many evenings of my youth were spent here, in that garden.” He paused, his words becoming strained and seeming to get stuck at the back of his throat. “Days and nights among the flowers. I have… many memories here.”
“Do you have a favorite?” I asked.
He paled, only slightly, but enough that I couldn’t help but notice even in just the rising moonlight. “Memory?”
“I was going to say flower, but if you prefer to tell me your favorite memory, I would be most interested in knowing it.”
His jaw set. Any indication that he may finally begin to tell me a little about what lay within disappeared, and I hated myself for having not been clearer as to what I was asking…
“It is time to end this discussion,” he declared, taking back his coat. He spun toward the glass door and held it open. “Inside.”
My throat ached, and I wondered again just what I had done wrong.
I moved back into the red room. I was trembling, not from cold but from the sheer force of holding back my emotions — and my tongue.
Quinn observed me, and, as ever, nothing got past him. He tossed his coat onto a chair, strode forward, and held the door that led to the hall open for me. As I moved to walk past, he spoke softly, in an almost impassioned tone. “You must beware curiosity most of all, young woman.” His whole body seemed to stiffen, his shoulders thrust back with bitter indignation. “I know what it is that you are thinking. You are thinking that there is some deeply held secret within me that, could you but free me of it, would cause me to behave more as normal men do. Men that you may have known in the past, in the life you refuse to speak of.”
I looked away. My cheeks burned, and, I was certain, turned scarlet.
“I should warn you that I have never been a normal man… and the secrets that I keep are deeper and darker than any ten men of abnormal nature. So it would be to your peril to persist in your wondering.” He drew a breath and continued. “Beware the answers,” he warned. “You are in no way prepared to even consider the questions they belong to.”
If you are drawn to the irresistible darkness of a brooding hero the way that I am, I hope that you will enjoy meeting Doctor Godspeed. You may find him to be wounded, but oh, the soul that lies beneath that nearly impenetrable, shining suit of emotional armor.
About the Author
February Grace is a writer, artist, and poet who lives in Southeastern Michigan. She sings in key, plays by ear, and is more than mildly obsessed with colours, clocks, and meteor showers. GODSPEED is her debut novel.
1 x $20/£10 Amazon Gift Card
3 x ecopies of Godspeed