How is it 2017 already? (Also, an excerpt!) ~ Outside the Margins with Lisa Henry

Join Prism Book Alliance® as Lisa Henry goes Outside the Margins today.

Hi everyone! By the time this is posted, I should be somewhere between Brisbane and Sydney, on a cruise ship, celebrating a friend’s birthday, my birthday, and also Australia Day. I haven’t been on a cruise ship since I was a child. In fact, the last time I went on a cruise ship, the day tour to some island was cancelled because we went through a cyclone instead and it was too rough to launch the boats. The year before that (or possibly after, it’s hard to recall now) we went to Fiji instead and got caught in a military coup where the government was overthrown. What can I say? My dad had a knack for picking unintentionally interesting holidays.

Cruise ships, in theory, are not my thing. Close quarters, enforced bonhomie… who was it that says hell was other people? But it’s for four days, I actually really do like my friends, and sea air is always a good thing, right? Also, I haven’t been to Sydney in years, since I was way below the legal drinking age. I’m looking forward to checking out a cool pub or two!

And then, when I get home, the plan is to dive back into all the books I have to get written this year. This includes an updated m/m Sense and Sensibility, the first of a series of books set in Australia and focussing on first responders, and more from the Playing the Fool series and the Prescott College series with J.A. Rock. It’s going to be a busy year!

And then there’s also that random m/m fantasy book that I’ve apparently also started to write. Because my brain is incapable of prioritising, and of course when I have an entire list of things I’m supposed to be writing, my brain says “Hey, let’s write this other thing instead. You know you want to…”

And dammit, it’s right. So here’s a sneak peek at something that is tentatively called Anhaga, and it will hopefully be a novel one day. And the POV character, Min, is basically an asshole:


The dawn limped in like some boot-scraping bastard, slow and lame, and dragging the sunlight behind it like a crippled limb. Min groaned, and rolled over to put his back to the window.

“You’re lying on my hair,” someone told him.

Min peeled his eyes open. “Ah,” he said.

He had a vague recollection of this woman. Vague enough that he remembered sharing a smile and more than one drink with her last night. And sadly vague enough that he doubted he had acquitted himself well. The woman’s arched eyebrows told him as much.

He shifted back slightly, and let the woman tug her tresses of red hair back to herself.

“Aiode,” she told him, holding out a pale, freckled hand. She kept her other arm clasped across her chest, keeping the blanket from slipping down and revealing what Min was sure was a lovely bosom. “Aiode Nettle. Since I’m sure you don’t remember.”

The surname surprised him a little. Min wasn’t in the habit of bedding the Gifted, even though with the name Aiode had chosen she was probably ranked no higher than a hedgewitch. Clearly he’d made an exception because Aiode, even with her tangled bed hair and lines on her face from the pillow, was beautiful.

“Aramin Decourcey,” he said, shaking her hand.

“That’s quite a mouthful,” she said.

“I’m more than a mouthful, sweeting.”

“So you promised last night,” Aiode told him. She raised her eyebrows again. “Sadly, you did not measure up.”

Min was too hungover to be truly offended. He rolled back over and squinted at the shaft of light stabbing through the sagging shutters and then, figuring that the day was already ruined, sat up and swung his legs over the wide of the bed. His soles met the gritty floor.

The garret room was cheap; its only recommendation. That, and the view over the back alley behind the Footbridge Tavern. Min did most of his work out of the tavern. His work wasn’t exactly reputable, and Min liked to know if it tried to follow him home like a tick-ridden stray. The view of the alley afforded him at least a little forewarning.

Min blinked around the room.

Pants. Pants pants pants.

He wasn’t much of a gentleman, not in any sense of the word, but pants were probably in order. He spotted them in a rumpled heap over by the damned window, and levered himself off the bed to go and fetch them. He picked them up, shook them out, and stepped into them. When he turned back to face Aiode, she had the look on her face of a woman who had very much enjoyed the view but wasn’t going to puff up his pride by mentioning it.

Please. Min knew his ass was a thing of beauty.


And I know it’s late in the month for this, but HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone. I hope you have a great 2017.


~Lisa Henry

About Lisa Henry

Lisa likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily ever afters.

Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.

She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.

She shares her house with too many cats, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.

My links:


Farewell Giveaway
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.

Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,

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