Friday, October 4, 2019

BLOG TOUR: The Good Luck Girls by Charlotte Nicole Davis

Welcome to the Official Blog Tour for The Good Luck Girls, the first title in The Good Luck Girls series, by Charlotte Nicole Davis!!! Today, on our tour stop, we have an exclusive excerpt AND a tour-wide giveaway to share!! So... Check it out and grab your copy now!!! Follow the tour, HERE!

Young Adult
The Good Luck Girls, #1
Publish Date:
October 1, 2019

Westworld meets The Handmaid's Tale in this stunning fantasy adventure from debut author Charlotte Nicole Davis.

Aster, the protector
Violet, the favorite
Tansy, the medic
Mallow, the fighter
Clementine, the catalyst


The country of Arketta calls them Good Luck Girls--they know their luck is anything but. Sold to a "welcome house" as children and branded with cursed markings. Trapped in a life they would never have chosen.

When Clementine accidentally murders a man, the girls risk a dangerous escape and harrowing journey to find freedom, justice, and revenge in a country that wants them to have none of those things. Pursued by Arketta's most vicious and powerful forces, both human and inhuman, their only hope lies in a bedtime story passed from one Good Luck Girl to another, a story that only the youngest or most desperate would ever believe.

It's going to take more than luck for them all to survive.


For several heartbeats, Clementine remained seated at the vanity, her reflection an exaggeration of shadows. The brag would be up here any moment. Should she stand to greet him? Lie waiting on the bed? She’d had all day to plan for this. She’d had years.
Then she heard it. The heavy creak of footsteps on the stairs.
Think of a song, she told herself. Aster’s right downstairs. Just think of a song.
The door opened.
The man behind it was more brutish than Clementine expected, a broad-shouldered ox stuffed in a suit. His fine black coat fell down to his knees, while his derby hat hung low over a shovel-shaped face framed by an auburn beard. Nothing about his outward appearance gave away who he might be, but his wealth was evident from the glint of the theomite ring on his thumb. The dark gemstone was large enough to buy the whole welcome house.
The brag paused in the doorway as he took stock of his suite: the plum-colored walls and their paintings of Arketta’s red-rock mountains, the ornate imported rug underfoot, the plush couch against the wall, the decanter of wine at its table. And, of course, the royal bed in the center of the room, its pillows piled high against a gilded headboard. At last the brag’s gaze landed on Clementine herself, who held up her chin. He ran his tongue over his thin lips and grinned. Clementine recoiled, then scolded herself for it. This was a welcome house. She would make him feel welcome.
The brag swung the door shut, the latch loud as a gunshot. He tossed his coat and hat on the hook. His thick shoulders strained against his white dress shirt, but Clementine could see now that he was younger than she’d first thought. Nineteen, maybe twenty, with ice blue eyes. She took a tentative step forward.
“Let me get that for you,” she said, stepping in to unbutton his vest. “You must be glad to get off the road.”
The scripted words felt unnatural to her, but the brag held out his arms cooperatively as she pulled the vest free and loosened his tie.
“And what would a girl like you know about the road? Or anything outside this fine establishment?” he drawled.
Clementine’s memory flickered, sunlight on water. “Enough,” she replied.
He licked his lips again, stepping in to study her more closely. He ran a thumb over her favor. “Skin like silk,” he murmured. “They did a good job with you.”
She was surprised by the roughness of his hands, the warmth of his touch. The only other man outside of kin who had touched her at all was the welcome house doctor, who always wore cold rubber gloves. She brought her own hand up to cover the brag’s and wound their fingers together.
“Glad you like what you see,” she said, summoning her courage. “Let’s find out what else you like.”
It must have been the right thing to say, or near enough, because he lifted his brow and led her to the bed, his bear paw of a hand still wrapped around hers. Clementine’s stomach gave another flip. Just the moon moths, she told herself, and a moment later they were sitting side by side on the edge of the mattress. The brag leaned down to unlace his boots. Clementine struggled for some way to fill the silence. Her cheeks began to burn. She wasn’t allowed to make idle conversation, wasn’t allowed to ask his name or where he’d come from. Those secrets were a man’s to give or keep as he saw fit.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt. Clementine gripped the duvet.
“Quiet one, are you?” he asked.
She let out a nervous laugh. “I guess you might say that.”
“Seems y’all are always quiet the first time,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just as well. All that cooked-up banter some of the girls throw around just wastes time. I’d rather get my shine’s worth out of every minute.”
Clementine’s heart dropped. Her breaths grew sharp and short. “Looks to me like you’re the kind of man with plenty of shine to spare,” she replied. She had to keep him talking.
“Well, it’s my father’s money, for now.” He stood and shrugged off his shirt, revealing a thickset chest matted with red hair. “You know who my father is?”
Clementine shook her head.
“Just as well,” he said again. “I’ll be running things soon enough. And once I am, I’ll come back sometime and bring you something pretty, hear?” He tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes for the first time. His grin cut like a blade. “If you treat me right, that is.”
Then, before Clementine could stall him any longer, he scooped her up and laid her down on the middle of the bed, crawling over her, trapping her between his arms. His breath was sour with the smell of whiskey. Clementine’s stomach rolled as his gaze traced the v of her neckline. There was no more mistaking this queasiness for a few harmless moon moths. She was going to be sick.
I have to stop this—
The brag leaned in and began kissing her throat.
Clementine drew a startled breath and held it. Tensed, shut her eyes. His cracked lips scraped across her skin. His blunt teeth tugged at her with clumsy need. After a moment, though, she slowly opened her eyes. This wasn’t so bad, she told herself. The kissing may be a little messy, but it wasn’t so bad.
Then he relaxed, settling his full weight on top of her as he began to work way down her neckline, tracing her favor. Clementine squirmed underneath the suffocating pressure.
“Wait,” she managed. He ignored her. She began to struggle, raising her voice. “Wait, please—”
“You said you’d be quiet,” he said roughly. His hand slid up her leg, slipping under her dress, resting on her bare knee. Her heart beat hard as a horse kick. Think of a song, think of a song.
His hand moved higher.
Wait, please, I’m not ready—”
He braced a forearm against her throat. To quiet her, Clementine was sure. She swallowed around a knot of pain. Lightheadedness washed over her.
She couldn’t breathe.
It was enough to unleash the fear that had been mounting in her since that morning, spurring it into a red-blooded panic. She didn’t want this, she wasn’t ready for this, she couldn’t breathe
“Stop!” she cried out, pushing against his chest with all her strength. It was the last word she was able to choke out. He only pressed his arm down more firmly. Her vision swam, eyes watering. Her lungs grew tight. She reached out blindly for the side table, searching for something, anything. Her fingers found the lamp. Grasped it by its neck.
And swung its heavy base towards his head.
The man roared, reeling back, pressing his hand where the lamp had connected.
“Damn you!” he cried, eyes flashing with rage. “I’ll kill you for that—”
Clementine hit him again, harder. This time his body went slack and he collapsed on top of her. She sucked in a gasping breath at the sudden, crushing pressure. She heaved him off of her and rolled away, leaping up and backing herself into the corner of the darkened room, her spine pressed against the wall. She coughed so much she feared she’d retch, forcing out the tears that had pricked at her eyes. She’d done it now. Now he was going to be even more furious, and he’d come for her again, and he—and he—
And he wasn’t getting up. Clementine went still, listening for the sound of his breath. Looking for the slightest movement.
Slowly, she crept back towards the bed. She could just make out the shape of his body in the dark. She laid a hand to his head and snatched it back the moment she felt the bloody dent in his skull, warm and wet.
Shock washed over her, followed by a relief so pure it buckled her knees. A song finally floated up from her memory, its last three chords ringing in her ears.
Eliza Little with her hair so red,
Her first husband took another woman to his bed,
She found him out and listened to him beg,
Then she took her rifle and she killed—him—dead.

Copyright © 2019 by Charlotte Nicole Davis


“Don't underestimate the girls in the Arkettan welcome houses because you might just lose your life. Davis' The Good Luck Girls is a dust-filled, bloody fairytale set in a menacing world haunted with the reminder―the price of freedom is high, but it's worth fighting for at all costs. Rise up, teen readers!” ―Dhonielle Clayton, New York Times bestselling author of The Belles

“This dystopian debut is deeply connected to today’s social issues, and readers will feel that impact.” ―Booklist


**About the Author**
Photo Content from Brett Pruitt
Charlotte Nicole Davis is the author of The Good Luck Girls, a young adult fantasy novel releasing in Fall 2019 with Tor Teen. A graduate of The New School’s Writing for Children MFA program, Charlotte loves comic book movies and books with maps in the front. She currently lives in Brooklyn with a cat with a crooked tail. 

Stay connected with Charlotte Nicole Davis


***The Giveaway***

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