Synopsis

Surviving in Rookfall depends on rank or thievery, and no one can be trusted.

Genevieve is a master thief: one of the renowned Shadows, instilling fear into the elites. One night, an easy job to steal an automaton ends in confusion.

Waking three years later in the presence of Matthew Tilcott, a lesser, in a city turned unfamiliar, she sets out to discover what happened that night and why she can see things others can’t. As she searches for answers, she unearths a conspiracy to find and use the powerful Star. When Genevieve learns of why the elites and the lessers seek it and its corruptive nature, she determines no one should wield such power. It should be destroyed. But to do so, she must eliminate the last personal connection to her old life.

Will she help this corrupt city and start a new life with Matthew, or only look out for herself?

If you like a strong female lead, Gaslamp adventure, and the Victorian era, you’ll love this steampunk mystery thriller standalone novel.

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Excerpt

AS A LESSER IN ROOKFALL, Matthew Tilcott was lucky. He had a job that helped him survive just enough; nor was he dead, hanging by the neck on the Dead Way.

In this city, one is either elite or lesser—and the rich stole their wealth. No one is innocent; all have some devious nature to them, either by conning others, murdering, or, most common, thieving. The only difference between the wealthy and the common is that they were never caught.

Terrified of someone stealing their wealth, power, or position—which they had stolen from another—the elite enforced the law to be the strictest against thievery. Murderers, drunkards, and rapists didn’t frighten them; not like those who could slip into a window and steal valuables undetected. Lives held no value like money.

Finished repairing the sole of a boot, Matthew put the shoe beside its twin on the table, let out a deep sigh, propped up his elbows, and placed his cold fingers against his hot eyes. He had been working from before dawn, in a basement with no heat, as it rained, hard, all day. He didn’t think that many elites lived in Rookfall, but from the shoes he had worked on this week alone, the population was triple what he had first thought. Since this business catered only to the rich, the lessers got their poorer quality shoes from the cobbler in the Barrows.

Alone in the freezing basement, he toiled on repairing the broken shoes brought into Palmen’s as the owner helped the customers above in the nice, warm store. Matthew had been extremely fortunate to get this job with Mr. Palmen: his fancier shoe store resided on Parlorstreet, the shopping center for the elite, consisting of brick buildings selling jewelry, boutiques, and other frivolous buys. Because he didn’t have the money to buy an automaton worker, Mr. Palmen himself visited the marketplace to find a compatible worker among the lessers and saw Matthew at one of the vendors’ carts. Since he was cleaner than most, and looked reliable, he was hired.

The meager pay Matthew received per week paid for food, his rent, and the taxes—which steadily grew steeper. So, he couldn’t complain… but he did wish he could have something to look at, though, other than stone bricks for walls, tables piled with tools and equipment for stretching or repairing shoes, an electric lamp emitting bright white-blue light, a door up some steps leading to a back alley, and a single dirty window. Like impeccably dressed gentlemen with their top hats and sleek canes, or pretty women in their dresses and long hair pinned up neatly. Or even the store itself, with wide, clear front windows, displays of various shoes shining with polished buckles, and wood floors covered by red rugs—

“Finally finished, young man?”

Matthew jolted out of his daydream to whip around and see old Mr. Palmen at the foot of the stairs, coming closer. He hadn’t heard the creaking of the wooden steps under the owner’s feet.

In his late fifties, the cobbler had wispy white hair, pallid skin, gold-wired bifocals over kind green eyes, and a slightly hunched frame. As an elite, his everyday wear was sharp and clean: a black silk coat with tails, tailored pants, polished black shoes, and a gold chain connected to a classy watch in his vest pocket.

“Yessir. I’m sorry, sir—I was just relaxing.” He scrambled to tidy his workstation—Mr. Palmen liked everything orderly.

He chuckled. “Don’t panic so, boy. It’s alright. You’ve had a long day.”

Smelling food, Matthew turned to see a small parcel wrapped in a cream napkin in the cobbler’s hand. His stomach growled loudly.

“I like you, Matthew. You’re an honest hard worker with manners—an unheard-of find in the Barrows.” Mr. Palmen handed the light parcel to him. “I snuck this away from the missus. It’s not much, but I wanted to reward you for staying true to work this busy week.” He turned for the stairs. “Tidy up when you’re done, and holler when you’re to leave so I can lock up.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you. I will. Thank you for thinking of me.”

Mr. Palmen nodded as he headed up. “Don’t let the Stalkers see you when you go home,” he said over his shoulder.

About the Author

Jessica is an author in a wheelchair and has Type 1 Diabetes. Her multi-genre works cater to YA, NA, and Adults, and can be found on Wattpad and Amazon.

She lives in Northeast Louisiana and lives with her mom, dad, two brothers, and a three-legged cat named Daisy.

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