Written by Denny S. Bryce
Welcome to the WILD WOMEN AND THE BLUES BOOK CLUB KIT page. I have created book club kits for all of my releases, and this page is dedicated to my debut novel, Wild Women and the Blues. I am thrilled to be able to bring this kit to those book clubs that read and wish to discuss my first historical fiction. On this page, you will find the contents of the PDF, also available to download: Wild Women and the Blues BCK. Thank you for reading.
Available for virtual or in-person discussions
I love meeting with book clubs! If your group of ten or more members is interested in a Zoom Chat with Denny S. Bryce, please email me at denny@dennysbryce.com. These 30 to 45-minute conversations are complimentary and scheduled per my availability.
For in-person events, please email me denny@dennysbryce.com to discuss honorariums and travel and hotel accommodations if applicable.
Unpublished scene from Wild Women and the Blues
Damn, his black soul. The better choice would’ve been for him to walk away before he said something he regretted or she regretted hearing. But he’d already said enough to regret. He’d stomped all over that opportunity. Nothing left to do but get out. And she couldn’t believe he was actually walking away from her. She shouldn’t have expected it. But his running away surprised her. No matter how angry he’d been, there was no logic in him getting up and leaving without telling her something. Giving her some reason to rationalize why she still cared about him.
He snatched his overcoat off the barstool and stalked out of the saloon. He didn’t look back at Honoré. She’d turned away from him, and there was no point pursuing a conversation with a woman who hated the sight of him breathing. Though with good reason, but getting pissed about her reaction to finding him alive would be best cooked in another pot. He had other matters on his mind.
Outside, on the sidewalk in front of the cafe, his younger brother was standing in the exact same spot where he’d left him an hour ago. It appeared he hadn’t moved a limb. The only part of his body in motion was his Adam’s apple bobbing with fear. But he wasn’t backing down. His thin shoulders and narrow chest reminded Ezekiel of himself when he was a kid, and he would have laughed outright if he knew he had to if he didn’t understand. He’d been there. Except the man coming at him always held a leather belt.
Ezekiel’s brother reminded him of his father.
