New Release Goldie by Danni Maxwell


Title:  Goldie

Author: Danni Maxwell

Publisher:  NineStar Press

 Release Date: July 6, 2020

Heat Level: 1 – No Sex

Pairing: Female/Female

Length: 12400

Genre: Fantasy, LGBTQIA+, mythical creatures, Magic/Magic users, Fairy tales, fantasy, romance” Add to Goodreads




Cast out of her village after being accused of killing her father, Marigold Lovelock has nothing but the clothes on her back and the willpower to make it into the woods.


With the company of an Ursidae, a mythical creature known as Squeak, she seeks out The One, the Storyteller who speaks the truth.


Throw in a nasty beast called the Gromas, a pack of wolves, and a girl with lips as red as blood, Marigold knows she must learn how to embrace the person she was always been destined to be.





Danni Maxwell © 2020

All Rights Reserved


A person falls in love with three people in their lifetime. At least that’s what the Storytellers will show you in their legends.


Each love will come at a time in a person’s life when they need it most. Even if they don’t realise they needed it in the first place.


There’s the first love, the one who teaches what the magical thing called love is. It’s young love. It’s innocent, and it’s pure. It ends far before it can truly begin, but it will always remain the first love of one’s life.


The second love is a hard love to endure. It changes a person, teaches them that a heart can break, that a person can wound you more than a knife, that not every love is a fairy tale. It makes a person stronger; it shapes them, helps them grow, teaches them that a heart can mend in time.


Then there is the third love, a love that has no warning, that sneaks up on a person and takes them by surprise. It’s the love that they didn’t know they needed, the one they were not looking for. It’s the love that will truly last the test of time. This is the love that can withstand all the battles a person has to endure. It’s unwavering. This is the love that feels like a fairy tale.




Marigold Lovelock had heard these legends more times than she could count, but she never once believed in them.


Her father was a Storyteller. His job was to be the one a person seeks for the knowledge, the truth, the wisdom. His job was his life. It took precedence over everything else, including Marigold. Her father’s favourite thing about his title, his powers, was the fact that people blindly adored him. They believed her father could do no wrong, that he was the one with all the answers. He could gather as many of the townspeople as he wanted, tell them of the stories, the legends, the prophecies that had been passed down to him by Storytellers past. And the townspeople would gather; they would flock, run, rally to the town’s centre to hear a new story each day; their eyes and hearts full of belief, of wonder and whimsy.


They truly loved her father, for he could tell them all the things their hearts desired to hear, could warn them of the dangers of the beasts and demons that lay beyond the town’s edge. Her father was the light, and Marigold his shadow. The people treated her like she was nothing, like all she did was bring the darkness wherever she went. They skittered away if she got too close, made shifty, judging glances with narrowed eyes and lips pressed in tight lines. The children were ushered away and taught to keep their distance.


Though Goldie never knew why they did this, she wondered if it was out of fear, and if that were true, perhaps she was afraid of them too. She’d shy away from everyone as they would hiss and pull away from her. Because why would you even try to fit in when you’re a puzzle with one too many pieces that will never be completed?


Her life had never been easy. She lost her mother to childbirth, she lost her father to the Storytellers, and she lost herself to the darkness of being alone. The darkness enveloped the townspeople too but not as heavy as it weighed on her. They all had lost their light; her father had died this past spring, and though the doctor had said he passed from age and peacefully in his sleep, Marigold wondered if he had died of a broken heart. He was always so lost without her mother, and he blamed Marigold for that loss; it’s why she never felt close to him, to anyone.


Everyone believed Marigold was cursed, that she possessed something inside her so dark and wicked that it had killed her mother, and that anyone who got close to her, anyone who loved her, would fall dead to the curse too. Her father was just another reason for them to fear her. The townspeople were lost without their Storyteller. The next was still learning the stories and prophecies, and so they had no one to turn to for guidance, for what should be done about Marigold, about who they thought she was, what she was to become, and who she might hurt in the process. The elders of the town were brought up on the stories, but they could only remember so much. Only the mind of a Storyteller could remember all. Their older minds were forgetting, slowly with time, but they never failed to forget the prophecy of the Kalakuta. That is what they believed Marigold was.


The Kalakuta were ancient beings, the ones the elders and Storytellers alike would call “the potion people of death.” Their prophecy tells of the Kalakuta being a sentient being that lived long before the time of people. Beings that, once they found a host, would kill any human or being in its path, for the darkness inside told them to do so. They were the makers of death. Her father, the Storyteller, had spoken of a Kalakuta preying on their town, feasting on the sick, the weak, the lost, believing that over time they would eventually take everyone, and there would be no one left to stop it. The minute Marigold’s father had passed, it was like any suspicion they had of Marigold being a Kalakuta had all but been confirmed.


This is why she now stood at the edge of the wood, at the final edge of sand between the unknown and the town, her only belongings scattered just beyond the trees, and the entire town standing at her back, waiting to be rid of her at last. Their mourning period was over for the Storyteller. The townspeople were no longer grieving; they were rioting. The moment their mourning cloud had lifted, they went on a manhunt for her. They found Marigold hidden away, wishing to be forgotten in her small hut of a home. They were all afraid of her, just as she was afraid of them. No one was willing to get too close to her. She cowered in her corner, begging someone, anyone, to leave her alone.


Someone looped rope around her body, cinching it at her waist and all but dragging her out of her home toward the dark wood. She was scrambling to grab anything she possibly could, begging them to stop, promising them that she would willingly go if they just let her grab her things. They stopped for a moment, enough time for her to grab a satchel with two dresses to change, her pouch of every coin she had saved that her father had hesitated to give her as gifts on special days, and the only drawing she had of her mother, one that her father had tried to throw away in anger and mourning on the anniversary of her death, Marigold’s birthday. It was the one thing Marigold had treasured all her life. It was the last thing she had.


“Now. Get going,” the man holding the end of the rope had grunted, tugging on the rope so hard her chest ached with the effort to breathe.


The people gathered in her hut parted at the door. They led Marigold out of the town to the wood with a rope around her waist, something hard pressing into her back, pushing her forward while tears streamed down her face. She gripped at her satchel, her heart breaking with every step she put in behind her. Please, she had begged them. Please don’t send me away.


All that resulted in was her being shoved even harder, falling to the ground, her crying out in pain as something hard, no doubt the broom handle of a local keeper, cracked down on her back. Her things were grabbed by the children, her satchel tossed, her dresses strewn, her photo crumpled into the tiniest ball. Her pouch of money pressed against her hip, hidden in the pocket she’d sewn into her dress herself. It was the only thing they couldn’t take from her.


“Be gone, Kalakuta!” They were all shouting obscene comments at her now, where she stood straight as a pin, her bare toes touching the edges of the dark wood.


“Please, I am not a—”


“You are a killer, Marigold Lovelock. You killed your parents; you kill the elders, the children even! You have a darkness in you that will never settle. We ought to kill you, but that would be too kind of us. We shall let the beasts of the woods decide your fate. Never return to Veritas, or we will change our minds. Kalakuta.” The man spit at her. The crowds were throwing things at her, rocks and sticks and anything they could use to hurt her.


“Please—” Marigold pleaded one last time, her cheeks dripped with tears, her whole body trembling. She had never been so scared in all her life.


“She does not learn. We have no pity,” an elder breathed in hushed tones.


“Let us show her what we do to Kalakuta.”


This was the last thing Marigold heard before she felt a sharp, blunt pain at the back of her skull, and the world went black.


Purchase Links


NineStar Press | Amazon


 Meet the Author


Danni Maxwell has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Born and raised in Ontario, Canada, she is a debut author who is currently studying to become a librarian, a job she defines as the best of both the reading and writing world. She has won multiple prestigious writing awards in the past few years. Her favourite genres to write are contemporary, LGBT+, and more recently she’s been dabbling in YA, sci-fi and poetry. When she’s not writing, you can find her creating book- and writing-related videos on Youtube’s Booktube community, at Danni Darling.


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ANd sorry everyone for the bare codes. WordPress made a major change and isn’t getting along with HTML and I don’t have time at the moment to worry about it.

Rainbow Snippet

I am frazzled. Graduation is now closer to m id-month and I’m not used to that. I had way less time to get prepared for my work conference in a few days. That said I probably won’t be here next saturday because I’ll probably be up to my eyeballs in convention.

Continuing on with Behind Blue Eyes. It’s the next day and Aneirin has to face the fact he wasn’t drunk and imagining his gift.

By the time he got to the shuttle and programmed the flight plan to auto-pilot them back to his section of the orbital colony, Rioke had brought Kaleo to the shuttle bay. The young man had obviously not slept well. He was still in the finery from the night before but his painted-up eyes were rimmed red and puffy. The spiky hair-do had wilted. Aneirin could almost feel Kaleo’s fear from here.

Get in,” Rioke ordered, propelling Kaleo along with a nudge. “He has no baggage, Doctor Shyroth.”

Aneirin frowned.  Of course he didn’t.  Was he supposed to leave the boy mostly naked? The answer to that was probably a big yes. He’d have to have Grimoald get Kaleo’s measurements so they could buy his new Toy clothing. “Thank you, Rioke,” he replied, hoping the bitterness didn’t shine through.

The Rainbow Snippet group can be found on Facebook. It’s a fun low-pressure snippet sharing group for LGBTQ+ fiction. Come join us.

Rainbow Snippets

I am so late and it’s 100% down to how much work I have on my plate. I feel bad about the gaps in taking part but there isn’t much I can do about that. So let me get right into it Picking up with Behind Blue Eyes.

It’s now the day after Aneirin gets his gift and he isn’t any happier about it.

He held up a hand. “It’s done, Pherick. I’ll figure something out. But for now, I’m going home. I’ve called ahead. Grimoald is preparing a space for Kaleo. I’ll be in my orbital condo for the next few days anyhow. It’ll give me time to figure out what to do before going home.”

“You do know they’ll recondition him if you send him back,” Masozi said, reaching for a drink.  His eyes gleamed as if he enjoyed the idea. “They’ll assume he’s defective and has to be retrained.”

Aneirin hadn’t known per se but assumed, given Kaleo’s reaction last night, it would be bad.  He wouldn’t take that step until he learned more about what reconditioning meant. “Yes. Thank you very much, Masozi. I’d better get going. The faster I get him situated and look into this, the better.”

The Rainbow Snippet group can be found on Facebook. It’s a fun low-pressure snippet sharing group for LGBTQ+ fiction. Come join us.

Rainbow Snippets

It had been INSANE. I haven’t had a free weekend in a month and won’t until July. That said it’s all been fun stuff so I can’t complain but it’s making keeping up with this snippeting thing (and house work) hard.

Last weekend was the Ohioana book festival. Absolutely loved it. I went as a reader not an author (as everything long I have is current OOP)

Let me wrap up poor Aneirin’s birthday with this snippet. He was gifted what amounts to a sex slave by a clueless friend and an acquaintance who doesn’t think twice about the ethics or cruelty of it.

Aneirin sat down next to Mireio and reached for his glass of Supernova.

“Fill this back up, please. I need it.”

“Sorry Aneirin, it really seemed like the thing to help you relax,” Pherick said, his eyes red.

“I know you meant well, but you’ve dropped me into a sun here.” Aneirin sighed. Pherick started to protest, but Aneirin held up his hand. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” He took a deep drink of the Supernova, but it didn’t erase the reality of this gift. It didn’t even ease the guilt he felt over the fact that, in spite of his repulsion to the idea of a Toy, he had to admit Pherick couldn’t have picked a more perfect physical match for him. This birthday kept getting worse.

The Rainbow Snippet group can be found on Facebook. It’s a fun low-pressure snippet sharing group for LGBTQ+ fiction. Come join us.

Rainbow Snippets

I missed last week because I was both ill and away at Rathacon. At least I had fun with my friends. This weekend brings Easter, Passover and Ramadan. If you celebrate, I hope you have a nice holiday.

I’m continuing with Behind Blue Eyes and we’ve met Aneirin’s gift who, to his horror, is basically an indentured sex worker who has been branded to make him Aneirin’s. (warning contains dark themes)

It’s my House symbol,” Aneirin shook his head. “I don’t…damn it. I don’t want this.” Pherick looked crushed but Aneirin couldn’t worry about that.

“You’re sending me back?” Kaleo rasped, dragging Aneirin’s attention back to him. The young man trembled. Aneirin didn’t know exactly what happened in a Toy’s training, but obviously Kaleo feared it more than being given to a complete stranger with the knowledge he was there purely for his master’s entertainment. “No, not until I know exactly what that means. I’ve been given the responsibility for you.” Aneirin sighed.

The Rainbow Snippet group can be found on Facebook. It’s a fun low-pressure snippet sharing group for LGBTQ+ fiction. Come join us.

Rainbow Snippets

I got behind again. Spring break was not break-like. Spent part of it in the emergency room with Mom (she’s fine now) and the rest of it helping her out. The weather in Ohio has been lashing rain and wind, certainly not as dangerous and bad as parts of the country but enough to take out my phone/internet/power at various points.

I’m picking back up with the Sci-fi wip, Behind Blue Eyes. We’ve gotten a good look at Aneirin’s utterly inappropriate and ethically horrifying birthday present.

trigger warning: branding and using people as commodities

“Tell him your name, Toy,” Masozi snapped. “Unless Aneirin plans on just calling you, toy. It’s what I do. It’s not really important you have a name.”

“It’s important to me,” Aneirin didn’t even look back at Masozi. He and Pherick were going to have a long conversation about all of this that Masozi would have no part of. “Please.”

The Mishani eyes softened a bit. “Kaleo.”

“Well, Kaleo, I really don’t know what to do with you.”

“I’m yours.” The young man ruffled the hem of that ridiculous piece of cloth and a different scar on his hip caught Aneirin’s eye. Aneirin brushed the cloth back, revealing the Toy’s cheek.

Aneirin spun around to face his idiot friends, his heart thundered. “They branded him!”

Masozi shrugged even as Pherick’s face paled. “That’s part of the top package so everyone knows who he belongs to.”

The Rainbow Snippet group can be found on Facebook. It’s a fun low-pressure snippet sharing group for LGBTQ+ fiction. Come join us.