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parliamentbooks.bsky.social
@parliamentbooks.bsky.social
130 followers 140 following 180 posts
Publisher of voicey upmarket fantasy, paranormal, and horror books.
Distributed by @IPGBookNews
Members of IBPA, BookAPSS
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parliamentbooks.bsky.social
July 22, 2025 at 1:06 PM
Reposted
cpcwrites.bsky.social
Here's my lil book! Craig DiLouie called it "A powerful Victorian adventure, rich in detail and set in a fully realized world mixing steampunk and magic. A stunning debut!" Who am I to argue?

THE NIGHTSHADE CABAL from @parliamentbooks.bsky.social

LINK: books2read.com/u/490zOw
cpcwrites.bsky.social Chris Patrick Carolan 🇨🇦 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 @cpcwrites.bsky.social · Mar 24
Hi, new friends and follows! I'm Chris, and I write stuff. My book, The Nightshade Cabal, is an historical urban fantasy mystery tale set in 1880s Halifax. It was a finalist for the Crime Writers of Canada 'Best First Novel' award!
From @parliamentbooks.bsky.social

LINK: books2read.com/u/490zOw
Image shows the cover of The Nightshade Cabal against a chalkboard background with a light blue skull. Captions read: "Victorian Era Mayhem and Mystery, Thrilling Inventions, Reanimated Corpses, Found Family, Dueling Spellcasters, Canadian Setting, Surly Fae, and Award Nominated." The first page of The Nightshade Cabal. Text Reads: HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, 1881 "I’m telling you, Jonathon, these so-called stage magicians are nothing more than charlatans and hucksters of the highest order.” Isaac Barrow said, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the crowded Theatre Royale. "The act is nothing but mirrors and wires and other trickery making you think you've seen something you haven’t.” Inspector Jonathon Eddings chuckled heartily, shaking his head. "And I keep telling you, Barrow, being fooled is the whole point of the bloody show!” Fifteen years in Halifax had done little to blunt the edge of his thick Mancunian brogue. His friend’s retort failed to quell Barrow's annoyance. The inspector's invitation had had all the cordiality of a press gang. Eddings had bought the tickets to thank Barrow for his help with a recent investigation. He hadn’t skimped, either; they sat just three rows back of the orchestra pit. The notion of putting down hard-earned coin with the express intention of being hoodwinked by some sham of a magician struck Barrow as inordinately foolish. He knew of the occult and the dangers of flirting with its deadly secrets. Real magic being his stock-in-trade, he considered the pretend variety, popular on stage, mildly offensive at best. It. was only on his friend's repeated insistence that he had finally, against his own better judgement, agreed to attend the performance.
June 4, 2025 at 2:51 PM