LIVE: MSFV Blog Critique Tour

The Authoress (of Miss Snark's First Victim fame) has set up this amazing Blog Critique Tour! As a winner of her twitter contest, I get the privilege of hosting the first page of The Faithful, as well as helping someone win a 15 page line-edit from the Authoress herself! For each critique you leave among all ten of our blogs, you will get one entry for the free line edit!

All critiques posted by midnight on Friday, July 11 will be included in the drawing.

Now on to the fun!


@JustinDHerd - Pursued by cops through a heathen port city, mobster Raine Morgan has bigger things to worry about: he just killed a god.

First Page

Raine Morgan pulled a crushed pack from his jacket, fished out a twisted cigarette. Flame flickered then vanished. He took a drag, stared at the bars, the neon flashing through the evening haze, calling the shuffling drunks out into the dead of night for some faintly promised tail.

The chill air reeked of the sea. In the distance, a bell dinged, signaling choppy waters and an endless night. He shifted position, regretted it when the blue light from Oki's Veins blinded him momentarily. Above his right temple, a needling pain thrummed, causing the light to appear that much brighter. He planted his arm once more to cover the thick pane of glass. Grasping his watch chain, Raine checked the time, shoved the piece back with a sigh.

“Mr. Morgan,” a soft, earnest voice said. The man fumbled with a sheet of paper. It crinkled as he flipped it over.

Leaning into the brick, Raine replied, “Where to?”

“The Deserted Temple.”

“The target?”

“Manal Ratula.”

Raine flicked his cigarette into a mound of trash and walked forward. He rolled his fingers against the night's bitter cold as if sliding a quarter along his knuckles. Turning a corner, he stopped at a rundown dive, chains rattling above where a sign should've hung. This place would've been all too comfortable on Liquor Row, steeped in mounds of trash, crammed in with the dilapidated structures. The Deserted Temple's shattered windows gleamed with candlelight. Its warped door hung slightly ajar, ragged holes in the wood revealing mischief and deeds better left to dark corners.


Remember everyone to head back by Miss Snark's First Victim for the other entries.

If you like what you see, be sure to peruse all my novels, including the first chapter of each of them! Also, I've started my own Blog Linkup called Collected Works if you'd like to join our community and get some great feedback!


Justin D. Herd

Justin D. Herd is a purveyor of the weird and strange. He occasionally squawks at friends and family, but does so only under the cover of night. Okay, that's not true. He squawks in full daylight. Drinking games have been built around his peculiarities, but the truth of it is this: he is a loving husband, with two wonderful dem--children. One growls at things he likes, including pretty women. The other has started to learn hand-eye coordination. Neither had made it to the tender age of three. From there, things will only get more interesting. He spends most of his writing time either at a coffee shop or sitting at one of his many desks around his house. Any other place makes it nearly impossible for him to write. He uses horror movies and rock music to help get the juices flowing. His favorite authors are Jeremy Robert Johnson, Alan Campbell, Terry Pratchett, Justin Cronin, and Patrick Rothfuss. He consumes most of his books through audiobooks, but still loves his personal library and getting lost in the printed word.