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Saturday, February 25, 2012

Interview with Author Marsha A Moore

Today I have the pleasure of interviewing author Marsha A
Moore while on her tour for her Tortuga Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy.


 Tortuga Button.jpg


1. Who is Marsha A. Moore, really?
A spirit whose creativity must flow out daily to feel balanced and happy.

2. Where did you get your inspiration from for Tortuga Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy ?
During the winter of 2008-9, I moved my mother from NW Ohio to Tampa. It didn’t take much to convince me to stay through the winter to help her get settled before I moved my own household the following summer. I enjoy folklore and legend, and sought interesting local tales. I was enthralled with the legends of pirates and mermaids surrounding the annual Tampa Gasparilla Festival, a tribute to the pirate captain Jose Gapar. A pirates, mermaids, and mermen naturally became the characters of my Ciel’s Legacy series.

3.  Do you ever have problems with writers block?  If so how do you get through it?
No, I don’t. Once in a while, I face more than one choice of what path the action will take to reach the next outlined plot point. Going kayaking or for a walk always allows my mind some space to select which one will work the best.

4. Tortuga Treasure is part of a trilogy, what’s next?
Yes, it is the second part of the Ciel’s Legacy series. A third is in the works—Teega’s Talion.  Teega is the vodoun mambo in the first two books, a prominent secondary character. She will have a larger role the third, seeking retaliation or talion, after Ciel, the heroine mermaid, has been wronged.

 The first is Tears on a Tranquil Lake. Here’s the tagline:

Who will she choose: a smooth-talking pirate captain or a handsome merman? Ceil’s shocking transformation into a mermaid forces her to decide who holds the key to her happiness. 

5. While working on a story, do you directly onto the computer or are there notebooks and plot ideas jotted down in various places?
I plot all the major turning points in a chapter outline, but connecting the points flows spontaneously.

6.  What do you do when you’re not writing/editing or thinking about writing/ editing?
I have too many hobbies and interests. I love to be outside kayaking, cycling, or enjoying a local beach. I’m a yoga addict. I draw and paint watercolors—have for decades. Recently, I’ve added digital painting to the list. Additionally, I always have a knitting project I’m working on and 2-3 books I’m in the process of reading.

7.  If you had one piece of advice for all those writers sitting out there procrastinating about making that first submission or taking that first publishing step, what would it be?
Join a writers’ group either online or, even better, in person. Interact and learn from others. You’ll build wonderful friendships along the way that help balance the solitude of writing.

8.  Please share your favourite scene with us from Tortuga Treasure.
My favorite scene was when the vodoun mambo, Teega, takes revenge upon a ship of evil pirates who have hurt Ciel and her friends. Forming her dark spells required plenty of research, but that was fun for me to weave into the storyline. Here’s a small sample of that scene.
“Eight joined hands now call to the darkness. Come. Bring me yer magick.” Close by thunder clapped, causing all but Mambo to jump. Yellow-white bolts immediately cut the sky, extending in all directions like branches of a tree.
                Needles jabbed my hands. I wanted to pull my aching arms down. I bit my lower lip and glanced at Alvaro. His face remained calm, as though he didn’t experience the same sensation. Stabbing pain brought tears, blurring my vision. I closed my eyes and focused within on the essence of my power, pure and strong.
                Sesi gasped and my eyes flew open.
                Teega hissed, “Be still. Dey be here for us.”
                Patches of effluvium slipped wildly in and out between our hands. Unlike my sweet loa, these formed of shadows, amorphous masses of dark violet, burgundy, sapphire, and charcoal. More fearsome than identifiable shapes, these remained as unknowns, calling upon the mind’s imagined horrors.
                The winds created by the bitter loa jangled her long earrings and lifted the tails of her headscarf high above her head. The whipping breeze channeled power back into the mambo. Possessed, she cried out with a crazed, garbled voice, “Me lovely dark ones—deliver dis gift to dem on dat pirate ship. Make dem all breathe deep o’ me black juju.”
The shadows spun into a funnel cloud inside our circle and removed the banana leaf. It condensed into a tiny cyclone, spun itself into the center of the bowl, and sucked up the powder.
Omarosa’s eyes opened wide like saucers as she leaned her chest and face away from the whirling mass. Her long, kinky hair blew wildly in all directions and her mouth opened as though she intended to scream, yet uttered no sound. Her white knuckles clung to the sides of the bowl. I wanted badly to touch her, support her with my mermagic, but I couldn’t break the circle.
The whirlwind rose high above us and traveled slowly to deck level of the sloop. Then, the funnel widened, gradually encompassing the entire boat. Static from the storm charged the air. Particles of juju powder glinted metallic black in the lightning. The jack flying high on the mainmast shone clear—a crimson pistol. I shivered. The Crimson Fleet still pursued their mark of revenge upon me—the Black Spot.

Thanks so much for taking the time to be here today, Marsha!  J

Tortuga Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy
by Marsha A. Moore

Description:

When Ciel first looks into Alvaro’s eyes she finds love. Bad timing. In the next instant he’s fatally stabbed in the back by one of his pirate mates. Her girlfriends warn her it will only bring on a heap of trouble to save him. Unable to resist, she gives him the gift of a new life as one of her kind—a merman.

Will their love encourage him to embrace life as a merman? Can love survive if he wishes to return to human form? Either way, her friends speak true. No matter how much mermagic and dark vodou Ciel and her friends cast, blood-thirsty buccaneers chase them across the Caribbean until Alvaro finally decides.

Warning: This book contains a magical cock-a-too, lecherous scurvy pirate dogs, hoodoo healers, the mark of the evil Black Spot, plenty of dark Haitian vodou, and passionate encounters on tropical beaches.

Genre: Fantasy romance

Purchase link:



Excerpt for Tortura Treasure: Ciel’s Legacy

“Ye damned scurvy dog, Alvaro. Give me coins back,” barked a burly seaman, glaring at his mate on the far end of the long pier. His frizzled dark hair flopped as he lunged for and missed the other man, landing closer to us.
My tail fins were splayed out wide over the dock to soak up the warmth of the late afternoon sun. I quickly tucked them closer to my torso, so they wouldn’t be tread upon.
Having a well-muscled physique, Alvaro dodged with ease, his face lit with a wide grin.  Obviously, he enjoyed the game of goading his partner, but seemed uninterested in fighting back. “I don’t have yer purse, ye black scoundrel. That new hand got lost in our cabin an’ likely lifted it.”
“Ye be a liar!” The heavyset man swung wide and hard. “An’ a good one—fooled me. Ye started as a crimp, but thought ye turned into me mate.”
Twisting away from more blows, Alvaro leaped close enough for me to get a better view. His black knee-high boots pounded the creaking wooden frame.
Curious, I remained where I sat near the edge, facing the row of gangplanks. Tall sailing ships stood proud, decorated with their pennants alongside Jolly Rogers. I’d seen enough skirmishes between buccaneers to take them as commonplace in this busy Tortuga port, good entertainment while my two mermaid friends and I chatted.
Dodging another fist, Alvaro jumped.
I leaned into my friend Omarosa. Her long, dark kinky hair away floated in front of my view. I brushed it away. “Quite the showman he is. So quick on his feet.”
“You ain’t lookin’ at his feet though, Ciel.” She giggled and gave my arm a playful slap.
I grinned and nudged her in turn, but kept my gaze fixed on the pirate named Alvaro. Most seamen were rather scraggly, reeking of body odor, missing a digit, limb, or many teeth. The captains and first mates often cleaned up smartly, wearing finery from their worldly travels, but not the crew. This man was neither a dandy nor a grubby hand. He wore well-fitting clothing, a faded black poet’s shirt, clean but frayed on the edges, as were his black trousers. His polished boots showed creases from hard wear. Straight black hair, as long as mine, hung over his broad shoulders to his hips, and swung out as he darted from side-to-side along the pier.
“The Jack o’ Coins just paid me that sum—me only earnings fer port. Hand it here, now,” the portly seaman yelled louder and faster. He backed the other against a stack of hogshead casks. “If’n ye don’t, I’ll be callin’ the buffer to give ye the keelhaul, tyin’ ye to a rope and draggin’ yer bones along the barnacles of the ship. How does that sound, matey?”
“I mean ye no harm, Tom. I don’t want to fight ye. Don’t force me to.” Alvaro paused, and then swung a hard punch into his gut.
Tom winced, bent forward, and clasped his hands to his stomach.
Immediately, Alvaro glanced down at me, intending to bound in my direction. When his dark eyes met mine, his mouth dropped open and he lost his balance, falling toward the edge of the pier.
In the next instant, while his gaze held mine, Tom lodged a dagger deep into Alvaro’s back. I saw shock, fear, and horrible pain in those dark eyes as well as a plea for help…and something else…a promise of friendship. In that moment, I measured the depth of his sincerity and warmth spread over me. The power of my mermagic latched onto the intentions his soul revealed and my body trembled with those vibrations.
He fell into the water, blade still buried in his torso. I jerked to dive after him, but Omarosa and Sesi held my shoulders. “Let me go,” I cried, straining against them.
“I know you want to help, but it doesn’t involve you,” Sesi cried, holding me down with her chunky, green flipper on top of mine.
Squirming against them, I wildly scanned the water. Alvaro didn’t rise to the surface. I couldn’t let him die. What I read in his soul promised so much I longed for. Determination surged adrenaline through my body, and I shoved Omarosa off me. I raised my flipper and dropped Sesi to the other side, all the while keeping sight of the shadowy form under the water.
Omarosa grabbed my wrist. “This is sure trouble you don’t need. Save that one and five others will be after you, and us.”
Alvaro remained below. I tore my arm free and dove in. The water tasted of minerals leaking from his bloody wound. With one forceful stoke of my flipper, I sped downward and located his body drifting motionless among the pier supports. His skin was blue and his open eyes had a distant stare, showing no recognition. Was he still alive? Powered by adrenaline, in seconds I assessed his state. I took hold of his arm to see if he gave a reflexive flinch. Nothing. No pulse throbbed against my fingers. I put my ear to his chest. His heart beat slowly and faintly, while mine thumped hard against my ribs. Contact allowed me to read his soul—dim, but still active.
           Seconds mattered. Pulling him to the surface and letting time pass while his mates decided what medical care to give would make his death certain.  There was only one hope. Could I do it?

Author Bio:

Marsha A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing. Her creativity also spills into watercolor painting and drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transforming into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and already addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and that spiritual quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Interview with Author Jordan K Rose


Thanks so much for hosting me today. I’m thrilled to be here as part of my Perpetual Light Blog Tour.

1. Who is Jordan K. Rose, really?

Hmm. Well… that’s a good question and I think the answer changes from day to day or possibly minute to minute depending on my mood and what’s going on around me. So, today I’ll say I’m a woman who’s open to trying new things. A wife. A writer, most certainly. I’m a chocolate lover, a wine drinker, a let’s go out and eat tonight-er. A somewhat opinionated woman. For example, there is no way I can agree with anyone who says white chocolate is better than dark. That’s like saying day-old bread is fresher than a loaf right out of the oven. It’s just not true. I’m a Boston Red Sox fan, in spite of their bad behaviour last year. An animal lover. I just adore my black Labrador, Dino. I also love my niece dog, Dakota. Well, I love the human nieces and nephews, too.

2. Where did you get your inspiration from for Perpetual Light?

What sparked me to write the story was reading ton of vampire stories right around the holidays. I read everything from the Twilight series to Dracula to The Vampire Chronicles to The Sookie Stackhouse series. Then with Christmas and church the idea spun around in my mind for a few weeks, and in January I sat down to write.

3.  Do you ever have problems with writers block?  If so how do you get through it?

YES! I make lists. That sounds kind of dumb, but I have to put everything else in order and then I can write. So everything from clean the bathroom, do the laundry, grocery shop, buy birthday cards, etc. goes on the list. Then I tick all the items off and it frees my mind to be creative. I find when I’m least able to write, I’m usually worrying about something other than my current story.

4. Perpetual Light is your first release, was the road to publishing what you thought it would be?
I didn’t really know what to expect at first. Once I joined some writers groups and learned what other writers had experienced, the trials and tribulations made sense and I’ve been open-minded about the whole process, expecting rejections, and considering them part of the process. I’ve learned how to improve my craft and to accept criticism even if I have a wild desire to punch someone in the mouth! (For the record I’ve never acted on that desire. I’ve just eaten more chocolate and blasted the radio!)
I will say the thing that surprised me the most was the marketing and promotion an author must do. I had no idea it was the author’s responsibility. In fact, the idea of it never occurred to me. I’m enjoying all the blogging and meeting new people and learning new technologies, but it has been busy.

5. What’s next for you?

I have two things brewing. The first book in my Eva Prim series is just about complete. Eva is a vampire looking for friends, which as you can imagine is somewhat challenging for an obsessive, tender-hearted, very opinionated vampire. She has a website at www.evaprim.com. And I’m working on the second book in the Perpetual Light series.

6. While working on a story, do you work directly onto the computer or are there notebooks and plot ideas jotted down in various places?

Typically, I work directly at the computer. My penmanship is atrocious! I sometimes wonder what the heck I wrote on one of my lists! But, I do have notebooks for everything, too. Sometimes I need to jot down ideas or details separately so I don’t lose them. Then I have notes connecting pages with each other. It’s very messy when it’s not on the computer.

7.  What do you do when you’re not writing/editing or thinking about writing/ editing?
I try to relax, but honestly in the back of my mind I’m always thinking about my current story. There is always some sort of detail for me to consider, whether it’s the development of a character, a plot idea or just the specifics of a scene.

8.  If you had one piece of advice for all those writers sitting out there procrastinating about making that first submission or taking that first publishing step, what would it be?

Like Nike said: Just do it. I can’t stress that enough. You can’t win, if you don’t play. The fear of succeeding or failing holds so many talented writers back. But, if you want it, get over it and get it done. I went into writing planning to be published, knowing that day would come but getting there would cause me aches and pains. I took the rejections into stride. I know Eva will be rejected by some, but I also know there is an editor out there just dying to meet her. I’ll plug along until I find my next editor. You can do it, too!

9.  Please share your favourite scene with us from Perpetual Light.

I love this question. I had to think about this for three seconds before an answer came to me. Then I stepped back to pick through all the other scenes I love and landed right back here. In Perpetual Light my hero, Vittorio, and heroine, Lucia, have a wonderful bond that allows them to share memories. Lucia is not as skilled at this as Vittorio, and he’s teaching her to utilize this ability by showing his memories to her.

He shows her the moment when he fell in love with her. It occurred on their vineyard in the 1600s when they were just teenagers. They grew up together. He was older and typically put out by her being underfoot and following him around babbling about whatever the topic of the day was. But on this day he sees her as a beautiful young woman and gets completely wrapped up in her charm. He’s so entangled that the work they were supposed to be doing doesn’t get completed. She, of course, blames him, which then leads them into a competition to see who is the better worker.
I love it because the entire scene is from his perspective and he describes her voice and how he wants to take the blame for everything and tell her he loves her, but he can’t. She’s not quite old enough to court so he has to wait and he doesn’t know if she even notices him in that way. It’s a sweet little scene.

Thanks so much for taking the time to be here today, Jordan!  J

Thanks for having me. I enjoyed the interview and look forward to hearing from your readers. I’m offering a $5.00 Amazon gift card to one random commenter. 
Perpetual Light.jpg

Fate is cruel. Especially when the one you’ve sworn to love for all eternity, the very soul who changed your destiny is the last person you should trust.

After more than three hundred years of running, Lucia Dicomano must make a choice.

Forced to take her place as a Pharo of Redemption, the divine slayer needs to master her forgotten powers. Lucia turns to Vittorio, the one vampire she’s failed to deliver from eternal damnation. But overcoming smoldering remnants of love, lust and anger aren’t their only obstacles.

Samuel, who may know Lucia better than she knows herself, hunts her with a fervor stoked by a thousand years of vengeful hatred. His plan—capture and enslave the weakened Pharo then take control of her elusive power. 

Can Lucia trust Vittorio long enough to reclaim her powers? Or will she have no choice but to kill him and battle Samuel alone?


About the Author:

After trying her hand at many, many things- from crafting and art classes to cooking and sewing classes to running her own handbag business, Jordan finally figured out how to channel her creativity. With an active imagination and a little encouragement from her husband she sat down and began to write, each night clicking away at the keys with her black Labrador, Dino curled up under the desk.

A few short years later she’s entered the publishing arena with no plans to ever turn back.

Jordan’s a member of Rhode Island Romance Writers, as well as RWA National, and the New England (NEC), Connecticut, and Fantasy, Futuristic and Paranormal (FFnP) Chapters.

Her first book, Perpetual Light, releases in February of 2012 from Crescent Moon Press.

Find Jordan on her website at www.jordankrose.com
Follow her tweets on https://twitter.com/#!/jordankrose 
Friend her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jordankrose



Thursday, February 16, 2012

Author Charlene A Wilson

Today I have Author Charlene A Wilson with her
new release that came out yesterday, Cornerstone Deep Echoes.

Charlene is going to explain foreshadowing for us and then I have a
sneak peak into Cornerstone Deep Echoes!


Foreshadowing

How many of you have read a book and, when you came to the end, were like, “Aha!”  Things that happened vaguely throughout and, though they fit in the scene at that moment, actually proved to serve a bigger purpose. 
Some readers might not realize what’s happening to them when you introduce tight, preplanned introductions to future events and they become wrapped up in the story and have to turn that next page. 

Recently, a dear friend read a book and mentioned how predictable it was.  In fact, several times, as she related the experience while reading it, she guessed ahead of time what would happen next.  And she was right without fail.  Foreshadowing should create anticipation, both on a conscious and subconscious level.  Admittedly, there are those avid readers out there that can zero in on the smallest of hints and guess correctly.  ; )

When I write, I go back several times while revising to add small (and sometimes lengthy) passages to help foreshadow coming events.  For instance, (and I’m giving away a big one here) in Cornerstone Deep, Anna’s first experience in her new home after being harvested for service provided more than just a look into how she’d been changed by the spell that was cast on her.  It provided a foundation for how she would react at an important turning point in the plot…a reaction Cole hadn’t been prepared for.

The door close. Finality. Abandoned-again. Anna looked over the room with apprehension. A burgundy comforter hugged the wide bed. A desk and chest of drawers stood against the wall. Stained-glass lampshades with matching light posts adorned the bed stands and a sculpture of a human form stood in the far corner.
Anna took in the scene as a whole. Fear held her gaze. The items seemed to leer and play with her mind. They morphed into rudimentary shapes and blended against the wallpaper backdrop.
Shocked, she ran through the vanity hall slamming the bathroom door behind her. She spun the water knob on and a wide stream of fell from the marble ledge. Stripping off her clothes, she slipped into the tub. Droplets nettled her legs, pressing the urgency further.  She pulled her knees to her chest. “She’ll be back when I’m done.” The words reassured her.
She turned off the flow and slid the soap across her hair and body.  Dipping under the water to rinse, she was done.
The gown clung to her wet skin as she pulled it over her head and down her torso. She swiped her hair aside. Darting through the vanity, she halted as motion caught her attention. She looked back around the door frame.
A woman. Comforted by the sight, she stepped back into the little room and took a seat in front of the counter. Adornments, perfumes, lotions, and puffs lined the narrow shelf. Seated on the other side, the lady’s big blue eyes stared back at her. Anna smiled at her. She smiled back. Her angelic face was flushed red. Her long dark hair looked straggled and wet. The nightdress she wore stuck to her body as if drenched by rain, but the woman didn’t appear to care. She simply watched Anna, smiling at her with childlike dimples.
This person liked her. She didn’t turn away as the others did. Anna waited to see what she would say, but the woman remained quiet.
No matter. She watched, content, in the little room of her new home.

It’s a terrible thing—being left alone—with no soul to guide you.  Poor Anna. 
And, in Cornerstone Deep Echoes, he missed another important hint that would have help curb a situation that went far too out of control…to the point of losing her, by her own choice, to the very Grand Marshal he saved her from.  

Cole knelt beside the vanity and awaited Mianna’s reaction. She stared at her reflection; color drained from her face. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by the illumination from the florescent bobbles in the mirror, or sheer shock.
Bright shimmers reflected from her blue eyes and the small curves that turned up at the corners of her mouth pressed into a straight line. Her long lashes batted. Her lips parted.
Should I say something?
A weak laugh puffed from her lungs. Her hand patted the counter and she shook her head.
“Mianna?”
Her fingers fumbled as she reached for the wide brush and began stroking her hair. She upped her brow and squinched a grin at her image. “Honestly, Cole. If you wanted me to have a new look, you didn’t have to go through all the trouble.” She glanced at him, mirth seeping from her gaze. “It took you four hundred years to find just the right body to meet your liking and it turns out to be practically the same as the old one?”
She chuckled a melody and he couldn’t help but join in. He snatched her into a tight embrace. “Oh, my love. How I’ve missed the sound of your laughter.”
Mianna wrapped her arms around his neck and set her forehead to his. “I knew life would be amazing with you. Imagine. A chance at living my life again. In a whole new world.” Cole detected a flash of emotion pulse from her but it disappeared as she pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. Her soul sang to his heart and love coursed through his veins. “You’ll have to fill me in on what happened the first time around.”
A wide smile touched his eyes and he kissed her dainty nose. “I think maybe I should fill you in on how to make things happen in this life first.”
“You mean there’s more than instant candles?”
He nodded. “You said you wanted to bathe.”
“Yes.”
“How about a hot shower?”
Her quizzical gaze turned to a gasp as chunks of marble shattered the guestroom window. Mianna jumped from his arms and stumbled over the vanity stool as she fled back into the adjoining room. The figure of an arm bolted past her and gouged the wall before it rammed into the corner wing-chair.
Cole growled. Rushing to her side, he waved his hand around them. An opalescent sheen thickened the air, causing the medium to warp as it expanded to fill the space.
Mianna set a hand to her heart. Her posture slumped as she released a shaky breath. “Oh. I must have moved too quickly.” She wavered, closing her eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her and as she returned the embrace, he grasped anew the blessing of her in his life. “It’s okay. It’ll take time to get used to everything.”
A smile touched her lips and she peered up at him. “What’s to get used to? I’ve been around your brothers long enough to know the manor gets destroyed on a regular basis.”
Cole’s long hair skimmed along her shoulder as his cheek brushed hers. “Mianna, you’ve been through a lot. You just don’t remember.” He caressed her slender back. “I’ll take care of this. I have a feeling it has to do with what took place. I need to fill James and Vince in on it. They don’t know about everything either.”
She rested her forehead on his chin and her hot breath sketched down his neck. Heat pooled in his stomach. “I’ll get cleaned up and be down soon.”
He blinked to the side. “Why don’t I come back in a short time? I’ll help you with that shower.”

Do you see the pending problem?  Cole was so wrapped up in having her back that his love for her drowned out the possibility that something was really wrong…other than that she was fatigued.  Of course, he’s a character and led by his heart.  He’s only following the personality I painted for him.  Readers have a chance at being the omniscient seer if they can catch it.

Have you found yourself disappointed when you came to the end of a book and found it was far too predictable?  Or worse, the conclusion was so far-fetched and unrealistic that you wanted to (or did) chuck the thing into the recycle bin?

CD Echoes front cover800.jpgblurb

Mianna’s return heals Cole’s soul and he promises to follow her for the rest of his existence.  But the past isn’t what he believes.  The fight for her has only begun.
Lord Dressen’s obsession grows as unexpected knowledge is revealed.  His search for Mianna has spanned six life times and he won’t give up now.  The courts stand behind him.  Power pulses through his veins.  Determination peeks and not even Cole Shilo can stop him.  He will win his prize.
Struggling to stay ahead, Cole’s anger explodes.  Nothing is sacred when it comes to keeping his love—not even covenants made with gods.  But, through all his efforts, lofty or damned, the truth remains.  Will echoes of another life cause him to fail?



Chapter One

Exhaustion racked Cole’s body. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath to cleanse his lungs. The harm he’d caused Anna pulsed through his fatigued mind in fits of memory—distorted flashes that reminded him of the deceit, broken covenants, and ethereal anger. Pressing his palms onto his brow, his head sank deeper into the pillow. Did his actions really cost her soul six life times?
He dragged a hand down his face and blew air through his pursed lips. He’d bound her soul and even with his formidable skill with spells, he was unable to undo his wrong. Whatever cost Arylin saw fit to impose, he was grateful for the intervention. Only the Goddess of Love, with her boundless benevolence, would have found a way for them to continue their souls’ progression.
The God of Life’s fury rang in his ears as scenes of the night before haunted him. “You have defiled that which is sacred. No Meridian shall cause my child’s death without promise of rebirth. Griffin, I demand justice!”
His gaze returned to his love at his side and he listened to the sweet sound of her steady breathing. Strands of sleep-messed hair fluttered along the pillow each time she exhaled.  Griffin, as God of Conformance, had every right to end him when Taravaughn called for justice. Surely, that was the desired punishment. To sentence him to serve her for the rest of her natural life only echoed Cole’s heart’s intent from the start.
As the morning sun’s light inched up the comforter’s patchwork pattern, he hitched his knee around her legs, forming his body to hers. For Arylin to return Anna’s soul to a previous life blessed them both beyond his dreams. It freed the binding and... He buried his face in her long waves and the scent of roses filled him. He had Mianna back.
“Mianna.” His whisper warmed his lips as it pooled against her neck.
She stirred and he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Cole.” Her sleepy eyes fluttered open but closed as if her lids were too heavy. “Have you been awake long?”
He smiled as the sound of her voice dispelled his mind’s troubles. “A while. How are you feeling?”
Her hand lifted and she brushed his long hair with her fingers before resting it at her side. “So tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.” Her soft voice turned to a mumble. “You couldn’t have given me a better wedding gift but,” she drew a deep breath, “what did it do to me? What does Unsigh mean?”
Cole blinked to the side. She doesn’t know what Unsigh means? He lifted his head to peer at her cherubic face. Did she say wedding gift? Realization flushed his senses. Arylin returned her memory to our wedding night. We truly are starting our life together over.
He pulled the comforter up to her chin and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Unsigh means one heart, my love. It joins our passion when you create the symbol and utter the spell. It’s an enchantment only you can call on.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s amazing…really. It’s just…I’m so…” As she drifted back into sleep, Cole’s brow furrowed. Mianna’s spell had never caused her fatigue, not even when her soul called upon it in Anna’s lifetime.
A spray of sun’s rays pitched across his face as they hit the wide dresser mirror. With a scowl, he squinted at the glare and twitched his hand at the window. The crepe sheers whipped closed followed by a thick swish from the burgundy drapes. The room plunged into darkness. As his eyes adjusted, dim light from the vanity area competed with the beams’ peek through the gaps around the window coverings. He sighed and sat up, resting his arm on his knee.
Perhaps it was everything she’d been through and she just needed rest. She’d experienced more trauma in the last week than he had in the last twenty-five hundred years. Her life as Anna had hardly been easy—abandonment, loss, and then manipulated by a man whose attention she’d refused. He raked a hand over his scalp. Then to nearly lose her life while they tried to unbind her soul, only to be saved by grace at the price of six life times’ progression…
Cole gazed over at the petite form beside him. He shook his head and brushed the dark hair from her face. How could Anna’s features be so similar to Mianna’s? The gentle slope of her nose, the curve of her bowtie lips. He tilted his head and gently stroked her cheek with his finger. Or was it the love he held in his heart that colored his view? A smile blossomed from his lips and he leaned to her, touching his brow to hers. His black hair fell to the pillow like a sheet of satin, deepening the shadows. No matter the reason. He had her back. And he vowed to never lose her again.
~ * ~
A satisfied grin tugged at Lord Dressen’s lips as he looked out over the gathered noblemen. Low voices filled the stately hall. Marble bracing columns led way to the arched beams in the domed ceiling. Sunbeams poured through the twelve-foot windows, filling the space with a yellow haze. The gold that framed the life-sized portraits along the walls appeared to glow, accenting their subjects.
The turn-out was as hoped. He had the majority of the Grand Marshals’ court in attendance and every member seemed dedicated to support him. His heavy brow furrowed and he lifted his chin. Cole Shilo, you’ll pay for taking Anna from me.
The dull rumble of conversation subsided as he stepped to Officiator’s stand and took his chair at the center of the table. He nodded to the two uniformed gentlemen who stood guard at the entrance and they stepped out, closing the doors behind them.
Lord Carrington tugged at his vest as he strode up the center aisle. A more trusted friend he’d never had. The tall man moved with trained temperance. An admirable trait; grace under pressure. Taking his place at Dressen’s side, he leaned to him with a hushed voice. “Ninety-nine are in attendance. Lord Standish’s men are the only ones not to sign in.”
“We can do without them. What are twenty-two votes against ninety-nine?”
Carrington nodded and ran a hand along his tailored beard. “One concern I feel I must voice, Kyle.” He looked at his friend and his brown eyes twitched. “Standish may not hold the court’s majority, but he’s a strong believer in tradition. The men here control a vote, but many of their wives and family are faithful to the Gods, including my own. They practice religious rites and that encompasses the Shilos as Sentinels. If this isn’t handled with care it could become nasty.”
Dressen sighed and he glanced at the portraits that lined the room. Every Grand Marshal that had held a senior position was portrayed. His gaze gravitated to the depiction of Sylis Shilo at the center of the hall. The founder seemed to watch his every move—his coal hair, onyx eyes, and square features set firm. Dressen sneered. A wizard surrounded by noblemen.
“Sentinels.” He scoffed. “They’re aliens. Nothing more. And their own laws protect us from their dimension’s powers. What superior race agrees to such an arrangement? They’re weak. Their kind has no place on Terra.”
“Never-the-less, the faithful could rise up to protect them.” Carrington looked down at his cufflink as he straightened the gold piece. “And I’ll be frank. Even though I see nothing wrong with how you achieved your goal with the girl, many will see it otherwise. Having the wizards bend her will as a servant was one thing, but calling for total compliance pushed the agreement’s intention.”
Dressen scowled. “The Wizards of Shilo Manor accepted my bid as any other. She broke the law and she was harvested. With the new curfew in play, she was no different from the homeless.” He softened his voice. “It was the only way to get her past the idea that my standing separated us. Once she joined the household, she admitted she wanted to be with me all along. She told me she loved me. Always had. She was happy.”
He looked at his comrade and his narrow features leered. “Cole Shilo’s desire to have her took her from me.” He pointed a finger to accentuate his view. “I know he has her up at that manor.”
Lord Carrington cocked his head. “We have no jurisdiction within the walls of the Sentinel’s home.”
“You just deal with the charges.”
“The only real proof we have is the vision you shared from that night she disappeared, Kyle. And that’s another issue. You were only able to share it by way of the magical means Cole Shilo gifted you.” His friend quirked his cheek. “There’s talk of a loss of integrity at the expense of…”
“A thief?” A growl rumbled in Dressen’s throat as his blood seethed.
“A Sentinel, Kyle. You have to view this from these men’s perspective. I know you’re not religious, but religion is going to play a large part in what they decide.”
“Then use their beliefs against them. Look into the covenants the wizards have made. Their long lives will show something. In two thousand years, no man can live without error.”
Carrington ran a finger under his collar as if it suddenly became too small. “I’ll make the assignment. But how do you expect to get to the girl if she’s up there?”
A crooked smile crept its way to Dressen’s lips. “I’ll find a way. You just start by calling them in for questioning and I’ll do the rest.”

About Charlene:

A writer of paranormal romance, Charlene loves what magic can add to relationships.  She currently lives in a small rural town in Arkansas and enjoys close family ties with her two beautiful daughters. 
Charlene’s interest in writing began in her early teens and she took any creative writing courses available.  As she married and started a family, she had to set aside her writing and focus on the more pressing matters of job and family. 
Many of the attitudes and personalities woven into her characters were taken from those she worked with while serving as a Deputy at a large detention center.  From kindness to bigotry, the variety of personal outlook was amazing.  As time now affords her, she is able to pursue her love of writing and incorporates those experiences into some of her work. 
Her first novel, Cornerstone Deep, was published in November 2010 by Class Act Books.  Her second, Cornerstone Deep Echoes, was released February 2012, also by Class Act Books.  The stories keep coming and she keeps typing.  On to the next!




Author Links
LinkedIn:  http://www.linkedin.com/pub/charlene-a-wilson/15/989/1b8

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Engaging the Enemy

Today Author Heather Boyd is here with her
brand new release Engaging the Enemy!

Welcome Heather!

Hello Everyone,

Today is the Day! Engaging the Enemy, my latest regency romance novel, is out now at Amazon and Smashwords and I am so excited. Engaging the Enemy is a sensual romance set in 1813 which is why I've chosen to write down the seven reasons I love regency era England.

1. The clothes. Men in tight breeches, ladies in corsets. I particularly like undressing them as quick as possible.

2. Mr. Darcy (Colin Firth is my ideal)

3. Proper ladies and gents behaving badly, breaking the rules in the name of lust and love.

4. Matchmaking mothers. I never enjoyed it when it happened to me, but now I'm older I find it funny to read.

5. The Parties, dinners, balls, soiree's, gentlemen's clubs, and the theatre. London thrived on the night life.

6. Gorgeous homes, cheeky servants, the food! So rich.

7. Panties not required.

As you might imagine, I'm very fond of using points 3 and 7 as often as possible. Here's a peek at Engaging the Enemy. To celebrate the release, I’m giving away one ecopy of my novel here today. Just answer this simple question:

Have you ever gone out without your PANTIES, and if so where did you go to?

 Engaging Button.jpg
About Engaging the Enemy:
A duchess should be regal, aloof and the image of calm elegance. But those words have never applied to Mercy Randall, Duchess of Romsey. A widow and mother of a young duke, Mercy is lonely and floundering to keep the estate afloat. When she discovers the existence of Leopold Randall, her husband’s estranged cousin, Mercy commits to help him locate his missing siblings if he’ll return the estate to order. Although cautioned against trusting a man who would inherit everything should her son die, she impetuously hands over the estate to Leopold’s care in the hope of keeping him near.


Leopold Randall, heir to the young duke, has returned to Hampshire to demand information regarding the fate of his missing siblings. Unfortunately, the Duchess of Romsey is clueless about them, yet her struggle to maintain the estate tugs at Leopold’s sense of duty. At her insistence, he steps in to bring order to chaos while searching for hints to his family’s whereabouts amongst the old duke’s papers. Yet the duchess tempts him in ways best unspoken. He fights to hide his weakness for her and a shameful past that could see him banished again. But when Leopold discovers a threat against the duchess and young duke’s life, he must join forces with the temptress to protect his last known relative.
Engaging the Enemy releases shortly on Amazon.


About Heather
Heather Boyd is the author of erotic romance with an historical bent. A fan of regency England settings, she writes m/f and m/m stories that push the boundaries of propriety and even break the laws of that time. Brimming with new ideas, she frequently wishes she could type as fast as she can conjure up new storylines. Heather lives with her testosterone-fuelled family north of Sydney.

Her published work include: The Distinguished Rogues (Chills, Broken & Charity), gay regency romance - The Hunt Club Chronicles (Almost an Equal, Barely a Master & Hardly a Stranger) and short erotic romance One Wicked Night, In the Widow's Bed, Love Me Tender, Wicked Mourning and The Almack’s Alternative.

Links
Website: www.heather-boyd.com
http://twitter.com/Heather_Boyd
http://facebook.com/HeatherBoydRomanceAuthor
Amazon Author Page: https://amazon.com/author/heatherboyd
  

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Priestess of the Nile by Veronica Scott

Another fabulous book to check out!
Here's a peak at Chapter One...

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Blurb:

Drawn to his abandoned temple on the banks of the Nile by an enchanting song, Sobek the Crocodile God is even more captivated by the sight of the singer herself. Appearing to her as a man, he learns she is Merys, a descendant of his last priestess. Though filled with lust, Sobek believes Merys deserves to be more than just his mistress. But the rules that govern the Egyptian pantheon forbid anything beyond a physical joining of a Great One and a human.

Merys is attracted to the handsome stranger, who arouses passions in her that no man ever has. But with no dowry and no hope of ever leaving her village, she dares not dream of the future—or love.
Sobek takes every opportunity to visit Merys, taxing his resolve to leave her pure. When he saves her life, their mutual desire must be sated. But can a love between a human and an immortal survive the ultimate test of the gods?


Priestess of the Nile excerpt:

Chapter One

The old abandoned temple remained one of his favorite spots along the Nile, overlooking the river from a small bluff, with a deserted beach below. Bek stood gazing across the sparkling water at bronze- and black-spotted crocodiles sunbathing in the final rays of the setting sun. A breathtaking mix of colors stained the sky as the Goddess Nuit spread her cloak across the heavens, sprinkling the black velvet with stars.
A beautiful soprano voice rose from the beach below the bluff. Bek recognized the words of a familiar old song, given new meaning by the hypnotizing, alluring voice. I must see this songbird. She’s cast some kind of spell over me.

He strolled along the path from the ruins toward the beach. Taking the last turn on the trail, he walked out on the sand and found the woman. She waded in the water, casting a small fishing net and retrieving it, every once in a while picking out a wriggling silver fish and throwing it into a waiting basket on the beach.
Her ample breasts flashed into view when she leaned over. She had kilted her skirt to her thighs, revealing shapely legs. Long ebony hair was caught behind her ears with combs in the shape of seashells.
Wouldn’t I like to take those combs out and see her hair tumble down—she’s as beautiful as her voice. He must have made some sound. She stopped singing and wheeled, taking an involuntary step deeper into the river at the sight of him, a stranger. Her face paled under her tan and her eyes opened wide as she staggered, caught by an eddy of the current.

“Don’t be frightened, please. I mean you no harm.” He held his hands up, palms out, and smiled. “I heard your singing and it drew me here. I only wanted to give my thanks for the concert.”

She laid one hand on her graceful throat, toying with an amulet on a thong. “You startled me.” Poised to bolt, the girl appeared wary, probably planning an attempt to run past him.

“I apologize.” He kicked off his sandals and waded into the water at an angle from her. The net drifted lazily in a whirlpool; he reached out and caught it, lifting the tangled strands from the river.

“Oh, don’t! You’ll ruin your fine kilt, sir.” She came to him hastily and took the net from his hands. “The river runs muddy at this time of the year. Your servants will labor in vain to get the stains out.”

He glanced at his waist. Oh yes, I did choose to wear the pleated white kilt of a nobleman. He followed her to the shore as she splashed through tiny waves with her net. “Fortunately, I have no servants to worry with such things.”

While putting his sandals on, Bek frowned at the Nile crocodiles lying deceptively immobile on the opposite bank, then glanced at her. “You take great risks, walking into the river with those beasts nearby.”
One of the animals twitched. Bek glared at it. The creature met his eyes for a second, then settled onto the sand.

“Oh, I’m not afraid. I’m protected.” She was busy folding the net and packing it into a compartment in the lid of her fish creel. She didn’t even spare a moment to consider the predators across the water.

He coughed to cover his instinctive laugh. “Protected? And exactly how are you warded against attack?”

She stood briskly, raised her chin and tugged an amulet free of her dress to show him. It was a small green stone crocodile hanging on a frayed black leather thong. “My great-grandmother was the last priestess of the temple on the bluff above.”

He indicated the amulet. “May I see it?”

The girl unlooped the cord from her neck and handed the necklace over. “Great-Grandmother told me the amulet was blessed by the Crocodile God himself and would protect me from his creatures.” Bek chuckled, holding the tiny figurine in his large meaty hand. “Mighty protection indeed.” He momentarily closed the pendant in his fist, then tossed it to her with a slight bow.

“Nonetheless, you shouldn’t take such chances. Crocodiles are crafty and fierce.”

When she refastened the amulet the stone pendant fell between her shapely breasts. She unkilted her skirts and the simple dress fell to her ankles. As she bent to lift her basket of fish Bek put his hand atop hers on the handle. She gave him a wide-eyed glance but stepped aside to let him lift her burden.

“Thank you, sir. I’m going to sit in the shade and eat my dinner now.” She pointed at the nearby grove of palms. “Would you care to join me?”

“I’m not hungry, but I’ll sit if you don’t object. An hour of good conversation is a pleasant way to end the day.”

She peeked sideways at him while she walked. Eventually she smiled shyly. “I’m grateful for the company. My name is Merys.” She stood nearly as tall as him, unusual in a woman, but he found it distinctly attractive. Her face was lovely, oval and browned by the sun, which set off her sparkling black eyes. She was all lush curves and smooth skin—his cock stirred with lust but he restrained his arousal.

She seems to be an innocent maiden, of good family by her educated speech, not a woman to be lightly trifled with for an afternoon. He realized he was standing rooted to one spot, lost in admiration of her beauty. Shaking his head, he started walking again. “Call me Bek.”

“A propitious name for this place, if your naming was in tribute to the Crocodile God.” Merys slanted a look at him sideways and chuckled. “Are you a merchant? Is your ship anchored somewhere nearby?” Not waiting for an answer, she sank bonelessly under the tallest palm. Lifting a shawl that lay draped there across some wicker hampers, she pulled out a hard roll filled with dried meat.

Bek set the stinking fish creel on the sand well away from where he planned to sit, but safely in the shade. He lowered himself into a cross-legged position and leaned against the tree, hands clasped behind his neck. “I travel along the Nile quite often, yes.”

She blinked and raised her eyebrows. He hadn’t precisely answered either of her questions but she didn’t press the matter. “Did you come to see the temple ruins?”

He nodded. The truth, as far as it goes


About Veronica Scott:

Veronica Scott grew up in a house with a library full of books as its heart, and when she ran out of things to read, she started writing her own stories. Married young to her high school sweetheart then widowed, Veronica has two grown daughters, one young grandson and cats.
Veronica's life has taken many twists and turns, but she always makes time to keep reading and writing. Everything is good source material for the next novel or the one after that anyway, right? She's been through earthquakes, tornadoes and near death experiences, although nothing is as stressful as meeting a book deadline. Always more stories to tell, new adventures to experience--Veronica's personal motto is, "Never boring."

Web & Social Media:

http://veronicascott.wordpress.com/

http://twitter.com/#!/vscotttheauthor

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Veronica-Scott/177217415659637

http://www.amazon.com/Veronica-Scott/e/B006CUCJ92/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

http://community.harlequin.com/blogs/veronica-scott