Augusta Li's Blog, page 17

Coming Soon!

I have two new releases coming up at Silver Publishing in the next few months. First is Violet Tresses, a fairy tale inspired short:

Sebastian has always dreamed of escaping his life of poverty and toil as a farmer in a poor and isolated village. He feels trapped by his obligation to take care of his widowed mother and young siblings as the family barely manages to survive. One day a beautiful aristocrat with startling light skin and hair claims the young man as a tribute. The mysterious lord called Shade takes Sebastian to his castle, where Sebastian lives in luxury but is forbidden to leave. With Shade as a partner, Sebastian is able to experience the intimacy and passion he's always secretly desired, and to absolve his guilt by telling himself that he has no choice. Before long, Sebastian realizes Shade is much more than an ordinary aristocrat...

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And, at long last, I've written an actual Christmas story as opposed to a terrible tragedy. It features Elijah and Dust from my Ensorcelled series, as well as a surprise guest. Never fear, it's not a sugar-fest and there's still plenty of conflict, fighting, magic and action..



Being stranded in rural Yorkshire on Christmas Eve offers Elijah and Dust a romantic vacation from their dangerous work, and a chance to start some new holiday traditions of their own, since they have no families.  When a strange man with unfathomable motives appears in need of their assistance, they must decide if they can trust him. While they're not happy about an uninvited guest at their intimate celebration, the two young men can't turn the other out into the cold.  Despite the stranger's physical draw and apparent innocence, Dust and Elijah must decide whether to show him Christmas charity, or whether he's too dangerous to trust.

Beautiful New Cover Art and an excerpt!

I just got my latest cover art from the lovely and talented Anne Cain. Snowdrop, a long novella, about 50k, is set in the same universe as Boots for the Gentleman, and will be available from Dreamspinner Press on September 19th.
It's a little kinkier than Boots. Here's the blurb and excerpt:
When pickpocket Robin Pastorious comes across some graphic photographs of a young man suffering in bondage, he knows he has to liberate the victim—even after seeing the long, distinctive ears that mark the subject as a faerie, creatures Robin has been taught to hate and fear. Robin finds that the fey Snowdrop is afflicted with somewhat loose morals, a desire to be restrained, and a learned fear of reprimands, so naturally his ensuing encounters with Robin are both blistering and sporadic. But the faerie's distant, fickle nature eats away at Robin's sanity, and Robin ends the relationship.

That's when the village comes under attack by the fey and Robin is captured and put on a train with the very man who tortured Snow. Will Snowdrop mount a rescue and find a way to convince Robin of his sincerity? Or will the pain of their shared past darken any possible future?
Here's an excerpt (not safe for work). Please enjoy! "Don't go," the fey asked gently. "Will you try to stop me?" "No, but I'm asking you to stay. I won't hurt you. I was just angry. Come. Have some more wine. Sit with me and enjoy the rain. Please." Gingerly Robin crossed the room and moved his chair to face the window. He still felt jumpy, and stole a glance at Snow from the corner of his eye. The fey looked completely relaxed with his forearm resting on the windowsill and his wine in his other hand. He inhaled deeply and said, "How I've missed the sweet scent of the summer rain. Smell it, Robin. Close your eyes." Robin did. The rain intensified the smells of the soil, the ferns, the trees, flowers, and wild berries. Robin recognized the aroma of wet stone, of pine needles, mushrooms, and the herbs growing in the inn's little garden. He almost thought he detected the musk of the small red deer grazing on wild thyme and rye grass. The two men sat in silence for a long time. Robin heard Snow's breath slow and wondered if he'd fallen asleep. When he opened his eyes to check, he found the fey studying him intently. "What is it?" Robin asked, unnerved. Snow reached out and stroked a lock of hair above Robin's ear. His hand trailed down Robin's chin and neck, coming to rest on Robin's collarbone. "You're very beautiful," Snow said slowly. "Would you like to make love?" "I beg your pardon!" Robin pulled away from the other man's hands, got to his feet, and hurried to stand behind his chair. He couldn't imagine Snow would crave the act of love after his abuse, or that he could sense Robin's predilections so soon. While Robin took a carefree view of physical companionship, he didn't trust this faerie that he'd known for only a few hours. Before meeting Snow, speaking with him, Robin had considered fey cursed creatures worse than beasts. Now he found them, or at least this one, moody to a point almost approaching madness. "You've been admiring me," Snow persisted, standing to unbutton the large shirt that hung like a sack over his lean frame. "Yes, but—" "And I admire you." He slipped the shirt over his shoulders and off. His pale, shapely body looked blurry and soft in the low mix of gas and firelight. His glorious hair glowed almost like a halo, and his eyes seemed lit from within, firefly green. "We admire each other, so why should we not enjoy one another?" "You're weak, unwell," Robin argued feebly as he tried to ignore the heating of his face and the tightness in his pants. "You mustn't exert yourself." "Nonsense," Snow said, moving a few inches closer so that his chest bumped into Robin's. Nipples like little pearls brushed against Robin's shirt. "Good, natural things will help me to recover. Things like fresh air and rain. This." He placed his hands on Robin's cheeks and pulled their faces together. At first, shock prevented Robin from acting; he stood stiff and stone-still as Snow's lips pressed against and glided over his own. Snow's fingers wriggled into Robin's hair and closed around his locks, pulling Robin nearer as his tongue swiped across Robin's teeth. The wine couldn't cover Snow's natural, clover-honey taste. His skin smelled of the grass and petals Robin had crushed beneath his boot before finding him. His bare body was silky and warm beneath Robin's hands as they glided over Snow's waist. Robin's mouth parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue met the faerie's tongue. He pressed against it, afraid too much insistence might spook the vulnerable fey. But Snow's lips dropped open, and his head fell back, inviting Robin to explore the sweetness of his palate. His waist bowed forward against Robin, and he held tighter to Robin's hair. Robin kissed him hard, his hands moving around his back to pull him closer. When his fingers met the first of the many raised welts, though, he stopped and moved away from Snow. "This isn't right," he said. Snow looked down and away. "I'm damaged," he muttered. "You find me deformed and disgusting." "No," Robin said quickly. He wrapped his arms around Snow's neck and drew his face to his shoulder. Petting the hair away from Snow's long, pointed ear, Robin said, "I find you magical and exquisite. I find you very desirable." He guided Snow's hand to the swell in his pants as proof. "We've only just met, though. You know, you don't need to pay me back. I don't expect anything." Snow lifted his head and looked at Robin, his eyes reminding Robin of yellow flowers with black centers amidst a field of green. "My people attach none of the regulations to lovemaking that yours impose. It's just something to enjoy. I want you, Robin." "Snow, I—" "Am I hideous? Please tell me." "No. Dear God, no." Robin spread his fingers over Snow's face and used them to comb the thick hair away. He held his white tresses as he kissed across his brow, kissed his eyelids, pale lashes, high cheeks, delicate nose, lips, and chin. Robin's mouth moved across Snow's jaw as the faerie tugged at the thief's belt. He found the sharp spike of Snow's ear and explored its ridges and interior whorls with his tongue. Snow moaned with appreciation and circled his undeniable erection against Robin's own. "Your ears are so alluring," Robin panted, giving the tip of one a playful nip, earning a small, delighted sound from the faerie. He ran his tongue over the entire edge of the narrow triangle before grasping Snow's tiny waist and gently spinning him around. He lifted the silvery curtain of hair that fell almost to the fey's hips. At first Snow took his wrist and tried to stop him, but Robin broke away and said, "Everything about you is alluring. You're wonderful." Snow choked back a sound that might have been a sob before brushing his hair over his shoulder and offering Robin a view of his scarred back. As Robin kissed across his shoulders, Snow knit his fingers into Robin's and guided one of Robin's hands to his straining erection. He brought the other to his mouth and sucked Robin's fingers one at a time, the tip of his tongue pressing against the tips of Robin's fingers. His cock pushed against Robin's palm as Robin's lips explored the ridges of raised flesh that striped his back. Soon, Robin felt a circle of moisture against his skin. It dampened a circle of Snowdrop's stolen pants, and Robin smiled. He wrapped his fingers around the thick base of Snowdrop's shaft and squeezed. "You're so excited—" "Robin, I want you to take me. I want you inside me." "Snow." Robin didn't know what to say as he stepped back to undo his belt and trouser flap. He'd been envisioning things the other way around, with himself taking the bottom as he usually did. "Robin?" Snow faced him as he slowly removed his shoes and pants. As soon as he was naked, the faerie dropped down to sit on his heels with the backs of his hands on his thighs, as Robin had seen him do in the washroom. The thief understood that the faerie had spent so much time bound in that position that he assumed it automatically. Perhaps it granted him some unfathomable comfort. Once he'd finished undressing, Robin sat in the same fashion, his kneecaps flush with Snow's. He draped his hands over the insides of the faerie's wrists and gave the thin bones a slight squeeze. Snow nodded, confirming Robin's hunch. "Look at me," Robin said. Snowdrop lifted his chin. "Are you sure?" "Yes." He picked up Robin's discarded tie and placed it in Robin's hand. Then he lifted his arms and presented his pressed-together wrists. "Please."

Sneak Peek at The Midnight Children, and its sexy cover art!

This novella is set in the Epiphany universe and will be out at Silver Publishing on October 29th, just in time for Halloween. Elijah and Dust have come to a small town in Upstate New York to investigate the murders of several magic-users. They're staying in the home of their employer, Mr. Jonas Kehler.

This is an UNEDITED excerpt!


After dinner and dessert, Mr. Kehler showed Dust and Elijah to a small room at the back of the house. Blue and white stripes papered the walls, trimmed at the top with a sailboat motif. Each of the twin beds bore a nautical-themed quilt and had a white-washed chest at the foot. A collection of worn teddy bears sat on a shelf, and some books were stacked on a stand. Dust picked up Treasure Island and set it back down. "I didn't know he had kids," he muttered to himself before sitting on the edge of one of the beds. He turned on the little radio on the night table and scanned the static until he heard the last, scratchy bars of Frankie Valli's "My Eyes Adored You." The song ended, and David Bowie, Elijah's favorite artist, sang "Rock n' Roll Suicide." Dust turned the volume up a little.Elijah went into the adjoining bathroom and splashed some water on his face. He'd been unusually quiet during dinner, and Dust felt a little worried. Normally he intuited his partner's moods, but Elijah felt distant. For some reason he'd been reluctant to accept Kehler's offer, even though they needed the money and the job didn't sound terribly difficult. Dust knew more than the danger they faced weighed on Elijah. When he finished at the sink, he sunk down next to Dust and Dust rubbed his back as he considered what to say."Did you have a room like this, before you left home?" Dust asked.With a bitter laugh, Elijah said, "No. Did you?""What, in Venice? My room was bigger than this house, with servants to turn down the bed and stoke the fire. After that—" I slept on the ground, or in a closet. Anywhere my current master permitted. If they permitted me to sleep at all. He shook his head to clear the bad memories. He had to tend to Elijah. "Anyway, what's going on with you? You seem really spooked.""I don't like it here," Elijah said, pushing his thick, golden-blond fringe back from his forehead. His pale cheeks glistened with sweat, though the room was cool and comfortable. "Something's not right."Dust moved his arm up around Elijah's neck and squeezed, kissing him on the temple. His messy, layered locks smelled of the syrup house. "I agree with you. But we've had worse. Why are you so upset?""I don't know, Dust. I don't like that Kehler person knowing all about us. Do you think he knows…everything?""Everything?" Dust asked, feeling his stomach contract as his partner's worries infected him. For the last year, he'd tried to stamp down his intrinsic paranoia and mistrust, as Elijah had restored a little of his faith in peoples' goodness. Still, the cynicism of centuries proved hard to shrug off.Elijah confirmed Dust's worst suspicion, saying, "He looked at my ring.""Are you sure?"First Elijah nodded, then he shrugged. "I feel like everyone's looking at it all the time, like they all know. I feel like everyone's trying to get it, and I always have to be on my guard. I promised I wouldn't let anyone use it to enslave you again, and I meant it. I just feel like I have to watch constantly.""I'm sorry. I hate to put you through that.""No, Dust. I didn't mean it that way. I just know what you went through, all those centuries of passing from master to master. I know some of the things they did to you, and I can't ever let it happen again. I can't relax. I'm afraid Kehler's going to sneak in here while we're asleep and try to steal it off my finger. It's got me on edge.""What can I do?" Dust asked as he rubbed the back of Elijah's neck. How had he never realized the burden Elijah bore for his sake? Dust had always admired Elijah's tenacity, his ability to remain pure and unjaded after a childhood of abuse. It sickened Dust to consider that he might be the one to finally turn Elijah bitter and hard. He nuzzled his nose into the thick hair near Elijah's ear and said, "What can I do to get rid of this tension?" He punctuated the phrase with a playful nip to Elijah's lobe."Maybe… something," Elijah breathed as he turned his face toward Dust's. Dust looked into his big, blue eyes, those eyes that he'd loved since he first saw them, and used his elbow to pull Elijah's face closer. He never wanted to see the innocence go out of those eyes. He kissed each of their lids when they closed, then pushed his lips to Elijah's mouth. Elijah returned the pressure. His lips parted and Dust seized the opportunity to work his tongue into Elijah's mouth. He tasted of the rock candy Kehler made from his maple syrup. Dust's partner returned his kiss, and Elijah deftly slipped the band off Dust's hair. It fell in black sheets around their faces, and Dust chuckled. Elijah had a real fetish for his long hair, not that he minded. He adored the sight of his dark locks against his lover's fair skin, adored Elijah's reaction to it. As if to remind him, Elijah growled into Dust's mouth as Dust's locks brushed his cheeks.With a wet pop, Dust disengaged from Elijah's mouth long enough to peel the turquoise, tie-dyed T-shirt from his lean chest. Dipping back in, Dust caught Elijah's little pink nipple with his mouth. He suckled it and then bit it lightly. Elijah gasped and his fists closed around Dust's hair. Encouraged by the tug on his scalp, Dust moved around in front of Elijah and dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. He kissed the skin over Elijah's sternum. An injury during their first adventure together had left him with a pale scar like an asterisk. His heart had been destroyed and replaced by a demon's magic. Remorse always assailed Dust when he realized he'd let Elijah suffer that pain. As he nibbled along Elijah's torso, he vowed, as he had hundreds of times, to never let it happen again."You… okay?" Elijah panted, sensing Dust's distraction."Better than." Dust pulled the buttons of Elijah's fly loose and worked his dark brown corduroys and shorts to his knees. He buried his nose in Elijah's blond fur and savored his scent. Elijah's fingertips dug into the back of his neck. Another Bowie song, "Young Americans," played on the radio."Dust… Is it okay? Can we do this here?"Lifting his head to meet Elijah's gaze, Dust said, "We'll be quiet. Elijah, I need you." He extended his tongue and ran the tip up Elijah's swollen shaft. It bucked and skipped at the stimulation, and Elijah groaned. Dust focused his attention on the underside of Elijah's head, lapping at the sensitive, rounded groove. A drizzle of pre-come rewarded his efforts, and he savored the taste before sucking hard on the end of Elijah's penis and fondling his balls. The other man's head lolled to the side, and he mumbled incoherently. Dust gave his sack a squeeze and a tug as he let Elijah's cock slip deeper into his throat. When he swallowed, Elijah's dick bounced and leaked."Dust, god!"Drawing his mouth languidly up Elijah's length before releasing it, Dust said, "Quiet, remember?" He looked up at Elijah's flushed face, and Elijah nodded."I… I'll try.""Good." Opening his mouth and covering his bottom teeth with his tongue, Dust took Elijah in once again. He thrust his head down until his nose brushed Elijah's belly. Elijah's legs, trapped within his pants, strained and kicked. He moaned and mouthed Dust's name. If he grew too vocal in his pleasure, Dust reached up and pressed a finger to his lush lips. He actually found it kind of hot to sneak around and be in danger of getting caught. Elijah obviously liked the game too. His cock swelled and grew, filling Dust's mouth and throat with its girth. In only a few minutes, Dust felt it jump against the roof of his mouth, and the subsequent torrent of semen almost choked him. He swallowed it down, delighted, as always, at Elijah's taste. After relishing every drop of his seed, Dust released Elijah from his mouth. The other man fell on his back across the bed. While he caught his breath, Dust untied his canvas sneakers and pulled them off along with his socks. Then he dragged his pants and shorts over his ankles and feet, leaving them in a heap beside the bed."You're so beautiful," Dust said, looking down at Elijah's lithe body stretched out across the small mattress, his light skin sprinkled with patches of golden hair. "I love you.""Love you, Dust." Elijah's waist twisted in anticipation, and he gnawed his lower lip as he regarded Dust's face."Stay right there." Dust slowly removed his clothing, aware of Elijah's eyes on him and determined to give his lover a good show. He popped his shirt buttons one at a time, never breaking contact with Elijah's wide eyes. Once he stood naked, he ran his tongue along his upper teeth as he looked at Elijah's eager smile. He combed his fingers through his hair theatrically, and even used the ends to tease his nipple to hardness as Elijah's cheeks burned as red as the ripe apples in the barrel. "I want to make love to you," Dust said."Oh god, yes!"Dust rifled through his bag until he located the tiny container of Vaseline. Digging in, he scooped up a chunk of the jelly with his fingers. It softened as he rubbed it along the length of his cock. Elijah lapped at his teeth and lips as he watched."Dust, I want you.""Okay then." A mischievous grin twisted Dust's lips as he moved between Elijah's splayed legs. He urged his partner's thighs further apart as he rubbed his oiled erection against Elijah's opening. Elijah ground against him, breathing words of encouragement. The head of his cock breached Elijah's tight ring of muscle, and Elijah cried out."Quiet, remember?"
Available October 29th at Silver Publishing.  Epiphany is available now, here.

Afterthoughts on Authors After Dark

It's been about a week since my writing partner Eon and I got back from Authors After Dark in Philadelphia. It took place at the center city Doubletree Hotel, which, while a beautiful facility, didn't deliver on the promises it made to the event coordinator. The Tease authors had planned a tea to welcome guests, and the hotel wanted to charge us sixty dollars for a gallon of hot water! But I won't dwell on the shortcomings of the hotel staff, because in spite of them the event was a terrific experience for us.

My favorite thing about the convention was the opportunity to meet some of my heroes and make new friends. I actually got to be on a panel with Jet Mykles, who's been a professional inspiration to me for a long time. Best of all, she was delightful and friendly and completely unpretentious. I also got to meet Ally Blue, Rick R. Reed, Victor Banis, James Buchanan, Belinda McBride and oodles of other authors I admire. None of these accomplished people had any kind of ego. It seems those who are entitled to be divas never are. Everyone I met was friendly and engaging.

We attended a reading at Giovanni's Room, the oldest gay book store in the country, and got a signed book from Victor J. Banis. Friday night was the mythos masquerade. Saturday Eon got Frank N. Furter's "Boss" tattoo for an upcoming role as that character from the fine artists of Voodoo Monkey Tattoos. That night at the Steam Ball we dressed as absinthe faeries and gave away a basket of absinthe and prizes. The winner was kind enough to share, and after the ball concluded, we met some fellow steampunk enthusiasts with which I hope I'll be friends with for a long time in the future.

Overall, I met some great people, learned some valuable trade secrets on the panels, promoted my work, and partied. A lot. It was a blast and I'm looking forward to next year in NEW ORLEANS!

More Eye Candy!

Here's my wonderful new cover art for my upcoming steampunk adventure novel, Boots for the Gentleman. It was written with my Eon de Beaumont and will be available at Dreamspinner Press on August 19th.

This lovely person is Frolic. I can't say too much more about him without spoilers.

TWO upcoming releases from my guest, Eon de Beaumont!

My guest today is my writing partner and friend Eon de Beaumont. He's just received two contracts for his solo work, a novel and a novella.

Eon, tell us about Wayward Grace.

Wayward Grace is a spin-off based in the universe of our forthcoming novel, Boots for the Gentleman being published by Dreamspinner Press. It follows the exploits of a crew of pirates led by the enigmatic Red Silas Stillwater. The main character is a free-spirited fellow named Keyfer Lockswit. He's a young man who has been on the Grace for some time and has grown up with Silas's daughter, Billie. They find a ship that has just been destroyed by another, more vicious pirate, Cutthroat Caravelli. Silas and Keyfer discover two survivors, a very attractive young man and a young woman. Unfortunately another Anglican Naval ship mistakenly believes the Grace destroyed the vessel and they give chase. Silas decides to sail into a magically enhanced storm and the Wayward Grace and her crew are tossed onto the middle of an island ringed in cliffs. It's up to the young crew to repair the Grace and devise a way to get her off the island. Like Boots, Wayward Grace is an action adventure with prominent steampunk elements.

Care to share an (unedited) excerpt?

Sure! Read on:

Keyfer scrabbled along the rigging. His long, brown hair, faded blond at the tips, was pulled up into a pony tail that flapped in the warm sea wind. Keyfer Lockswit had been serving on The Wayward Grace for close to five years now under the command of Captain Silas Stillwater. On paper they were a merchant trading vessel and civilian transport but off paper, and presented with specific opportunities, the crew might be better described as pirates. Their numbers continued to dwindle worldwide but there were those who would never give up that freedom. Keyfer had been thirteen and living on the streets of Allied Libertannia when he first saw the Grace in the harbor of New Halcyon. He liked to say that something in his brain had clicked and he knew instinctively that a life at sea was the life for him, but truly it was something in his soul finally realizing his place in the world.

"Hard to port!" the captain called from below, and the crew echoed his cry as they scrambled to obey. Keyfer slipped toward the deck. The lithe muscles he had built from rigorous and constant work aboard the ship flexed beneath his golden skin under the noonday sun. The keys that dangled on a string around his necked tapped his chest as he climbed. "Keyfer report!" Stillwater called as the young man dropped to the deck in his bare feet, as he always removed his boots to climb. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Already smoke, cap'm," he answered as he scooped up his cuffed boots with their metal toe-guards and makeshift armor across the heels. "I could just make out two distinct masts over the edge of the island." He paused as he stood. His boots stopped just below the knee where he tucked in the loose, purple pants with the ivy embroidered on the legs. The light pants made for ease of motion. "And the red flag," he finished as he checked his belts and weaponry, convinced they were in for a fight.

"Piss," the captain spat. "Nothin' for it. Good work, boy." Stillwater laid a hand on Keyfer's shoulder. "Get those fancy gun-blades ready. It's bound to be Caravelli." Keyfer swiped a hand across his sweaty forehead and heaved a sigh while Captain Stillwater called down to the engine room to stoke the fire for added speed. If Cutthroat Caravelli the Baby Killer was attacking a ship around the bend it was bound to be a bloodbath. Keyfer feared they may already be too late. Pirates had a bloodthirsty reputation, but despite earning the moniker Red Silas, Captain Stillwater didn't kill without reason. He relied on his silver tongue to get him out of most situations and he never started a fight, though he didn't shy away from finishing one.

The ship lurched forward as the steam engine pushed the aft rotors, and Keyfer braced himself along with the rest of the crew. Keyfer noticed Yama, the giant Japponese man, standing in the bow of the ship with his massive arms crossed over his equally massive chest. Keyfer picked his way across the deck, marveling as he always did at the large man's intricate dragon tattoo. From its tail on his trunk-like neck, the colorful beast snaked its way all around Yama's broad shoulders and back. The dragon's head resided just above the waistband of the large man's silk hakama and its wild eyes mystified Keyfer. Yama always wore strange, chunky wooden sandals and Keyfer had never seen him without his enormous katana sword. He stood next to the man-mountain and looked out over the bow. Yama towered over Keyfer.

"Cap'm reckons it's Caravelli," the young man said and broke the silence. Yama grunted noncommittally. The big man seldom spoke. Even after five years Keyfer was unsure if Yama didn't speak Anglish or just chose not to. The two men watched as The Wayward Grace crested the tip of the island and The Filthy Harlot came into full view. Keyfer looked at Yama, who said nothing, though the smaller man saw a worried flex of muscle in the larger man's jaw.

Salton, the first-mate shouted, "All hands on deck!" repeatedly, despite the fact that everyone who wasn't manning the boiler was already on deck, watching with silent anticipation for a fight or a spectacle.

"Bloody hell. What's this, then?" Keyfer turned to see the only passenger on The Grace.

"Lizard, isn't it?" Keyfer asked the young, blond boy. Lizard nodded and his top hat and goggles bobbed. "We may be in for it. That bloke who captains that ship is a real piece of work. You might want to make yourself scarce. You didn't sign on for this, mate."

"Bollocks t'that," Lizard told the young sailor as he drew a dagger and a clockwork pistol from within his vest. "I'm no ponce. If there's fightin' to be done, I won't be hiding in a cabin." Keyfer slapped the other boy on the back.

"Well said, mate," the captain said from behind them. "And there may be fightin' enough t'go around." The entire crew watched with baited breath as they approached the small but extremely fast ship with its deceptively benign white sails. The second ship, or more appropriately, what was left of the second ship, finally came into view. It was a smoldering wreck thanks to the specialized weapons of The Filthy Harlot. Caravelli, displeased with the speed, weight and accuracy of traditional cannons had outfitted his ship with enormous crossbows. He took it one step further by forcing the famous weapon smith Zilderwendt to design exploding bolts before he castrated the man and suffocated him with his own equipment. The weapons were precise and devastating, and the crew of The Grace had witnessed the results of their handiwork on more than one occasion. As they watched the Harlot pull up anchor, a few men returned from the ruined ship. Her crew restored, the foul vessel pulled hard to starboard and sailed toward open ocean. Keyfer couldn't believe that The Grace had escaped noticed. The Harlot passed close enough for him to make out the masthead, carved backwards to look like a whore with her legs spread, before it turned away.

"That's odd," Stillwater observed. Keyfer agreed, noting a bad feeling in his gut. Something about this situation wasn't right. "S'pose we ought to see if anything survived." Keyf knew the captain meant people and treasure alike as The Grace finished her approach.

Tell us a little bit about The Last Blade.

The Last Blade is my first solo novel! It's a sequel to the short story, Amorela Veritath which appeared in the anthology, Lemon Kisses published by Phaze Books. The story follows Ren Mallorian, the Hero of Vrelenden and his traveling companion, The Prince of Toads as they partake of the amenities afforded famous heroes in the imperial city. Having saved the last unicorn, Ren is catapulted into the spotlight, while trying desperately to keep his mind off the fact that his true love, Celestrian, has returned to his people to fulfill his responsibilities as their prince. He's relieved when King Varic summons him to the palace. Ren is shocked to find a zombie in the king's auditorium. After some hasty apologies and awkward introductions, it is explained to Ren that the zombies have formed their own kingdom and their emperor is amassing an army of the undead. The king wants Ren to assemble a party and stop the impending invasion. Ren and the Prince are tasked to gather a mage and a warrior to round out their party. Nothing ends up being simple and they find themselves on a strange meandering journey through the kingdom until they find the situation in the Zombie Kingdom is not as it appears on the surface. Ren is reunited with some old friends and enemies along the way as well. As with Amorela, The Last Blade has a healthy dose of parody and humor, woven in with the action, adventure and fantasy elements.

Excerpt? Please note, this is unedited.

Ren ducked just in time to avoid a line of arrows fired from tiny channels in the wall. They soared just above his messy, ebony locks, clattering against the opposite wall and then to the floor of the tunnel.

"That was close." The Prince of Toads stated the obvious. "If you want, I can throw a magical barrier up around you." Ren sniffed at the offer as he continued cautiously through the underground cavern. He wore a fitted, sleeveless tunic of dark green leather over a vest of silvril mail. The delicate Elven metal offered great protection while remaining light for ease of movement. Tight brown pants covered his legs and tucked into his cuffed boots which were dyed the same color as his tunic and had been spelled to make no noise as he crept along on his adventure. Ren gripped the hilts of his short swords with hands protected by lightly armored gloves. Delicate silvril plates covered the backs of the hands and knuckles.

"The last time you cast that spell I almost suffocated." An enchanted suit of armor moved to block the pair's advancement and Ren swiftly dispatched it with Yfriir, his Elven-smithed weapon that had the added ability to set fire to its victims. The shortsword was one of a pair crafted by the famed Elven whitesmith, Twelftheart. The other, Friizen, which could instantly freeze opponents, was safely sheathed on his belt. He searched the pile of metal as he passed, retrieving his weapon and stowing the few trinkets that he found in his pack. The Prince, dressed in a purple leather tunic with silver embellishments that matched his crown and the cape fastened at his throat, hopped along behind the Hero.

"Point. But I have been practicing." The Toad pointed to a chamber off the main hall. Ren poked his head inside. He saw a corpse, little more than a skeleton in rags except for a pair of simple, enchanted boots. "Poor bugger," the Prince said as Ren removed the shoes and added them to their spoils. The Prince's observation was more insightful than he realized, for the corpse was none other than Epherim Bugger, who entered this dungeon to make some fast coin—
unsuccessfully. They left the corpse of Mr. Bugger and continued down the main hall. Ren recognized and disarmed a fire trap. A large spider dropped from the ceiling and the Prince crushed it with a repulsion spell before its fangs could harm Ren, who carefully removed the beast's poison glands and placed them in a corked jar. "Are you going to keep everything you find down here?"

"You never know when this stuff is going to come in handy," Ren answered, still picking his way forward. "What we can't use we can always sell."

"Ren," the Prince began in exasperation, "we've been doing these dungeon crawls for almost six months. We have quite an ample store of gold without taking into account the rewards you received from the King and his Lords for slaying that monster, Grimthorn, despite your liberal spending habits. You've been showered with gifts. You've even been given a manor house in the capital city. Isn't it time we moved on to bigger things?" Ren sighed at the Prince's speech, having heard it more than once before.

"We're not just doing this for the treasure," Ren returned as he collected the contents of a wooden crate that consisted of various roots and a few pieces of silver. "Dungeoning offers wonderful opportunities to hone our skills in battle and otherwise."

"Your skills reunited the Lost Unicorn with his people and saved the captive Unicorns that were being held by Grimthorn."

"You know that was mostly luck," Ren pointed out...

Anything else you'd like to share?

I'm sure you've mentioned it here before but Boots for the Gentleman will be out soon as well and I hope people will check that out as well. Thanks for having me, Gus. You're the best.

Thanks for stopping by and sharing your wonderful books with us!

Authors! Promo items needed for Absinthe Tasting

Hey guys! As you may know, Eon and I will be at the Authors After Dark con in August, and we're sponsoring an absinthe and gin tasting at the Steamball. We'll have our own table with samples of Vieux Carre absinthe and Bluecoat gin. I'm hoping to get a hold of some steampunk-related swag to give out in goodie bags, and some prizes to fill at least one basket for a raffle.

Here's what I'm looking for:

Small promo items for goodie bags, such as book marks, stickers, pens, magnets, candy, etc. There are over 300 people attending the con, and I'll make bags enough for the first 100-200 people, depending on what I get. If you want to send more, the event is also open to the public and I'll be happy to leave your items on the table.

Eon and I are giving away a basket with two absinthe spoons and glasses, some absinthe candy and lollipops, and whatever else I can get a hold of between now and then. I'd like to get some print books to include in the basket. They should be at least loosely steampunk-themed. I'll take steampunk, gaslight romance, or even Victorian historical, as long as it's close. If I get enough, I'll happily make more than one basket. I'd also be interested in "bigger" promo swag like charms and posters for the baskets.

This is and excellent opportunity to promote your work. If you're interested, please email me at augusta li 3 @ hotmail.com (no spaces). Subject: Absinthe promo

Naming a Series

I suspect all authors struggle with titles and blurbs. Distilling an entire work into a paragraph or a few words is much harder for me than writing even a long novel. Titles need to capture the entire essence of the story and be enticing enough to interest potential readers. Personally, I either know instantly what to title a book or I agonize over it, sometimes for weeks after I've completed the manuscript. Blurbs are just as bad. They, too, have to hook readers and hopefully compel them to read the work, but without giving away the entire plot. Knowing just how much to include in a blurb is a delicate balancing act. I've gotten better at them, but I still struggle and I thank the gods for my publisher who does them for me.

Now I've encountered a new challenge: naming my new series at Silver Publishing. Like a title, I felt that the series name should reflect the major thematic elements of the work and hopefully attract readers that enjoy the paranormal/fantasy genres. I also thought it needed to do much more. A series name needs to capture the essence of not one, but several books. I wanted it to be specific enough to be recognizable and memorable, but vague enough that it wouldn't limit where I can take the characters in the future. Talk about rough.

This particular series revolves around Elijah and Dust, two young men who fall in love, become partners, and decide to work as freelance magicians. The first novel in the series is called Epiphany, both after the small town where it begins and the awakenings the characters experience. I didn't want to keep Epiphany as the series name, though, since I worried it would cease to be appropriate once the characters had left that location behind. Their journey has already encompassed a lot of the world. I wanted something that would imply the magical nature of their adventures, and I produced a long list of candidates including words like magic, sorcery, and enchantment. They all rang too cliche and generic to express much about my work, though. Some of them sounded down right silly.

After grilling my friends and staying up all night on thesaurus.com, I finally chose Ensorcelled as my series name. It felt appropriate since both Dust and Elijah are under the influence of various enchantments, and that's unlikely to change. Also, it sounds archaic and magical without giving anything much away. A quick Google search assured me that it hadn't been used before. I'm not sure if it's perfect, but I'm pretty satisfied.

Author: how do you choose the name of a series? Do the rest of you suffer as much as I did?

Readers: What kinds of names attract you to a series? Are there some that grab your interest right away?

Hot new cover art and an excerpt!

I got my cover art for my urban fantasy novel Epiphany from the fabulous Reese Dante today. It's absolutely gorgeous, don't you think?
And as promised, here's a quick excerpt from Epiphany. It will be out at Silver Publishing in ebook and print on August 13th.

Please enjoy, and please comment!!

The whole frigid, lonely time he'd spent walking from Epiphany, Elijah had imagined various scenarios. He'd pictured Dust hugging him with gratitude and inviting him to be his companion. He'd anticipated being greeted with happiness and surprise by the other man. Until now, it hadn't crossed Elijah's mind that Dust might not want to see him. After all, Elijah hadn't defended Dust when the townspeople drove him away hungry. Elijah had been too scared of his mother and the sheriff to speak up. What if Dust thought he was a coward? Elijah felt queasy. He was sure, now, that he'd misinterpreted the look Dust had given him and the way he'd stroked Elijah's hand. Nobody like Dust would be interested in somebody like him: an insignificant person from an insignificant place. Elijah had been fooling himself.

As much as he wanted to turn back and save himself the hurt and humiliation, Elijah kept walking. The least he could do would be to leave the coffee and sandwiches. Dust would certainly appreciate the blanket. Elijah would set them down, apologize for what had happened at the diner, and start the long trek back home. Hopefully, he'd be able to sneak in the back door and through the mud room without his mother catching him, grilling him, and eventually pummeling him with whatever was closest to her hand. Whatever unpleasant thing befell him, he would accept as penance for not speaking up against what had been done to Dust.

The drifter sat in front of his tiny fire, hugging his knees. His dark hood covered everything but his nose, lips and chin. His frozen breath hovered in the stillness like a ghostly companion. Elijah took a deep breath and said, "Hello."

Dust turned his head quickly toward Elijah, the fire reflected in his eyes making them look like glowing embers against his shadowed face. His hand shot out in Elijah's direction as if he held a weapon, but his palm was empty. It groped the cold air, the way a person felt around for a pair of lost spectacles. He slid the hood back and squinted into the darkness. Seeing Elijah, he dropped his hand and relaxed.

"You're the cook from the diner," Dust said.

Elijah nodded. "I brought you some sandwiches and coffee."
Dust rose stiffly and walked over to where Elijah stood just at the edge of the ring of fire light. He looked amazed. "You mean you walked all the way out here to bring me sandwiches?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal," Elijah said.

"Thank you," Dust said.

Elijah slid the bag from his shoulder and held it out to Dust. "There's a blanket in there too. I thought you might be able to use one."
Dust seemed too stunned to even reach for the offered provisions, so Elijah set the bag down by the drifter's feet. "All right then," Elijah said, "guess that's it. I'm sorry about the way everybody treated you. It wasn't right, and I do apologize. Take care." He thrust his shivering hands back into his pockets and turned.

"Wait," Dust said, and Elijah faced him.

"You need anything else?"

"No," Dust said. "Why did you do this?"

"Well, you were hungry," Elijah said. "And it's cold out here."

"You mean that's it?"

"What else would there be?" Elijah asked.

"Come sit down," Dust said. "At least warm up before you walk all the way back to your town."

"Okay," Elijah said, and he followed Dust to the fire. They sat cross-legged on the hard-packed earth, looking at each other over flames. Dust unzipped the gym bag and stripped the foil from the sandwiches. He smiled at them as if they were priceless jewels before starting to eat. Then he silently tore pieces of bread and meat into chunks and shoved several of them into his mouth at a time, looking over his shoulder now and then as if Elijah's mother might appear from behind a cactus and snatch the food away again. Elijah had never seen a human being eat like that. He was reminded of the stray dogs they sometimes had to drive away from the dumpster behind the restaurant. Dust's rapid swallowing, an occasional grunt of pleasure, and the soft crackle of the fire were the only sounds. In less than ten minutes, he'd finished three sandwiches. Elijah poured some coffee into the thermos lid and handed it to the drifter.

"Hope you like lots of sugar," Elijah said.

Dust took a long gulp. "You have some too," he said to Elijah. "To warm up." He held the little metal cup to Elijah's lips and tipped it forward. As Elijah drank from the cup in his hand, Dust slid closer until their shoulders touched. The sudden warm solidity against his arm shocked Elijah. When he realized that Dust had touched him, he almost choked. Dust lowered the cup but didn't pull away. Elijah wiped the coffee from his chin with his sleeve.

"You don't have a cigarette, do you?"

"No, sorry," Elijah said. Questions raced and collided in his mind like bumper cars. He wanted to ask Dust where he was going, where he'd come from, and why. He wanted to know how the drifter had been injured, how long it had been since he'd eaten. The biggest question also remained: Would Dust let Elijah go with him?
"You said there's a blanket in here?" Dust asked as he rummaged through the pack. He found the corner of the blue quilt that had been on Elijah's bed and unfolded it. He threw it over his shoulders like a cape and said "Well, get under."
Elijah hesitated and pulled away. He hadn't been expecting this level of familiarity so soon. It confused him and scared him a little bit. He had almost no experience with such situations, but Dust smiled sincerely, and Elijah took a deep breath, forcing himself to say, "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

"Come on," the drifter urged, holding the corner of the blanket out from his shoulder. "We'll both be more comfortable if we share."

Elijah spread the blanket across his back and tucked the satiny edge under his chin the way he did when he went to sleep at home. Dust's warmth beside him after his long walk acted almost as a sedative. He realized, to his surprise, that he felt completely safe and comfortable around this stranger. He poured another cup of coffee and laid his cheek lightly against Dust's shoulder.

"Dust," Elijah said, barely above a whisper. The drifter's blue-gray eyes stayed fixed on the fire. "Dust?" he said again, a little louder.
The black-haired young man turned. He looked so beautiful and mysterious in the amber glow that Elijah inhaled sharply. "Dust, can I ask you something?"

"Dust?"

"You said, at the diner, that you were Dust," Elijah said, blushing and feeling stupid. "What should I call you?"

Dust placed a soft kiss on Elijah's forehead that him tremble from his ears to his freezing toes. "Call me whatever you want. Call me Dust if you want to, and ask me whatever you want."

Elijah swallowed hard. "I want to help you. Whatever you're trying to do, I want to help."

"Why?"

"I—"

"It's okay," Dust said. He put his arm around Elijah and pulled him closer. "I'd like it if you came with me. It's pretty rough, though, as you can see." He pointed at his camp: a backpack for a pillow and a pile of burning twigs and brush.
"I don't know what I'll be able to do," Elijah said. "I don't really have any talents, except cooking."

Dust nestled his face into Elijah's thick hair and spoke softly into his ear. "That's not true. You have a pure, innocent soul. Real goodness is rare, rarer than riches, or power, or anything. It's a treasure. Besides—" Dust gripped Elijah's chin between his thumb and finger and inclined his head so their eyes met. "—you're really cute."

Still holding Elijah's face and shoulder, Dust lay back slowly. Elijah's head stayed against his chest. They pulled the blanket tight around themselves and twisted to face each other. Dust stretched the blanket up over their heads and wriggled closer to Elijah. His breath warmed Elijah's nose and lips. Their foreheads pressed together, and Dust's arm encircled Elijah's waist. His warm hand slipped under Elijah's jacket and T-shirt to caress the muscles of his back.

Everything Elijah had ever heard about relationships or dating conflicted with what was happening under the quilt. He'd understood that touching like this should be kept until both partners had known each other for weeks or months, preferably until after marriage. He didn't even want to think about what he'd been taught to believe about men touching each other in this way. He'd spent only a quarter of an hour in Dust's company; he didn't know his real name or anything about him. He'd dreamt of this moment, wanted it, feared it might never happen, but now he wondered if it should happen so fast. It felt right though, better than right: perfect.

How do you like my lemons?

Hehehe.