Victoria Danann's Blog, page 6
January 13, 2018
on PREORDER NOW!
CHOICES ALWAYS COME WITH CONSEQUENCES.
New York Times bestselling author, Victoria Danann, adds a long-awaited book to the Knights of Black Swan saga featuring everybody’s favorite demon. 
December 31, 2017
December 13, 2017
What’s this about?
Choices always come with consequences.
If you force a demon to agree to a deal under duress, the day will come when you’ll regret it.
Sixt was a witch nursing a centuries-long grudge of a scorned woman.
Deliverance had been a slave to sex for so long he could barely remember life before. When he learned the compulsion that was a never ending itch was caused by an addiction curse, he was elated because hexes can be reversed. But happiness was short lived when he learned what he’d have to do for the witch who cast the spell.
November 6, 2017
IRISH WAR CRY out now!
Readers say…
“This series is on fire.”
“A brilliant read.”
“Wild and wonderful.”
“Can’t get enough.”
Rosie hired Irish elf twins, Sheridan and Shivaun O’Malley for the newly formed Department of Interdimensional Trespass. They were wild and nearly feral, raised in the New Forest Preserve with no contact with the modern world until Black Swan made them the only female hunters other than Lady Elora Laiken. When Sher was assigned as Finngarick’s partner, they were both stunned to find they weren’t only partners, but fated mates. Blissful fated mates who enjoyed each other for the span of less than a month before Sher was abducted by one of the very demons they hunted.
Meanwhile, the “Wild Bunch”, Black Swan’s new nickname for Rosie’s hunters, has its own problems.
Find out why readers are calling this series ‘addictive, tantalizing, and sooooo”elfing” good.”
Sizzle with suspense, Victoria’s signature humor, kick ass heroines and gorgeous sexy ex-vampire hunting elves. Grab your copy and an oxygen tank! ‘Cause you’re gonna be breathless.
Excerpt
“I brought you food. Why aren’t you eating?”
“No’ hungry.”
“Of course you are. Elves must consume food for fuel. It’s part of the inferiority of your species.” She glared at him. “Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting that you’re sensitive about that.”
“I can no’ be sensitive about somethin’ that is no’ true. I simply think ‘tis rude for you to insist on repeatin’ the shite.”
He laughed. “You are inferior, but it’s so adorable when your color changes. Kind of chameleon-like.”
“There’s nothin’ chameleon-like about it. I have fair skin…”
“And you anger easily.”
She ignored that. “Chameleons change colors to match the environment. Do you see anythin’ pink in here?”
He smiled. “Just you.”
“Exactly. So I ask you. Would a superior bein’ get somethin’ so simple so wrong?” He shrugged, smiling and completely undeterred. “Annnnnnd, I do no’ anger easily.”
“Seems so to me.”
“Well, it seems you’re wrong about that, too, then.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet your sister is not so much trouble.”
She barked out a laugh. “Oh, demon, you have no idea. I’m a clump of clotted cream compared to Shivaun.”
“Shivaun.” Lyric turned the name over in his mouth like he liked the taste of it. “It’s more musical than Sheridan.”
“So what?”
The question dripped with suspicion and suddenly she was eager to steer the conversation in another direction. It was killing her to be separated from Torn, little by little, every day. But that was preferable to having her sister fall into the hands of the demon. She could have slapped herself for saying Shivaun’s name out loud.
Even if he was astonishingly beautiful with the sexiest voice imaginable and also good at jigsaw puzzles, she was sure his windowless den was not the future Shivaun dreamed about. Although, since they’d promised each other to be celibate and unmated, they’d never allowed themselves to fantasize about lovers. Or, if they had, they’d never shared with each other. Even twins keep some secrets to themselves.
“Eat. I’m trying to take care of you.”
She glared. “I’m no’ a pet, demon.”
He chuckled. “Well, you kind of are, elfess.”
“Do no’ call me that.”
“What? Elfess?” He chuckled. “Why not? I rather like it. Makes me want to sing ‘Jailhouse rock’.”
“What?” It was clear that she didn’t follow the reference.
“Never mind. But let me just say that, if I did sing ‘Jailhouse Rock’, you’d like it. A lot.”
“Sure.” She flopped onto one of the long divans and drummed her fingers on her thigh.
He cocked his head and studied her in that I-can-see-through-you way of his. “Did you sleep while I was gone?”
“What’s it to you?”
That was ignored because he’d become distracted with a thought. He strode down the hallway that was defined by archways so smoothly curved they looked like beach art made from wet sand.
In a few seconds he was back. “You haven’t used the facilities either.”
“Now you’ve crossed a line. Bathroom usage is personal. Way personal.”
“Whatever. What was the point of having me add a bathroom if you weren’t going to use it?”
“Oh yeah! It was so much work. Was that your fourth finger that you crooked or your fifth?”
“Don’t hate me because I can make things happen at will and you’re a…”
She gave him a look that said, “If you finish that sentence, you’re going to wish you were someplace else.”
“Are you cold?” he asked.
With a flick of his wrist four arched fireplaces carved into smooth walls jumped to life. Even though there was no evidence of fuel, flames crackled and danced over glowing embers.
“Nice trick. No. I’m no’ cold. I’m from the New Forest. ‘Tis very far north which means we do no’ get cold easily.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Even without vodka?”
Faint lines formed between her brows. “By now you should be gettin’ the idea that I’m no’ amusin’ in any way. I’m plain and borin’ and excruciatingly unentertainin’. So let. Me. Go.”
He sat down on the divan across from where she sat. “You so underestimate yourself. I find you more fascinating than anything that’s happened to me… well, maybe ever.”
“’Tis ludicrous. Maybe I’ll call you Ludicrous.”
He shook his head. “My name is Lyric. And there’s already a musician named, well, he doesn’t know how to spell, but still, the idea is taken.” Sher slapped both palms to her face in exasperation. “What was that?”
“This?” She did it again.
“Yes. That.”
“It means I would run from the buildin’ screamin’ at this point if only I could run from the buildin’.”
“I can exchange you for Shi…”
“Do no’ say her name.”
“The interrupting is becoming tedious. Why not?”
“Because you get this funny look on your face like you’re thinkin’ about masturbatin’. And I just do no’ want to see that.”
He laughed out loud. “I can’t imagine why you think you’re not amusing.” His eyes drifted to the Chinese takeout cartons that sat on the large low table between them. “Is it that you don’t like Chinese?”
She looked down at the little white cartons with wire handles and red calligraphy symbols on the sides. Sheridan was a recent convert, since she’d never had Chinese until a few weeks before, but she liked it. Of course. Everybody likes some kind of Chinese and it looked like Lyric had brought a variety buffet.
She did like Chinese. And she hadn’t eaten for what was probably… “How long have I been here?”
“In Loti time? Two weeks.”
“I think that’s impossible,” she said, just realizing that she hadn’t been eating or sleeping or using the new bath facilities.
As if Lyric really could read her mind, he said, “I’m not an expert, but I believe it’s not possible for elves to go so long without food, drink, sleep, and…” He glanced toward the hall that led to the bath, but didn’t want to offend unnecessarily by bringing up such a sensitive subject. Again.
September 22, 2017
FINNGARICK Event and Excerpt
EXCERPT…
In the long chronicle of Black Swan knights, Torn was one of only a handful who were not second sons. His particular life circumstances, otherwise known as fate, created the perfect storm necessary to build a potential Black Swan knight.
His mother had died when he was a toddler too young to retain any conscious memory of her. His father was a drunk, on the dole, and the town joke. By the time he was seven he’d learned to fight and was ready to take on all comers, even much older kids, anyone who had something untoward to say about his old man. Even though he’d be the first to acknowledge that there likely had never been a sorrier excuse for an elf.
Other elflings had an arsenal of hurtful things to say.
“He’s a shtate gobshite.”
“He’s a pox” or “eejit” or “maggot”.
Torn knew his father had given up, crawled to the bottom of a whiskey bottle and stayed there because he’d lost his mate. He wanted to shout at his da; that he was still there, that his father still had work to do. But he didn’t. He learned to make modest meals and put a besotted Mick Finngarick to bed.
If tears were shed, they fell with no one to see.
As word spread that a person should think twice before insulting Torn Finngarick or his father, opportunities to find release by pounding someone bloody became fewer and farther between.
He’d grown to just under six feet by the time his thirteenth birthday came around. By that time he’d taken to traveling to nearby towns and hanging around outside pubs in the hopes that somebody who hadn’t heard of him could be goaded into a fight. When he scored a taker, they were always put off by the grin that communicated pure pleasure. Sometimes it was accompanied by outright laughter.
That would have given a wise man pause. But a wise man wouldn’t be taunted into a street fight with a kid like Finngarick. So Torn was free to show exactly how much he relished the lesson he was about give on the stupidity of engaging in rough play with strangers.
On one such occasion he stole a car and drove to Derry, the seat of the Irish Elf kingdom. He knew there would be a sea of possible victims there, particularly on a Saturday night.
As it happened, a knight named Draglanore was in Derry having a pint with a friend while standing at the bar at the Crow’s Cock on Queen’s Quay. He overheard the patrons behind him talking.
“The boyo’s fuckin’ put down four hale and hearty men and still ready for more. Ne’er saw nothin’ like it.”
Sir Draglanore turned his body toward the elf who’d been speaking and said, “Pardon me for overhearing. Are you talking about an altercation in progress?”
The man looked Draglanore up and down, undoubtedly thinking the man’s speech was a bit highfalutin.
“That’s right,” he said, eyeing Draglanore with a modicum of suspicion. “Outside in front. Boyo too young for drink, but not too young to fight.”
Draglanore nodded. “Thank you.” As he turned back to his friend he acknowledged the quiet, but insistent voice. All knights are trained to pay attention to the inner prompting that pulls in one direction or another. Some said it was a function of the mystic. Some said it was a brain mechanism yet to be fully understood. Black Swan was far more concerned with practical application and function than definition. Turning back to his friend, he said, “You’ll have to forgive me, John. I need to check on something.”
John was agreeable. “Go ahead. I’ll keep the beer warm and the women cool.”
Draglanore laughed. “Indeed. Exactly what I fear when I wake each day.”
It wasn’t difficult to find the subject of bar talk. Finngarick and the small crowd he’d drawn had retired to an alley a few doors down from the pub so as not to draw the attention of law enforcement.
Draglanore arrived just as Finngarick delivered a knockout punch to a man who was in his late twenties and muscled to a point that suggested the use of enhancement drugs.
Finngarick was smiling like he was having the time of his life. Draglanore stepped in front of him and turned to the crowd.
“That’s all for tonight folks. The kid has had enough.”
The idea of being shut down by a prissy-talking stranger infuriated Torn. He pushed Draglanore’s shoulder from behind and was surprised when that had no visible effect on the man.
“Ain’t your fuckin’ business, eegit. You wantin’ some? I got enough for you and them, too.”
Draglanore turned slowly and deliberately. When Torn got a look at his face he could see that Draglanore wasn’t like the other men who showed up to fight him. He was self-possessed in a way that was foreign to Finngarick.
“What’s your name?”
“Who’s askin’?”
“Gray Draglanore. And you are?”
Torn huffed and looked up and down the alley, but said, “Torrent Finngarick.”
Draglanore nodded. “A fine name.” Torn snorted, which made Draglanore cock his head to the side. “You from around here?”
Torn wasn’t sure why he hadn’t already turned and walked away. It crossed his mind, but there was something compelling about the man. So he decided to let things play out a bit and find out what his angle was. “No.”
“Just passing through?”
Torn’s eyes skittered away in the direction of the stolen car. “Maybe.”
“I see. What year are you in?”
“And why would that be your fuckin’ business?”
“I might have an offer for you. I might not. I won’t know unless you answer my questions.”
Again, Torn thought about walking away, but the event in progress had the potential to be the most unusual and interesting thing that had ever happened in his short life.
“I’m in seven.”
“Seven.” Draglanore nodded. “Do you by chance have an older brother?” Torn shook his head. Draglanore showed mild surprise, but quickly recovered his passive expression.
“Just me and my da. Why are ye askin’?”
Draglanore ignored the question. “Are you smart, Torrent Finngarick?”
Torn’s lips twitched in a way that told Draglanore what he wanted to know. The kid was angry, handy, smart, and on the way to being on the tall side for an elf. He was already six feet and probably looking at another two growth spurts. At least.
“Do you like what you’re doing now? Your friends? Where you live? Where you go to school?” Draglanore already knew the answers to those questions. Black Swan knights are good at reading people.
Torn barked out a laugh, spat on the ground and wiped a rolled up sleeve across his bloody mouth. “No’ even a little.”
“Well, in that case, I may have an alternative to suggest. I work for an organization that recruits people like yourself. You would get the best education anywhere, see the world, meet people you can respect, and, if you’re interested in that sort of thing, make a lot of money. I can send someone to talk to you and your father if you’re interested.”
Torn narrowed his eyes. “Gangsters? Lookin’ for somebody who can fight.”
It was Finngarick’s turn to be surprised when Draglanore laughed out loud. “No.” The knight shook his head, clearly amused by the idea. “Not gangsters. Although we do know something about fighting.”
September 11, 2017
Finngarick is COMING!
D.I.T. Book 2, Get it HERE. http://amzn.to/2w2Rk0r
Torn Finngarick despises the phrase ‘bad boy’. Sheridan O’Malley is on her way to becoming a Black Swan legend. Together they make one hot and contentious pair of demon hunters.
July 11, 2017
EXCITING New Black Swan Series!! D.I.T.
He thought she was gone forever, but what if…?
New York Times bestselling author, Victoria Danann, introduces a new Black Swan series with this enchanting novella that will make you want to pack your bags and move to the world of Black Swan.
“Heart-warming, witty, quirky, a little racy and completely engaging!” – Amazon Reader
Rosie Storm is about to get the chance to head up a new Black Swan unit, D.I.T. The Department of Interdimensional Trespass.
Twenty years ago Sir Simon was a vampire hunter. He took three month’s bereavement leave to go wild camping in the far north of Scotland following the death of his team leader. He expected solitude and fresh air to clear his mind and heart. He did not expect to fall in love. While wild camping on the stark landscape of the Orkney Islands, she disappeared into the standing stones. She faded into nothingness, a look of panic frozen on her face. As she reached out and silently called his name, he lunged to grab her an instant too late.
Her memory has haunted him every hour since.
Simon channeled his sorrow and loneliness into work until he eventually rose to the most powerful position ever held by an ex Black Swan knight. With tireless dedication, he built a congregation of talented misfits, watching and waiting for the one who could find Sorcha.
Book 3
EXCITING New Black Swan Series!!
Rosie Storm is about to get the chance to head up a new Black Swan unit, D.I.T. The Department of Interdimensional Trespass.
D.I.T. Book 1 will be followed by two others to release between now and October 31st.
March 10, 2017
My Episode on Romance Between the Pages
iTunes http://apple.co/2fhRrOE (subscribe and never miss an episode)
WEBSITE http://romancecast.com/podcast/rbtp-21-victoria-danann/
February 19, 2017
Award Sweep
Sending out a blessing to every one of you who took the time to cast a vote! May that gesture come back to you quickly and be joyfully multiplied.
Working harder than ever to earn this recognition. – Victoria
Nominated for Paranormal Romance Novel of the year:
Falcon FIRST PLACE
Journey Man SECOND PLACE
Carnal
Nominated for Best Paranormal Romance Series:
KNIGHTS of BLACK SWAN FIRST PLACE
KBS NEXT GENERATION SECOND PLACE
EXILED
