L. Blankenship's Blog, page 4

THE RAGNARÖK PROPHESIES by A.K. Morgen

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

Week 6:  The Ragnarök Prophesies
Book One: Fade
Book Two: Fall


What do you do when you realize nothing in your life is what you’ve believed it to be?

When Arionna Jacobs loses her mother in a tragic accident, her world is turned upside down. She’s forced to leave her old life behind and move in with her father. Dace Matthews, a teaching assistant at her new college, is torn in two, unable to communicate with the feral wolf caged inside him.

When they meet, everything they thought they knew about life unravels. Dace has intimate access to Arionna’s mind, and something deep within her fights to rise to the surface. They don't understand what's happening to them or why, and they're running out of time to sort out the strange occurrences around them.

Their meeting sets an ancient Norse prophesy of destruction in motion, and what destiny has in store for them is bigger than either could have ever imagined. Unless they learn to trust themselves and one another, they may never resolve the mystery surrounding who they are to one another, and what that means for the world.
FADE is available from Curiosity Quills Press at Amazon US | UK | DE | FR | IT | ES | Barnes and Noble | Kobo.


How do you save someone who doesn't want to be saved?

Those called to stand guard against the end are broken, and Sköll and Hati run free. Now Arionna Jacobs and Dace Matthews face a threat unlike any before. Ragnarök is coming and they aren't strong enough to stop it.

Arionna thought she understood sacrifice, but she never counted on her destiny tearing Dace apart. Ever since she nearly died, he has been consumed with guilt. Now it threatens to turn him into the monster he always feared.

It's up to Arionna to stop him before it's too late, but the path to hell is paved with good intentions, and Dace is hurtling toward self destruction. This time, Arionna isn't sure she can save him from himself. Can she convince him to let the past go, or is her true destiny to sacrifice her heart in exchange for the lives of the people she loves?

You can read the official prologue to FALL here.

FALL – The Ragnarök Prophesies: Book Two is available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. You can add it to your TBR list on Goodreads here.

ABOUT A.K. MORGEN: A.K. Morgen lives in Little Rock with her husband, three dogs and two cats. She has a graduate degree in Criminal Justice and Law, and plans to save the world someday. When she’s not working or writing, she spends her time teaching her niece and nephews how to cause mischief. You can also find her dancing in the grocery store, building a spork army, and fundraising for nonprofits close to her heart.

You can learn more about Ayden at http://akmorgen.com or by following her on Twitter, Goodreads, or Facebook.



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THE DARK CHOIR SERIES by J.P. Sloan

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

Week 5: The Dark Choir Series
Book One: The Curse Merchant
By J.P. Sloan

Dorian Lake spent years cornering the Baltimore hex-crafting market, using his skills at the hermetic arts to exact karmic justice for those whom the system has failed. He keeps his magic clean and free of soul-corrupting Netherwork, thus avoiding both the karmic blow-back of his practice and the notice of the Presidium, a powerful cabal of practitioners that polices the esoteric arts in America. However, when an unscrupulous Netherworker interferes with both his business and his personal life, Dorian's disarming charisma and hermetic savvy may not be enough to keep his soul out of jeopardy.

His rival, a soul monger named Neil Osterhaus, wouldn't be such a problem were it not for Carmen, Dorian's captivating ex-lover. After two years' absence Carmen arrives at Dorian’s doorstep with a problem: she sold her soul to Osterhaus, and has only two weeks to buy it back. Hoping to win back Carmen's affections, Dorian must find a replacement soul without tainting his own. As Dorian descends into the shadows of Baltimore’s underworld, he must decide how low he is willing to stoop in order to save Carmen from eternal damnation... with the Presidium watching, waiting for him to cross the line.

Buy it from: Amazon Barnes & NobleAdd it Goodreads
ABOUT J.P. SLOAN
J.P. Sloan is a speculative fiction author, primarily of urban fantasy, horror and several shades between. His writing explores the strangeness in that which is familiar, at times stretching the limits of the human experience, or only hinting at the monsters lurking under your bed. 
A Louisiana native, Sloan relocated to the vineyards and cow pastures of Central Maryland after Hurricane Katrina, where he lives with his wife and son. During the day he commutes to the city of Baltimore, a setting which inspires much of his writing.

In his spare time, Sloan enjoys wine-making and homebrewing, and is a National-ranked beer judge.
Find J.P. Online:J.P. Sloan's Fistful of Fiction  Facebook  Twitter  Tumblr


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ENCHANTED BOOKSTORE LEGENDS by Marsha A. Moore

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

The Enchanted Bookstore Legends
Book One: Seeking a Scribe
Book Two: Heritage Avenged
Book Three: Lost Volumes
Book Four: Staurolite
Book Five: Quintessence
By Marsha A. Moore

Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One by Marsha A. Moore

Lyra McCauley is a writer and loves fantasy novels, but until she opens a selection from bookstore owner Cullen Drake, she has no idea he’s a wizard character who lives a double life inside that volume…or the story’s magic will compel her from the edge of depression to adventure, danger, and love.

His gift to Lyra, the Book of Dragonspeir, was actually her copy, misplaced years ago. Lost in her pain following divorce and death, she fails to recognize him as her childhood playmate from the fantasyland. Friendship builds anew. Attraction sparks. But Lyra doubts whether a wizard is capable of love. She’s torn—should she protect her fragile heart or risk new love?

Opening the book’s cover, she confronts a quest: save Dragonspeir from destruction by the Black Dragon before he utilizes power of August’s red moon to expand his strength and overthrow the opposing Imperial Dragon. Lyra accepts the challenge, fearing Cullen will perish if evil wins. Along with magical animal guides, Cullen helps her through many perils, but ultimately Lyra must use her own power…and time is running out.


Series Description:
The Enchanted Bookstore Legends are about Lyra McCauley, a woman destined to become one of five strong women in her family who possess unique magical abilities and serve as Scribes in Dragonspeir. The Scribes span a long history, dating from 1200 to present day. Each Scribe is expected to journey through Dragonspeir, both the good and evil factions, then draft a written account. Each book contains magic with vast implications.

Lyra was first introduced to Dragonspeir as a young girl, when she met the high sorcerer, Cullen Drake, through a gift of one of those enchanted books. Using its magic, he escorted her into the parallel world of Dragonspeir. Years later, she lost that volume and forgot the world and Cullen. These legends begin where he finds her again—she is thirty-five, standing in his enchanted bookstore, and Dragonspeir needs her. 
When Lyra reopens that enchanted book, she confronts a series of quests where she is expected to save the good Alliance from destruction by the evil Black Dragon. While learning about her role, Lyra and Cullen fall in love. He is 220 years old and kept alive by Dragonspeir magic. Cullen will die if Dragonspeir is taken over by the evil faction…Lyra becomes the Scribe.
Purchase Links: Seeking a Scribe: Enchanted Bookstore Legend One Heritage Avenged: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Two Lost Volumes: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Three Staurolite: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Four Quintessence: Enchanted Bookstore Legend Five
ABOUT MARSHA A. MOOREMarsha A. Moore loves to write fantasy and fantasy romance. Much of her life feeds the creative flow she uses to weave highly imaginative tales. 
The magic of art and nature often spark life into her writing, as well as watercolor painting and drawing. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and is a registered yoga teacher. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transformed into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Marsha is crazy about cycling. She lives with her husband on a large saltwater lagoon, where taking her kayak out for an hour or more is a real treat. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!
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Excerpt from Seeking a Scribe:
Chapter One: Licorice MemoriesThe smell of anise greeted Lyra as she opened the door to Drake’s bookstore. It took her back to happy childhood memories. Licorice-shoe-string-rewards for following her parents’ requests to stay on the dock while they secured the family’s pleasure boat to its trailer. The aroma brought a fleeting remembrance of times long gone, a treasure now that her folks had recently passed. At ease with the familiar scent, she settled into browsing through rows of antique bookcases.The shop owner stuck his head around a set of shelves. “Do you like tea?”“Yes, I do.” Before she could finish speaking, he disappeared. “Is that the wonderful smell?” she called out.Kitchenware clinked in the back room. Receiving no answer, Lyra followed the noises, scanning collections as she walked. This bookshop appeared established, but surely she would have remembered it from her last visit to the Lake Huron village five years ago. Books were her passion, especially fantasy. She paused in front of that section and studied its titles.The owner appeared, holding a pewter tray with a teapot, two cups, sugar jar, spoons, and napkins, which he laid on the corner of an old library table. She watched him carefully pour the tea and hand her a cup. He was about her age, mid thirties or a bit older, and handsome. His medium brown hair, peppered with gray at the temples, grazed his shoulders in wavy layers, and his beard was trimmed into a neat goatee. He wore long shorts, a knit golf shirt, and sandals—typical casual attire for this island resort community. She set down her bag from the drugstore and accepted his offer with a smile. “Thanks. My name’s Lyra.” She blew across the hot surface of the tea to cool it and then inhaled the anise-scented steam. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the memory. “Ah!”“Afternoons of boating and licorice with your parents? Right?” he asked.Her mouth dropped open. How did he know that?He slurped from his cup. “Go ahead, take a sip. My folks gave me the same reward for taking my kid sister along on bicycle rides.” Forgetting all about the tea, she asked, “How do you know my childhood memory?” “Taste it.” His lips curled into a sly grin as he took another gulp.She cautiously took a tiny sip, just enough to wet her lips and the tip of her tongue.  The flavor flooded her mouth, and her mind swam with wonderful memories. The taste transformed into that of gigantic popcorn balls the sheriff’s wife down the street made for Halloween trick-or-treaters, accompanied by images of Lyra’s costume—a red, fringed gypsy skirt borrowed from Mom. Next came a pumpkin flavor and vision of holding a cold piece of “punky-pie” in her five-year-old hand. Another swallow returned her experience back to anise. “What is this? How did you know?”“Let me introduce myself.” His grin spread into a smile as his eyes met hers. He took a step closer. “I’m Cullen, Cullen Drake, and I know many things. What I don’t know is what sort of books you like to read.” His keen interest caused heat to rise in her cheeks. “Well, actually I have several favorites, all fantasy and magical realism. You have a number of authors I like in this section.” She turned to refer to the shelves behind her, but found non-fiction hunting guides instead. “This case held classic fantasy a moment ago!” Cullen put down his cup. “It moved. It’s over here, and I have just what you want.” He slid an old-fashioned library ladder along its track, set the locking device, and climbed straight up to the top shelf. Lyra followed, walking between four comfortable leather club chairs grouped on a Persian rug. A portrait of a young girl and a man wearing a cloak caught her attention. Something seemed familiar in the child’s smile. The noise of books sliding on shelves distracted her. She moved to the base of his ladder and glanced up. The ceiling of embossed tin panels decorated with Victorian teardrop chandeliers and paper Chinese dragons made a unique combination, to be sure. But Lyra was more curious about the strange happenings in the store and its owner.  He was certainly odd, although not the bookish, geeky sort who usually ran bookshops she frequented. He had an athletic frame and strong legs. “Can’t find it!” he exclaimed and quickly descended. His brow furrowed, he dusted off his hands on his shorts. “I’ve got to find that volume for you. If you don’t mind me saying, there’s a sadness about you. The book will make you happier than you’ve been since those days of licorice shoe strings.” “After magical tea and shifting bookcases, I almost believe you.” She laughed to cover her concerns. Even four months after it was final, she worried that the loneliness she felt after her divorce blazed like a beacon on her forehead. But, Cullen knew so much—it startled her…actually, intrigued her. Her ex didn’t ever see inside her, didn’t want to. This man read her as though he knew her. Did he? He seemed so familiar. “Once I find that book, I promise, you’ll be pleased.” He stroked his goatee. “Hmm. Where did I last see it?” The twinkle in his gray-blue eyes captivated Lyra. “Will you be here for the week? I can look for it and call you later.”“I’m staying the rest of the summer with my elderly Aunt Jean. She owns a lovely cottage at the end of Walnut overlooking Lake Huron. I thought I’d keep her company and give her time away from her nurse during my teaching break. While I’m here, I plan to write my novel.”“Great! You’re a writer? What do you teach?”“Yes, and I teach American Literature at Southern University in Florida. Seems like you already would’ve known that since you jumped into my childhood memories,” she stammered, attempting some humor. Taking a long draught of the tea, her mind filled with memories of her pet dachshund wiggling next to her, displacing a row of dolls. Another part of her past he knew—impossible! Her forehead beaded with sweat.“No, only thoughts associated with a lot of emotion, like the happiness of snuggling with your dog.”“How?” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.” Her mind swam, trying to grasp what happened. She desperately needed some fresh air. With trembling hands she set the cup down.“I realize it must seem odd, but the book I’m looking for will help explain.” He leaned closer with a smile that somehow reassured her. “This is Saturday. If you can come by next Wednesday morning, I think I should have it for you by then…if you’d like.” He paused and looked into her eyes, waiting for a reply.“Yes…I’m curious.” In spite of the confusion, she found herself agreeing. “Wednesday will work.” “Fine. Let me take down your number in case I can’t find it.” He walked to the counter and located a notepad and pen. She dictated her number and full name, which he repeated, “Lyra McCauley, a lovely Celtic name for a pretty lady.” “I think I need to go now. Thanks for the tea.” With shaking fingers, she collected her shopping bag and headed toward the door. He escorted her out and offered his hand to shake, the corners of his goatee lifting into an inviting grin. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”Lyra smiled and looked into his eyes, trying to discern his unusual clairvoyant gift. “You too.” The initial touch, of his palm against hers, sent electrical shivers along her arm. She jerked, yet didn’t let go, fascinated by the strong emotions flashing through her mind—attraction, excitement, and acceptance. After an awkwardly long pause, she dropped his hand, half-stumbled over the threshold into the sunshine, and took a long, deep breath.She ambled to an outdoor café a couple blocks farther down Tenth Street, while her mind buzzed with questions. How did he know those things about her? She dropped onto a seat at an empty table, shaded by an umbrella. He was fascinating and frightening at the same time…and familiar. Her divorce and loss of her parents left her lonely. He intrigued her. “May I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?” The waitress interrupted with a bright young voice, a college student working a summer job.Startled back to reality, Lyra murmured, “Just water, please.” Alone in a crowd of lunch goers, her thoughts returned to the bookstore and many unanswered questions. The waitress placed a glass of water in front of her.
She almost hated to drink and remove the sweet aftertaste of anise from her tongue.

THE UNDEAD: PLAYING FOR KEEPS by Elsie Elmore

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

Week 3: The Undead: Playing for Keeps
By Elsie Elmore

When an undead woman with serious de-comp issues stalks sixteen-year-old Lyla Grimm, her hope of rescuing her rock-bottom reputation takes a back seat. Survival definitely trumps the in-crowd.

Her corpse-following scare reeks of a major prank and coincides with the arrival of Eric. He’s the hot new guitarist in her brother’s band. But Eric’s arrival isn’t by chance. He’s a Grim Reaper dispatched to find out why Death’s clients aren’t staying down.
As Eric realizes that Lyla can wake the dead, he jockeys for control of her gift. His uncanny way of appearing when she needs him most earns her reluctant admiration. But the closer he gets to Lyla, the less sure he is of his plan. The dead are easier to deal with than living emotions. 
Gossip explodes, the Grimm family implodes, and desperation sets in. Death wants the gift and a soul. Lyla and Eric face hard choices with hidden consequences. Sometimes life’s choices aren’t really choices at all.
Add it to GoodreadsOr buy your copy here: Amazon  Barnes & Noble
ABOUT ELSIE ELMORE:
Elsie Elmore lives in North Carolina with her husband and two kids.

With a science education degree, she never imagined she would someday write stories that challenge the laws of nature. She loves the color red, has an appreciation for chocolate and coffee that borders on obsession, and wishes fall temperatures would linger year round. 
Elsie is a member of several writing organizations: RWA, SCBWI, and WSW. The Undead : Playing for Keeps is her debut novel. Find her on the web: on twitter at @ElsieWriter, her blog at elsieelmore.com, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/elsieelmorewriter.
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HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS by Ann M. Noser

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

Week 2: How to Date Dead Guys 
Under the Blood Moon series
By Ann M. Noser
College sophomore Emma Roberts remembers her mother’s sage advice: “don’t sleep around, don’t burp in public, and don’t tell anyone you see ghosts”. But when charming Mike Carlson drowns in the campus river under her watch, Emma’s sheltered life shatters.

Blamed for Mike’s death and haunted by nightmares, Emma turns to witchcraft and a mysterious Book of Shadows to bring him back. Under a Blood Moon, she lights candles, draws a pentacle on the campus bridge, and casts a spell. The invoked river rages up against her, but she escapes its fury. As she stumbles back to the dorm, a stranger drags himself from the water and follows her home. And he isn't the only one. 
Instead of raising Mike, Emma assists the others she stole back from the dead—a pre-med student who jumped off the bridge, a desperate victim determined to solve his own murder, and a frat boy Emma can’t stand…at first. More comfortable with the dead than the living, Emma delves deeper into the seductive Book of Shadows. Her powers grow, but witchcraft may not be enough to protect her against the vengeful river and the killers that feed it their victims.
Inspired by the controversial Smiley Face Murders, HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS will ignite the secret powers hidden deep within each of us.
Buy it from: Amazon US  Amazon UK  Barnes & Noble

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ABOUT ANN M. NOSER:

My to-do list dictates that I try to cram 48 hours of living into a day instead of the usual 24. I’ve chosen a life filled with animals. I train for marathons with my dog, then go to work as a small animal veterinarian, and finish the day by tripping over my pets as I attempt to convince my two unruly children that YES, it really IS time for bed. But I can’t wait until the house is quiet to write; I have to steal moments throughout the day. Ten minutes here, a half hour there, I live within my imagination.
Like all busy American mothers, I multi-task. I work out plot holes during runs. Instead of meditating, I type madly during yoga stretches. I find inspiration in everyday things: a beautiful smile, a heartbreaking song, or a newspaper article on a political theory. For example, a long drive in the dark listening to an NPR program on the SMILEY FACE MURDERS theory made me ask so many questions that I wrote HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS to answer them to my satisfaction. 
I’d love to have more time to write (and run, read, and sleep), but until I find Hermione Granger’s time turner, I will juggle real life with the half-written stories in my head. Main characters and plot lines intertwine in my cranium, and I need to let my writing weave the tales on paper so I can find out what happens next.
Find Ann Online: Blog   Facebook page  Twitter  Goodreads

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DISCIPLE, PART V on sale now!

On sale now at:

coming soon!

Complete list of retailers includes paperback edition
Back coverKate faces winter with a broken heart: betrayed by one lover, the other lost to her.
Kiefan will not give up on the alliance his kingdom desperately needs — even though the Caer queen refuses to speak to him. 
Anders, alone and despairing, faces the Empress’s seductive offers of power and privilege. 
Each of them must carry the ongoing war in their own way, whether cold, alone, or backed into a corner. Each must patch together a broken heart as best they can. Duty will throw them together soon enough and they must be ready. 
ExcerptThe wind was a knife; Kiefan turned his cheek to it before it could tug off his fur-lined hood. Still, it sliced at his nose and mouth, pulling the cloud of his breath into a streamer. He took a lungful of the wind. Damp enough for snow. 
When it ebbed, he turned back to the view down onto Knapptal’s main street. The gatehouse tower was his alone, as none of the guard wished to brave the wind. From here, he could see along the lake shore, northwards, to the village where Leix Gwatcyn’s knights and archers camped. 
As Tannait had said, they brought their commander to the pyre at dawn, singing their dirge. 
It came faint, at first, with the wind. A shiver gripped him a moment — it was something like the lamia’s song. Long, high notes. These wanted to be screams, though, they wove along a raw edge and then fell into harsh melodies. 
Their procession joined the main road half a mile off, led by the Gwatcyn standard of mountains and moons. They came in their mail and swords, in perfect formation, marching as they sang. Six carried the pall. Gwatcyn’s red cloak, wrapped around her, flapped in a tail when the wind picked up again. 
Kiefan covered his eyes with one gloved hand. Drew a hard breath, though it shook. Dead, now, his only friends in Caercoed. Leix had always been ready with a solid strategy, always ready to argue with Seagrace but never made a fight of it. Her defensive, sword-tangling kir-spikes had taken him unawares in their first sparring, and he’d been trying to work them into his practice since. Not that there’d been much time for that. 
And Síochana… her lessons…
Below him, closer voices joined in the dirge when the melody began anew. Kiefan put his back to the merlon and slid down to sit on the cold stone. Pressed his hand to his eyes, to crush the tears out all the quicker. His chest trembled, on the edge of pain in fighting the surge of memories. 
Sío’s blood on his cote, her mouth hanging slack as her head lolled. Dead, all of them, lying in blood in the hall. And Kate, running to — him, that fucking bastard who haunted Kiefan’s every day, she ran to his fucking arms and — 
Kiefan slammed his fist into the stone, and pain in his knuckles split through the rage. He was here, alone, in the cold. Not there, afire with hate, running through the bastard — the man — Kate loved — 
He’d never so wanted to doubt his anticipation Blessing. Only a fool would.  
Kiefan wiped at his nose and drew a hard breath through it. Held it, exhaled. The tears kept coming, despite that. Too strong to deny. Sío, dead. Kate, worse, alive and so furious she’d refused to look at him during the funeral. 
She hated him. He fought the sob that tried to claw its way up his throat. 
He dropped his head against the stone and breathed, let the fist around his heart loosen. His tears slid out and the silent sobs wracked him as the dirge grew louder. A week’s stoic silence, he’d held. A week’s festering, and now the abscess drained. Left him empty, resigned. 
The voices reached the Spanne, below. Sío lay on the bier already, wrapped in her blue-white lieutenant’s cloak. Still wearing the ring he’d given her, the silver band set with a green tourmaline. Something from the jewel cache, something he’d seen as a boy while his father told him the family stories. 
His mother had wanted it back. But it was Sío’s, freely given, and he’d seen that she kept it. 
When his breath came even and quiet, he stood, lifted the trap door and descended. The pyre stood in the center of the Spanne, a long bier of firewood that the two bodies lay upon, head to head. Bright red and pale blue. Gregor followed, a few steps behind, as Kiefan walked toward them. So did Captain Aleks; they’d waited for him at the gate. Kiefan’s hand settled on his sword. 
The Crown’s Blades made a ring around the mourners, facing outward with their hands on their swords as well, ignoring the cold wind rippling their blue cloaks. Inside, Gwatcyn’s soldiers stood at attention with the duchesses, Sío’s business partners, and the Blade officers. And, in white and green, Ciara. 
She held a torch, guttering in the breeze. The sun was only just up and warming the clouds that skittered overhead. It would take most of the short winter day to burn the dead. 
“Caercoed!” 
Ciara turned, raising the torch higher. Elect Teleri folded her arms, beside the Crown.
“We would honor the dead with you,” he said.
Just to touch Sío’s hand once more, even cold and stiff. Say one last goodbye to her, and to Leix one last thank-you.
“’Twas many a chance after you failed them. What more have you to say?” Ciara asked.
“That I will avenge them.” He stopped at the ring of Blades, in a gap between two — whose hands gripped their sheaths tight, kir at ready for a quick-draw. His anticipation Blessing piqued, telling him to stab left first, then cut back at speed to block on the right. 
Ciara’s voice went flat. “With such prowess as Wodenberg brings, ’twill indeed. Your castle lies gutted by one squad of Arceal?”
Aleks muttered under her breath. 
“We would avenge the Crown as well,” Kiefan said as Ciara lowered the torch toward the kindling. “The Empress stole from us both.” 
She paused. “’Twas my sister. See to your own.” Then, touched the oil-soaked rags and sticks. Fire crackled up, spreading fast where lamp oil had been splashed in a ring around the stacked wood. 
Kiefan raised his voice, over the flames. “We must seal the alliance, Crown. There are still —” 
“No.” She didn’t shout, but the word was clear. Ciara stalked to the ring, snow clotting around the hem of her white gown. Torch held to the side, at something like a low rear guard. “Nothing. Wodenberg has nothing Caercoed wishes. ’Tis clear enough?” 
Look for Disciple, Part VI in early 2015and a Kickstarter/Indiegogo campaign 
later this year -- I want to end this series with a bang! Get reminders from my mailing list!

THE DARKENSS & LIGHT SERIES by K.L. Schwengel

Welcome to the Fall Into Fantasy Tour, where we are keeping your mind off any end-of-summer blues and welcoming the cooler weather by introducing you to some incredible fantasy reads to curl up with and giving you plenty of chances to win awesome prizes!

Week 1: The Darkness & Light Series
Book One: First of Her Kind
Book Two: Emergence
Book Three: Edge of Darkness (Release date 2015)


It seems everyone wants to dictate what Ciara does with her life: Serve the Goddess, destroy the Goddess, do as you promised your aunt -- all Ciara really wants is to keep the two magics she possesses from ripping her apart.

And that's not going to be easy.

Not only is her earth magic in complete opposition to her other power, blood ties pull her in divergent directions as well. And then there's Bolin, the man sworn to protect her. There's no denying the growing attraction between them, but is it Ciara he wants, or her power?

None of which will matter if Ciara can't overcome her fear and learn how to use her gifts. No one knows the depths of the ancient power she possesses, or what will happen if it manages to escape her control. Will she lose herself entirely? Or be forever caught between Darkness and Light?

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The battle for Ciara's power has drawn the full attention of the Emperor and the Imperial Mages, forcing Bolin to put duty above safety and take her to Nisair. It won't be an easy trip, even with an Imperial escort and a Galysian elder accompanying them. Especially since Donovan has found himself some new allies, one of who wields a dark magic that has literally gotten under Bolin's skin.

For Ciara, coming to terms with the increasingly tangible manifestation of her power could destroy her. Even if they make it to Nisair--something that grows more unlikely by the day--there is no surety of safety for Ciara, or any of them. Not with Donovan willing to gamble everything to achieve his goals, or Bolin's uncharacteristically reckless behavior, the result of which is the attention of something that has everyone worried.

Loyalties will be tested, lives will be lost, and no one will emerge unchanged as they find things are not always so clear on the line dividing Darkness and Light.

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ABOUT K.L. SCHWENGEL
K. L. Schwengel lives in southeast Wisconsin on a small farm with her husband, a handful of Australian Shepherds, Her Royal Highness Princess Fiona the Cat, and assorted livestock. Growing up as the youngest of nine children, and the daughter of a librarian, Kathi spent many hours between stacks of books, and secluded away in dusty archives, drawn to tales of medieval heroes and conquering knights. With so many characters and ideas spinning in her head, she had to get them onto paper or risk what little sanity she possessed. She has been penning wild tales of magic and mayhem as long as she can remember, but opted to follow her artistic muse first. After earning a Bachelor of Fine Arts and spending many years working as a freelance artist, grocery clerk, art teacher, graphic designer, stable hand, advertising account coordinator, dog trainer, and process technician (among other things) she answered the call of her writing muse. When not writing, Kathi trains and trials working Australian Shepherds, still paints, dabbles in photography, graphic design, and anything else creative her assorted muses send her way.

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Announcing DISCIPLE, PART V!

Disciple, Part V on saleAugust 29th, 2014
Kate faces winter with a broken heart: betrayed by one lover, the other lost to her.
Kiefan will not give up on the alliance his kingdom desperately needs — even though the Caer queen refuses to speak to him. 
Anders, alone and despairing, faces the Empress’s seductive offers of power and privilege. 
Each of them must carry the ongoing war in their own way, whether cold, alone, or backed into a corner. Each must patch together a broken heart as best they can. Duty will throw them together soon enough and they must be ready.
Disciple is a six-part gritty fantasy romanceLook for the last volume in early 2015!

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JUDGEMENT'S TALE I by William L. Hahn

An Interview with Cedrith Fellareon
I’m pleased to present a brief interview with (but not really about) the character of Cedrith in the upcoming Tale of Hope Games of Chance. Cedrith Fellareon is an Elf and a member of the Sages Guild, visiting Conar, the capital of Hope, from his homeland Mendel. A polite and respected guildsman, Cedrith’s life has been turned around by his acquaintance with Solemn Judgement, the main character of the story. Judgement’s Tale Part One, Games of Chance will be available July 4th.


 “Say there, Sage Fellareon! Could I have a word?”

“Chief Archivist, for you always, how may I be of service?”

“Well, Sage Fellareon, it’s about this request on my desk, for a restricted tome. Seems to be from a student of yours?”

“Indeed? Is it recent?”

“Well no, there’s the thing- I, ahm, I did not get to it, had it a couple weeks.”

“You’ve been very busy, no doubt sir, I under-”

“And you yourself, I just realized, checked out the same book two days ago.”

“Indeed yes, I took the liberty, that is, I did not realize he ha-”

“So I thought most likely the matter was resolved.”

“Ah yes, so it has been, thanks for your concern.”

“Ehm.”

“Chief Archivist?”

“What about- well this student of yours, Sage Fellareon? Is it usual, I mean, do you normally take pupils older than yourself?”

“Older!”

“That is, I mean no insult to your age- that is, I’m sure I have no idea how old- oh, dear, I’ve given offence.”

“Not in the least, I assure you, sir. There is-”

“I am so unused to dealing with elves, you see, you are indeed the only visitor from Mendel’s kingdom I’ve ever encountered.”

“Please, do not trouble yourself, sir. There is-”

“It’s simply that this old man- is he indeed a human? Or perhaps another one of your race?”

“Do you speak of Solemn Judgement, sir?”

“The grey-haired one whose name is on this request. Your pupil, am I right Sage?”

“My dear Chief Archivist, I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock. Solemn Judgement, my pupil as you call him, is perhaps fifteen years old.”

“Why nonsense, sir! Do you mean- ah, of course! So this Judgement youth is a nobleman, then? His servant spoke very well for a menial.”

“No- with respect, Chief Archivist, he only appears aged at first glance. And his manner-”

“Please, be serious! A youth? There’s not a hair on his head any color but slate. And such reserve, he spoke like someone from court.”

“He may have been, sir, for all I can tell. Judgement has ever been the very soul of comportment and civility, quite remarkable in someone so young. I can well unders-”

“What house is he from, then? One of the southern baronies? Or perhaps from Shilar?”

“Neither sir. He is in fact an alien among us. And an orphan. Perhaps you recall, that unfortunate incident last month, on the day of my thesis presentation?”

“What do y- by the Hopelord, do you mean- this was the fellow wh-who was… :: whispering :: arrested?”

“The very same, sir, on his first day in the city, though I must sa-”

“Oh that horrid hour! I can hardly breathe.”

“Let us sit, sir, perhaps some tea. Here, right here we are.”

“The very thing, thank you, Sage. I admit, since that day I had banished the dreadful thought- to think, the Law of Conar nearly broken! After four thousand years… and you tell me now, the criminal was this boy?”

“As to that-”

“I had heard tell it was some rough sailor, or a powerful mage!”

“Yes, the staff, and his high boots-”

“But everyone spoke of the villain as a man, sir, I mean an adult, Sage Fellareon.”

“Chief Archivist, if you will kindly recall, Solemn Judgement was found innocent of this, ah, misunderstanding. The Law remains unbroken.”

“Well, of course as it should be. But now I think on this Judgement fellow, I find more reasons to be unsure of him, Sage Fellareon. Do you think it quite politic to keep him here, and moreover looking into forbidden works?”

“Restricted, Chief Archivist, I must insist, not forbidden.”

“Let us not split hairs, Sage Fellareon. Just look at this list of sign-outs! I took the liberty, when I realized what book he was asking for. Despairing culture, reports of miracles from the past three centuries, burial customs- why, there are even tomes in the Ancient tongue here, yet you insist this is just a youth.”

“It does seem strange, I know, but his curiosity is very, eh, very widespread. I know of no subject he is not interested in.”

“But, books in Ancient? For what purpose?”

“Why to read, Chief Archivist. You seem disinclined to believe me? May I ask if you have much fluency, sir- I myself can hardly-”

“As to that, I can read well enough, yes- at my age, and after years of study.”

“Young Judgement reads and speaks with fluency.”

“Ridiculous! Speaks! Why even the preachers must stay within strict bounds with the Ancient tongue of our heroic ancestors.”

“You need not question my account, Chief Archivist. Ask his tutor- the Healers Guildmistress Natashi Ioki.”

“Healer Ioki! A scholar indeed, of the first rank. I suppose, heh, we could trust her word on the matter.”

“Or his.”

“What?”

“It is not possible to lie in the Ancient tongue- but Judgement speaks no falsehood, whatever the language or subject. Neither will he lose his temper, no matter how poorly he is received-”

“What! Say, are you-”

“He never fails to complete any research assigned, shirks no chore however tedious or long, nor will he drink wine or ale, hardly sleeps and never stops working to learn.”

“Only all that! You seem to think very highly of him. I suppose you can be forgiven for interrupting, in light of your approbation. Perhaps you will tell me next that he can fly.”

“No, sir.”

“Praise the Hopelord.”

“But he can swim.”

“Oh now, this is your Elvish humor no doubt. Who taught him to swim, pray tell me that.”

“This is the very point, sir. Who indeed? But the young man claims it is common where he came from. And I witnessed his skill with my own eyes.”

“You leave me without words, Sage Fellareon. What are we to do with this prodigy?”

“Do, sir? We are a Guild of Sages- I had not thought it unusual that I should endeavor to teach him.”

“Well of course, sir, of course! But I mean, after that- once this unusual fellow has learned, what then shall become of him, and what does he intend, answer me that.”

“Such mysteries are far beyond my poor abilities, Chief Archivist.”

“I should think, sir, with all respect to your position as guest here, that some thought might be taken. The subjects this, this alien is studying, I would say require caution.”

“As you please, sir. I’m here for a session with the youth now- you may interrogate him if you wish.”

“Me!”

“Certainly, Chief Archivist- satisfy your concerns, I assure you Solemn Judgement will answer every question put to him.”

“Why as to that- I cannot- that is, I prefer- ach! He is coming, those boots, I hear him from a furlong, his pace like some moving clock, or a horrid Makine.”

“Chief Archivist!”

“And always wearing that broad, flat-brimmed hat, with eyes that stare, and never blink- see, there he is coming now as you said. No, I leave him to your care, Sage Fellareon, absolutely.”

“You are quite certain, Chief Archivist?”

“No doubt, sir, I’m sure you may be trusted completely with his care. It occurs to me that I have, I must, some appointments. I cannot- those eyes! That is, I leave him to you.”

“Thank you sir.”

“You need not thank me- may the Heroes watch over you, I pray! Good day, sir.”

Games of Chance
For twenty centuries the Lands of Hope prospered from their Heroes’ peace, but suffer now from their absence as a curse thickens over the central kingdom known as the Percentalion. An immortal omniscient conspirator schemes to escape the extra-worldly prison restraining his tide of undeath, using a demonic ally in a plot to bring back hell on earth. Solemn Judgement steps onto these Lands both a stranger and an orphan, driven to complete the lore his father died to give him.

In a world beset with increasing chaos, the bravest Children of Hope must take mortal risks. A young woodsman’s spear-cast, a desperate bid to save his comrades; the Healers Guildmistress’ cheery smile, hiding a grim secret and a heavy burden of guilt; the prince of Shilar’s speech in a foreign tongue, a gambit to avoid bloodshed or even war. As a new generation of heroes, scattered across the kingdoms, bets their lives and more, Solemn Judgement- soon to be known as The Man in Grey- must learn to play… Games of Chance: Part One of Judgement’s Tale

Wm. L. Hahn Bio Will Hahn has been in love with heroic tales since age four, when his father read him the Lays of Ancient Rome and the Tales of King Arthur. He taught Ancient-Medieval History for years, but the line between this world and others has always been thin; the far reaches of fantasy, like the distant past, still bring him face to face with people like us, who have choices to make.
Will didn't always make the right choices when he was young. Any stick or vaguely-sticklike object became a sword in his hands, to the great dismay of his five sisters. Everyone survived, in part by virtue of a rule forbidding him from handling umbrellas, ski poles, curtain rods and more.
Will has written about the Lands of Hope since his college days (which by now are also part of ancient history). With the publication of Judgement’s Tale Part One, Games of Chance, he begins at last to tell the tale of the Land’s most unique hero, The Man in Grey.
CONTACT LINKSWill Hahn is the chronicler of the Lands of Hopetales. The Plane of Dreams - See the trailer! The Ring and the Flag -  Try the Audio Book at Scribl! Fencing Reputation -
Three Minutes to Midnight - 
The Book of Tales -

Will Hahn at Smashwords • Will’s Amazon Page • Will’s B&N Page

Will's Blog Thoughts- Including tales of a happy childhood (which continues), hopes for a writer's journey, and analysis of Classics You've Never Read
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THE DRAGON'S MESSAGE by Lori J. Fitzgerald

Welcome to The Dragon's Message by Lori J. Fitzgerald -- when I heard she was using a Celtic-flavored medieval fantasy world, I had a few world-building questions for her...

Your stories are set in a medieval world with a Celtic flavor to it. How did you establish that in the world-building to differentiate it from, say, the French influence seen in the classic King Arthur tales? 
I use a lot of names of Celtic-Welsh origin in my writing. Rhiannon and Gwydion are also both characters you will find in Celtic mythology, although their mythological counterparts don't have anything to do really with my characters! I use the Welsh word for castle, "Caer," and Rhiannon's castle Caer Idris has a Welsh root meaning "fire." I have always loved Lloyd Alexander's Prydain Chronicles, and his character names such as Fflewddur Fflam the bard and Princess Eilonwy and the great and wise warrior Prince Gwydion always appealed to me.  However, in true Arthurian fashion, I do mix the French influence of courtly love into my narrative, and you will find references to "curtesye," or courtly manners, in the relationship between my Sir Gwydion and Lady Rhiannon.

What are some of your favorite sources of information about medieval and/or Celtic life?
My favorite literary primary sources are Malory's Le Morte Darthur, which I feel is the definitive tale of Arthurian medieval romance, and The Mabinogion, which is the collection of Celtic mythology. For historical and archaeological information my number one source is Leslie Alcock's Arthur's Britain. For literary analysis, I recommend starting with The Development of Arthurian Romance by Roger Sherman Loomis, which also includes the influences of The Mabinogion, French writers such as Chretien de Troyes, my favorite Grail story Parzival by the German Wolfram von Eschenbach, the legend of Glastonbury Tor, and Merlin. Loomis also has written various other books on the Grail and individual Arthurian characters.

Is there an aspect of Celtic life that was especially difficult to work into your world? Or especially fun and easy?
Although I knew from the start that my main characters would be named Rhiannon and Gwydion, the other names were a bit more difficult. I looked at a lot of Welsh/Celtic name lists and roots to get Idris and Aelwyd, which both have "fire" connotations. Aelwyd, Rhiannon's great-great grandmother's name, actually has a root meaning "hearth," which can have several symbolic connotations in my story. And I don't want to give away too many secrets, but there is another character's name whose translation gives his secret away!

Excerpt from The Dragon's Message
When Rhiannon was small and had just learned to read, her mother brought her into the hall one day when her father was on campaign, and led her to the large table upon which a great map of their lands lay.  She instructed Rhiannon to read the words of the landmarks: castle, road, mountain, forest, village. The young girl touched words inscribed over a place where trees met craggy peaks.  “What does that say, my love?” her mother prompted.

“Here be dragons,” Rhiannon answered, glancing up at her mother.
         
Her mother nodded, smiling.  She knelt down in front of Rhiannon so they were at the same height.  The lady’s hazel eyes sparkled as she whispered, “I have a secret to share.  But I can only share it with a little girl with red and gold hair,” she pulled playfully on Rhiannon’s braid,” who knows how to read.”  Rhiannon giggled.  “Are you a little girl such as this?” Rhiannon nodded eagerly, and her mother laughed.  She stood up and gestured at a tapestry on the wall.  “Come, child, the dragon guards our treasure.”
         
Hand in hand they walked to the tapestry of the sleeping dragon.  “Your great-great grandmother wove this tapestry when she was an old woman.  It took her a long time to complete, with her hands gnarled so, like the twisted oak by the drawbridge.”  The dragon was curled up in front of a turret, with stone dolmens in a semi-circle behind it, interspersed with trees and a mountain peak in the background and bright blue sky above.  The dragon’s scales were crimson and woven through with glittering gold thread, and its curved horns and talons were gold.  As they paused in front of the large tapestry, Rhiannon looked closely at the eyes of the dragon; she thought perhaps she could see a slit of gold, as if the dragon were only pretending to be asleep.
         
Rhiannon’s mother stood on tiptoe and moved part of the tapestry to the side, revealing a slit in the stone wall.  With her free hand she reached in and drew out a large leather-bound tome.  She motioned her daughter to come sit with her on one of the benches that lined the walls.  “Look and listen well, my daughter,” she said, and ran her fingers along the smooth cover, “this book is our special treasure, and it contains many secrets within its pages.  I am going to teach you how to read them.”  She opened the book as Rhiannon snuggled closer to her, her mother’s loose red-gold hair falling over the girl’s shoulder and brushing the crinkly parchment pages of the book which she turned until she came to the picture of a girl.
         
“The first secret is a story…”

Back cover blurb
A dragon writes a cryptic message with its ember breath in the evening sky...

Lady Rhiannon watches from the turret wall with an ache in her blood. She's the only person who can decipher the message as the sole keeper of the Dragon Tome. When an old enemy threatens the castle, her father charges his knight with escorting her to a safe haven—the same knight Rhiannon had a crush on as a girl. But she must now convince him to change his plans, for she has her own sacred charge to fulfill...

So begins a journey to hidden ruins where magic slumbers in the stones and love lies in the heart, waiting to awaken. As Rhiannon and the knight face seemingly insurmountable odds, only the dragon knows if they can fulfill their destiny...

About the Author
Lori J. Fitzgerald lives in New York with her fellow English Major husband and their two little bookworms. Medieval literature is her passion, and she wishes she could spend more time traipsing around Renaissance Faires and shouting “Huzzah” at jousts. She was a middle school English teacher for many years and was best known for her dramatic readings of The Princess Bride. Lori is currently a Staff Writer for the website Once Upon A Fan, the popular fansite for ABC’s hit show Once Upon A Time. You can contact her by email at WhiteRaven829@gmail.com.

The Dragon’s Message, A Dragon Tome Novelette, is available on Kindle and Nook for $1.99Amazon  •  Barnes & Noble
For more information, visit Lori's blog
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