Karen Swart's Blog, page 34
January 22, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Greenwode by J Tullos Hennig
Greenwode
Book One of The Wode
J Tullos Hennig
Genre: Historical Fantasy, Robin Hood
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: Oct. 28, 2014
ISBN: 978-1-63216-437-7 Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-63216-438-4 eBook
ASIN: B00NPD85GU
Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 151,000
Cover Artist: Shobana Appavu
Book Description:
The Hooded One. The one to breathe the dark and light and dusk between....
When an old druid foresees this harbinger of chaos, he also glimpses its future. A peasant from Loxley will wear the Hood and, with his sister, command a last, desperate bastion of Old Religion against New. Yet a devout nobleman's son could well be their destruction—Gamelyn Boundys, whom Rob and Marion have befriended. Such acquaintance challenges both duty and destiny. The old druid warns that Rob and Gamelyn will be cast as sworn enemies, locked in timeless and symbolic struggle for the greenwode's Maiden.
Instead, a defiant Rob dares his Horned God to reinterpret the ancient rites, allow Rob to take Gamelyn as lover instead of rival. But in the eyes of Gamelyn’s Church, sodomy is unthinkable... and the old pagan magics are an evil that must be vanquished.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/yA7dGnKlASs
Available at Amazon BN Kobo iTunes Audible OmniLit
Readers love
Greenwode
Winner in the 2013 Rainbow Awards: First: Best LGBT Novel, Best B/T & LGBT Debut, Best B/T & LGBT Fantasy, Paranormal Romance & Sci-fi / Futuristic
“I loved this story for taking a legend and giving it a twist … I have to recommend this to those who love folklore, mystical legends, historicals, fighting for a love against insurmountable odds, danger, betrayal and an ending that is devastating while giving you faint hope.”
—MM Good Book Reviews
“This is a gutsy twist on a major classic that works.”
—Gerry Bernie
“There is so much good about this book I'm not even sure where to start. … This one is a highly recommended read. Just read it. It blew me away.”
—Better Read Than Dead
“Greenwode is legend. It is epic storytelling. It is fantasy and history. It is religion and spirituality. It is a world in which faith is a weapon, faith is a tool, faith is the enemy, and faith is the last vestige of hope… when there seems nothing left to hope for. If you love epic fantasy, I can’t recommend this book highly enough.”
—The Novel Approach
“I can assure you the weaving of themes and legends in GREENWODE is mesmerizing. … This novel will always be the one against which I will judge all the others.”
—Christopher Hawthorne Moss
“…an interesting, spellbinding read.”
—Rainbow Book Reviews
“I highly recommend this any fan of an epic fantasy with historical settings. It is long but worth it. I can’t wait for the second book to come out.”
—Hearts on Fire Reviews
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a Prelude b
In the Deeps of the Shire Wode
1175 ACE
“Wind and water, stone and tree….”
Firelight flickered against rock, as if in time to the low melody. Both light and song wavered as they traveled into the depths. Not that the voice was not strong or the fire not warm—the caverns were that deep.
An old man, lean and crystal-eyed, stared into the fire. Every now and then the fire would jerk and start, as if some giant had spat upon it, but the cause was natural enough. Thunder rumbled in the forest above, sending puffs of wind through unknown entrances into the caverns. The old man could hear the stones embedded in the earth above him creak, almost in reply; he tuned his low voice as if in reverent time. Those rocks that formed the circle above him might be a tiny imitation of the ring stones on the plain of Salisbury far to the south, but no less eternal in their observance of the powers that he, too, had served for
How long had it been? Stubble had scarce grown on his now leathern cheeks when he’d first taken up the mantle of the god. He had put aside his real name when, on a midsummer night not long after King Stephen had taken up another, more politic authority, a peasant gathering had crowned a young man with antlers and cried the god’s name:
Cernunnos. Horned One. Green-Father. Hunter.
Cernun.
Stephen had relinquished his crown to his nephew Henry even as Cernun had groomed his own successor, moving from Hunter to Hermit’s guise. It was the way of things. Shaking a twisted lock of silver from his eyes, Cernun grumbled to himself again, stirring at the fire with a long stick. He was old, but not infirm. The Sight was still strong in him, his body still hale and sound of limb; the forces of nature had rewarded him well for his service. Most men who had seen over fifty winters were bent and aged, senile from hard, miserable lives. The blood of the Barrow-lines ran strong. And he had been lucky.
He could only wish his successor such fortune.
The fire sparked. Cernun leaned closer, scrutinizing the writhing embers, watched them swell then flare white, reaching for the low limestone overhead. Yes? he asked, silent beneath the swell of power. You speak, Lord?
Images assaulted him. He saw what had been: the midsummer madness of dancing and singing, the rejoicing in rites, which, for a short, sweet time, took his people from the harsh reality of toil and hunger. Saw Horned Lord take Lady, clothed in Hunter and Maiden, horns and moon-crown.
Saw children born, Beltain-gotten, and the sweet green Wode prosper. As above, so below.
The fire damped, the vision strayed. Cernun spoke a low, guttural word, grabbed a handful of herbs from the cauldron at his side, and threw them onto the fire. The past was a given—to what future led this vision?
Scented smoke rose. It blossomed, damp cavern mists and heat writhing, tearing into wisps then coalescing.
A scream. The Mother’s face reflecting flames and terror, the woods aflame, and the Horned One on the Hunt. Downed in snow, horns broken, wolves with blooded jaws snapping and snarling….
“No!” Cernun hissed. He caught his breath as more shapes danced in the smoke, dissolving then coalescing….
A cowled figure draws a freakishly long bow, the arrow’s flight swift and sure, to split another arrow already in the black… a sister of the White Christ bends over a kneeling soldier… clad in the red and white of the Temple, he raises his fair head to let her make the sign of the Horns upon his brow… a booted foot stomps the long bow, shattering it….
Cernun blinked, shook his head. It made no sense, none of it. Smoke hissed, twisted into a pair of cowled figures locked in struggle….
One slams the other up against a tree, yanks his head back, and brings a drawn sword against the exposed artery, only to have the sword fall from his hands, to stagger back as if he has seen some demon… or ghost….
Another twist of smoke, and abruptly the flames flared high, gusting char against the old man’s face. He didn’t move, in fact bent forward.
A figure, crouching naked in the fire, a silhouette amidst burning ruins. The fire rises again, a spiral of sound and wind, and the figure rises with it, backlit, stepping barefoot over the coals and extending pale arms as if clothing itself in fire.
And, suddenly, it is. Flames whip, clad and cowl the figure in brilliant scarlet that ebbs to black… then gray-ash rags. Winter blows through, snow hissing in the coals and covering the figure. It walks back and forth, and in its footsteps ice crystals form. Green, sharp-edged leaves unfurl amidst the winter ice, revealing blood-red berries in their depths. The figure turns to him, eyes glowing within its cowl, still pacing, like to a wild animal caged.
Wolf, it says, but does not speak. Witch. Hawk.
Wind gusted through the cavern in a bank of noise and cold. The fire pitched down from copper into indigo, sparks flying, smoke rising.
Cernun did not bother to stir it. Instead he closed his eyes, tried to make sense of what he had seen.
Wolf. The most skilled of hunters, yet hunted throughout the land by another, even more treacherous predator. Or… outlaws were known as wolfshead. Perhaps? But not likely. Cernun would tolerate no outlaw within his covenant.
Witch. What the White Christ’s followers called those who followed the old ways of the heath and Barrow-lines, a calling turned to hatred by outside forces, even as the Romans had done with another naming: Pagani.
Hawk. Proud birds, another hunter/predator forced to perform beneath nobleman’s rule, barely tamed and kept from free flight, jessed, hooded.
“Hooded.” It came out in a soft rush of breath. Not only the hawk but wolf and witch—predators cornered—the struggling figures, the flame-gotten one… all cowled. By fire, by ash, by blood. “Great Lord who lies incarnate in us. Has it come to this?”
He stared at the dying embers, not wanting to believe. But the image persisted.
The one to walk all worlds, to breathe the fates of dark and light and dusk between, male and female; the Arrow of the goddess and the Horns of the god. The champion of the old ways—and the beginning of their ending.
The Hooded One.
a I b
Near Loxley Village, Yorkshire
1185 ACE
“Rob!”
The weanling tensed, twitched long, wide ears. Blinked. Then greed overcame any start of panic. The deer crept closer, switching its buff-colored tail and chewing as if it could taste the goodies being offered. Its benefactor was kneeling in the fern and bracken, quiet as the mists hanging in the thick trees. It almost seemed he wasn’t wholly there, a ghostly, hooded figure holding too still for mortal folk, offering a small measure of corn.
“Rob!” Then the sound, coming closer, of running feet.
This did penetrate. The fawn started and fled, tail flagged high. With a growl, the figure rose, revealing itself to be no forest sprite but a mere lad, lanky and unfinished as the weanling deer.
He’d almost fed the creature, almost felt whiskers and soft lips tickling against his palm. Almost touched the wild. Throwing back his hood from black hair and an even blacker expression, the lad rounded on the one who had broken his enchanted moment.
“Marion! You’re noisy as a browsing cow!” She had slowed, picking her way through the copse, skirts tucked up to reveal sensible hose and worn leather boots.
She was not impressed, either by the considerable scowl or the inflammatory accusation. Her cinnabar hair was tucked beneath a kerchief, twining down her back with bits of bark clinging to it. The sopping edges of her skirts and boots slapped and squeaked as she walked. Her cheeks were pink, her breath steaming into the morning’s chill; she’d run at least this far.
“Da wants you. He’s an errand for you.” Gray eyes took in Rob’s clenched palm, the suspiciously bulging bag tied to his waist. “And if he finds you’ve been feeding deer again, you’ll be in for it.”
“He’ll not find out unless you tell.”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
Rob grinned, crossed his arms, and leaned against a young oak. “We-elll, mayhap if I let slip—out of fear of punishment, mind—that I saw you in the fodder bin with Tom, the carter’s son?”
“You treacherous little sod,” Marion replied, but there was admiration in it. “All right, then. Pax. You waint tell about Tom, and I say nowt to your little assignation.”
“Little what? Are you calling me an ass?”
Marion rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and grabbed him by one grass-stained woolsey sleeve. “As-sig-nation, y’fool. It means a meeting. Tryst.”
“Well, why didna you just say that?” Rob protested as she began to propel him, hand still on his arm, toward home.
“I did just say that. Can I help it if you’re a daft knob who canna be arsed to pay attention to his learning?”
“Parchments are a waste of time—ow!” He tried to pull from her grip; she just grabbed tighter and kept him on the march. “G’off me, I’m going, I’m going! And I’ve no need for smelly old tomes, I’ve my bow.”
“I’ve a bow too. Sometimes I outshoot even you, lad. It doesna mean I’ve no need for my brain.”
“You’ll drive young Tom off, you will. Men dinna fancy clever women.”
Marion snorted. “Like you would know, boy.”
“I’m nearly a man!”
“Nearly only counts in quoits.”
“Da married Mam when he was fifteen!”
“You’re not even looking fifteen in the eye yet; I know ’cause I saw you born. How about we wait at least ’til your voice breaks to speak of it again?”
Rob tried to answer this, found “fuming” to be a word he did know.
“Anyway, you’re assuming I ent clever enough to hide my cleverness. Not that I’m planning on marrying Tom.”
“You keep on with what I saw you two about in the hay ricks and you might have to—Ow!” Bloody hell, but she had a fearful left cross. “I dinna know what you see in Tom.”
“He’s got nice eyes. And golden hair—”
“What’s so special about that? He looks like corn that’s been in the ground too long. He’d never have a chance in the forest; anyone would see him coming for miles.” Rob shrugged free of Marion’s grip only to have her grab him again. “’Tennyrate, the only reason Tom’s so fair-haired is that he uses lime paste.”
Marion shot him a look—clearly this was news to her. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop her from continuing to propel him forward. “You’ll understand soon enough. You’ll see some girl that tilts your braies and then you’ll want to be tilting into her.”
“This is more than I really wanted to know about you, thanks awfully. I dinna like girls. Giggling, silly things, all sick-sweet flowers from their skirts to their empty heads.”
A snort. “You like me.”
“You ent a girl, then, are you? You’re me sister.”
ab
The house was off to itself, really; close enough for convenience to Loxley village but set apart, right on the forest’s edge, a proper location for land and chattels let to a king’s forester. It was also sturdier than the wattle-and-daub siding of most dwellings near the forest’s edge, a one-room cob cottage with a small loft. Rob liked to sleep on the little platform on wet nights, up next to the rafters and thatch, to hear the rain patter.
Not a bad place to call home, as such things went.
Marion started for the garden, but jerked her head toward the small barn; Rob turned to see their father walking from it. He was a brown man, from swart skin to curly hair and shaggy beard, with startling blue eyes. Rob often wondered if—hoped—he would ever grow to be as strong and statuesque as Adam of Loxley. In one hand Adam gripped a small folded parchment; the other held the reins to a sturdy little bay jennet.
“I need you to ride to Loxley, Rob.” His father’s speech, a deep, rounded dialect of the local-born, was clipped with impatience. “I would go, but there’s still the nor’west section to cover before night. That poacher wants catching.”
Rob nodded. Adam was known to the sheriff’s guardsmen as an aloof and steady customer: hard to bribe, fair to a fault. The common folk knew him as their own: the one constant in a hard place. For them, Adam would overlook a kill amongst the king’s deer during starving times, claim it beneath his own sparse yeoman’s rights. Abandoned or senseless butchery, however, he would not tolerate. This latest transgressor had slain four deer already, taken their hearts and horns, and left the rest to rot. An outlaw, no doubt. Such waste infuriated Adam, and Rob himself was sickened by it. Everyone knew that if you held such disregard, it would fall back upon you threefold.
“What have you there, boy?”
Rob found his father’s gaze fastened upon his clenched fist. Marion had hot-footed him so smartly home that Rob had forgotten what he held. With a grimace, he opened it, displaying the handful of grain.
Adam pressed his lips tight and shook his head. “Feeding animals again, when food’s short enough for the village.”
Rob looked down. “Sir, I—”
“Weren’t thinkin’,” Adam growled. “Son. You’re getting to be of an age to understand such things. This harvest has been good so far, and one would think we’d eat for years, but it won’t last forever. The only luxuries we can afford are our own beasts. You and your mother, you’d have the entire forest in our laps.”
“I waint forget again,” Rob murmured. As Adam held out his hand, Rob traded the grain sack for the jennet’s rein.
“Rob?” another voice called. “Would you also take something for me?”
Rob turned to see his mother walking toward the barn, her tread mindful of the neat rows and beds of the east-facing garden. Marion was following, carrying a wood-and-hide pail—probably going to milk. Marion shrugged as she saw Adam holding the grain sack, but her lips betrayed a slight smirk.
Wanker, Rob mouthed at her.
I dinna have to, she mouthed back. Wank, that is.
“Did you say something?” his mother asked.
Rob shook his head. Eluned was clad for working, her gray overdress tied up at her waist for comfort, a wide, straw hat over her braided hair, and a basket spilling greenery hooked over one arm. She wasn’t half as old as the wortwife who dwelt in Nottingham’s fortress and tended to the sheriff and his retinue, but she was twice as skilled—and thrice as beautiful, Rob amended, thinking of Ness’s craggy face. Surely the old white-bearded Christian god was not so ancient or scrawny as Ness. Not to mention that unlike Ness, Eluned still smiled with all her teeth, was small-boned and plump, with only a few silvered streaks in her black hair. It seemed that just the touch of her hands could cure a fever, that the least of simples and remedies prepared by her could cease any pain. Some of the villagers called her “The Maiden”—despite that she’d already had two healthy children and buried two—in tones of awe and respect. It was even said she had the Old Blood of the northern Barrows.
Looking at her, Rob could believe it.
She handed him a cloth packet. “Anna, the carter’s wife, is sickening from her pregnancy. Tell her this should ease her.”
“Ent that Tom’s mam?” he asked easily.
From behind their parents, Marion shot him a look that, had it been an arrow from her bow, would have slain him instantly. Marion really was a fine shot.
“I do believe Tom is one of her children, aye.” Eluned had been away from the Welsh borderlands for many a year, yet still had the singsong lilt to her voice—one both Marion and Rob seemed to fall into more often than not. She raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
He opened his mouth and watched with no little amusement as Marion’s glare moved from well-aimed death arrow to lop your bloody head off with a very shiny axe. Rob grinned, merely said, “I was just asking.”
Eluned peered at him, then slid her eyes to take in Marion, who suddenly found it imperative that she milk that cow, and the sooner the better. She started off for the barn, swinging her bucket with no little nonchalance.
His mother’s eyes narrowed. Aye, Eluned of the March was as canny as her rumored people.
“Off with you, then.” Adam grabbed at his son, boosted him onto the jennet’s back. “No dawdling. Give Willow a good run, mind your business and be back before dark. And.” He caught Rob’s gaze, held it. “Mind you take no shortcuts through th’ Wode. Go around.”
Rob visibly deflated. This put a proper nick in his plans. “I was going to catch some fish. I thought you said outlaws only have the stomach to attack at night.”
“This poacher’s no reasonable outlaw. There’s plenty fish to be had that dinna bide in forest pools.” His father patted the furry bay neck, with the final justification, “You know good ’n’ well mating season’s to hand. Think of Willow’s welfare—to a buck blind with rut, she might be no’ but another challenge to take on. Be sensible, Rob.”
The boy sighed and put heels to his mount’s sides.
ab
Rob rode at a brisk trot, posting against Willow’s short-legged gait, casting a longing eye upon the thick tangle of Loxley Chase. It was several miles via the plowed roads to Loxley village; it was barely a mile through the forest, and Rob knew every deer trace as well as the map of freckles on his narrow, sunburnt nose.
Even now, he saw a trail; faint, but unmistakably there if one knew how to look. Too many people didn’t. The villagers were scared of the forest. Though Loxley Chase was just the tip of what became the great Shire Wode to the south, most of the farmers that lived in its shadow were convinced that all manner of h’ants and boggarts bided there. They told tales that put even the real dangers of wolves or boars to shame. Or the lord’s men. For it was a fact that those men given leave to hunt—the few not scared of deep forest—tramped through it as if it were merely a woefully overgrown and tangled common, aiming their crossbows at anything that moved, peasant or game.
Crossbows. Rob’s lip curled. Cheating, that was. A simple shortbow—aye, that was a man’s weapon.
A quirk drawing between his dark brows, Rob considered that faint trail with no little longing. As if in answer, more distant than it sounded, the click and smack of antlers tangling stayed and reminded Rob of Adam’s caution. He patted Willow’s neck. She was too nice to get gored by some hey-go-mad buck thinking more with his balls than what little brain he had. Even better not to chance his father’s ire two times in one day. Adam was already up in arms about something. As Rob had heard it, there was a new clutch of noble-born tenants in the castle sitting athwart the shire borders of York and Nottingham, rehashing some perpetual dispute over who should own the rents from Loxley and several other villages. Rob didn’t understand half of it. The lords never came around, only sent others to do their dirty work, soldiers to threaten or sheriffs to bully. The villagers should just look to Adam as they always did; he was more thane of Loxley, it seemed, than the headman there who bore the title.
At least, that was the only explanation that Rob could come up with when the people of Loxley and its surroundings called his father “Lord.”
He rode on, keeping to the road, quite chuffed with his own virtue. The air was nippy, pleasant and cool; Rob smiled as the little mare toyed with the bit. Mabon was drawing ever nearer, the equinox and harvest celebrations. There was excitement in the air even Willow could feel. The year had been prosperous, and the feasting would be good… and on the plowed road, they could make up time with speed. With a small yip, he dug his leather-clad feet into Willow’s brown ribs.
“Go, Willow!”
The little bay leapt forward, eager, as if she had been waiting for Rob to ken that well-cleared roads equaled a good—and easy—run. Rob laughed and leaned forward; her black mane rose to slap his face, commingling with his own hair as he urged her on.
Over and down one hillock, then another, and as they came over the third and around a long curve, something exploded from the forest edge almost atop them.
Willow shied and rolled sideways on her muscular haunches as if some fire-breathing dragon had come roaring from the forest, primed for horseflesh. Rob was first tossed onto Willow’s thick neck, then slid under her chest, then smacked heavily to the dirt. He made an instinctive snatch at the rein, but missed as Willow swerved at the last moment. She trotted off a few paces then halted with a jolt, head seemingly sucked against the earth as she set to a thick patch of grass.
Rob used a word for which his mother had once washed out his mouth with lye soap. Fingers full of dirt, he stood up, brushing at his tunic and leather breeks. His gaze darted about, quickly found the “dragon” that had leapt from the forest at them.
It was another horse. A gray stallion, pale as a thick-stacked thunderhead; tall and long-limbed, blowing and wide-eyed and ready to take to the hills if necessary. He was tacked with a saddle and bridle that together would have paid several years’ worth of Loxley’s taxes. One of the fancy, inlaid stirrups was flung over the seat and the saddle itself kinked to the left. A scabbard pointed skyward, its sword clinging only by the grace of being well laced in.
No commoner’s mount, this. Rob smirked, considering that the stallion seemed quite the overbred noble set adrift, peering down his nose at having his day interrupted by some grubby peasant lad and his hairy jennet.
He also bore several telltale gashes along one ivory flank.
“Easy, lad.” Rob held out a hand, soothing. “Did that buck get the better of you, then?”
The stallion stretched his neck and deigned to let Rob approach. Then, nostrils flaring, he promptly dropped his aloof pose, stuck out his knob, and pranced past Rob over to Willow, arching his neck and grunting and nickering.
Willow greeted this overture with an unearthly grunt, letting fly with a back hoof. She returned to grazing. Despite the pose of indifference, however, her black tail lifted; the roll of her eye was flirtatious.
Rob rolled his own eyes. “Bloody…. You too?”
He knew better than to get in the middle of the poncy stallion and his common paramour—at least, not until the mare had definitely said “aye” or “nay.” Not to mention the possible spoils come eleven moons from now: a fine, if late-gotten, colt from a stallion whose fee they’d never otherwise approach. Rob shrugged and left them to it, once again scanning the terrain.
There had to have been a rider with that horse.
The trail was easily discerned, leading into the dusky canopy of green and fawn. The horse had been panicked, not terribly choosy about where he’d fled, leaving crushed bracken and rent branches and torn-up earth in his wake. He was just as noisy outside the confines of the forest; his loud dalliance with Willow could still be heard. Rob ignored it, ducking beneath branches and sidestepping thick bracken, treading the damp ground light as down and watchful as a priest on tithing day. His father and mother both had taught him well. He made no moves other than ones he intended, left no trace that couldn’t be mistaken for animal spoor, was silent until he saw it, and then that, too, was a mere breath into the forest.
“Bloody damn.”
A leather boot, worn but well made, was snagged against a gorse near Rob’s eye level. Just beyond that was a bundle of fabric crumpled against the gnarled roots of an old oak.
Rob moved closer, cautious.
The bundle of fabric revealed itself, just as he’d figured, to be clothing. Unfortunately it was not empty, but again, just as he’d figured, was wrapped around what had to be the stallion’s rider. The boot in his hand matched the one still worn; of course the other leg was bare, stocking yanked half off. More freckles than Rob himself had ever possessed sprayed across that pale calf.
Tale was as easily discerned as trail. Whoever this was had been riding, run across a buck deer looking for a scrap, the poncy stallion might have challenged the deer—probably not, those gashes were on his butt end, after all—and the likely as poncy rider had been thrown and then dragged a short ways before he met the oak.
Rob knelt, fingered the cape bunched and flung sideways. Fine stuff, all right, soft woven and well oiled to keep out the damp. Finer than the boots, even. Contrarily, the dark-blue tunic beneath it had seen better days, as had the woolen braies. What kind of lad—and it must be a lad, with that garb—wore such rich clothes until they wore out?
Grabbing the limp figure by his tunic, Rob gave a heave, turned him over. A pale shock of gingery hair spilled from the confines of the cape’s hood. A lad, sure enough, and about Rob’s own age. Rob grimaced as he saw the gash on the high freckled forehead.
Pure trouble, this was.
Tempting to just leave it all to lie, let this trouble find another target. Rob did, after all, have important business in the village. He could tell the headman there what he’d found….
Nay, he really couldn’t. Because sure as crows flew with ill news, that gray stud would follow Willow home, and then wouldn’t Rob have some explaining to do as to why he’d not gone looking for its owner.
Rob sighed, then reached out and tapped his fingers at the lad’s shoulder. “Hoy. You, there. Wake up.”
Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
With writing, it wasn’t really a question of ‘want’ , but more a question of ‘compelled to’. Wants are less complex, really. I wanted to be a dancer. I wanted to be a horse trainer. I have, in my life, been those, too—but “I want to be this” is a very different concept than “I must do this’.
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
Since I can remember, I’ve been a storyteller, and since I could navigate language with pen and paper, I wrote those stories down in some fashion. Of course, not everything I’ve written has been worth sharing in public.
How long did it take to get your first book published?
A loooong time. I had some proper rotten luck in my first publishing career. And luck really does have a huge role in publishing.Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?
I have, off and on for over 40 years, taught dancing and movement. For almost as long I was an equestrian, where I taught horses and their riders how to ‘dance’ together. J Five years ago I retired from the horses; it was time. But I’m still dancing.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
Greenwode is the first in a series re-imagining the legends of Robyn Hood, with a unique twist of myth, magical realism and LGBTQ perspectives.
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
The Books of the Wode are being released by DSP Publications.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
I suppose it can be said that Greenwode took me half a lifetime, from the original idea and novel to its present form. I will admit to preferring quality over quantity when it comes to output; I’ve had lean years, and I’ve also laid down over 500K in a year’s time. Of course not all of those words are usable, or should be. And even then, once you write ‘The End’ on that last page, several hard edits must happen, self and outside.
I guess I can’t really give you an easy answer. Each book is different, and should be.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
Most of my projects, past and present, have either been SF, Fantasy or Historical.
What genre would you place your books into?
The Wode books are Historical Fantasy, riding that thin line of magical realism and historical accuracy.
What made you decide to write that genre of book?
I’ve read SF/F and Historical Fiction since I was a wee one. It’s culture and personality through a darkling glass.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
Now, if I start picking favourites, all the others will pout. Seriously, some of them are very good at pouting.
How long have you been writing?, and who or what inspired you to write?
Since dinosaurs roamed the earth? J Seriously, though, the writing has always been there, no more or less than my own heartbeat.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
Not really. Just bum in chair, hands on keyboard, plenty of strong black tea with milk. The rest changes without notice.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
I prefer to let my characters--and the world they inhabit--make those kinds of decisions.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
It’s not really my place as an author to moralize or tell people what to think. I do believe any sort of speculative fiction should challenge ways of thinking, but my foremost job—and my hope—is to provide readers with an evocative and authentic experience.
Every reader is different, so they will find their own meanings and message in that experience—even if it’s not the ones I discovered whilst writing it.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
Trade or mass market paperbacks are my preference for reading and rereading.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
Ah, favourites are so difficult to pin down. It’s impossible to point at one; I like a lot of books for a lot of different reasons—but first and foremost, the writing has to be well-crafted and eloquent. And if I like a book, I always read it more than once.
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
They’re quite apples and oranges, two different media, really, so I do my best to not have overweening expectations. Some movies transcend a mediocre book, whilst others are merely a tragic waste of two hours. I will confess a particular love for Richard Chamberlain’s Man in the Iron Mask, and a sincere loathing for the latest dismal remake of a remarkable book, My Friend Flicka.
Your favorite food is?
This one I can choose: Thai. Really spicy.
Your favorite singer/group is?
Again, can’t choose just one. Different times need different soundtracks. But a few on constant play at present are: Irfan, Beats Antique, Led Zeppelin, Poets of the Fall, Muse, Jethro Tull, Dan Fogelberg, Ah Nee Mah, Damh the Bard, Corvus Corax, Trobar de Morte
Your favorite Author is?
Can’t! Pick! One! But I do have authors whose books I pick up time and again, and who inspire me in my writing craft. Hail the Three Marys: Mary Stewart, Mary Renault, and Mary O’Hara. Parke Godwin. Ray Bradbury. And more I’m sure I can’t think of at present.
J Tullos Hennig has maintained a few professions over a lifetime--artist, dancer, equestrian--but never successfully managed to not be a writer. Ever. Since living on an island in Washington State merely encourages--nay, guarantees--already rampant hermetic and artistic tendencies, particularly in winter, Jen has become reconciled to never escaping this lifelong affliction. Comparisons have also been made to a bridge troll, one hopefully emulating the one under Fremont Bridge: moderately tolerant, but. You know. Bridge troll.
Jen is blessed with an understanding spouse, kids, and grandkids, as well as alternately plagued and blessed with a small herd of horses and a teenaged borzoi who alternates leaping over the furniture with lounging on it.
And, for the entirety of a lifetime, Jen has been possessed by a press gang of invisible ‘friends’ who Will. Not. S.T.F.U.
January 21, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Angel Rising Redemption by @lavernethompson
Angel Rising Redemption
Redemption
Book 1
LaVerne Thompson
Genre: paranormal/ interracial romance
Publisher: Isisindc Publishing
Date of Publication: January 2, 2015
ISBN: 978-0-9859646-9-6
ASIN: TBD
Number of pages: 248
Word Count: 91,272
Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde
Book Description:
To walk the earth she must feed her hollow soul.
Some of the most beautiful people in the world are not human they have no soul. They feel no emotion and are pure evil. You can tell by the color of their dark dead eyes. Samuel Glaus knows this. He is after all half-human, the son of a human mother and soulless father, and a hunter of the soulless. He is also in love with one who cannot love him back.
Thalya is a soulless creature, but unlike others of her kind she does not kill to feed her hollow soul. She hungers for emotion and above all she hungers for Samuel’s love. Her enemy. Her redemption. And she’s willing to kill for it.
Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/wcRjCtD-a14
Opening up her senses, she sniffed out the most depressed in the city block around her. While she had no human sense of smell, the scents of emotions to her were as potent, as humans would say a bouquet of freshly cut roses.
Right across the street a man entered the park. The scent of his depression floated right to her on the wind. Hot, potent and yummy, she would feed on it for a few days. There were no others of her kind in the area, so she wouldn’t have to warn anyone off. Although, quite a few soulless resided in New York, the size of the area ensured she didn’t run into others if she didn’t want to, which she usually didn’t.
Going back inside her penthouse condo, she walked across thick sand-colored carpet. Her artist friend, Franklin, would have both loved and hated the great room. Loved it for the cool colors—reds, beiges, and golds. Those had been his favorites, but then she’d stuck a long, extra-wide black leather sofa smack in the center of it. He hated leather and black.
Franklin, long gone…just another from her past.
She put on her long coat, and headed for her private elevator. She didn’t need it but she wanted to blend in. Tonight she would act normal. Normal, at least for a human. As an additional benefit, when she walked through her lobby to get to the street, she would open her senses to her immediate surroundings, sampling a taste of surface emotions as she passed by.
Not all of her kind could suck out emotion without touch but as an olden, one from a time long past and more powerful than most, she could. But other things also set her apart from those like her. She did not need to kill her providers or have them kill others to satisfy her needs. Draining humans of their depression, her emotion of choice, more than satisfied her. Humans carried it in abundance. She merely put her providers to sleep and afterwards, they usually woke up feeling less depressed. Hers represented a more symbiotic relationship. She actually helped people, much like a psychiatrist would. Only, instead of talking them out of their depression, she drained it right out of them.
The elevator door opened and she got on.
The hotel where she lived also housed private residences, but a few guests milled around the lobby for the evening. Just enough people around with some serious issues to make her grin and tremble within her ankle-length leather coat.
“Delicious,” she purred. Red knee high stiletto boots clicked as she crossed the polished marble floor. She ignored the appreciative looks of the men and women as she glided among them, intentionally projecting a do not approach compulsion. Look but don’t touch, unless she was the one doing the touching.
The doorman opened the door for her and smiled. “Good evening. Cold one tonight.” Bundled in layers and with a wool cap on his head, he stood directly beneath a heating vent to stay warm.
He always spoke. She rarely did and tonight, she didn’t. She flashed him some teeth in the semblance of a smile. At least she hoped it looked like a smile and not a grimace. Happiness. It rolled off him in waves. She’d never tried draining that emotion from her providers, although over the centuries she’d met a few of her kind who preferred it. Anything to fill the void in the soulless place. But stealing someone else’s happiness always seemed unnecessary to her. Depression worked just fine.
Out on the sidewalk, the scent hit her again. Like a shining point of light in dark woods, the depressed man she’d sensed beckoned her to follow him. After crossing the street, Thalya entered the park. It didn’t take long to find him.
He sat on a bench at the other end of the park, leaning over with his head in his hands.
She wouldn’t be able to read his thoughts until she actually touched him. No matter, she sensed his depression.
She sat on the bench next to him; he didn’t even bother to look up. Thalya placed her hand on his shoulder and her inner feminine muscles contracted to the point, she almost had an orgasm.
Depression, and so potent.
“Mmm, good,” she murmured.
At her touch, he raised red-rimmed eyes in her direction.
Finally, she had his attention.
He pulled back slightly, some form of self-preservation kicking in. “Who—are you?”
“Shhh. It will be all right. I promise,” she whispered.
The man sat up and she wrapped her arms around him.
Unable to help himself, he let her.
Hmm, handsome. She always seemed to gravitate toward the young, good-looking ones, although she’d never sleep with any of them. Well, hardly ever. She nuzzled the side of his neck. Under the alcohol he’d indulged in, he exuded a nice clear human scent. Given his emotional state, she’d expected the scent of alcohol to be stronger. Surprisingly she only caught a slight whiff. No more than a beer. Maybe he just started on his drinking for the evening. Didn’t matter. Whatever he’d ingested, she didn’t care about.
“What—?”
She didn’t give him a chance to say more. Instead, she made her way to his mouth, which opened as soon as she pressed her lips against his. Unleashing her powers, she inhaled his depression into the starving emptiness that should have housed her soul, and at the same time, began to read his memories.
Poor thing. Karl, yes…Karl Hammer. He’d recently lost his job and his wife, pregnant with their first child, didn’t know about it. He’d swallowed his pride and asked his blood uncle of sorts for help. Except Karl hadn’t spoken to his uncle in years. Mmm, interesting. She probed for the reason why.
Samuel and the others like him lived a dangerous life. Samuel, a master hunter of the soulless and Karl, merely—bait.
Did you always wanted to be a writer? If not what did you want to be?
-Yes I’ve always wanted to be a writer. Even my former profession involved writing, I was a lawyer.
When did you first consider yourself a “writer”?
-lol I think my mother knew the first time I wrote on her walls. I’ve always written be it just making up stories in my head or keeping a journal of poetry and short stories. So I think I’ve pretty much always defined myself as a writer.
How long did it take to get your first book published?
-Once I decided to actually submit something it was another 5 years before I was published. And my first work published was not the first work I even finished. That story is sitting in the bottom of a drawer and might never see the light of day. Lol We’ll see.
Do you do another job except for writing and can you tell us more about it?
-I’m blessed to be able to be a full time writer and I’m very grateful for it.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
-Angel Rising Redemption. To walk the earth the soulless must feed their hollow souls. By any means necessary.
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
-I’m a hybrid author. I’m published with three publishers but I also self-publish. My most recent, Angel Rising is self-published.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
-Really depends on the idea, the story, what else I’m working on. I’ve cranked out 10,000 words in 2 days. I’ve taken anywhere from 2 months to 5 years to finish work.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
-Right now I write in multiple genres and under two name, contemporary, fantasy, sci/fi and romantic suspense and new adult under Ursula Sinclair. I plan on just doing more lol.
What genre would you place your books into?
-A paranormal contemporary fantasy romance.
What made you decide to write that genre of book?
-I tend to write what I also enjoy reading.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
-Really depends on the day you ask this question. Lol Today that would be Maze from my Ballerina series. He does whatever he has to do to protect those he loves. But that tends to be a common theme with me for my heroes. But a man like Samuel from Angel Rising fighting his tears and losing that battle, yeah, that get’s me every time too.
How long have you been writing? and who or what inspired you to write?
-I’ve written for as long as I remember. I think before I even realized what I was doing lol. And I find inspiration in everything around me. I don’t even have to open my eyes lol. I write because I must.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
-lol no set routine depends on the mood of the story if I need music to get me to the tone I’m going for. With Angel Rising at times I listened to No Church In The Wild- Kanye West, Eyes Without a Face-Billy Idol, just to name a couple.
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
-Sometimes the story starts with the title and I write the story for it lol. Other times the title doesn’t really come to me until I start the story. This time around I had the prologue to the story before I had the title. lol
How do you come up with characters names and place names in your books?
-A lot of the places I describe are places I’ve been, heard or read about. The names I collect. Anytime I come across an interesting name I make a note of it. I have a list of names in my iPad I can draw from.
Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?
-Both actually. Sometimes I begin a story and just know what the characters names are or even just one, other times I have a character a persona then have to go through my name list to find the perfect match and hope I haven’t already used it. Lol.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
-I pretty much decide as I go along. I have a shell but it’s flexible. I try to have my characters grow into the person the h/h needs them to be.
Are there any hidden messages or morals contained in your books? (Morals as in like Aesops Fables type of "The moral of this story is..")
-Not really at the end of the day I’m writing a romance. So I want my readers to come away with a sense of well being that hopefully they can carry through for the rest of the day. That said this particular book does carry a few. Lol You’ll have to read the series to figure it out.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
-There was a time I would have said emphatically paperback. Now I gotta say I’ve primarily read ebooks for the last year. A month ago I tried to read a paperback book in bed and got frustrated because there was no back lighting on it lol.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
-I actually have quite a few that are favorites and yes I’ve read them more than twice, and a couple where I’ve only read them once. In no particular order and these are just a few of what can take up a page: Pride & Prejudice Jane Austin, Honor’s Splendour Julie Garwood, Wheel of Time Series Robert Jordan, Dragon Riders of Pern Anne McCarffery, Troubleshooters Series Suzanne Brockman, anything by Elizabeth Lowell.
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
-Depends on the book and the people behind the movie. One of my favorite franchises has got to be The Lord of the Rings and then maybe The Twilight Saga. I don’t have any worst but The Name of The Rose I thought the book was much better than the movie.
Your favorite food is?
-Chocolate *grins*
Your favorite singer/group is?
-Don’t really have one. Really depends on my mood what I want to listen to.
Your favorite color is?
-If you look in my closet you’d say black but you’d have to look in my kitchen to see my true favorite color. It’s cobalt blue.
Your favorite Author is?
See favorite books. Lol Same answer.
LaVerne Thompson is an award winning, best-selling, multi-published author, an avid reader and a writer of contemporary, fantasy, and sci/fi sensual romances. She also writes romantic suspense and new adult romance under the pen name Ursula Sinclair.
She is currently working on several projects. Both of her daughters are now away at college. However, she and her husband don’t like the term empty nester. She’s added a cat to the household to keep the dog of the house company. Hopefully writing will keep her sane.
http://facebook.com/ursulasinclair98
January 20, 2015
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Grave Vengeance by @Lori_Sjoberg
Grave Vengeance
The Grave Series
Book Three
Lori Sjoberg
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Kensington Books
Date of Publication: January 19, 2015
ISBN: 9781601832696
ASIN: B00M01756O
Number of pages: Approx. 284
Word Count: Approx. 93,000
Cover Artist: Kensington Books
Book Description:
The past doesn’t like to play dead…
Handsome and haunted, he’s a reaper who prefers to work alone. But Fate has other plans for him and the sassy secret agent who shot him in another life—if their pasts don’t catch up with them first.
Dmitri Stavitsky has never played well with others—a Soviet KGB spy in life turned reaper after death, his work of bringing souls to the other side is best done alone. But orders from the top soon place him alongside fellow reaper Gwen Peterson, the American counterintelligence agent who took his life so many years ago. Now, as a ghost from Gwen’s past resurfaces with the power to steal reapers’ souls, the two have no choice but to set aside their differences and apprehend the rogue together. But their cross-country mission soon ignites feelings Dmitri thought he was no longer capable of—for the woman who helped destroy him.
With an ancient force and a small army against them, he’ll have to let go of old grudges or risk his future with Gwen…as Fate hangs dangerously in the balance.
Available at Amazon BN iTunes Kobo Google Books
Some men were nice to look at. Others, you couldn’t look away from. And then there was Dmitri Stavitsky.
He was taller than her, around six foot four, and had the powerful build of a gymnast. The shirt he wore did nothing to conceal his thick, corded arms or the broad expanse of his chest. His thighs strained against the confines of his jeans. He carried himself with an air of confidence that most men found intimidating and most women found irresistible. And even though Gwen despised him as much as he despised her, she had to admit he wore it well.
Gwen could feel his eyes moving over her while she drove, and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat. “What?”
The passing streetlights played over the planes of his face. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. It made him look almost as dangerous as he was.
Almost.
Back in the day, he’d been one of the KGB’s top agents. For nearly a decade, he worked within the borders of the United States, stealing some of the country’s most valuable secrets. What he couldn’t steal he usually destroyed with calculated and ruthless efficiency. He killed defectors before they could spill their secrets as well as killing anyone else deemed an enemy of the Soviet Union. The full extent of his treachery was never determined; he’d taken those secrets to the grave.
“You cut your hair.” During the Cold War, he spoke with a flawless American accent to mask his true identity. The habit died when the Iron Curtain fell, and now his rich, deep voice contained a blend of both Russian and American, with the former growing more pronounced whenever he got pissed off.
Like now.
“So nice of you to notice.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “It makes you look like a boy.”
Bastard. Her grip tightened around the steering wheel. “Like I give a damn what you think.”
He laughed under his breath. “I think you do.” The smirk on his face vanished when she ground the gears. Careful! It took me two days to rebuild the transmission.
“Sorry.” Not really. She totally meant to do that. “Third’s a little sticky.” She held back a smile as she hooked a right onto Alafaya Boulevard.
Dmitri raked his hands through his short, dark hair. He was a few weeks past the time for a cut, and the ends curled around the nape of his neck. “Why are you here, Gwen?” Her name sounded like poison on his tongue.
Good question. Her current base of operations was on the opposite side of the country, along the American side of the border with Mexico. Samuel had been vague on the details when he contacted her late last night with orders to fly to Orlando for a special assignment. She hated the idea of working with Dmitri, but knew better than to refuse an order. After all, the Big Kahuna wasn’t known for his gentle demeanor. The quicker they got the job finished, the quicker they could return to their normal routines and forget the other existed.
“Samuel sent me,” she replied with a shrug, knowing he’d understand the way the boss operated.
He nodded, his expression grim. “And why did you steal my car?”
“Because I could.” And because she knew it would piss him off. It was the way things had always worked between them. They’d lost their humanity and become reapers together, and had been at each other’s throats ever since. Two Cold War relics, passing through the modern age. “You really need to install a better anti-theft system. Anybody with a screwdriver can hot-wire this thing in less than five minutes.” She’d done it in three.
She could have sworn he growled.
An uneasy silence fell between them. She darted a quick glance in his direction and saw the unwashed hostility darkening the blues of his eyes. The muscles along his jaw clenched and unclenched, his full lips pressed into a thin white line.
The light ahead switched from green to yellow. After checking for cops, she punched the gas to make it through the intersection before the yellow turned to red. “You know, I’m not happy about this either. The sooner we do whatever Samuel wants, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”
With a huff of annoyance, Dmitri rolled down the passenger side window and propped his arm on the sill. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
For once, they were in perfect agreement.
What is the name of your latest book, and if you had to summarize it in less than 20 words what would you say?
The title of my latest book is GRAVE VENGEANCE. Two reapers, bitter enemies, must work together to stop a common enemy…and maybe fall in love.
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
I’m currently published with Lyrical Press, a division of Kensington Publishing Corp.
How long does it usually take you to write a book, from the original idea to finishing writing it?
I have to admit I’m a pokey writer. Normally, I complete about one book a year, but for 2015 I’m focusing my efforts on considerably condensing that time frame.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
I just completed the fourth book in the Grave series, and plan to continue writing in the paranormal romance genre. I also have a contemporary romance series in the works which will hopefully release later this year.
What genre would you place your books into?
Paranormal romance.
Do you have a favorite character from your books? And why are they your favorite?
Dmitri, the hero of GRAVE VENGEANCE, has been the most fun to write. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t play well with others – a Soviet KGB agent in life turned reaper after death. He’s tough, ruthless, pragmatic, and has enough baggage to fill an aircraft carrier. But beneath the hard-as-nails exterior is a passionate man whose heart has been battered by the worst kind of betrayal. And it’s going to take a special kind of woman to show him how to love again.
Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?
I try not to, but I’m weak-willed so I usually end up peeking every now and again.
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
Usually, the title comes to me as I’m writing each book.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
I enjoy all three formats, but I have to admit that I prefer the feel of a paperback book in my hands. There’s just something about the texture and smell of paper books that I love, not to mention I enjoy unplugging from all things electronic when I’m trying to relax after a long day.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
Just one? You’re killing me here. If I had to pick one, I’d go with Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. I’ve read it so many times I’ve lost count, and I own four copies: a signed, first edition hardcover, a paperback copy of the UK edition (Cross Stitch), a signed paperback, and another paperback that I loan out to anyone interested in the series. It’s an addictive mix of strong writing, creative world building, a smart, capable heroine and a hero who’s too wonderful for words, action, adventure, humor, intrigue, Scottish history, and time travel.
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
Some books transfer well to movies. Others, not so much. I think it depends on the casting and director chosen for each project. I’ve absolutely loved the Starz adaptation of Outlander, and I enjoyed the Lord of the Rings trilogy. But I’m not a big fan of the Hobbit movies, and The Queen Of The Damned had to be one of the worst adaptations I’ve ever watched.
Your favorite food is?
Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwiches. It’s a meal and a snack, all in one!
Your favorite singer/group is?
Oh lord, I think this changes on a weekly basis. Right now, I’ll go with Godsmack.
Your favorite color is?
Purple
Your favorite Author is?
There’s so many, it’s hard to choose one! Diana Gabaldon (of course!), Paullina Simons, Jennifer Crusie, JD Robb/Nora Roberts, Hanna Martine, Anne Rice, Kresley Cole…the list goes on and on.
Growing up the youngest of three girls, Lori never had control of the remote. (Not that she's bitter about that. Really. Okay, maybe a little, but it's not like she's scarred for life or anything.) That meant a steady diet of science fiction and fantasy. Star Trek, Star Wars, Twilight Zone, Outer Limits - you name it, she watched it. It fed her imagination, and that came in handy when the hormones kicked in and she needed a creative excuse for being out past curfew.
After completing her first novel, she joined the Romance Writers of America and Central Florida Romance Writers. Now she exercises the analytical half of her brain at her day job, and the creative half writing sensual paranormal romance. Grim reapers are her specialty, but she loves to write about all creatures of the night.
Web: www.lorisjoberg.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLoriSjoberg
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6574214.Lori_Sjoberg
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Lori_Sjoberg
New Release!!RELUCTANTLY IN LOVE - What’s Love??? #3 by @NieceyRoy
Presented by:
RELUCTANTLY IN LOVE - What’s Love??? #3 by Niecey Roy Genre: NA Romantic Comedy, Humorous Contemporary Romance - Audience: 17 + - Formats: E-book and Paperback - Pages: 297 - ASIN: B00QZQAFBW - Date Published: January 20, 2015
White picket fences and fairy tale endings aren't in Roxanna Moss's vocabulary. If she’s learned anything at all from her parents’ failed relationships, it’s to keep a lid on her emotions and the walls secure around her heart. As a PI in training by day and a writer by night, she doesn’t have time for a relationship, anyway. What she didn’t plan on was Dr. Walker… Chase Walker’s piercing blue eyes and sexy smile make it difficult to keep her heart in check. Even solving the biggest case of her career can’t distract her from the irresistible man heating up her sheets. Chase has her questioning everything she thought she knew about relationships, and denial can’t change the fact that she’s falling madly, deeply, and reluctantly in love.
Amazon / Goodreads Join The Facebook Party!! https://www.facebook.com/events/1563532933891229/
Another Shot At Love - What’s Love??? #1 Formats: E-book and Paperback - Pages: 362 - ISBN-10: 0615908098 - ISBN-13: 978-0615908090 - ASIN: B00G2CNJF8 - Date Published: October 21, 2013
Imogen Gorecki needs a date to her sister’s engagement party—especially since her cheating ex-boyfriend is on the guest list. But finding Mr. Perfect in a time crunch is proving impossible. Just when she’s about to give up, she face-plants into the crotch of the sexiest guy she’s ever met. Matt Sesnick is everything Imogen wants in a man, but he’s not looking for a relationship so soon after his recent divorce. Will Gen’s pregnant and hormonal older sister, her bridezilla twin, and all of her past Mr. Wrongs get in the way of their happily-ever-after, or can she convince Matt to take another shot at love?
Amazon / Barnes and Noble / Kobo / Ibooks / ARe / Smashwords / Goodreads "All the elements for a fun, sassy romance: a sexy hero and the unbreakable bond of sisterhood. Delightful!" ~Bestselling Author Kate Perry "Funny, sassy, sexy and brilliant book...Absolute Must Read!!!" ~Amy from Schmexy Girls Book Blog "Crazy sisters, best friends, a slimy ex, and a gorgeously sexy sweet man. Who wouldn't want Another Shot at Love?" ~Stacy Nickelson, It Started With A Book Blog
Done With Love - What’s Love??? #2 Formats: E-book and Paperback - ASIN: B00JZRELFY - Date Published: 28 April 2014
Once upon a time… Bridal boutique owner Alexis Gorecki used to believe in happily-ever-afters—until Prince Charming turned into a toad. When it seems her evil almost-in-laws will stop at nothing to ruin her professional reputation Lexie wages war. Which sounded so much better in her head. Her strawberries and cream personality really isn’t cut out for taser guns and blackmail. To complicate matters, her first love is back in town—and pushing all the right buttons. Her heart still remembers the first time he broke it, but she can’t deny the way her body responds to his touch. Leo Moss has always been her weakness. Can he convince Lexie she's not quite done with love?
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Niecey Roy knew she wanted to be a writer from a very young age, but her moment of enlightenment came after watching the movie You’ve Got Mail. It was then she realized her place in life, and happily parked her butt on writing romance. Her dream was to create sexy vixens, hunky, half-naked heroes, and above all, romance; lots and lots of butterflies in the belly, breathless first kisses and happily-ever-afters. Most days she can be found at home at a cluttered desk, pounding her tired little fingers away on a keyboard with nothing but black pepper flavored sunflower seeds and Visine as her weapons for mass-romance-novel-creation. When her fingers need a break, you’ll find her at a table with friends, drinking a few martinis and showing off a new pair of (sometimes ridiculous) high heels. She’s usually the loudest at the table and most often the one snorting with laughter. Niecey is the author of Fender Bender Blues, a contemporary romantic comedy published by The Wild Rose Press. Her new romantic comedy series, What’s Love??? includes Another Shot At Love, and Done With Love releasing April 2014. Connect with Niecey!!! Newsletter sign-up: http://eepurl.com/G6KLb Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Niecey-Roy/e/B00B60SEHO/ Cupcakes & Romance: https://www.facebook.com/groups/725812110783988/ www.nieceyroy.com www.nieceyroy.com/blog/ http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6905991.Niecey_Roy https://www.facebook.com/NieceyRoyRomanceAuthor https://twitter.com/NieceyRoy https://www.tsu.co/NieceyRoy Books by Niecey
Fender Bender Blues
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00B5L71YQ/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=B00B5L71YQ&linkCode=as2&tag=nieroy-20
Book Blast, Giveaway & Interview: Tamar Rising by @TanithDavenport
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Tamar Rising
Tanith Davenport
Genre: Paranormal erotic romance
Publisher: Totally Bound
ISBN: 9781784303389
Number of pages: 64
Word Count: 15031
Cover Artist: Posh Gosh
Book Description:
Sequel to I Heard Your Voice
Tamar Steele’s star is on the rise. Her relationship with boyfriend Jason Bray is blossoming, as is her bond with her spirit guide, the ghost of Jason’s brother Matt, who has been training her in mediumship. And, newly installed as the medium for her crew of paranormal investigators, she is already receiving press attention, which brings her to the notice of Scare Seekers – a paranormal entertainment show keen to film an episode with Tamar’s team.
But when teammate Hana is violently possessed, filming is thrown into disarray. The dark spirit seems to disappear at first, but when a frenzied Hana attacks Tamar on the drive home, Tamar realises that her mediumistic abilities may not be strong enough to fight the demon.
Until one day Tamar discovers her powers are increased by having sex on haunted ground, and finds that maybe she and Jason can save Hana, their team’s reputation, and themselves…
Available at Totally Bound
God, he was good at this. She could already feel relaxation flowing through her body, followed by tingles of excitement as his tongue went to work, tormenting every sensitive spot. Her pleasure mounted, spiralling in her gut as she pushed her hips forward, aching for more movement, harder, faster, but Jason was still goingslowly and her breath raced in anticipation of the climax to come.
Tamar moaned, lacing her fingers into Jason’s hair as he pressed soft kisses to her pussy, alternating with tender licks until she could barely stand it. Jason slid his fingers inside her, grazing her sweet spot over and over again—
“Jason!”
Jason’s lips tightened around her clit, sucking, and Tamar threw back her head and screamed as the pleasure hit her.
Through the waves of ecstasy, she heard a loud pop from above her, followed by a sprinkling sensation on her skin.
“What the fuck?” she heard Jason say, and Tamar opened her eyes. Her chest and stomach were covered with shards of glass. Jason was sitting back on his ankles, staring up in irritated confusion as he brushed fragments out of his hair.
At least, it looked like he was. The room was in almost complete darkness, broken only by the bedside lamp and the street light outside the window.
“Did the light bulb blow?”
“I think it shattered.”
“Jesus.”
Together they got off the bed to sweep up the pieces of broken bulb, Tamar shaking her head in bemusement.
Now that had never happened before.
What did that mean?
How long did it take to get your first book published?
I was quite lucky with “The Hand He Dealt”. It took me three years to write it, including considerable edits, but it was accepted by the seventh publisher to receive it.
Who is your publisher? Or do you self-publish?
My publisher for “Tamar Rising” is Totally Bound. I’ve also been published by House of Erotica and Naughty Nights Press, but Totally Bound are my main publisher.
What can we expect from you in the future? ie More books of the same genre? Books of a different genre?
Definitely more erotic romance – I love writing it and love the freedom it allows for settings and storylines. I’d like to try literary fiction at some point as well.
Do you have a certain routine you have for writing? ie You listen to music, sit in a certain chair?
I have to be dressed. I know many writers love being able to work in their pyjamas, but if I don’t get dressed first, I can’t get my writing head on.
Do you read all the reviews of your book/books?
I probably shouldn’t, but I do – fortunately I haven’t had too many terrible ones!
Do you choose a title first, or write the book then choose the title?
I prefer to have a title in place first, but a few times I’ve kept a working title and decided on the proper title afterwards. I did that with “The Hand He Dealt” and also with a novella due later this year, “In the Halls of the Mountain Troll”.
Are character names and place names decided after their creation? Or do you pick a character/place name and then invent them?
I’ve done both. I’ll often have character sketches and random names noted down and will pick up suitable ones when I’m planning a new story.
Do you decide on character traits (ie shy, quiet, tomboy girl) before writing the whole book or as you go along?
I prefer to have at least basic character traits down before I get started, but I may add ones as I go.
Which format of book do you prefer, eBook, hardback, or paperback?
I used to think I preferred paperbacks, but now I couldn’t live without my Kindle. I love being able to download a sample before buying.
What is your favorite book and Why? Have you read it more than once?
My favourite book changes from year to year, but right now it’s “The Mysterious Death of Miss Austen”, which I have indeed read more than once. The characterization and emotion is beautifully written.
Do you think books transfer to movies well? Which is you favorite/worst book to movie transfer?
They can – it depends on the book. Michael Crichton films were particularly irritating to me as they tried to cram in too much information and never managed to capture the book properly. On the other hand, I loved the movie adaptation of “I Capture the Castle” – I thought that one did a good job.
Your favorite food is?
Thai sticky rice.
Your favorite singer/group is?
Queen, without question.
Your favorite color is?
Purple.
Your favorite Author is?
At the moment, Agatha Christie, but that can change. I’m also a great fan of Anne O’Brien and Lauren Oliver.
Tanith Davenport began writing erotica at the age of 27 by way of the Romantic Novelists' Association New Writers' Scheme. Her debut novel "The Hand He Dealt" was released by Total-e-Bound in June 2011 and was shortlisted for the Joan Hessayon Award for 2012.
Tanith has had short stories published by Naughty Nights Press and House of Erotica. She loves to travel and dreams of one day taking a driving tour of the United States, preferably in a classic 1950s pink Cadillac Eldorado.
Tanith's idea of heaven is an Indian head massage with a Mojito at her side.
January 19, 2015
Book Blast, Top Ten & Giveaway: A Fruitful Intimacy by @donnag63 @BookRhythm
Presented by:
A Fruitful Intimacy by Donna Gallagher Audience: Erotic - Genre: Contemporary Romance - Formats: E-book - Publisher: Totally Bound - Cover by: Posh Gosh – Totally Bound Publishing - Editor: Sarah Smeaton – Totally Bound Publishing - Pages: Novella – (under 20k words so about 60pages) - ISBN : 9781784303532 - Date Published: 9th January 2015
The fire and passion of their love has slowly ebbed away through years of neglect. Can a second honeymoon re-ignite that spark? There was no physical contact in their marriage for so long that when Ben first hatches his plan to take Beth away for the weekend it really is all about the sex and providing an environment where there are no distractions, and no excuse for her to refuse his advances again. But while Ben is making all the arrangements it suddenly becomes clear to him that there’s something more important at stake. His marriage, to the woman of his dreams, is actually in trouble. Beth believed that motherhood would come easy, that building a perfect world around her three sons and husband would be achievable. But reality has proven her wrong. The more she tried the bigger her failures shattered her confidence. Where she planned to shower her family with home baked cookies, smiles and unconditional love—she struggles just getting the evening meal on the table. By the end of the day she’s so exhausted that she can’t even fulfil her marital obligations. Once upon a time making love to Ben was just as necessary as breathing, before her body was ravaged by the demands of pregnancy and childbirth. They’ve grown so far apart that Beth’s convinced Ben’s having an affair. Can a second honeymoon really help Beth and Ben bridge that growing divide between them and bring back the fire and passion that has slowly, through years of neglect, ebbed away? And will this give the couple a much needed chance to work together for a happier future? Or is it too late? Publisher's Note: This book was previously published elsewhere. It has been revised and re-edited for release with Totally Bound Publishing.
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Beth was so angry and upset. And she was right, lately he’d had no idea of what was going on in her head. Over the last few weeks, Beth’s mood had only gotten worse. She hardly even spoke to him at all now. He hated seeing her sitting in the chair like that, looking so sad—her body so rigid, full of tension, as if one more word from him could splinter her into pieces. The idea of spending any time with him, alone, was more than likely the last thing she’d want to do. All of which didn’t bode well for his grand plan. His stupid brother, opening his big loose mouth like that. Ben could’ve killed him. He’d wanted tonight to go smoothly, considering he was going to tell Beth about the break he had planned out for them. He believed if he told her with Luke and Lucy right there in person to ease any anxiety about their ability to look after the kids, she would happily go along with the holiday. Nobody could have anticipated Luke throwing a spanner in the works from the get go. Well, that wasn’t true. His brother had a brilliant gift for the unexpected. He wanted to drag her from the chair into his embrace, tuck the errant blonde strand that hung from her constantly tied back hair, behind her ear and kiss her. God, he wanted to feel Beth’s lips on his own. For the life of him, Ben couldn’t remember the last time he had explored her mouth with his tongue or heard her soft whimper in response to his touch. How could they have let this happen to them? Let their relationship get so broken that he was too scared to even try to touch his own wife for fear of yet another rejection. Had Beth fallen out of love with him? Had he failed to see it? Was this trip even worth it? Had the divide between them become too great to bridge? Ben didn’t have those answers, didn’t really want to deal with the possible outcome. He wanted his wife back. Now was not the right time to repair the damage, not with his house echoing the sounds of laughter of his boys as they rumbled with his brother and Lucy’s voice egging them on. But later, he would convince Beth to give them another try. First, he had to follow through with the more trivial aspects of his life, cooking the meat and feeding his family. Ignoring his need to touch Beth, Ben turned away from her and grabbed the tray of meat from the bench. “I need to get this cooked. The barbeque plate is getting too hot.” He walked from the kitchen, did not look back to see if Beth remained at the table, if she was looking his way or not. The quicker he got this done, the quicker he could reveal his idea to her. Ben just prayed that it wasn’t too little, too late.
Top Ten Heroes.
Shamus O’Rourke – The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke by N.j. Walters.
James Riley – Legacy Found by N.j. Walters
Levi Mann – Past Promises by N.j. Walters
Lucian Daratrazanoff – Dark Guardian by Christine Feehan
Gator Fontenot – Night Game by Christine Feehan
Randy Phillips – Always Cambridge by H.K. Carlton
Gard Marschand – The Devil Take You by H.K. Carlton
Clay Powers – Defying the Odds by Kele Moon
Sawyer Hudson – Sawyer (Buckhorn Brothers) by Lori Forster
Jon JT Thomson – Mandy’s He-man by Me! I have a soft spot for JT ;)
A few years ago when the sensual, male voices in Australian-born Donna Gallagher’s head became too loud to ignore there were only two options available – check herself into a mental hospital or put pen to paper and write. A voracious reader and avid sports fan it was no surprise that her first seven books were based around her beloved sport of rugby league. A former WAG Donna had plenty of personal experience to fall back on as she created her fictional team of hunky Aussie sports heroes and the women that won their hearts. A double finalist in the Australian Romance Readers Awards 2013 for Favourite Erotic Romance with her books Emily’s Cowboy and Sarah’s Soldier, Donna was also thrilled to be named a finalist for ARRA’s Favourite Australian Romance Author and Favourite Continuing Romance Series. While sports romances will always hold a special place in her heart Donna has now expanded her genres to include romantic suspense with her soon to be released Haven Security series and a sexy, short, contemporary erotic story A Fruitful Intimacy set on a tropical island in Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. Her years as a WAG may not have lived up to the happy-ever-after she creates in her books but a second shot at love has proven a winner. Donna is now happily married to her very own hero. She lives a ten minute drive from Sydney’s iconic Harbour Bridge and Opera House with her three grown sons, two turtles and a very spoilt mini dachshund called Toni.
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Tour Schedule - One Week Blog Tour for A Fruitful Intimacy by Donna Gallagher from Jan 19 to Jan 27, 2015. Jan 19 Indy Book Fairy - Promo http://paranormalbookfairy.blogspot.com/ Deal Sharing Aunt - Promo http://www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com Eclipse Reviews - Promo & Character Interview http://eclipsereviews.weebly.com Ogitchida Kwe's Book Blog - Promo http://ogitchidabookblog.blogspot.com/ Jan 20 Pick a Genre Already - Promo http://pickagenrealready.blogspot.ca Deborah's Blog of Book Reviews, Spotlights and More - Promo & Review http://deborahfavoritebooks.blogspot.com/ Portals to New Worlds - Promo & Top Ten http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com Jan 21 Babu's Bookshelf - Review http://babusbookshelf.blogspot.com SiK Reviews - Promo http://sikreviews.blogspot.com Jan 22 Rustys Reading - Promo http://www.rustysreading.blogspot.com Angels with Attitude Book Reviews - Promo & Author Interview http://angelswithattitudebookreviews-joelle.blogspot.com Room With Books - Promo http://roomwithbooks.com Jan 23 Bound 2 Escape - Promo http://www.bound2escape.com The Avid Reader - Promo & Author Interview http://the-avidreader.blogspot.com Jan 26 Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog - Promo http://fictionalrendezvousbookblog.blogspot.com/ Booky Ramblings of a Neurotic Mom - Promo & Top Ten http://bookyramblingsofaneuroticmom.blogspot.co.uk/ Jan 27 Book Groupies - Promo http://bookgroupies2.blogspot.com/ Hooked on Books - Review http://hookedonbooksforever.blogspot.co.uk/?m=1&zx=8f0628a04d78920
Pre-Release Blitz: Accepting Fate by @brandylrivers
BOOK INFORMATION TITLE – Accepting Fate SERIES – Others of Seattle: Book 3 AUTHOR – Brandy L Rivers GENRE – Adult Paranormal Romance PUBLICATION DATE – 2-23-2015 LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – around 70ish k PUBLISHER – Brandy L Rivers COVER ARTIST – Brandy L Rivers
BOOK SYNOPSISAccept fate, or it destroys you... Michael Nights hides his true nature. To protect his first love, his magic broke free, terrifying Amanda so badly she left. That day convinced him he was the monster she claimed. Horrified by the damage he could cause, he’s vowed to keep his power locked away. Gwen Fate meets Mike at a party. One look and she’s captivated. Inherently curious, she wants to discover all of his secrets. What she learns compels her to help, whether or not he wants to embrace what he is. Amanda deLuna has changed, but was it for the better? She arrives back in Seattle and offers Mike what he always wanted. After finally learning to control his power, Mike will have to choose. The life he wished for? Or his fate?
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AUTHOR BIO Brandy L Rivers is the author of the Others of Edenton and Others of Seattle series. There are more Others of Edenton and Others of Seattle books in the works. As an avid reader, Brandy has always loved writing. She became serious about it as a stay-at-home-mother. She has a file full of manuscripts she plans to edit and put out there eventually. She lives in Western Washington with her husband and three kids, where she is already working on future stories in each of the series and several other projects. AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER – GOOGLE+ - PINTEREST – TUMBLR –
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Cover Reveal: London Love by @EvatopiaLit
BOOK INFORMATION TITLE – “London Love” AUTHOR – Victoria Atkin GENRE – Contemporary Romance PUBLICATION DATE – February 10, 2015 PUBLISHER – Evatopia Press COVER ARTIST – Kate Strawbridge/Dwell Design & Press BOOK SYNOPSISTrue love or the career of a lifetime? Could you choose? Evelyn Wise and Jack King share strong acting ambitions and unstoppable persistence when it comes to pursuing their careers. But on one fated night, they meet on Shaftesbury Avenue in the heart of London’s theatre district. Innocently, they entertain their curiosity for each other behind the stage door of the Gielgud Theatre, allowing their hearts to open to each other during a summer romance in Soho. As their acting careers begin to take flight, their relationship becomes a casualty of their fame. A world of sex and drug deals begins to encompass them, forcing each of them to employ unlawful actions to survive their broken existences and secure their dreams. Words are left unsaid as they travel, and Evelyn and Jack are faced with the raw reality of having to choose between their love of success and their love for each other.
AUTHOR BIO Victoria's writing passion was nurtured as a child when she would write poems and short stories during car journeys with her father. As her academic studies continued, Victoria's flair for writing developed alongside her acting career where she studied at The University of Chichester and The Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. Victoria has written for The Stage Newspaper and Spotlight, both highly regarded sources of research for the acting communities in the United Kingdom. Her first novel, London Love, will debut in early 2015. In addition to acting commitments, Victoria continues to develop literature for the world of television and screen, as well as women's romance fiction and acting theories and guides. AUTHOR SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS Facebook - Twitter - Instagram - Pinterest -
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January 16, 2015
Book Blast, Interview & Giveaway: The Relics of Gods by @QiuxiaoYeyu
The Relics of Gods
Between Heaven and Earth
Book One
Yeyu
Genre: Fantasy
Chinese Historical/Mythology/Paranormal Fantasy
Publisher: DSP Publications
Date of Publication: January 6th, 2015
ISBN Ebook – 978-1-62798-779-0
ISBN Paperback – 978-1-62798-778-3
Number of pages: 350
Word Count: 119,000
Cover Artist: Reese Dante
Book Description:
What is worse: Being so broke you can barely afford food, getting hired for dangerous missions way out of your league, suffocating under mountains of unanswered questions—or wanting to sexually dominate someone who can kill you without lifting a finger?
Lu Delong is a mercenary who evaluates antiques most of the time, and deals with the paranormal on rare occasions—even though it’s supposed to be the other way around. When he joins a dangerous quest for an ancient artifact, he meets and becomes strongly attracted to a mysterious and powerful immortal named Cangji. Despite his friends’ warnings and Cangji’s icy, unsociable demeanor, Delong is unable to resist befriending him. However, Cangji is deeply involved in a matter beyond mortals, and Delong is drawn into a chaotic struggle by both visible and invisible forces.
Always the pacifist who wanted to live a simple human life, Delong never imagined he’d end up involved in a conflict that will affect everything from the lowest insects on earth to the highest gods in heaven.
AS USUAL, the market was bustling and crowded on a hot summer day. Chickens clucked, pigs snorted, and citizens of Great Ming screamed over one another at the top of their lungs, deep in heated bargaining battles. Naturally, Lu Delong was no exception.
“Fifteen wen for a bundle of sorry-looking water spinach? You must be joking!” Delong complained as he examined the bunch of tasty greens with a disgusted look. The shop owner was likely from a village outside the city, since Delong had never seen her in the markets before. “This is outrageous!” he accused, staring straight into the woman’s eyes. “You operate a blackhearted business here, madam—I daresay this bundle is only worth three wen.”
The tall, muscular woman’s face turned a bright shade of red. “What in the world are you talking about?” She had a strong accent and was probably one of the refugees who had moved south to escape the drought up north. “Look at how green these plants are, how beautiful and flawless the leaves are—these vegetables are planted in the richest soil in these lands and are fed quality water. Fifteen wen is actually a bargain!” Her gaze swept up and down Delong, and her lips thinned. “I don’t know how a beggar like you grew this big, but if you can’t afford the price, go away! Don’t go off slandering my shop’s vegetables!”
Delong took a step back and glared at her. “Excuse me, madam. How rude of you to assume things from my attire! I am more educated than you think, thank you very much for the discrimination.” He leaned closer and continued, “Have you heard of the story of the Orange Seller before?”
“What Orange Seller?” the woman growled, but she was unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. Delong snickered inwardly, pleased to find this woman a typical gossip-lover with nothing better to do with her time.
“There once was this Orange Seller who was good at storing oranges so they did not spoil. The oranges were beautiful, with a golden color and jade texture. In the markets, they sold at ten times the price of average oranges, but people still fought to buy them because they believed the fruits to be of exquisite taste. However, when they brought the oranges home to eat, they realized the oranges were all rotten and dried inside. The moral of this story? Never trust appearances,” Delong finished.
“But I’m not selling oranges!” the woman argued, exasperated. She pointed at the spinaches. “You can cut these apart and they’re obviously not dried up and rotten!”
“How do I know you’re not selling poisonous vegetables?” Delong inquired. “They’re so green, I find it very suspicious! If someone dies in this village and they bought vegetables from you, we know who to blame, don’t we? So I’m being nice already to actually offer to buy your vegetables at all. Three wen for one bundle, and I’ll buy two. What say you?”
By now the shop owner was pale. “Fine, fine—but promise you won’t tell anyone else the story you just told me?”
Delong grinned wide. “Deal.” He then proceeded to buy a few more vegetables at a great bargain, and with a basketful of beautiful, delicious vegetables, he hummed on the way back to his house. What a way to start his day—he only had fifteen copper coins in his purse, and he had bought five times his money’s worth.
He eventually arrived at the least organized section of the prefecture, where walled residences of not-so-great condition were squished closely together. Like all commoners with little money and no extended family to care for, Delong lived in a sishuiguitang with a tiny courtyard cramped by one main building and two secondary buildings. He pushed open the creaky gates, stepped into the courtyard, and paused. He glanced at the building to his left, where the kitchen was, before he turned to stare ahead. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what to expect, so he continued whistling and walked into the main building.
“I see you haven’t changed much, Delong,” said the lady at his table, who had already helped herself to a cup of alcohol. Unlike the other guest who sat humbly beside her, Yaqin easily garnered attention. Her robes were made of orange silks lined with beige-colored fur, scantly covering her lithe body and leaving her pale breasts and thighs exposed. Her reddish dark hair was arranged in a complex knot secured by an intricate golden hairpin, and fox fangs dangled from her ears. Any average man would be taken by her stunning beauty and sensual allure, but her charms had little effect on Delong.
Yaqin glanced around the room, her gaze sweeping past the shelves that somewhat divided the place to contain a living room and sleeping quarters, his uncomfortable bed, his study table, and the broom next to it. “Still, your house depresses me,” she sighed. “Only cheap alcohol and less than a catty of rice left? The rest of your belongings are merely old tattered books! You even have a building stuffed full of useless pieces of paper! What in the world have you been doing for the past few months?”
“Nothing,” Delong admitted with a shrug. “Hey, it is not easy finding work,” he said in his defense when Yaqin shook her head with disapproval. “It’s not as though people run into paranormal problems all the time! Even if they do, they’re probably just going to ask for help from prestigious Daoist sects that deal with those problems instead of a freelancer like me. My sole income is from being Old Li’s assistant....” His voice became smaller when Yaqin gave him a pointed look.
“Well, of course I have you and Zhaoyang to thank,” he added hastily while he nodded at the thick-browed man sitting on the chair beside Yaqin. “Old Li always talks fondly of you two, and he takes care of me because he knows we’re good friends. Still, I’m not that bad myself—I helped him greatly with evaluating the goods people like you sell him to give the prices a competitive edge. I have to say, those history books I’ve read paid off!”
“Evaluating antiques, are you?” Yaqin said, unimpressed. “Listen to yourself. All the skills your master taught you, the art you’ve learned at Cloud Fortress Sect—wasted.” She got to her feet and crossed her arms, examining Delong with narrowed amber eyes. “Old Li isn’t going to be around forever, Delong. You know how short human lives are! Do you really plan to spend the rest of your life cooped up in this pathetic shed?”
Delong shrugged. “Hey, it is not nice to call my house a shed! And what is wrong with being an antique seller? You need someone to sell your spoils, don’t you? Old Li already told me that he wants to hand the shop to me, since he has no sons,” he finished proudly.
“That’s—” Yaqin stomped her fur-lined boot, her hands balled into small fists. “Argh! I have never heard of a half-yao selling antiques! You should be out there training to become an immortal xian, causing problems for humans, or exploring the world—not selling antiques, wasting time and money on useless books, and being satisfied with some measly grocery bargain!”
“Now, now, Yaqin, calm down,” chuckled He Zhaoyang as he raised a hand and patted her thigh. Unlike Delong, who chose to tie half his coarse brown hair up only to keep it out of his face, Zhaoyang had his black hair combed into a neat, tight bun, which accentuated his sharp jawbone. Like all who were in his profession, however, his skin was on the pale side. “There are benefits to knowledge, and not every shifter has to lead extraordinary lives, never mind training to become celestial beings, hmm? You know how few mortals, human or yao, can actually succeed in transcending mortality. Besides, we actually could use Delong’s help in our next case.”
Smelling money, Delong straightened his back. “How can I help you two?”
A warm smile spread across Zhaoyang’s face. “Yaqin and I have been invited to participate in what will perhaps be the biggest operation in history, and we need someone who we can trust to come with us and watch our backs.”
“Wait—what?” Delong’s great smile faltered. He wasn’t too comfortable with doing what the couple before him did for a living, even though he was perfectly fine with selling what they brought back. “Well, if you ask, of course I’ll help, but I hope I won’t drag you two down...,” he said carefully. “I have never fought in that sort of... environment. I don’t know what to expect.”
“You’ll be fine,” Yaqin said, waving her hand in dismissal of Delong’s protest. “You’re not exactly human, either.”
“I’m still half-human,” Delong argued. “Unlike you, fox lady! There is nothing wrong with me wanting to live an ordinary life as a human!”
Yaqin merely yawned. “Spare me the cliché. How many times have you used your otherworldly abilities to get your way? How many times have you used your powers during... say, sex? Don’t tell me you don’t use them to boost your stamina.”
“Wh—How can you be so direct and say such things without a shred of embarrassment?” Delong said with disbelief, feeling a little hot now.
Shrugging, Yaqin smirked like the fox she was. She stood, though her full height only reached Delong’s chin. “Why should I be embarrassed?” she inquired, looking up at Delong as she poked the center of his chest. “Still, I hit the target, didn’t I?” Her smile widened when Delong felt the heat spread from his cheeks to his neck. “Despite how harmless and upright your face tends to fool people into thinking you are, with your thick eyebrows, large eyes and all... I knew someone who got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the celibacy rule would use his powers during sex. But still. Stop using your human lineage as an excuse.” She lifted her hand and placed it on her human husband’s shoulder. “Zhaoyang here leads a far more interesting and extraordinary life than you do!”
As though taking her cue, Zhaoyang added, “Anyway, Delong, I’m asking you to come with us also because I caught wind that, ten years ago, your master was investigating our destination. This may have something to do with her disappearance.”
“Are you serious?” Delong’s eyes widened. “Why would my master investigate tombs? It definitely does not seem like a mission from Cloud Fortress Sect, since defiling the dead is not exactly the best way to become immortal. Even though my master already became a xian and isn’t stuck- up like the rest of the daoshi out there, I can still hardly imagine her barging into some noble’s tomb without good reason.”
“Perhaps,” Zhaoyang said in a lowered voice. “But this tomb she was investigating isn’t by any means an ordinary tomb.” He licked his lip. “This tomb... belonged to a god.”
“You’re planning to rob the tomb of a god?”
Character Name: Lu Delong (鹿德隆)
Character Bio: After his human mother died giving birth to him, half-human half-elk Lu Delong was adopted by Zhou Ruyan, a human who had attained immortality through Daoist art. Ruyan brought him back to her sect, Cloud Fortress, where she took him in as an apprentice and taught him Daoist magic. When Delong was around 12, Ruyan disappeared for unknown reasons, leaving him to face his peers alone. Unwelcome for the shifter blood inside him, Delong eventually got himself expelled so he could leave Cloud Fortress and live by himself. Bad luck seemed to plague him, forcing him to constantly change jobs and move around, leaving him piss-poor most of the time with his most stable source of income being an unstable and occasional mercenary job to deal with paranormal issues. Despite all his hardships, Delong is pretty content living a humble, human life. One day, however, he obtains a clue about his master’s whereabouts and heads over to investigate, only to meet a mysterious immortal named Cangji who would change his life.
Describe yourself what is your worst and best quality?
I suppose my worst quality is that I’m rather selfish. I sometimes do things for myself at the expense of other people’s wellbeing, and a mild example would be how cheap I am. My best quality is that I don’t dwell on the past. Wait a minute…. Wow I sound like such an asshole when I put those two qualities together! I swear I am not that horrid of a person.
What is the one thing you wish other people knew about you?
I don’t particularly have anything I wish other people knew. I’m used to being misunderstood and that’s all right.
What is your biggest secret something no one knows about?
I don’t think I have any big secrets. Do I?
What are you most afraid of?
Not being able to do anything while Cangji suffers, and being a burden to Cangji. Unfortunately this happens way more often than I would like.
What do you want more than anything?
To live a normal, humble and mortal life with Cangji like a married couple, free of all the pressures from the outside world. I don’t want to reincarnate after I die.
What is your relationship status?
Single-ish….
How would you describe your sense of fashion?
I’m no slob but being broke most of the time does not give me much choice in terms of fashion. I usually wear cotton pants and narrow-sleeved robes, coupled with leather guards. This is for easier movement and fighting, since I’m a mercenary.
How much of a rebel are you?
I suppose I’m actually quite rebellious since I got kicked out of Cloud Fortress Sect for breaking the… *ahem*…rules. Also, I’m not a particularly religious person despite knowing gods exist.
What do you considered to be your greatest achievement?
Right now I don’t have any great achievements.
What is your idea of happiness?
Being with Cangji.
What is your current state of mind?
Determined
What is your most treasured possession?
I find material possessions meaningless. A nice reminder of the past, but ultimately useless to my future.
What is your most marked characteristic?
I’m quite easygoing and I possess a lot of random knowledge and skills since I love reading and I’ve changed jobs quite a few times.
What is it that you, most dislike?
I most dislike anyone who mistreats Cangji
Which living person do you, most despise?
I do not despise anyone because it’s too tiresome. If I got hung up over all the people who’ve bullied me in the past I’d never be able to move forward in my life.
What is your greatest regret?
I regret soiling my master’s name with what I have done to leave Cloud Fortress, but overall I would have still left the place anyway.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
I like men who are open-minded.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
I respect independent, ambitious or strong-willed women. My master, Zhou Ruyan, was such a woman, after all.
Who is your favorite hero in fiction?
Zhuge Liang from the Romance of Three Kingdoms. His strategies are amazing.
Which living person do you most admire?
Not a living person per se, but I admire my master, Zhou Ruyan, the most.
If you could change one thing about yourself what would it be?
I wish I can change how useless I am most of the time. I want to become more powerful so I can stop being a burden to Cangji.
What is your motto?
Instead of dwelling on the past, one should focus on the future.
Yeyu wrote her first story when she was 7, and she has been creating stories on-and-off ever since, be it writing fanfiction or drawing original manga. She finally ventured into writing original fiction in high school, and stuck with the form.
Most of Yeyu’s childhood was spent overseas, but by the age of 16 she moved back to the small East Asian island most commonly known as Taiwan, where she was born.
When Yeyu isn’t writing in her spare time, she is probably reading, gaming, or sleeping. No cats, sadly.
Web: https://autumnleafrain.wordpress.com/
Twitter: @QiuxiaoYeyu
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6903476.Yeyu
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/QiuxiaoYeyu
January 15, 2015
Book Blast & Giveaway: Dreamlike State by @Macy_Farmer @BookRhythm
Presented by:
The Magic of Black Forest: Dreamlike State - The Magic of Black Forest #1 by Macy Farmer Audience: Adult - Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Paranormal, Shifters, Vampires - Formats: E-book and Paperback - Publisher: BookRhythm - Cover by: www.crocodesigns.com - Editor: www.BookRhythm.com - Pages: 363 pages - ASIN: B00PKQ44VA - Date Published: December 15, 2014
Natalia spends her days in her dreamlike world fantasizing about love to escape from reality. Bradley has it all except for the one thing he wants most, a soul mate to spend eternity with.After tragically losing her parents, Natalia takes a vacation that leads her on a journey, which brings them together. Together they face the challenges of a jealous ex-lover, an estranged father and a sadistic friend. They all have one thing in common, to keep Bradley and Natalia apart. And they’ll do anything to end their relationship, even murder. Will Bradley and Natalia’s love be enough to defeat all who wish to destroy it?
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Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCSd1WmXhVU
Although this is a new song, the more I hear this beautiful song, the more I think of Bradley’s love for Natalia: Ed Sheeran – Thinking Out Loud The playlist below is the music I played in the background while I wrote The Magic of Black Forest: 1. Evanescence • Bring Me To Life When I was having difficulty I would listen to this song. This song best describes what they felt when they first saw each, before they actually met, before they even spoke to each other. The moment he saw her, from across the road, before even meeting her… the very vision of her, ‘Woke him up inside.’ That same evening she saw him from across the bar for the first time, stirring up feelings she never knew exist… his sexy crooked smile, “Woke her up inside.’ 2. Maroon 5 – Hands All Over CD • Stutter (A LOT) • Hands All Over (A LOT) • Get Back In My Life (A LOT) • Give a Little More • Misery • I Can’t Lie • Runaway • Never Gonna Leave This Bed 3. A Lot Like Love Soundtrack • Brighter Than Sunshine by Aqualung (Repeatedly) • Hands of Time by Groove Armanda (Repeatedly) • Look What You’ve Done by Jet • Breathe (2AM) by Anna Nalick (Repeatedly) • Mad About You by Hooverphonic • Trouble by Ray LaMontagne • Maybe It’s Just Me by Butch Walker • Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind • Walkin’ on the Sun by Smashmouth 4. Bonjovi • I’ll Be There for You • Have a Nice Day • Lay your hands on me • Livin’ on a Prayer • You Give Love a Bad Name • Bad Medicine • Can’t Go Back 5. Fleetwood Mac • Silver Springs • Rhiannon • Sisters of the Moon • Gypsy • Dreams • The Chain • Go Your Own Way • Second Hand News • I Don’t Want to Know • Landslide • Sara
Bradley and Natalia Macy Farmer introduces Natalia Middleton, the heroine, in The Magic of Black Forest: Dreamlike State. The Magic of Black Forest is a series. Natalia tells her story throughout the first four books: Dreamlike State, Awakening, Fate, and Destiny. Date of Birth: October 31st Originally From: Lower Bucks County, Pa Physical Description: A young woman with green eyes and long wavy brownish blonde hair with natural blonde highlights that flows, all one length, down past her mid-back. Wears make-up on special occasions but other than that prefers the natural look. Not a girly girl, Natalia’s nail are manicure free. She’s rather play in the mud than have her nails painted. Special Talents: Has limited telepathy, psychic visions, and the ability to know when she met someone from one of her past lives. Strangely, with all this supernatural skills she doesn’t know the how, or even what ‘lifetime.’ When it came to men, her ability to see someone else’s thoughts by touching them left her inexperienced. Their impure thoughts always had her running away. Family Members: Father-Joshua, mother-Lillian, her best friend Melissa and her dog, Seager. Nick Names: Natty and Nat Personal History: At the age of 24 is where Natalia’s story begins. Close to her parents, she lived in the apartment above their garage. Her limited telepathy gave her little desire to socialize with acquaintances or strangers. If she wasn’t at work, she was with Seager; the puppy she rescued from a local shelter, and Melissa; her best friend, or her parents. Tragically, her parents were killed by a drunk driver, turning her life upside down. After the funeral, Natalia couldn’t decide whether she should go on the four week vacation she had planned just months before. The need to escape had her packing her bags. With Seager by her side, she headed to Black Forest, Pennsylvania. It’s there, in Black Forest, where she is awakened inside, forever altering her life.
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Born and raised in southeastern Pennsylvania. The youngest of three, Macy started telling stories at an early age. As a young adult she began writing poems and short stories. Today, Macy, a romantic with a creative imagination spends most of her free time writing. If she’s not writing or reading, she enjoys riding ATV’s with her husband on the trails of upper Pennsylvania’s State Forests. Her love for writing romance, reading and life, led her to fulfill her childhood dreams of becoming a Paranormal Romance Writer.
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Tour Schedule - One Week Blog our for The Magic of Black Forest: Dreamlike State by Macy Farmer from Jan 12 to Jan 20, 2015. Jan 12 Indy Book Fairy - Promo http://paranormalbookfairy.blogspot.com/ Angels with Attitude Book Reviews - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://angelswithattitudebookreviews-joelle.blogspot.com The Avid Reader - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://the-avidreader.blogspot.com Coffee Book & Art - Promo, Character Bio’s & Playlist http://sarityahalomi.blogspot.com/ Jan 13 Word to Dreams - Promo & Character Bio's http://wordtodreams.blogspot.com The Idle Musings of a Writer's Mind - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://theidlemusingsofawritersmind.blogspot.com Booky Ramblings of a Neurotic Mom - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://bookyramblingsofaneuroticmom.blogspot.co.uk/ Jan 14 Bound 2 Escape - Promo http://www.bound2escape.com Fictional Rendezvous Book Blog - Promo http://fictionalrendezvousbookblog.blogspot.com/ Shayna Varadeaux - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://www.shaynavaradeauxbooks.blogspot.com Jan 15 Deal Sharing Aunt - Promo http://www.dealsharingaunt.blogspot.com Agapa Reads - Promo & Review http://www.agapareads.com Eclipse Reviews - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://eclipsereviews.weebly.com Jan 16 Deborah's Blog of Book Reviews, Spotlights and More - Promo & Review http://deborahfavoritebooks.blogspot.com/ A Cauldron of Books - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://acauldronofbooks.info Portals to New Worlds - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://authorkarenswart.blogspot.com Jan 19 Rustys Reading - Promo http://www.rustysreading.blogspot.com Book Groupies - Promo http://bookgroupies2.blogspot.com/ What Shall We Blog About Today? - Promo, Character Bio's & Playlist http://kenowinsky.blogspot.com Room With Books - Promo http://roomwithbooks.com Jan 20 Books, Authors, Blogs - Promo http://therightbook4u.blogspot.com Hooked on Books - Promo & Review http://hookedonbooksforever.blogspot.co.uk/?m=1&zx=8f0628a04d78920 Archaeolibrarian - I dig good books! - Promo http://archaeolibrarianologist.blogspot.de/
