Sarah Cass's Blog: Sarah's StoryLines, page 27

Saturday Spotlight – The Garnet Dagger by Andrea Cooper

| Amazon | Crimson Romance | BN | iTunes |

The Garnet Dagger Blurb: Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

Forbidden to cross the Elvin barrier into human lands, Brock cannot sate his curiosity. Cursed by a vampyre bite that forces him to feed on the life-essence of others, he is unable to touch another without taking their life. Chained by prophesy, he must find a witch, pierce her heart, and draw her blood for his cure.

Celeste must escape the monks who have held her prisoner for years. Her magic has been kept dormant by her captors. An ancient powerful Warloc craves her powers. If he succeeds in devouring her magic, she and his world will die.

When Brock falls in love with Celeste before realizing her demise is his cure, will love triumph over his desire to be healed? Will he risk everything to save her from a Warloc, an oath breaker, who also wants her dead?

*~* 

The Garnet Dagger Excerpt:  Chapter One

I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape. At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything. By observing for eons, I understood and spoke their language. The world of mankind fascinated me. Their hobbled homes burrowed into the ground.

Rocks crunched on top one another with thatched roofs woven from straw. Never had I seen a home or inn that was higher than three levels, as if they were afraid of the sky. I delayed my return to my people as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest. Since I was already late, I hiked uphill to a shortcut rather than take the long path back home. I didn’t need to alert any of my kind near the barrier at this hour. Liana would wonder why I was late.

Tonight was the two month anniversary of our hand twining ceremony. One more month as was custom, and then we’d be wed. A gasp rustled through the trees. The roots shot a warning through to me with stifled caution. Adjusting my pack, I continued on instead of changing back into my Elvin clothes. After I passed the border which kept humans from entering our land, then I’d change. In the distance, I heard a groan. Curious, I spun in the direction of the sound. The autumn wind breezed through my worn human clothes, chilling me. But someone needed help. I turned in the direction of the sounds. Whatever made the noise should be a few yards ahead.

I hiked slower than my normal speed, so as not to startle whatever human called out. My leather boots crunched upon dried, diseased leaves and bark. Horrified, I glanced up. Branches twisted around each other to suffocating. Lifeless limbs cracked in the wind. Flesh of the trees sloughed off in layers, exposing its bones. Gashes hollowed out chunks of warmth. Fragments of leaves clung to finger tips, marking sepulchers of the dying trees. Trees mourned with wails like splitting wood, and I brought my hands over my ears. I must flee before I became infected, they told me. Flee before the stain of this defilement creeps into you, they warned. Trees spoke to my kind, always had. Yet these trees were in such agony of death that I could not breathe. Felt as though my lungs had folded in on themselves, like a moth unable to break loose from its cocoon.

Nothing I could do for them, and if I lingered too long, whatever disease gnawed upon them may choke me. Where would I go if I carried something so foul as to devour trees from the inside out? I’d never return to Tamlon if I brought this infection with me. I drew away, but a movement at the base of a decaying tree to my right caught me. My night vision picked up the sight of a human. His sallow face seemed to glow in the moonlight. Poking out from rags lay his arms and legs, which resembled skin stretched over sticks. So cadaverous was his face, I’d have thought him dead if he hadn’t moved.

“Please,” he said and his voice sounded like cicada’s vibrations, “help me.”

“What ails you in this troubled place?” I wondered if my voice, foreign to my ears in speaking the human’s language, revealed my nature.

“I am lost.” His dark eyes crinkled around the corners. “Without strength to rise. If you would but assist me up, I’ll be on my way.”

I’d never touched a human on purpose before. Was it that that gave me pause, or dread that stilled my heart? My feet itched to flee. As soon as I helped him, then I’d leave. I gritted my teeth and reached a hand down.

His gnarled fingers snapped on my arm, making me wince. Jerking me forward, his face contorted. Surprised by his strength, I fell beside him. Blackness curled around me. Teeth, fangs, broke through the skin on my neck. Then I knew him for what he was, a vampyre.

*~* 

Andrea’s Bio: Growing up in Houston, Texas, Andrea has always created characters and stories. But it wasn’t until she was in her late twenties that she started writing novels.

What happened that ignited the writing flame in her fingers? Divorced, and disillusioned by love songs and stories. They exaggerate. She thought. Love and Romance are not like that in the real world. Then she met her husband and realized, yes love and romance are exactly like the songs and stories say. She is now a happy wife, and a mom to three kids (two boys and a girl).

Andrea writes paranormal and historical romance. When not writing or reading, one may find Andrea dancing in Zumba.

She believes in the power of change and counting each moment as a blessing. But most importantly, she believes in love.

 

The Garnet Dagger Book Trailer  http://youtu.be/ISi0u9LoseM

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AndreaRCooper.author

Twitter: @AndreaRCooper

Author Website: www.AndreaRCooper.com

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6934877.Andrea_R_Cooper

Blog: http://andrearcooperauthorblog.wordpress.com/

 

Cover Reveal – Uncomplicated by Jo-Anna Walker & Dawn Robertson

Blurb:



Three days a week I work your everyday nine-to-five. The paperwork is never-ending. The pay is mediocre, and the office drama is simply intolerable. But the other four days a week, I am my own boss.

My name is Jennifer Sunshine and I am a Vegas Call Girl.
My clients range from frat boys on spring break to multimillionaire business men with stuffy wives and less than ideal equipment.

I don’t have a daddy-complex or some kind of sob story.
I don’t need the money, but it is nice.
The only thing I crave is the exhilarating feeling I get from being in control of something. Anything.

My life is uncomplicated, simple even.
That was until he bulldozed his way into my life, and everything changed.
Overnight he makes me realize how much I truly need him.



About Jo-Anna Walker:





I’m a new self-published author who just got

introduced to the writing world early 2013. My aunt suggested that I write a

story because I’m an avid reader but I waved it off and left it alone. Well

this year, a story came to me and I went with it. It took me a little bit but I

finally got a story idea that worked and now I can’t stop or control the

characters/stories that keep popping up in my head.




I’m born and raised in Canada and I live with my

very wonderful and supportive husband, Michael. We don’t have any children

(yet) unless you count our cat. My hubby been my rock through this whole new

experience for me. I couldn’t have done it without him and my friends and

family.




One of the many things I love about this new chapter

in my life is that I’m learning constantly. It’s never a dull moment and as

long as one person likes my story, I am happy.





https://www.facebook.com/joanna.wlkr.author





About Dawn Robertson:









Dawn Robertson is a twenty-something indie erotic

romance, and mother. She lives in sunny senior citizen packed Florida, where

she wrangles her kids, and Pitbull puppy.




Dawn can normally be found swearing like a sailor,

making late night drive-thru appearances, arguing with her kids (or being run

over by their power wheels), reading a steamy romance while hiding in her

bathroom, writing her little heart out on her laptop (or dragging her Macbook

to the Genius bar praying they can save her latest work in progress), or

sipping on a smoothie. She loves to hear from her fans, readers, and authors

alike. Feel free to drop her a message.




Dawn rarely takes life seriously, so be sure to

expect heavy sarcasm from her. She is also the life of the party, so be sure to

meet up with her at one of the many author events she will be attending in the

next couple months. Buy her a shot of whiskey, and she will love you for life.





https://www.facebook.com/AuthorDawnRobertson





Add to your Goodreads now:




https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19004818-uncomplicated

Thursday Tell All – Meet Skillet from Morning After Midnight

What is your story, Skillet?

I’m a black friend of our hero Aaron, with whom I saved the rabbits under his gramma’s porch in 1958.

The story opens in 1996 in Atlanta.

“Aaron and I grew up in the Deep South during turmoil that changed our lives forever. Those days, our friendship had to be a secret from his white family who thought I wasn’t worthy of their favorite son. I’ve loved that boy since we were chil’ren. I’m lookin’ forward to seeing him again.

“Sitting here on the shiny MARTA train, I can’t help thinkin’ about the past and wondering how much my South has really changed since I’ve been gone. My name is Skillet Hamilton, and I’m coming back to Georgia where it all began, at least for me.

“Bein’ home gives me a happy heart and makes me laugh at the memories that phrase conjures up. Every time Lyndon Johnson addressed the nation during our unsettled times, he had a heavy heart. We knew more about his heart back in the day than what he was doing to our country.

“Believe it or not, between Aaron and me, I was the lucky one. I experienced a loving, hardworking family and a clear set of values. Poor Aaron, his values changed daily. His capricious women folk, grandma and mother, couldn’t make up their minds about anything—‘cept me. I was off limits once we started school. They weren’t wishy-washy ‘bout that. They were—to put it nicely—confused. Ella, the old lady, was stuck in the past, not embracing the new ways. Her daughter, Lonnie Jo, Aaron’s mama, was stuck in the bottle or some other pleasure pit. It’s a wonder Aaron turned out so good.”

Do you think the author portrayed you accurately?

Very! I think she likes me. 

Do you have any special strengths?

Good sense! Aaron got mixed messages. My family was solid. As you watch us grow up, you’ll see it’s a struggle for Aaron, but I seemed to find my place in the world.

Do you have any special weaknesses?

Yeah. It takes me a while to commit.

What makes you happy?

Once I figured it out, my life was just fine. It took Aaron longer, that’s why it’s his story. He’s the conflicted sort.

What are you afraid of?

Water. Can’t swim and don’t want to!

What do you regret?

That I wasn’t able to impart more wisdom to my buddy before he messed up his life. Or, before his mom did. Lonnie Jo was a pistol.

What is the most important thing that ever happened to you? Why?

Seminary. I learned even a saint has to compromise.

Do you have any hobbies?

Sports, especially running. I got a lot of practice running from Aaron’s gramma.

What, if anything, haunts you?

The look of loss on Aaron’s face when we graduated high school. He had a whole lot of livin’ to do before he could find the right woman.

*~*~*~*

| Amazon |

Tagline:

Unsettled times and dysfunctional families force the young lovers to rethink their values and find love between the States.

Excerpt:

(Aaron is asking advice from Skillet who is headed for Seminary:

The store would close in half an hour. They took their milkshakes to a booth. Aaron leaned over toward the center of the table. “I’m in deep shit, Skillet.”

Skillet blinked. “What’s goin’ down, man?”

“Remember my pretty blonde girlfriend?”

“Who could forget her?”

Aaron took a deep breath and whispered, “This wasn’t Melanie’s fault, Skillet. I was so damned busy with my own goals I didn’t see the whole picture.”

“What picture? What’re you tryin’ to say?” He pushed his shake aside and leaned in.

“I was working to become a doctor. I let things slide. She told me she was taking an antibiotic. I knew she was on the pill. What the hell kind of premed student am I not to remember that antibiotics can nullify the pill?”

Skillet smiled. “You’re gonna be a daddy?”

“Hell, yes. And we aren’t married. I don’t want to marry her, but I should want to. I should be crazy to marry her. Doesn’t the baby deserve a family with parents who care about it? I loved Melanie once, or thought I did. Now—”

“Now you’re gonna be a daddy.” Skillet slapped him on the shoulder. “What’s wrong with that? Lots of college kids are married and working while they’re in school.”

“I’m in love with someone else.”

*~*~*

Bio:

Julie Eberhart Painter was raised in Bucks Count, Pennsylvania, boyhood home of James A Michener. Julie is the author of Mortal Coil, Tangled Web, and the 2011 Book of the Year, Kill Fee, and sequel, Medium Rare from www.champagnebooks.com. Daughters of the Sea, e-book and print. Julie’s first paranormal romance, and Morning After Midnight are available from MuseItUp Publishing. http://bit.ly/1gpaO4R and other online e-book venues.

Twitter: @JulieEPainter

Facebook

Linked-In

Julie is a monthly blogger on http://thewritersvineyard.com/ , and feature writer for http://cocktailsmagazine.wix.com/fictionandgossip  an online slick. Her nine flash fiction stories appear under http://bewilderingstories.com/bios/painter_bio.htm

Visit Julie’s Web site at www.books-jepainter.com

 

 

Secret Cravings Winter Wonderland Blog Hop

 STAY TUNED FOR GIVEAWAY DETAILS BELOW…MINE & SCP’S!!!

 

Welcome to the Secret Cravings Winter Wonderland Blog Hop & Scavenger Hunt! There’s some amazing prizes in store for the readers!!

Details on that are further below. First, I also want to mention that in a few weeks is the anniversary of my first published book, and the birth of the wonderful, gritty town of Dominion Falls. When the world met my amnesiac with the eidetic memory, Jane Doe…and my (anti)hero, brothel and saloon owner, Cole Mitchell.

 

So in honor of Dominion Falls’ birthday, I’m giving away your choice of the complete series in ebook format…or a signed print copy of one of my books!!  

All you have to do is comment below.  Since I love my secondary characters and try to make them as deep as my hero and heroine…I’d love for you to tell me about your favorite secondary character – book or TV.

*giveaway ends 1/30/14 @11:59PM. 

Now, for Secret Cravings Publishing’s Scavenger Hunt!!

In order to be included in the giveaway for the amazing prizes (like: an IPAD 2, a Kindle Fire HDX, $50 GC and $25 GC), here’s my letter back, now go back to the Secret Cravings Blog and find the badges at ALL the participating sites.  Once you have them all, you’ll email them in to be entered in the grand prize giveaway!

The 2014 Forecast

2013 was a heck of a year for me, writing-wise.

I saw my first book published, and then the “Complete” (for now) series of that same book.

I wrote my first ever stand-alone book – which was a big challenge for me.

I started a new series, an actual contemporary romance (another first), and the first book was published in December, with another due in February (then July, October, November and December again).

I have been published in three very different anthologies – women’s history, horror, and motherhood stories.

I went on the radio once, and classed up the show by declaring “I’m a whore” on live radio. I’m awesome that way.

I challenged myself to write 500,00 words – and succeeded in writing 413,286 of those words.

I had ups and downs and some pretty major struggles, but it was a good year.

Now it’s 2014, and as I’m sitting here with my leg in an air cast after foot surgery, and many words already under my belt for 2014, I realized I haven’t yet declared my writing goals and aims for 2014.

I’ve challenged myself to write 600,000 words in 2014. (41,631 WC so far)
I will finish books 4 & 5 of the Dominion Falls series and submit by February 8th (4 is done, 5 is at 36,343)
I will fine-tune and perfect Leap (Hidden Senses #.5) for publication.  (1 edit round done. W/ an editor now)
I will build my audience and work harder at promotion.
I will find focus (see below), and figure out how to USE it.

And for those that don’t know me, I have an attention problem. I jump from project to project and lack focus. I have about 6 books started that I’m currently working on – and probably 3-4 that I started and back-burnered. In my attempt to focus, I’m going to post those books, projected word counts, and try to work my way through them over the course of the year.

Runaway Train (Dominion Falls 5) – 100k (36,343 complete)
Stalled Independence (Lake Point #3) – 30k
Into a Mirror Darkly (Morgana Chronicles 1) – 100k (~10k done)
Witch Way (Lake Point #4) – 30k
A Thorough Thanksgiving (Lake Point #5) – 30k
The Wolf (The Tribe #1) – 100k
Natural Selection – 40k
Hybrid – unknown…going to do as “Chapters” not full length novel.
The Dead Past (Dominion Falls 6-temporary name) – 100k
The Chief (The Tribe #2) – 100k
The Raven (The Tribe #4) – 100k
Escaping Humanity (Co-authoring w/ Mary Terrani) – 100k

Obviously I don’t know that I’ll finish them all in this year – but I’m going to make an effort to work my way through them.  I have several stories on backburner (Like Ice Age, Broken Windows and Hex Ranch) that I also dream of approaching, but I have to focus for a change and do one book at a time.  Especially since I already have ideas for carrying my contemporary holiday series into 2015!

All right. My goals are out there – it’s time to get back to it!  Runaway train is 1/3 done now, and I have lots of words ahead of me!

Tuesday Tales – Satin – Natural Selection

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Satin.

Last week I introduced you to my historical paranormal (with Werewolves!), Natural Selection. Honestly, I am in the midst of trying to write 100k in less than a month to have my historical western series next two books ready to submit by my anniversary of publication…so I was just going to give you that, but I realized I can’t share anything from that book without ruining many surprises I have in store in Dominion Falls.

So, this week we’re back with Dell, my Werewolf in 1882.  The stranger he found on the bank is a Werewolf as well, he’s all but convinced of that fact…but even with her increased strength and healing, her time in the cold waters of the river left her down for the count. will she wake up, and what’s her name? Where is she from?:

Dell sat silent on the bed, his feet propped on the frame, his arms balanced on his knees. In the bed against the opposite wall lay the strange woman he’d found at the edge of the river. They still didn’t know where she’d come from or how long she’d been in the water, but it was long enough to take down a Were and make her ill for three days.

On the other side of the cabin, Olive worked over the stove, making a huge breakfast for him, and probably some extra on the off chance the woman woke up. True to his word, Dell hadn’t left Olive’s cabin since they’d brought her there. Pure instinct insisted he be there when she woke.

“Dell, come.” Olive snapped and pointed to his plate. “Sit. Eat.”

If Olive hadn’t been like a second mother to him all his life he might have snapped at her for treating him like a pet. As it was, he only grumbled under his breath and went to the table.

“You don’t ever do good trapped inside, boy. You should go out and run. She ain’t woken up yet.” Olive dropped more eggs on his plate as he shoveled them into his mouth. “I was gonna run to the general store, but you could go for me.”

“No. I’m going to be here.” He scooped several more forkfuls of eggs in and downed his coffee fast enough to singe the roof of his mouth. “I’ll clean up. You go.”

She sighed and untied her apron. “Suit yourself. You’re gonna make yourself crazy the way you’re going.”

“Pa thinks I’m already there.” Dell grinned at her as he poured more coffee. “I’ll be fine. She’s going to wake up soon. I know it. Her fever broke last night.”

“All right.” She gripped his chin and smirked. “Behave.”

“Yes ma’am.” He saluted on his way back to the table.

Once the door closed, he scarfed down the rest of his food and rushed through scraping his plate and washing all the dishes.  He’d just started a fresh pot of coffee when he heard a rustling from the bed.

He dared a peek and saw her slow blinking stare at the ceiling.

The stranger’s nose twitched, and he knew she’d already scented him. Still, she didn’t freak out or scream, just lay there. After a few minutes she moved again, her hands emerging from the covers to touch the chemise Olive had put on her.  Her delicate fingers trailed along the satin ribbon edging, then dropped back to the bed.

Part of him wanted to run over and drag her from the bed to find her story. Luckily he was in human form, so the logical part of him won out, for now. He pulled out the pan he’d just put away and grabbed the basket of eggs.

While she continued to make slow work of coming to life, he cooked up as many eggs as were left in Olive’s egg basket, and grabbed the fresh loaf of bread off the shelf. The stranger had been unconscious for three days, and he didn’t know how long before that it had been since she ate.

“What’s your name,” Dell spoke into the silence. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her stand, but she didn’t answer him. He frowned, contemplating forcing it out of her with the alpha, but he wanted to save that. “Should I just call you girl, then?”

“Leilyn.” Her voice was scratchy, raw.

Of course that’s why she didn’t speak at first, probably dehydrated. “Come and eat. You’ve been unconscious for a while, you must be starving.”

Her bare feet were silent on the floor as she crossed the room, and she sat without question. Before he could say anything else, she grabbed the mug of water he’d set down and gulped it down.

He scrambled for the pitcher and set it down.

She looked from the pitcher to her mug and back. After a heavy sigh and a shrug, she set the mug aside and grabbed the pitcher, drinking straight from it with large, slurping gulps.  Once the pitcher was drained, she set it aside and wiped her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you must be thirsty. I’m Dell, by the way.” He set down her plate and the bread. “Where are you from, Leilyn?”

Rather than answer, she shoveled the food in as fast as she’d chugged the water. With her plate cleaned of eggs she finally deigned to look his way.

Dell’s breath caught in his throat at the intense green of her eyes unlike he’d seen before. Even among Were’s the color seemed unnatural. “Where are you from?”

“Somewhere else.” She reached for the bread, lowering her gaze again.

“Clearly.”

*~*

Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

Sunday Snippets 19 – Changing Tracks

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

I’m still keeping you all intrigued with the beginning of the series Changing Tracks (The Dominion Falls Series book 1). You know, my amnesiac with the eidetic memory, Jane Doe…and the brothel-owner, anti-hero…Cole Mitchell.

Skipping ahead a little bit. While Cole was unconscious from his injuries, many more revelations about Jane’s past are revealed, and some bad things have happened that many people are blaming on her & her past. Cole has woken up and spent some time with Jane, but then she is called away and Graham has his own chance to spin his version of Jane’s story to Cole. Cole lashes out…or does he? Cole speaks first:

“Get out of here, ya lyin’ jezebel!”

Jane’s strangled gasp echoed through the room. Cole’s words pierced her heart worse than any other reaction she’d gotten to the revelation of her past. She’d known what he’d say, had expected it, but it didn’t make it hurt less.

Graham chuckled behind her. “Told you. Get outta here.”

She couldn’t lift her eyes to look at Cole. She knew if she did, she’d break.

*For once, no creative punctuation was used. Can’t guarantee as much for future installments

*~*

Did you like this sample, too?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

*~*











*~*

*~*

Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

The Reprobate by Dorothy A. Bell

| Amazon |

The Reprobate

Fiddle-playing Royce O’Bannon, and Cleantha Arnaud, the lonesome,

Broken music teacher break conventions rules.

 

Excerpt:

He pulled her onto his lap and held her tight. Feeling

the warmth and weight of her firm little bottom on his thighs

instantly did things to his manhood—his blood pooling in his

groin.

God, he wanted to lay her back and kiss the hell out her.

Using all of his restraint, calling upon his inner reserve of

control, he held himself in check.

“Now, tell me what this is about? All week you wouldn’t

even look me in the eye. Are you mad at me because I picked

you up and carried you down the steps in front of your

father? I had to—don’t you understand? I had to hold you. I

thought I would die out there in the wind and snow. I kept

warm by thinking of you in my arms. When you came out

that door, I had to, Cleantha—I had to touch you, feel your

body against mine.”

She sniffed and confessed, “I wanted you to hold

me…never let me go.”

For a moment he couldn’t speak, his mouth had gone dry,

his mind drew a blank. She wanted him too, but still, what

they felt for each other couldn’t be right or even possible.

Doomed. Right this minute he wanted to peel off her clothes,

lay her out on the rug before the fire and plunge himself into

her quiver. He wanted to taste every inch of her, make love to

her, take her breath away, leave her limp and begging for

more. Knowing that, he also knew he would hurt her in more

ways than one, and she would rip his heart out, leave him

bleeding and hating himself. He also believed Cleantha

Arnaud to be the most amazing person he’d ever

encountered. If she was angry, or in pain, he wanted to be

there for her. Suddenly it occurred to him that maybe this

great sense of discovery, of wonder and aching passion,

finally explained why he’d been born. At last, maybe he had a

reason to exist.

With that revelation planted in his mind, Royce set his

desire aside and took it upon himself to ask, “Why are you

drinking, Cleantha? What’s happened?”

Looking up at him, her eyes wide, she looked like a little

girl. His heart melted. Her eyes were full of turmoil and

misery. Her lips quivered when she spoke. “I feel so

worthless. My father’s thinking of getting married. I’m too

stubborn to die and get out of the way.”

He nodded and asked, “So, we’re talking about Mrs.

Tatom?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t like her?”

She shook her head and surprised him, saying, “Margret

Tatom is a lovely woman.”

He liked it that she sat content on his lap, with her head

resting on his shoulder. She sighed, her breath smelled sweet

with the fragrance of the elderberry wine and felt warm

against his neck. The temptation to kiss her lovely lips

distracted him from what she was saying. With a tilt of her

head to look up into his eyes, she foiled his opportunity to

make his move.

“I like Margret, but—she treats me like I’m…I’m a cripple,

not only in body but of mind. Worse, I think my father would

like to get me out of his way. He wants to build on a parlor

and a bedroom for me on the other side of the house.” Her

words had tumbled out in a rush. She trembled within his

embrace. “A room with its own entrance,” she said, lifting

her head from his shoulder to look up to his eyes. “A room

where I could have my own fireplace, a room where I could

be put out of the way when he marries,” she blubbered, then

laid her head back on his shoulder, ”A room away from his

new family, his new wife, his new daughter.”

Nodding with understanding, he murmured with real

sympathy, “Ah, a pity drunk, the worst kind.”

She slugged him in the chest and wiggled to get off his

lap. “Go away, you…you thug. I realize you’re the expert on

what kind of drunk I might be. What’s your excuse?”

He chuckled and tightened his hold while she made a

half-hearted attempt to get free. Once she settled back down,

her body stiff, arms folded across her chest, he answered her,

“It’s been a few weeks now since I’ve had a drink, but I’d

guess I drank to punish myself.”

She pulled back, giving him a saucy smile to ask, “For

being a prize pig?”

In fun he jerked his chin up, taking the hit, then

answered her in all honesty, “Yes, as a matter of fact. For

being a Goddamned prized pig. A pig is selfish and rude, and

that would be me,” he said without shame.

“Did getting drunk help you feel better about being a

pig?” she asked, her eyes soft, full of pity. He’d never had

anyone look at him with such tenderness, such empathy, and

it took his breath away.

“No.” Her eyes demanded the truth. “Drinking made me

feel like hell. That’s the punishment, you see.”

Relaxing, Cleantha put her head back on his shoulder. “I

think you’re a beautiful pig.”

“I think you’re beautiful, too.” Without thinking, he

kissed the top of her head. Her hair beneath his lips felt silky

and smelled of oranges and roses.

“Drinking makes me feel like shit,” she admitted on a

whimper. Royce laughed and gave in to his need to feel his

lips on her mouth, to taste her, feel her.

My blog: http://dabellm3.wordpress.com

 

To purchase: http://freyasbower.com

 

The Reprobate:

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17731707-the-reprobate?from_search=true

Amazon: 

The Cost of Revenge

Amazon: 

 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18499893-the-cost-of-revenge?ac=1

 

Friday Focus – Author Shauna Aura Knight

Personal

Can you tell us a little about yourself?

I’m an artist, writer, designer, event planner, and traveling teacher, so I’m a bit of a jack-of-many-trades. I’m almost always working on something creative. I often find there just aren’t enough hours in the day to do all the writing and artwork projects I have in mind. I also organize events for the Pagan/alternative spirituality community in Chicago, as well as travel and teach workshops for the broader Pagan community on topics like leadership, community building, how to facilitate workshops and rituals, and other metaphysical, esoteric, and personal growth topics.

I used to be a shy little wallflower, and now I find it amusing to be teaching workshops on public speaking and facilitation. Truthfully, I’m an introvert and I still have a lot of social anxiety, but I suppose that’s why I teach this stuff—if I can learn to do it, anyone can. I’m kind of a nerd for event planning, and I love planning conferences, concerts, and other events. I used to hang out with a bunch of Star Wars fans and we’d run room parties at Science Fiction conventions; I’d orchestrate decorating the room like a scene from one of the movies, so I’ve built a life-size Jabba the Hutt and a Carbonite Chamber.

There’s nothing I love more than getting all excited about a project, whether it’s a story, a painting, designing a magazine cover, organizing an event, building an outdoor shrine, or whatever crazy thing I’ve gotten myself immersed in.

What do you like to read? What’s your favorite genre?

Currently I find myself reading a lot of Paranormal Romance. I don’t have a lot of time for reading, and my brain is usually pretty spammy when I’m going for fiction so I like to read something that’s going to let me just get into the story and devour it. I like Sherrilyn Kenyon, Karen Marie Moning, Emma Holly, Angela Knight, and Jory Strong.

In the past, I’ve read a lot of fantasy books. Some of my favorite authors are Anne McCaffrey, particularly her Pern stories, Janny Wurtz stories about Arithon, Katherine Kurtz’ Deryni books, I liked a lot of the early Mercedes Lackey stories about Valdemar, David Eddings, Charles de Lint, and two of my favorite books are The Mirror of Her Dreams and A Man Rides Through by Stephen R. Donaldson.

Name your 5 favorite movies. Why?

I’m a total nerd for fantasy and scifi movies. Star Wars, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth, The Matrix…there’s a host of other similar movies that I love. I don’t know what it is, but fantasy and scifi has always sucked me in. I also have a special place in my heart for disaster movies. I’m not really into many comedies, unless you count Galaxy Quest and Spaceballs. I don’t know what it is; heartwarming chick flicks, comedies, and dramas don’t really grab me. Futuristic, dystopian, epic fantasy…that’s what inspires me.

Where can people find you on the web? Where can they read more about your books?

I’ve just launched a new web site, www.ShaunaAuraKnight.com, and it’s a little barebones at the moment but there is information on all of my books there. But I also post excerpts and other posts on my fiction blog, https://shaunaknightauthorartist.wordpress.com. There are two longer excerpts for A Winter Knight’s Vigil there. You can also contact find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ShaunaKnightAuthorArtist. I post there about my books and other interesting things, as well as the occasional contest and giveaway.

Your Novel

What is your book about?

A Winter Knight’s Vigil takes place in a woodland cabin the weekend of the Winter Solstice. Amber is in love with Tristan, but she knows she can’t date him. She and Tristan are there with ten of their closest friends; the twelve of them are in a Pagan coven, and they are out in the woods on a spiritual retreat. Their coven has a rule that members can’t get romantically entangled in order to prevent some of the small group dynamics that can happen in situations like that. But it’s close quarters, and the rituals they are doing together keep pushing Amber and Tristan together. Things get pretty spicy, and then the two of them have to figure out what to do. Lie to each other about what they feel so they don’t break the rules? Or lie to their best friends?  They can only hope that the Longest Night vigil will show them a way through.

What inspired you to write this particular story?

This story started—as many of mine do—with a snippet of a scene in a dream. The dream seemed to take place in a cabin, and I was reminded of a time I was out in a woodland cabin with some friends of mine. We weren’t in a formal coven but we were working toward that—at least, we would have if three of the group members hadn’t been interested in the one man in our group, two of them cheating on their partners to be with him.

And I thought, there we go, there’s the perfect conflict—the whole small group dynamics issue that happens whenever people hook up within a small group, whether religious or otherwise. I was also inspired to write about some of the particular magic of the winter solstice. It’s the longest night, and that’s why it’s sometimes used as a vigil. Once I put those pieces together, the story really fell together pretty quickly.

How did you choose your title?

The title came to me all at once; it just seemed to make sense. The characters in the story are working with the myth of King Arthur, King Arthur sat in vigil before he was knighted, and these characters were also going through a vigil, and Tristan and Amber in specific are both struggling with what to do. In this case, Tristan and Amber are each knights, facing their own consciences during their vigil.

How much of yourself is hidden in the characters in the book?

Probably what’s most myself in this book is how the characters are working to face their own shadows, and in specific, how they are working to do the right thing. And they—like anyone—struggle with what they really want to do vs. their fears. For whatever reason, it seems to happen in our lives that we often have to make a choice. Do something that is right for us, but at the expense of someone else. I think it’s important to think about these things, to negotiate them as best we can. To do what calls to our soul, and still do the right thing.

What was your favorite part or chapter, and why?

Well…I do write erotic romance, so I’m always fond of the scenes where the characters finally get together after building all that sexual tension. But I think my favorite scene is where Tristan and Amber are finally starting to get comfortable with each other. Without giving away massive spoilers, they curl up and watch one of their favorite movies together and they are joking around. For me, it’s those funny, quirky things that people say to each other when they really know each other well…that’s when the characters really come alive for me.

Writing

Are you a pantser or a plotter?

I’m a hybrid. I like to see the whole scope of the plan in my head, and as things make sense to me I write it out in outline form or make little notes, but I don’t have this rigid need for an outline. For me, it’s a more organic process. Often times I’ll hear a particular song and an entire scene will just open up in my mind and I’ll see exactly how it goes. I find I get my worst writer’s block when there’s a part of the plot that I don’t understand or know what is happening there, or how the characters are getting from A to B. Then I sit there praying for that inspirational bolt of lightning to hit so I know how the story progresses.

Where do you get your ideas?

A lot of my best story ideas come from my dreams; I have been writing down my dreams since I was a kid. Actually, I just published a nonfiction book on dreamwork as an introduction to exploring your dreams. For me, dreams are a direct link to the mythic language of our subconscious. I won’t go into a deep dive on Joseph Campbell and the hero’s journey and the importance of myth. But any modern stories—the stories that really engage us—are working with those themes we find in myths the world over. And those are the same images and patterns and archetypes that come up in our dreams. Nothing inspires me to write a story like one of my dreams.

Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?

For me, the hardest part is finishing the book…and that’s the advice I have is, finish the darned book. You can’t get published if you don’t complete your manuscript.

Have you written any other books?

I have dozens of books in the works, but so far I have 3 published novellas. One is a paranormal romance, Werewolves in the Kitchen; it’s currently part of an anthology but comes out as a standalone eBook in mid January. I also have an urban fantasy, The White Dress, the Autumn Leaves, coming out in the next month or so. It’s an incredibly romantic story, though it has a bit of a darker ending so I can’t really call it a romance. And I’ll release a vampire romance novella in early 2014 for free to people who join my mailing list.

What are you working on now?

I have a lot of books in production at the moment, but a few of my paranormal romance novels are almost finished. Jhalen’s a 4,000 year-old vampire held prisoner by demi-human monsters. They want the secret of his immortality, and it happens that he’s the keeper of a few secrets about the Grail. When he meets Cora, a human with some psychic abilities, they have to unravel the deeper Grail mysteries to escape and be together.

Angel is a woman who has dedicated herself to Aphrodite, and is then surprised when the Goddess begins to commune with her. She falls for Benjamin, and as their relationship grows, vampires and other monsters that live in the shadows start to come after her. Ben has been viciously attacked in the past, and he resists his connection to Hephaestus. However, accepting the Greek god is the only way to save either of them from the creatures coming after them.

*~*

| Amazon | Smashwords | BN | 

Blurb

Sexy, kilt-wearing Tristan has captured Amber’s attention on many occasions. But as members of the Kingsword coven, which has strict rules about intimate relationships inside the circle, dating him is out of the question. When the coven heads to a secluded woodland cabin to celebrate the Winter Solstice, Amber finds herself closer than ever to Tristan. As the Longest Night approaches and their group’s ritual workings intensify, the pair realizes that they can no longer hide from their feelings.

Just as King Arthur held vigil before being knighted, Tristan and Amber face their shadows—and the realization that one or both of them might have to leave the coven. Or can they be together without breaking their honor?

*~* 

Excerpt:

The ritual drumming intensified. Eyes almost closed, Amber danced harder, stomping her feet, rocking back and forth, chanting the song that was escalating in intensity and volume, some of them adding harmonies and rhythmic words. She was dizzy with the dancing, ready to sink to her knees so she wouldn’t fall.

She opened her eyes enough to look at the fire to let the flickering light take her beyond herself. Then she saw Tristan. Sweating, wearing just his kilt now, he was dancing wildly by the fire, snarling and chanting. He seemed like the Horned One the way he was framed by the firelight, the way his hips moved, the complete intensity with which he danced.

She was hoarse, panting, as the sound of the chant finally hit its peak and then began to fade into a drone, a tone. The complicated drumbeats fell away until it was as it began, just a heartbeat, just their voices, then just their panting breaths.

She stumbled and Tristan’s arm flung out to steady her.

Amber looked at him, both of them panting, and she couldn’t help but follow the sweat that trickled down his neck to his chest. She wanted him so badly in that moment, wanted him to crush her lips with his, wanted him to throw her over his shoulder or lay her down by the fire right there and take her hard. Wanted him to tell her he loved her, that he wanted to be with her forever. She wanted him to drive into her until he came inside her, roaring into her neck, kissing her over and over.  She looked up at him, trying to breathe, moving just the slightest bit closer as she fought down a moan, looking at his lips.

His chest rising and falling with his breath, Tristan’s eyebrows lifted and he gave her the strangest look.

Blinking dizzily, Amber pulled back from him. He stared at her, and she backed off. She hauled on her coat, not even buttoning it before she was outside, hurrying out into the snowy woods.

*~*~*~*

Shauna Aura Knight

An artist, author, community leader, and teacher, Shauna’s work is inspired by the mythic stories of heroes, of swords and magic, and of the darkness we each must overcome. That the challenges we face shape us, and help each character—each person–to become heroes.

She’s a fantasy artist and author, including the paranormal romance Werewolves in the Kitchen, A Winter Knight’s Vigil, and the urban fantasy The White Dress, the Autumn Leaves. Her mythic artwork and designs are used for magazine covers, book covers, and illustrations, as well as decorating many walls, shrines, and other spaces.

Shauna is passionate about creating stories, artwork, experiences, spaces, and rituals to awaken mythic imagination. She travels nationally offering intensive education in the transformative arts of community leadership, facilitation, ritual, and personal transformation, and is the author of numerous articles and books on those subjects.

http://www.shaunaauraknight.com

Tuesday Tales – Toes – Natural Selection

Welcome back to Tuesday Tales!  This weeks prompt is Toes.

Honestly, I despise feet, and considering I just had surgery on my toes, this whole prompt made me shudder…but since it’s been some time since I did a TT, I powered through.

This week I’m starting a new story that came to me over the past couple of weeks. It’s a historical paranormal – with Werewolves. I have a good idea where the story is going, but as usual I’m mostly pantsing it.

Dell “DB” Baxter is the Beta to his dad’s Alpha in their pack in southern Indiana. The year is 1882. They’ve recently been under attack by another pack of Were’s, but not wolves, big cats – cougars. While not indigenous to the area, this cougar pack was pushed out of its area by another pack and is trying to find new territory, so DB’s wolf pack is on the defensive and making regular, frequent patrol schedules. On this particular night, DB finds something interesting:

The light of the half-full moon was strong enough to shimmer through the clouds and light the tops of the bare trees across the Ohio River. Each snowdrop that fell in the mild snowstorm caught and reflected the light as they fluttered down to the water.

In full Werewolf form, Dell sat on the edge of the bank to scan the far shore for any sign of foe. While there were homes nearby, he wasn’t worried about getting caught, by now most of the locals either knew of the pack or pretended they knew nothing about it, while still entrusting the pack with their protection.

Years ago his grandfather, then the pack Alpha, had learned to increase their numbers by simple interbreeding with humans. In order to that, the pack had to get along with normal humans and develop a relationship with them. The small group of Swedes and Germans that had come and purchased the land now called Tell City were the test.

Successes and failures abounded, and to this day Dell’s own father still didn’t know what made a successful Werewolf birth. Human woman sometimes survived, and sometimes didn’t. None of them liked the risk, but at least their pack was beginning to thrive again when many were dying out from inbreeding.

Dell shook the snow out of his fur for the fifth time since he’d started his patrol along the river. For weeks they’d increased patrols, despite the worsening weather. The edges of the river had started to freeze, but that hadn’t kept the damnable Werecats off their land.

At least dawn was on its way to making a dim appearance. Instinct told him another two hours and his patrol would be complete, which meant two days of freedom before his next patrol. If you could call anything he did freedom.

A splash several yards down the river drew his attention out of his own thoughts. His ears flicked around to try to pick out the sound again, a low growl resonating in his chest.

For the briefest moment he thought he caught the undertone of a high pitched whine carry on the wind, but dismissed it as imagination. He rose off his haunches and shook the snow off again before he began a slow pace along the edge of the river.

One paw at a time, he moved as silent as he could, his nose constantly twitching in an effort to catch a hint of a foreign scent.

Ten yards of the slow progression was a painstaking necessity that revealed a reward. On the edge of the bank lay a figure, one that wasn’t moving.

As he moved closer, his keen nose told him it wasn’t a cat, if anything, it was another wolf, and definitely a she. She lay face down on the riverbank—stark naked and soaking wet from her head down to her toes.

A rumble of a protective growl rattled through him and he leaned down to nose the figure. Her flesh was cold to his nose and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing. With a strong push of his nose he rolled her over so she was face up.

She is pack. Every inch of him screamed the words, but he’d never seen her before, which meant she couldn’t be a pack member. As the packs’ beta he knew every member of their pack, even those that didn’t live close.

He huffed air out his nose to clear the hair from her throat and pressed his muzzle against the vein. A faint, slow pulse beat under her flesh, not fast enough for a Were to survive long.

Panic jolted through him so fast, his whole body jerked and he lifted his muzzle to the sky. His long low howl echoed through the night, bouncing along the trees where it was picked up by another Were and carried through the lands. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the communication reached the northernmost point of their territory where his father patrolled.

While he waited for the response, he went to her midsection and nudged his nose under her wrist. Nestling down into his paws, he launched forward fast enough to lift her and scoot under until she was draped across his back.

Even though as a Were he was larger thank your standard wolf, her feet and hair still touched the ground, but he had to get her away from the edge of the water.

DB. His father’s telepathic communication came across as clear as if they were haunch to haunch. What is it?

I found someone. She isn’t a cat, I believe she’s wolf. Dell didn’t know why he didn’t tell his father his belief she was pack, but he kept that quiet for now. She is soaking wet, her heart beat is too slow to sustain a Were.

I’m sending Olive. Do what you can to keep her warm until Olive gets there.

Dell trudged up the wet, snowy bank toward the road. I’ll do my best. It’s snowing heavy, and not a candle was lit at my howl.

Not surprised. That area prefers to ignore us unless they need us. Wait for Olive.

Yes, sir. At the roadside, Dell dropped his head and shoulders down so the woman rolled off his back.

She landed with her back to the ground, her now-filthy hair haphazardly splayed across her face. If he wasn’t warmer as a wolf he’d consider shifting and running her to shelter, but he’d never find shelter warm enough to keep her safe. As it was, her fingers and toes could be at risk.

Another quiet high-pitched whine rented the air, this time he didn’t doubt it came from her. As much as his wolf wanted to peek lower, Dell kept his gaze on her face. With each drop of snow he delayed the inevitable, so he finally took the step to stand over her and dropped his full weight onto her torso, his muzzle nestled in the crook of her neck.

Within ten minutes he sensed more than he saw another wolf drawing near. After another five minutes, his long-time friend Byron appeared trotting down the road toward him. Even in wolf form, the man kept a cocky grin. Need help? I’m happy to take point position on that one.

Despite his effort to laugh, only a growl emerged and he pulled his lips back to bare his teeth. Watch it.

Touchy. Byron circled the scene and sniffed in either direction. Alpha says it’ll be at least an hour until Olive makes it this far. That girl needs more heat.

Shift and make a fire. I’m not moving, she needs wolf heat, she’s Were.

Byron’s head tilted and he almost bowed to Dell before he scattered away into the trees. Five minutes later an obscene amount of rustling and cursing started to come out of the trees. “Damn it, where is our hidey hole? I thought it was right here.”

Dell chuckled; he knew Byron was yards from their hidey hole. All around their lands the pack hid basics for a fire and one set of clothes in case they were needed for decency. The clothes would be perfect for the woman lying beneath him, but he knew Byron wouldn’t think of that, at least probably not.

“Son of a—” A thump echoed out from the trees.

If he’d been in human form, Dell would have busted a gut laughing. In wolf form, Byron was one of the best hunters. As a human, he was an eternal klutz. Dell couldn’t figure out why, since most of the time Were senses carried to human form. Unfortunately, the telepathy didn’t happen when one was human.

“Oh! There it is.” Byron emerged five minutes later with his curly blond hair askew and filled with twigs and snow. He only wore the pants from the hidey hole and carried the supplies for the fire in a shirt.  “All right, here we go. One fire coming up. I’ll wrap the shirt around her feet. I ain’t a wolf no more, but I could sit on her legs. You got her hands covered?”

Dell woofed low in response, not moving even though he wanted to correct Byron’s attempt to make a fire. Eventually the guy would get it right, and Dell couldn’t shift anyway, so he closed his eyes and sighed.

A few minutes later Byron whooped. “Look at that. Fastest I ever made a fire. I’m gonna go get more wood. You two behave.”

Dell curled his lip in another snarl, which Byron only laughed at. When his friend disappeared back into the trees, Dell lifted his head and studied the woman again. Her face was still covered by her muddy, wet hair. There wasn’t anything to see, but he was compelled to sit vigil and wait for signs of life, anything beyond the faint breaths she took underneath him and the weak beat of her heart in her chest.

Eventually she’d wake.

And he’d be there.

He’d make sure of it.

*~*

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