Kim Iverson Headlee's Blog: Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages, page 25

Sean encounters a "lad" from The Irish Warrior by @AshleyYork1066 #MedievalMonday

This Medieval Monday I welcome back Ashley York, and the first encounter between Sean and Thomasina in her new novella, The Irish Warrior!

Synopsis:

Outcast and alone, Thomasina MacDonell is hell bent on finding her brother, the only person who can thwart their father's latest scheme to offer her as payment for his gambling debts. Disguised as a lad, she defiantly sets off on foot to locate him—never expecting to find a handsome, Irish warrior riding her beloved horse. The warrior's offer of help and unsolicited advice on how to be manlier sparks an intimate desire to reveal her more feminine side.

Rejected by the love of his life, Sean O'Cisoghe wants simply to return home and heal his broken heart. When a young "lad" steals the horse out from under him, he discerns the spirited woman may be in way over her head against her ruthless father. Finding her brother while keeping her would-be betrothed at bay, Sean must confront the fact that Thomasina has stolen his heart. Will Norman soldiers out for his blood and shifting clan alliances cut short their growing passion?

Buy Links:  Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Kobo |

Excerpt:

Sean took a few steps into the woods, allowing his eyes to adjust. The shadowed figure of the mounted animal became discernible. It whinnied and backed further into the darkness.

“Hold!” Sean said. He struggled not to let his anger be heard. “Ye’ve bested me. Steal the horse but I’m for the coast. I need my things.”

“’Tis not stealing it if it’s mine.”

Not a woman’s voice. A young lad then.

“I paid for the use of it, son.”

“I’m not yer son.” The voice broke, confirming Sean’s suspicions.

“Nae. Ye’re not but I have quite a walk ahead of me. May I at least collect my belongings?”

A loud thud accompanied the bag that dropped at his feet. Sean stared at the sack. Arrogant little shite. The few items he’d collected to bring home were no doubt in pieces now. Anger simmered. He glanced toward the rider.

“My thanks. And will ye toss the weapons at me as well?”

“They’re mine now… the price for the use of my horse.”

Sean forced himself to appear calm. “I told ye I paid for the use.”

“But it wasn’t paid to me.”

Sean moved in closer but with every step, the rider retreated. If he could get his hands on him, Sean would teach him a lesson he wouldn’t soon be forgetting. By his size, the boy looked to be about ten.

“But I did pay for its use. An honest agreement between men. I had nae way of knowing it had been stolen. I had plans to return it.” Despite the blood racing through him at being outsmarted by some unknown, he shifted his tactics. He used his ever-so-amicable tone of voice but would not be letting the horse—or rider—get away. “When was the horse stolen from ye?”

The lad didn’t respond at first but the beast shifted, indicating uneasiness. “It was taken without my permission.”

Sean gave a small smile, moving closer as he spoke. “That’s what I said.”

“Nae ye asked when it was stolen from me.”

“Is there a difference?”

The lad tipped his head back as if looking heavenward in exasperation. Taking his eyes off Sean proved to be his mistake. With three long strides Sean closed in, yanked at the reins, and ripped them from the rider’s loose grip. Stepping clear, he waited while the courser jerked against the rope now held firmly in his grip. The rider, struggling to keep his seat, tossed about with the rough motion.

“Arghhh.”

Definitely a young lad. Not even a curse uttered from the unexpected change of events.

“Damn it.”

Sean smiled and stepped in to put his arm around the horse’s snout to settle it down. He spoke in a quiet, calming voice. “Easy now, Roana.”

“Roana! What kind of name is that?” The lad threw his leg over the far side of its body in preparation for his escape.

The courser was not very tall. Sean wondered why he didn’t just jump off.

“The one I gave it! A handsome beast deserves a handsome name.”

He grabbed at the lad’s skinny arm, hauling him across the saddle, flat on his belly, facing him.

Sean offered a contented smile. “Did ye have somewhere to go?”

***
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Morghe launches a power play in Ch 8/Sc 2 of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee #amwriting

Graphic overlay (c)2015 by Kim Headlee. This week I return to pressing forward with posting new excerpts from Raging Sea. On 11/9/15 I hope to begin working with my graphic designer to finalize its cover. Soon thereafter, I plan to release part 1, subtitled Reckonings, as a Kindle Unlimited title until I can get the entire novel finished. 

As with all my book releases, Raging Sea: Reckonings will be professionally edited. It would be a gross disservice to my fans to do any less.

Today's installment finds Arthur's sister Morghe (a.k.a. Morgan le Fay) on the eve of her wedding ceremony to Urien, setting into motion a bid for power. 

Because, you know, that's what she does… whatever an author has named her throughout the centuries. :)

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea  Chapter 7: Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4 | Sc 5a | Sc 5b |
Chapter 8: Sc 1a | Sc 1B |
Raging Sea Chapter 8, Scene 2©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Morghe had never been hustled out of a public chamber so fast in her entire life. It would have been aggravating if it hadn’t been so comical. Urien had flushed such a bright shade of red, she’d expected him to fall dead at her feet.

He might have too, if Accolon hadn’t broken the tension with a choked-off laugh that sounded more like water rushing over a breached dam. That seemed to snap the spell cast by Morghe’s question, and Urien had dragged her into the hall’s private audience chamber before she could gauge the reactions of her mother or brother or anyone else.

No, not dragged. Urien still had his head attached—though for how much longer would depend upon the outcome of this conversation.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he was saying, circling the small but luxuriously furnished chamber like a caged lion as Morghe stood in the middle of its slate floor that had been etched with the Boar of Moray. She felt no compulsion to turn with Urien to keep him in sight. Her brother was a mere shout away; she could hear his muted but concerned tones, along with her mother’s and Accolon’s, seeping through the oaken door. “You are your mother’s daughter, after all.”

Morghe judged the timing and put out a hand, allowing his chest to collide with it. The moment of his surprise was all she needed to shift closer, sliding that hand up toward his face while the other slid in the opposite direction. When it found its target and began caressing, his breathing grew husky, and he lowered his ravenous lips upon hers.

Thank God, men were so easy to manipulate.

“And my father’s,” she reminded him as he broke off to feather kisses across her throat toward an earlobe. “Both have taught me much about what it means to rule.” Urien pulled back to look at her, eyebrows knotting. “And my brother taught me that it’s a waste of resources to ignore perfectly good counsel just because one fails to esteem the counselor.”

He glared toward the door for a moment. “What are you implying, Morghe?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Make me chieftainess to rule Moray jointly with you.”

“What!” Although he reined the word to a raw whisper, she thought she detected an escalation in the tone of the conversation outside the chamber. “And halve my power?” She saw the completion of that question—with a woman—in the curl of his lip. “Never.”

She pressed a gentle fingertip to that curl, smoothing it. “Don’t be so quick to assume your calculations are correct.” In response to the skepticism forged between wrinkles of his brow, she asked, “How many votes can Clan Moray cast among the Council of Chieftains?”

“One, of course, unless I cannot be present.”

“Of course. And how many votes has Clan Cwrnwyll?”

The skepticism yielded to dawning recognition. “Chieftainess Ygraine’s . . . and, when she is absent, Chieftain Alain’s.”

“Indeed. My half brother-by-marriage, appointed by the clan’s elders and ratified by the council as a non-voting member except when Ygraine does not attend a gathering because, whether my mother likes it or not, there are some governing decisions that are best suited for men to make. The wars of which your lot are so fond, for example. And does the clan of my other half brother-by-marriage, Lothian, possess an extra council seat?”

She knew the answer was no, and so did he.

“What you ask is so–so—”

Morghe smiled and resumed her attention upon his quickening nethers. Before his mouth could descend upon hers again, she said, “The word you are looking for is logical. There is much good I can perform for Clan Moray as chieftainess, beyond giving you another council seat.”

Urien snorted but didn’t disagree.

“So, as chieftainess,” she murmured as his hands began their dance across her heightened vulnerabilities, “I must again ask why the Scotti contingent is here.”

“Because”—he pulled her closer so she could feel between her thighs the effect she was having upon him—“I do enjoy baiting your brother.”

That much was no state secret. Nor was it a state secret what her brother would do if he could see them now, since their union was not yet legal in the eyes of the Church. But there had to be more to Urien’s decision. Curbing her grin, she began a slow slide against the man who would offer her the world—or at least a share in as much of the world as he controlled. “And?”

“And I have decided to permit the Scots to settle on Moray land”—he increased the pace and pressure of their slide, to her escalating delight—“as a buffer against the Picts along the Argyll border.”

If he hadn’t decided to kiss her just then, he’d have seen panic flare in her eyes.

As she returned his kiss, stroke for passionate tongue stroke, she banished the panic to begin mulling where the baby now known as Eoghann and his guardians could be safely relocated.

No child, regardless of bloodline, deserved to grow up in fear of falling afoul of the merciless Scots.

***
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#CoverReveal: Fooling Around with Cinderella by @stacyjuba #contemporary romance

FOOLING AROUND WITH CINDERELLA
AUTHOR: Stacy JubaGENRE: Chick Lit/Sweet RomanceCOVER DESIGNER: Mark Juba


What happens when the glass slippers pinch Cinderella's toes?
When Jaine Andersen proposes a new marketing role to the local amusement park, general manager Dylan Callahan charms her into filling Cinderella’s glass slippers for the summer. Her reign transforms Jaine’s ordinary life into chaos that would bewilder a fairy godmother. Secretly dating her bad boy boss, running wedding errands for her ungrateful sisters, and defending herself from the park’s resident villain means Jaine needs lots more than a comfy pair of shoes to restore order in her kingdom. First in the Storybook Valley series, a blend of sweet romance, chick lit, and fairy tale fun. 


Dylan wheeled his chair around and pointed to the castle poster. She followed his thumb toward the girl in an elegant white and gold gown. “I need a Cinderella.”
Jaine stared at Dylan to gauge whether he was kidding. Oh God, he wasn’t kidding. As he lowered his hand, tightness lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Cinderella?” 
“Since you’ve been coming here for so long, you probably realize Cinderella is our centerpiece character. She sits on her throne all day, posing for pictures. She leads story times in the castle and appears during our weekend Meet and Greet Fireworks Gala.”
“What happened to the regular Cinderella?”
“She didn’t work out.” He fiddled with the pens poking out of a ski boot-shaped shot glass. “One of my cousins plays the part a couple days per week and fills in when she can, but her schedule doesn’t allow her to fulfill our full-time needs. It’s the middle of July and I’m tired of fooling around with Cinderella.”
He grinned, his dimples diverting her from the princess problem. “That didn’t come out right. But you know what I mean. It’s getting frustrating, Jaine. I’m having a hard time finding someone reliable.” 
She bet that Cinderella wouldn’t get tired of fooling around with him.

AMAZON US ~ AMAZON (paperback) ~ NOOK
B&N (paperback) ~ GOOGLE PLAY ~ KOBO
iTUNES ~ SMASHWORDS

Stacy Juba got engaged at Epcot Theme Park and spent part of her honeymoon at Disneyland Paris, where she ate a burger, went on fast rides, and threw up on the train ride to the hotel. In addition to working on her new Storybook Valley chick lit/sweet romance series, Stacy has written books about ice hockey, teen psychics, U.S. flag etiquette for kids, and determined women sleuths. She has had a novel ranked as #5 in the Nook Store and #30 on the Amazon Kindle Paid List. When she’s not visiting theme parks with her family, (avoiding rides that spin and exotic hamburgers), or writing about them, Stacy helps writers to strengthen their manuscripts through her Crossroads Editing Service. She is currently writing the next books in the Storybook Valley Series, Prancing Around With Sleeping Beauty and The Cinderella Curse.

           
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All this month, you are invited to...
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The Business of Writing: The Basics of DIY Book Covers by @Liza0Connor

Einband (vorne) von:
"Biblia graeca - Novum Iesu Christi Testamentum",
Graece. Basel, N. Brylinger, 1553
Public domain via Wikimedia Commons. Today on The Maze I am proud to introduce the first of a three-part series on DIY book covers by my virtual and prolific author-friend Liza O'Connor.

In Liza's words...

When I was asked to write a blog on DIY Covers, I wondered what on earth I’d write about. I am not a design artist. I’m just an impoverished author who loves to write and knows a fabulous cover is needed to get a reader’s attention.
 
I initially published through publishing firms, and honestly, I never ‘loved’ any cover I got.

When I first went indie I hired someone to make my covers. But upon discovering how fast I could publish books when I was in control, I realized I couldn’t afford to lay out a $100-$150 for each cover. So I decided to buy stock pics on the cheap, learn Photoshop, and make my own.

Adobe Photoshop is not self-intuitive nor easy to learn and has a serious issue they refuse to fix presently. If I were to choose now, I’d probably check out the free and cheaper apps to see if they would work for me first. But I’ve already invested the time to learn photoshop, so for the present that’s what I use.

I recommend you shop around for your stock photos as well, and buy from whichever service is the cheapest and has pics that you could use. When on sale, in prior years I’ve been able to buy all my photos for the year for less than 50 cents a pic. If you are only doing a couple of books, and you’ve found the perfect pics then you might chose to buy them full price, but check the various sites first. It’s possible the model has sold even better or similar pics to other sites who are having sales or just offers them for less.

[NOTE: A great list of stock photography (& video) sites may be found on this blog post about DIY book trailers ~ kih.]


My first cover:

Ghost Lover was my first attempt to create a book cover, and it came together with ease.

Once I got the cover created, I put it up on my Facebook site and asked for opinions. Then, I tweaked a few things based on their comments and called it done.

Now convinced making covers was easy, I moved to the next book and discovered some covers defy you every step of the way.

Here’s some basic advice on covers (and please note, I don’t always obey this advice, because all rules need to be broken on occasion). In fact, every gorgeous cover I’ve coveted has broken several rules. Check them out at my Pinterest site: Fabulous Covers.

Clutter is not generally a good thing. If you’ve stuffed every event in the book on your cover, it will probably look like a terrible mess. Believe me, I’ve tried. One of my books has over twenty puppies being rescued so I tried to put twenty puppies on the cover. Terrible idea! Then I reduced it to 7 and it still looks ridiculous. Yet, I’m so fixated on saving those puppies I won’t bite the bullet and remove them!If you are writing a series, you should stay with the same font, font size & if possible, layout for the books. You want them appear as a unique group. Amazon does not display your books in any useful order on your author page (at least they don’t on mine) so giving each series a unique style, color, overlay, or similar pictures will help the reader find the other books of the series.The first book of the series needs a great cover. The covers following can catch the readers’ attention, sending them back to the book 1, but book one’s cover must be eye catching, because if your readers don’t read it, it is highly unlikely they’ll read the remainder of the series. I have been known to create ten versions of book one covers before getting one I’m happy with.If you write single books, then just make the best cover you can that’s relevant to your book. RELEVANCE being the key word. WARNING: I read a blog recently that talked about ‘the ten images that sell books’. I can’t remember them all, but they included a puppy or dog, Adirondack chairs and a beach umbrella, women walking arm in arm, bare-chested men, illustrated characters, and some other weird things I’ve blanked from my mind, hopefully forever.
Unless you normally pick out your covers first and THEN write your story, the blog’s advice is only useful when you have happened to write a story that would genuinely require such a cover. If you put a beach umbrella on war story, you are probably going to have some gravely disappointed readers. So my advice is to create the cover that a) truly represents your book and b) is enticing to look at.

Thus ends the first of three blogs on Do It Yourself book covers.

Liza O’Connor writes in several genres including Late Victorian, Regency, Contemporary Romance, Humorous Disaster Romance (which should be a genre), Sci-Fi and Sci-Fi Romance. Liza currently has eighteen novels, fifteen of which have covers designed by her.

Her first cover she made was Ghost Lover , a humorous contemporary with two brothers, an ancestral ghost, and a ghost cat all in love with the same American woman. How many ways can that go wrong? Even more than you’d think.

Please take time to find the cat on the cover. Liza loves the ghost cat. His name is Mr. Finch.

Next week on The Maze: Liza unveils the Dreaded Font Rules for DIY book covers!
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All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
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— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Twitter, Pinterest, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of King Arthur's Sister in Washington's Court . Please enter often, and good luck!

Max and Ellyn from The Druid Knight Tales by @RuthACasie #MedievalMonday

Medieval Monday Winter 2015-16 kicks off today, and this month's theme is the first encounter between the hero and heroine.

Today I am pleased to feature Max and Ellyn from The Druid Knight Tales , a short story by Ruth A. Casie.

Synopsis:
After a year of searching, Maximilian, the druid Grand Master, finds the sacred mistletoe destined for his soul mate shriveled and dead. He must journey to the Otherworld and tell the Ancestors of his failure.

Ellyn of Brodgar is an exceptional healer. But each healing kiss depletes her energy and brings her closer to death. Ellyn needs to find her own healing power before it’s too late.

Max and Ellyn are tossed into the Otherworld and have until the third sunset to appeal to the Ancestors or be lost forever. Together they find love, and as the last rays of the third sunset slip away, both are willing to sacrifice their hopes, dreams, and lives for the other. Do they have what it takes to escape the Otherworld and begin their life together?

Buy links:  Amazon | iBooks | Kobo |
Excerpt:

“I thought they called out and I followed,” Max said.

“Who called out?” Ellyn asked.

“The Ancestors, of course. This is the shortest way to the standing stones. I was too eager. I knew something was amiss.” He winced in pain. “I should have listened to my own words,” he said between clenched teeth. “The Otherworld is not to be trusted.”

“Yes. There are traps and villains everywhere,” she mimicked his words. She opened the pouch she wore at her waist and removed a vial. “You must have slid down cliff on your back. The scrapes are deep.” Before she took care of his wounds she pressed her lips tenderly on his head, a kiss she was certain he would not feel. But his muscles twitched in response. She gasped in surprise at his reaction.

“I stepped onto the platform. It was fine.” He yawned. “But when I moved to the walkway the ropes gave way and I was falling through the air…” His voice trailed off and his eyelids slid closed.

She tenderly touched the rune tattoos on his back and gaped as each touch made them glow. She heard the tales of the magick runes but thought they were just that, tales. She stared at him, unable to say a word. She worked quickly, checking every scrape.

His wounds dressed and bandaged, she massaged his shoulders. When she was satisfied his muscles were relaxed, she gently prodded him to roll onto his back. The scrapes on his chest appeared to be minor.

Kneeling beside him, she ministered those wounds as well. When she was done, she sat back on her heels, startled. “Well, Grand Master, that is as much as I can do. The rest is up to you.”

“Aye,” he said sleepily, followed by a soft snore.

She wiped the blood from the scratches on his cheek and studied him.

Full brows framed his wide-set eyes with long, thick lashes. His high cheekbones accentuated the deep hollows beneath them. His close-clipped beard outlined his full lips. His face spoke of power and ageless strength. He had a face that was easy to look at.

The wounds cleaned and bandaged, she bent over and gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead. Her head snapped up and her fingers went to her lips. They tingled as if she had eaten something spicy. She searched his face. His ashen color hadn’t changed. Panic welled in her throat. Her healing kiss always brought results.

His arm snaked around her and drew her to him. She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. When she moved away his eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile, and his face took on a soft pink hue.

Relief flooded through her but was quickly replaced with doubt. For the first time she wondered if her healing kiss would be enough.

***
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November notions from The Dawnflier (Nov. 2015) #ASMSG #IARTG #MFRWOrg

Fred Franklin
Basic Training
Camp Stewart, GA
June 1944
c2015 by Kim Headlee. Oh, my. It seems like I blinked in September, and now it's November!

Such is life as we get older.

As promised last month, I would like to take this opportunity to honor the memory of my Uncle Fred (pictured, left), who passed away on Sept. 8. The vagaries of family politics prevented me from knowing him for the majority of my life, but we were able to reconnect in July 2011, and we shared several visits, phone calls, emails, and written correspondence since that time. I even have saved a voicemail of his from a few months ago, which I plan to turn into a little video at some point.

It being November, I have shared one of his Army photos. Fred was a veteran of the WWII Burma campaign and attained the rank of sergeant. His life was filled with so much more, as a banker and husband and staunch friend and charity volunteer and man of faith.

I am blessed to have gotten to know him during the last four years of his long and fruitful life.

Another reason October flew by in a flash for me is because I was extremely busy with book-related projects, including:
Creating a print edition of The Color of Vengeance; the digital edition is still free on Kindle, Nook, iTunes, and Kobo, and it's available as an audiobook on Amazon, Audible, and iTunes.Creating a print edition of The Challenge; the digital edition is free with membership in Kindle Unlimited or Amazon Prime.Providing feedback for the latest artwork for The Challenge graphic novel edition.Providing feedback for the latest audio files for The Challenge audiobook edition.Providing feedback for the latest artwork for King Arthur's Sister in Washington's Court ... and we're getting down to the wire on this project!Proofing the latest print layouts for King Arthur's Sister in Washington's Court ... and with luck I will have the hardcover in retail channels by Mark Twain's 180th birthday on November 30! Developing and presenting my workshop, The Business of Writing, parts 1 (An Introduction) and 2 (Diving Deeper).Continuing to make progress on the third full-length installment of The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, Raging Sea.Lining up an exciting array of personal appearances and speaking engagements in 2016, kicking off with MarsCon (Williamsburg, VA, mid-January), Farpoint (Baltimore, MD, mid-February), and the Virginia Festival of the Book (Charlottesville, VA, mid-March).My imminent upcoming appearances:
ChessieCon, Nov 27–29, Radisson North Baltimore Hotel, MD, where I am slated to present my Business of Writing workshop (11/27, 4:15 p.m.), as well as participating in several multi-guest panels, the mass book signing, and other events throughout the weekend.The Christmas craft bazaar at Prices Fork Elementary School, 9:00 a.m.–3:00 p.m., Dec. 5, Christiansburg, VA.As always, thanks for your support of my work, and I hope you enjoy the autumn before the next eye blink leaves you finding snow in your lap! :)

***
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Ancient Pictish Samhainn celebrated in Ch 4/Sc 1B of RAGING SEA by @KimHeadlee

Pictish stone graphic overlay
(c)2015 by Kim Headlee. The anguished wail you heard the other day was me finding out that another author—a USA Today bestselling author, no less—had just released a novel titled Raging Sea.

That sent me on a panicked Amazon catalog search, which turned up several other books titled either Raging Sea or Raging Seas. I cannot speak for these other authors, but since I selected my book's title more than 15 years ago (and have the old MS Word docs to prove it :), and since it correlates to the name of the central character, I am going to stick with it.

I may end up directing my cover designer to do something that I have disliked ever since Simon & Schuster did it on the cover of their edition of Dawnflight in 1999: adding a subtitle. My first-edition Dawnflight editor selected "The Legend of Guinevere" in an effort to engender some degree of familiarity with readers, since the heroine's name is not, in fact, "Guinevere." 

The whole point to naming my heroine Gyanhumara was to help jettison fifteen centuries of bad press attached to Guinevere. The same is true for the hero of Raging Sea, Angusel, who is my version of Lancelot.

Whether I add the subtitle "The Legend of Lancelot" to Raging Sea remains a matter of internal debate.

Meanwhile, since Halloween this year falls on a Saturday, the day I normally post a Raging Sea excerpt, I have chosen to rerun a seasonal-themed excerpt originally posted 5/9/15. It features a Pictish celebration, bound in mythology that I invented by mining terms from Scottish Gaelic. 

Enjoy!

Previous excerpts of Raging Sea  Chapter 4: Scene 1-A |
Raging Sea Chapter 4, Scene 1-B©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.

The boom of oak hitting stone captured Eileann’s attention. Dread of her future fled. The Dance of the Summer Wraiths had begun! Twoscore Samhraidhean, portrayed by veteran warriors wearing black armor and animal skulls smeared with fresh blood, and wielding blood-dipped cudgels, poured into the hall through the double doors. They leaped and lunged, sidled and spun amidst the audience, whining for Samhainn cakes. Those feasters who obliged their entreaties they left in peace . . . for a while.

When the pleas shifted to screeching demands, the feasters retaliated by throwing the cakes. Much beer-soaked laughter ensued to see apple mush spattered across a gruesome face, or a cake stuck to an antler only to be plucked off and eaten by the “wounded” Samhradh.

The low, loud notes of aurochs horns announced the arrival of Lord Annàm, the Adversary. The accursed brother of the blessed Lord Annaomh was portrayed as a hideous specter wearing an ox head with bloody teeth and eye sockets. The identity of the warrior dancing the part of Lord Annàm was a secret kept only by the High Priest lest evil befall the chosen warrior. For it was the eternal role of the Adversary to incite his Samhraidhean to inflict ever greater cruelty upon mortal kind.

Lord Annàm stalked toward the dais, swinging two bloody cudgels, which he knocked together in time to the music, creating a fearsome clatter. At each beat, the Samhraidhean lunged and jumped and swiped at their victims, growling and howling to raise the dead. With a roar, Lord Annàm leaped toward Eileann, making her squeal. She pelted him with cake after cake, but he kept roaring and surging toward her and her parents, his cudgels’ rhythm beating ever faster, like the rhythm of Eileann’s heart.

“Who shall save us?” became the constant chorus of the oppressed.

“None shall save you from Lord Annàm and his Samhraidhean!” answered the Summer Wraiths, time and again, with malicious glee.

At the height of the verbal frenzy, the High Priest thumped his staff on the slate floor and called, “Behold Lord Annaomh! He hears our cries! He sees our plight! Praise be to the Lord of Light!”

In charged Lord Annaomh, brandishing a flaming spear that glowed golden against his whitewashed armor, face, hands, boots, and helmet. The Army of the Blest, similarly armed and painted, though carrying torches rather than spears, sprinted into the hall behind him. They fanned out to engage the Samhraidhean, drawing the spirits’ attacks upon themselves and prompting heartfelt cheers of, “Praise be to our Chief Savior, Lord Annaomh! Praise be to the Blest!”

One of the Blest was Eileann’s younger sister Rionnag, who had completed her test-of-blood rite not a month past. Grinning fiercely, her new bian-sporan bouncing against her leather battle-kilt, Rionnag bounded toward the dais, swinging her torch and scattering Samhraidhean to scurry, wailing and cringing, toward the shadows.

All of this, Eileann was expecting. When Lord Annaomh raced over to assist Rionnag in sparring with Lord Annàm, Eileann gasped.

Tavyn was portraying the blessed Lord Annaomh!

Eileann’s surprise vanished with her next breath; Tavyn was indeed the logical choice for this coveted honor. His cavalry squad had been instrumental in piercing the Saxon line during the attempted invasion of Maun, and Tavyn’s own javelin had struck first blood, earning him a special legion accolade. Of course such keenness for battle came with a price, but Eileann was relieved to note that Tavyn’s healing leg wound didn’t seem to be troubling him overmuch as he and Rionnag chased off Lord Annàm and the Samhraidhean closest to the dais.

As Lord Annàm followed the last of the Summer Wraiths from the hall to the jeers of the “rescued” feasters, servants marched in with more heather beer and platters of freshly picked apples for rewarding the Blest. By tradition, peeled apples were bestowed upon the saviors.

Tavyn, as was his due as Lord Annaomh, was receiving his Samhainn reward from their parents. Eileann grabbed an apple and her knife, and chatted with a panting but happy Rionnag as the peels pattered onto the table between them.

When she was almost ready to present her offering, she noticed Rionnag’s eyes widen and dart from the apple peels to Eileann and back to the peels. An ancient belief stated that an apple peeled on Samhainn would spell the letter signifying one’s destined spouse. With so many people and so few letters with which to begin a name, Eileann had never placed stock in that method of prophecy . . . until this night.

The peels from Eileann’s apple had fallen into two piles. One pile suggested the triangular outline of a harp. The other spelled the letter A. Eileann touched the peel forming the sound board of the harp-shaped pile. The peel sprung under her fingernail to make a sideways A.

“None of your suitors has a name that starts with that letter,” whispered Rionnag, glancing at their parents. Eileann felt thankful that they were still occupied with Tavyn. Dynann was presenting him with a full, frothy flagon. “Know you another man—”

“Nay. No one.” Her heart thudding like a war drum, Eileann swept the peels to the floor lest anyone else notice.

She sucked in a breath and touched her mother’s arm. “Iomar,” she said.

“What’s that, dear?” Dynann watched Tavyn accept the ritual offering from Rionnach and take the first bite.

Eileann pressed her fingers into Dynann’s arm, over the tattoo of the wave-shaped serpent that symbolized Rionnach’s clan, Uisnathrean. Her mother regarded her with more annoyance than curiosity, and Eileann almost changed her mind. But the clan couldn’t afford for her to. She cleared her throat and swallowed her trepidation.

“At Belteine, I will marry Iomar mac Morra of Clan Rioghail.”
***
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Spotlight on Colonel Brandon's Widow and Willoughby by Marianna Green #Austensequel

BOOK INFORMATIONTITLE – Colonel Brandon's Widow and Willoughby: a Jane Austen 'Sense and Sensibility' sequel
AUTHOR – Marianna Green
GENRE – Historical
PUBLICATION DATE – August 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 33,000
PUBLISHER – Self
COVER ARTIST – Period Images/ Nancy Design
BOOK SYNOPSIS

Mrs Brandon, the former Marianne Dashwood, is now a widow, and not yet twenty-five. Her former admirer Willoughby is as unhappily married as ever, and the thought that she is free to marry again drives him to distraction. He has continued in his dissolute lifestyle, which Marianne abhors, while his wife Sophia's life has been poisoned by jealousy of Marianne.


Marianne urges him that the only possibility of happiness for Willoughby and his wife is for him to give up his empty pursuit of pleasure - but now the Colonel is gone, Marianne finds that she can no longer push aside thoughts of Willoughby easily herself; she must find some way of occupying her own empty hours.

Willoughby retains his rascally charm, which an older and wiser Marianne is determined to resist; Elinor and Edward are as astute as ever, while Sir John and Lady Middleton are as foolish. Mrs. Jennings remains determined to marry off all her associates as before, while Sophia Willoughby is even more sour as the wife of the man she wanted, and Willoughby's friends are suitably cynical rakes.

This sequel to Jane Austen's 'Sense and Sensibility' strives to emulate some of the light ironic touch of the inimitable style of Jane Austen; it is both funny and sad, and is told as dark comedy.
 BUY & TBR LINKS AMAZON KINDLE US | AMAZON KINDLE UK

EXCERPT

'The union of the Willoughby’s only resembled that of the Brandon’s in being childless. Unlike the latter couple, they had no common interests to compensate, unless an unfortunate tendency to over indulge in wine and other stimulants could count as a mutual source of diversion.

It is true that they did share in common a manner of relating to each other that involved raised voices behind slammed doors, angry silences and periods of cold civility; but this shared inclination brought them no closer together.

It could be further urged on their behalf , that in this conduct, they provided society with the diversion of much talk, and their staff with constant entertainment; - for Willoughby’s confidential valet knew all about his improper pursuits, while his wife’s lady’s maid could recount how Mrs Willoughby had cursed him for a fortune hunting libertine in full hearing of the servants, and of how savagely he had kicked shut her sitting room door before retorting that, ‘Devil take it, in his whole worthless life, he had only cared for Mrs Brandon, and he’d be damned if he pretended anything else to please a scolding…’ But the reader does not wish to hear any more of this.

Seemingly their staff lacked any discretion, and soon enough, the content of the Willoughby’s exchanges leaked out into polite society, which showed still less decorum in repeating them assiduously. Many a man had dined out for a month on his knowledge of episodes that ought to have been cloaked in decent silence, and Miss Steele was one of many maiden ladies agog for the latest outrage.'

AUTHOR BIO'Marianna Green lives in Wales, UK. She has long been fascinated with the classics of English Literature, and particularly admires the trenchant wit of Jane Austen'AUTHOR FOLLOW LINK GOODREADS

This Event Has Been Organized & Hosted by

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All this month, you are invited to...
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The Business of Writing Workshop Update: Diving Deeper (workshop part 2) #ASMSG #MFRWOrg

Elephant Rock, Heimaey, Islas Vestman, Suðurland, Islandia,
c2014-08-17 by DD_036 via Wikimedia Commons. Last week was a hoot and a half for me: I learned rather at the last minute that the Rising Star programming chair had scheduled my "Business of Writing" workshop for not one hour but two! That left me scrambling to assemble a second presentation.

Fortunately, having blogged about various Business of Writing topics once a week since the beginning of June, I had a wealth of material upon which to draw.

The topics I selected for part 2, which I titled "Diving Deeper":
The Publication Plan (posted 7/1/15)The Promotion Plan (posted 7/8/15)The Book Cover (posted 6/24/15, and I brought proof copies of my own books as "show-and-tell-all" :D)The Book Review (posted 7/22/15, and one of my most popular posts to date with >3500 views)A timely article about the essentials of public speaking by author Nikki Woods reminded me of several tips and techniques:
http://www.nikkiwoodsmedia.com/12-essential-principles-effective-public-speaking/ -- though, for the record, I didn't do a lot of practicing, as she suggests, because as I mentioned last week, my public-speaking strength lies in being extemporaneous and connecting with the audience.

I am pleased to report that both workshop sessions went quite well at Rising Star! Since I am slotted for just one hour at ChessieCon (Baltimore, MD, "Black Friday" 11/27/2015,  4:15 p.m.), I feel quite well prepared to do a good job there -- though I may give a quick run-down of both sets of topics and ask the audience which presentation they would prefer to see.

Part one's list of topics may be viewed here. If you could attend one of my Business of Writing workshops, which topics would you like to learn more about?

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All this month, you are invited to...
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The Challenge #FREE Download Oct 27-28! #historical #fantasy @GoddessFish

It's my party, and I'll... make my book FREE if I want to!
Okay, so my lyrics don't quite fit the earworm, but you're welcome.
On all counts. :)

The Challenge
A Dragon's Dove Chronicles Novella

Genre: Historical Fantasy Romance
Author: Kim Iverson Headlee
Publisher: Pendragon Cove Press
Release date: July 2014
Length: 6K words

Synopsis:
The gauntlet is thrown. One must die. Refusal is not an option.

Arthur the High King of Breatein has fallen captive of a longtime enemy, the Saxon warrior-princess Camilla, who lusts to avenge the death of her betrothed at Gyan’s hands and will stop at nothing, even the black arts, to achieve her goal. Because Gyan and Arthur have grown estranged, she fears that Arthur may side with Camilla and make her his new queen.

To meet Camilla’s challenge, Gyan must face all her demons—public as well as private.

Buy Links:Kindle Unlimited (worldwide)
Print edition (Createspace or Amazon)
Excerpt:
Upon reaching Gyan’s side, Angusel thrust a scroll into her hand, his gaze softening. Her stomach knotted. It took all her strength of will to keep her hands from trembling as she broke the seal and unrolled the parchment to read its contents.

She had expected word of Arthur’s condition, couched in threats. Not this.

Camilla had issued a personal challenge to end the impasse by single combat in front of Gyan’s troops. If Gyan declined the challenge, violated the terms, or lost the fight, her crown would be declared forfeit.

Gyan crushed the parchment in her fist.

Buy Links:Kindle Unlimited (worldwide)
Print edition (Createspace or Amazon)
Coming soon:Full-Color Graphic Novel and Audiobook editions
Storyboard and art c2015 by Wendy Carey. Meantime, download your FREE Kindle copy Oct. 27-28!
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All this month, you are invited to...
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...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Morning's Journey . Please enter often, and good luck!