Kim Iverson Headlee's Blog: Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages, page 37
May 17, 2015
Fall in love with The Gentle Knight by @AshleyYork1066 #MedMonSpring Medieval Monday
This week The Maze offers a peek atThe Gentle Knight by Ashley York
Synopsis:
A medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life. Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and possibly make them stronger?
Padraig MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous mercenaries with their own agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the fulfillment of all she's ever wanted?
Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness?
Excerpt:
She had dreamed of him! All at once it came to her. He had taken her into his strong arms and held her tight against that hard body. Every muscle pressing into her. Then the touch of his warm lips sliding along her cheek to meet her mouth with a hungry kiss. Brighit had actually felt his lips on hers and that same heat swirled through her now.
She sighed. Yes. It was a very nice dream.
The shock of cold air accompanied with the sound of the curtain being dragged back had her eyes flying open. There in front of her was the man from the lake... the one in her very real dream. In the flash of a second, his eyes changed from wide with shock to a look she’d swear spoke of pleasure.
“And what is this?” He tipped his chin toward her, a knowing smile gracing his pleasing face.
Brighit covered herself. One arm across her breasts and one hand over her private parts. She felt like Eve posing in the Garden of Eden.
The sudden silence stole her breath away. She refused to confirm it but knew all eyes were on her.
“Do you mind?” Ivan’s voice cut through the awkward moment as he stood next to the carriage. He yanked the curtain from the fine-looking man’s hand, dropping it back in place. Brighit was again cocooned in darkness.
“Yours?” The man’s voice was low, resonating through her core. It was as appealing as his body.
She took a steadying breath, trying to calm her nerves enough to cover herself. She couldn’t have done a better job of calling attention to herself if she’d tried.
Just how many men were out there? How many men had seen her without so much as a stitch of clothing? She yanked the chemise down but it refused to cooperate. The sopping material bunched at her hips. She grabbed at her gown, her hands shaking with the rage coursing inside her.
That now familiar sound of fist-against-flesh cut through the silence.
An unfamiliar laugh. His laugh. A slight tremor responded through her insides.
“Mort,” the handsome man called to someone.
The indistinct image of a shorter man with a gaping mouth came to mind. “Yes, my lord?”
“I believe this man was about to take a terrible misstep with his fist. Does it seem to you these men have a certain…lack of knowledge?” he asked.
What arrogance!
Ivan’s angry face came to mind. She shivered. The handsome man did not know who he was dealing with.
“I would say that it does.” The shorter man was closer now.
“Mayhap some learning is required?”
“Do you believe it’s possible, my lord? Are they trainable?”
“They have a naked woman in a carriage while they fight out here over who will get her.”
She gasped, a soundless intake of air. Like a standard being dropped, the men talked at once. Tears threatened and a few leaked down her cheek. She wiped them away. She was only trying to clean herself not be fought over. Who was he to say such cruel things about her?
The morning had started out so promising. They’d had a nice time breaking their fast with very little interaction at all. Cole’s offer of extra water had come as a surprise but not one she wanted to miss.
Sudden silence. Brighit held her breath.
“And what would your name be?”
“I am called Ivan.”
“And this…young lady?”
This was just getting worse and worse. His words fairly dripped derision.
“Brighit.” She answered for herself albeit through a clenched jaw from within the carriage.
“Ireland? You’ve taken her from Ireland?”
Brighit was surprised at his ability to name where she’d come from. She wished she were still there... any place but here. This was infuriating. She could not go out there now. They may have imagined her naked and their occasional lustful glances assured her that they did. But to have them actually see her was beyond embarrassment. Embarrassment only increased by the fact that at least two of them weren’t even known to her.
“That I have.” Ivan’s smug voice drifted to her.
Whoreson!
“Please clothe yourself forthwith.”
He must be facing her now for he sounded very close. A warmth tingled up her spine. No! His voice may be low and quiet but there was nothing intimate about this situation. She struggled with the ties up the front of her dress.
“It’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Her irritation came through in her tone of voice. Good!
“And I wonder why you have not been successful thus far.” He had the nerve to sound irritated? “Just do it... and be quick about it.”
Arrogance oozed from the man!
“Yes, my lord.” She clipped her words, struggling with her wimple, and hoped her sarcasm carried through the curtain.
“Hurry up.”
“I am hurrying!” Her thick hair refused to cooperate but she was not about to go out there with so much as a single strand visible.
The man cleared his throat. Brighit would like to take a knife to it. He may be pleasant to look at but his manners lacked even the slightest courtesy.
Buy links: Apple | Kobo | Amazon | Barnes & Noble |
And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
Last week: Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood
Next week: Beloveds by Jenna Jaxon
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...
— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
Synopsis:A medieval soldier returns home to find his lover died in childbirth just as his own mother had. Believing he is cursed, Peter of Normandy turns from love. When he must give escort to an Irish princess more noble than many knights, he struggles with his decision to live a solitary life. Can he take the chance that his love won't be a death sentence and possibly make them stronger?
Padraig MacNaughton's death bed decree rips his daughter, Brighit, from the shelter of her protective clan in Ireland. Forced to take vows at a Priory in England, she finds herself in the hands of lecherous mercenaries with their own agendas. Dare she trust the Norman knight to see her safely to her new life as a nun? Even when she finds in him the fulfillment of all she's ever wanted?
Or will honor and duty eclipse their one chance for happiness?
Excerpt:
She had dreamed of him! All at once it came to her. He had taken her into his strong arms and held her tight against that hard body. Every muscle pressing into her. Then the touch of his warm lips sliding along her cheek to meet her mouth with a hungry kiss. Brighit had actually felt his lips on hers and that same heat swirled through her now.
She sighed. Yes. It was a very nice dream.
The shock of cold air accompanied with the sound of the curtain being dragged back had her eyes flying open. There in front of her was the man from the lake... the one in her very real dream. In the flash of a second, his eyes changed from wide with shock to a look she’d swear spoke of pleasure.
“And what is this?” He tipped his chin toward her, a knowing smile gracing his pleasing face.
Brighit covered herself. One arm across her breasts and one hand over her private parts. She felt like Eve posing in the Garden of Eden.
The sudden silence stole her breath away. She refused to confirm it but knew all eyes were on her.
“Do you mind?” Ivan’s voice cut through the awkward moment as he stood next to the carriage. He yanked the curtain from the fine-looking man’s hand, dropping it back in place. Brighit was again cocooned in darkness.
“Yours?” The man’s voice was low, resonating through her core. It was as appealing as his body.
She took a steadying breath, trying to calm her nerves enough to cover herself. She couldn’t have done a better job of calling attention to herself if she’d tried.
Just how many men were out there? How many men had seen her without so much as a stitch of clothing? She yanked the chemise down but it refused to cooperate. The sopping material bunched at her hips. She grabbed at her gown, her hands shaking with the rage coursing inside her.
That now familiar sound of fist-against-flesh cut through the silence.
An unfamiliar laugh. His laugh. A slight tremor responded through her insides.
“Mort,” the handsome man called to someone.
The indistinct image of a shorter man with a gaping mouth came to mind. “Yes, my lord?”
“I believe this man was about to take a terrible misstep with his fist. Does it seem to you these men have a certain…lack of knowledge?” he asked.
What arrogance!
Ivan’s angry face came to mind. She shivered. The handsome man did not know who he was dealing with.
“I would say that it does.” The shorter man was closer now.
“Mayhap some learning is required?”
“Do you believe it’s possible, my lord? Are they trainable?”
“They have a naked woman in a carriage while they fight out here over who will get her.”
She gasped, a soundless intake of air. Like a standard being dropped, the men talked at once. Tears threatened and a few leaked down her cheek. She wiped them away. She was only trying to clean herself not be fought over. Who was he to say such cruel things about her?
The morning had started out so promising. They’d had a nice time breaking their fast with very little interaction at all. Cole’s offer of extra water had come as a surprise but not one she wanted to miss.
Sudden silence. Brighit held her breath.
“And what would your name be?”
“I am called Ivan.”
“And this…young lady?”
This was just getting worse and worse. His words fairly dripped derision.
“Brighit.” She answered for herself albeit through a clenched jaw from within the carriage.
“Ireland? You’ve taken her from Ireland?”
Brighit was surprised at his ability to name where she’d come from. She wished she were still there... any place but here. This was infuriating. She could not go out there now. They may have imagined her naked and their occasional lustful glances assured her that they did. But to have them actually see her was beyond embarrassment. Embarrassment only increased by the fact that at least two of them weren’t even known to her.
“That I have.” Ivan’s smug voice drifted to her.
Whoreson!
“Please clothe yourself forthwith.”
He must be facing her now for he sounded very close. A warmth tingled up her spine. No! His voice may be low and quiet but there was nothing intimate about this situation. She struggled with the ties up the front of her dress.
“It’s what I’ve been trying to do.” Her irritation came through in her tone of voice. Good!
“And I wonder why you have not been successful thus far.” He had the nerve to sound irritated? “Just do it... and be quick about it.”
Arrogance oozed from the man!
“Yes, my lord.” She clipped her words, struggling with her wimple, and hoped her sarcasm carried through the curtain.
“Hurry up.”
“I am hurrying!” Her thick hair refused to cooperate but she was not about to go out there with so much as a single strand visible.
The man cleared his throat. Brighit would like to take a knife to it. He may be pleasant to look at but his manners lacked even the slightest courtesy.
Buy links: Apple | Kobo | Amazon | Barnes & Noble |
And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
Last week: Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood
Next week: Beloveds by Jenna Jaxon
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 15, 2015
Elian reads Angusel the riot act in RAGING SEA Ch4/Sc2A #amwriting #MFRWAuthor
What happens when a parent previously thought to be dead reappears in the child's life?One of my favorite movies of recent vintage, How to Train Your Dragon 2 , deals with this subject in a sensitive and poignant way. I won't spoil it in case you haven't seen the movie—though I do urge you to watch this wonderful fantasy that's a treat for adults and children alike.
As with Hiccup and his long-lost mother, Angusel must come to terms with the reappearance of a parent too. But unlike Hiccup, Angusel won't have the assistance of a flock of friendly dragons to help bridge the decade-long gap in his life—and the father-shaped hole in his heart—that Gull had wrought upon his departure.
Previous excerpts of Raging Sea Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |Chapter 2: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 |Chapter 3: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 | Scene 3-A | Scene 3-B |
Chapter 4: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B |
Raging Sea Chapter 4, Scene 2-A©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Angusel’s tunic-clad shoulders scraped against the chimney’s stones. Behind him lay the completed cottage, though he called it a prison for his having no choice but to work, train, eat, and sleep so close to the man who had sired him and abandoned him.
Elian was standing near enough that Angusel could have counted the centurion’s nose hairs, had Angusel not grown another handspan since the last full moon. It might even have been funny, if not for the reason-robbing rage coursing through his veins. Elian’s fury was all too evident in his sharp glare and clenched jaw.
It was nearing the fifth market day since Gull—and he’d sooner chop off his sword hand than ever call that man “Father” again—had revealed his identity. Samhainn had come and gone four market days ago, unremarked by the cottage’s residents save for the bonfires Angusel had chanced to notice blazing across the countryside on three consecutive evenings. Not that it mattered. He saw no point in celebrating an eternal reward to which he would never be entitled.
Though only late November by Ròmanach reckoning, the winter gales had begun to blow often enough to force the trio to work inside most days. Conversations with his sire were curt, awkward, and far too frequent for Angusel’s liking. Some days the silence felt as oppressive as the grave, but Angusel couldn’t trust himself to keep a civil tongue.
Gull never volunteered an explanation for faking his death, and Angusel refused to ask. When a man walked out on wife and son and kin and clan and country, reasons mattered less than a wagonload of dog vomit. Such a man stood so far beneath contempt that Angusel couldn’t imagine a worse deed. Even his failure to rescue Loholt seemed like stellar heroism in comparison.
After enduring a long string of commands from Gull this morning to fetch and sweep and wash and chop and stack and do just about everything else short of draining the sea, Angusel had decided that enough was damned well enough. He had suggested where Gull could stack the wood—somewhere dark and painful—and stalked off.
Elian had overheard and ordered him back into the compound before he could make good his escape.
“I don’t care if he’s your great-great-aunt Alisa, back from spending one night in the Otherworld to find that fifty years had passed in this one.” Bracing both hands against the chimney, Elian kicked it with his wooden leg, producing a loud thock. “And I especially don’t care if he works you every minute of every day from now until the Last Judgment. You answer to me, and I order you to obey him. Without exception.” He jerked a nod toward Gull, who stood near their supply shed.
“Aye, Centurion.” Angusel submerged his anger to keep his tone even. He would obey both men as duty demanded, but bestowing respect upon one of them was another issue altogether.
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty by Kim Headlee!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 13, 2015
#SpringFling spotlight on Lady Elinor's Escape by Linda McLaughlin @LyndiLamont
Author Linda McLaughlin shares why she likes spring, and a spotlight on her sweet regency romance, Lady Elinor's Escape
In the words of the lady behind the fan:
I grew up just outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where spring was much appreciated after a long, hard, cold winter. First the hardy crocuses would push up from the earth, sometimes with snow still on the ground. Then came the yellow daffodils and multi-colored tulips, a cheery sight after the gloom of winter.
My mother loved to garden and I used to help her plant the spring flowers. One year, a neighbor’s dog came to visit and helped her dig holes for the tulip bulbs. He was a cute little mutt named Andy. But he didn’t quite get the point of why she was digging the holes, so the next day, he came back and dug up all the bulbs! She was so angry at him, but I thought it was kind of funny.
Spring here in Southern California is a little more subtle. Our winters really don’t deserve the name, and when the offshore winds blow, spring weather feels more like August, with temperatures in the upper 80’s or even into the 90’s. Around here spring flowers include tropical plants like hibiscus and bird of paradise. Though I kind of miss having four distinct seasons, I can’t say I miss winter in Pennsylvania. Brrr.
I do wish it would rain, though. Some spring showers would be very welcome in this fourth year of drought.
Lady Elinor’s Escape
by Linda McLaughlin
Sweet Regency Romance
Synopsis:
Lady Elinor Ashworth always longed for adventure, but when she runs away from her abusive aunt, she finds more than she bargained for. Elinor fears her aunt who is irrational and dangerous, threatening Elinor and anyone she associates with. When she encounters an inquisitive gentleman, she accepts his help, but fearing for his safety, hides her identity by pretending to be a seamstress. She resists his every attempt to draw her out, all the while fighting her attraction to him.
There are too many women in barrister Stephen Chaplin’s life, but he has never been able to turn his back on a damsel in distress. The younger son of a baronet is a rescuer of troubled females, an unusual vocation fueled by guilt over his failure to save the woman he loved from her brutal husband. He cannot help falling in love with the secretive seamstress, but to his dismay, the truth of her background reveals Stephen as the ineligible party.
Read an exclusive SpringFling excerpt here!
Buy links:
Amazon | Apple | B&N | Kobo | Smashwords |
Author bio:
Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of books and history, so it's only natural she prefers writing historical romance. She loves transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward. Linda also writes steamy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont, and is one half of the writing team of Lyn O'Farrell.
You can find her online at:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter @LyndiLamont |
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty by Kim Headlee!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...
— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
In the words of the lady behind the fan:I grew up just outside Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where spring was much appreciated after a long, hard, cold winter. First the hardy crocuses would push up from the earth, sometimes with snow still on the ground. Then came the yellow daffodils and multi-colored tulips, a cheery sight after the gloom of winter.
My mother loved to garden and I used to help her plant the spring flowers. One year, a neighbor’s dog came to visit and helped her dig holes for the tulip bulbs. He was a cute little mutt named Andy. But he didn’t quite get the point of why she was digging the holes, so the next day, he came back and dug up all the bulbs! She was so angry at him, but I thought it was kind of funny.
Spring here in Southern California is a little more subtle. Our winters really don’t deserve the name, and when the offshore winds blow, spring weather feels more like August, with temperatures in the upper 80’s or even into the 90’s. Around here spring flowers include tropical plants like hibiscus and bird of paradise. Though I kind of miss having four distinct seasons, I can’t say I miss winter in Pennsylvania. Brrr.
I do wish it would rain, though. Some spring showers would be very welcome in this fourth year of drought.
Lady Elinor’s Escapeby Linda McLaughlin
Sweet Regency Romance
Synopsis:
Lady Elinor Ashworth always longed for adventure, but when she runs away from her abusive aunt, she finds more than she bargained for. Elinor fears her aunt who is irrational and dangerous, threatening Elinor and anyone she associates with. When she encounters an inquisitive gentleman, she accepts his help, but fearing for his safety, hides her identity by pretending to be a seamstress. She resists his every attempt to draw her out, all the while fighting her attraction to him.
There are too many women in barrister Stephen Chaplin’s life, but he has never been able to turn his back on a damsel in distress. The younger son of a baronet is a rescuer of troubled females, an unusual vocation fueled by guilt over his failure to save the woman he loved from her brutal husband. He cannot help falling in love with the secretive seamstress, but to his dismay, the truth of her background reveals Stephen as the ineligible party.
Read an exclusive SpringFling excerpt here!
Buy links:
Amazon | Apple | B&N | Kobo | Smashwords |
Author bio:
Linda McLaughlin grew up with a love of books and history, so it's only natural she prefers writing historical romance. She loves transporting her readers into the past where her characters learn that, in the journey of life, love is the sweetest reward. Linda also writes steamy to erotic romance under the name Lyndi Lamont, and is one half of the writing team of Lyn O'Farrell.
You can find her online at:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter @LyndiLamont |
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty by Kim Headlee!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 11, 2015
#Cover #reveal of One Prince, Two Kingdoms by @janagrissom YA paranormal fantasy
My forehead’s throbbing. One minute this girl is yelling at me for giving up and the next, she’s laughing. Whiplash.
I squint my eyes at Danielle and whisper with my lips firmly in place, “I will never give up.”
Her voice is high and cheerful, “So what’s your plan?”
Johnny Boggs is a teen with trouble to spare who has learned one thing in life - trust no one. Paranoia befriends him as he moves into his fifth foster home and discovers no one appears as they are, his dreams are not just dreams, and he is supposedly the Prince of Shamayim.
On Johnny’s sixteenth birthday, fate requires him to leave the protection of this world but allows for him to choose to reign over the light or turn to the darkness. A vicious competition begins as two kingdoms fight for his loyalty while two beautiful girls, Danielle and Shay, fight for his attention. Time is running out; a decision must be made. Johnny finds it impossible to resist the beauty of his dreams, nor can he turn away from the one who has his heart.
Footsteps enter my bedroom and approach my bunk. Not. Right. Now. I pretend to be asleep. A cold chill covers my body, making every hair stand on end. Then the bedroom door slams shut. I’m not in the freaking mood! Expecting to see one of my annoying foster brothers, I jerk my head toward the door and punch my fist into the mattress. “What!” I yell out, but no one’s there.
My eyes dart all around the room. Maybe there’s a draft, or someone shut another door causing this one to slam. Doubt it. I’m sure it’s just JC and Miguel trying to get even. “Hilarious, guys, I’m so scared. Now get the hell outta here.” I throw my pillow at the door and myself back on my bed.
An abnormal silence plays with my mind. I decide to reach for my headphones, but I can’t move. My heart jumps. No matter how hard I flex, my arm is stuck to the mattress. My lungs suck in air while every other organ aches under the pressure. An uncontrollable trembling takes over. What. The. Heck. Is. Going. On. My eyes blink over a hundred miles per hour. I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t, and then I realize I only have one ability left—sight.
Next to my bed stands a huge man with solid black corneas full of swirling dark fog in his vacant orbs, the Hollow Man. He’s staring me down again, but this time we’re the only ones in the room—no queen, no Camaro, no Mom. This can’t be real. It’s just another one of my crazy dreams. I go along for the ride, like I have a choice. The Hollow Man stands there clenching his fists, causing his abnormally large pecs to flex. My heart races, and my stomach threatens to return my lunch. An intense pain surges as he’s controlling every cell in my body without touching me.
The Hollow Man speaks, “Prince, why are you lying here as if you are a helpless child?” He turns off his death stare, and I feel an instant release followed by the familiar ache of a four-hour football workout in the Texas heat. Is this guy serious? Prince? And how am I supposed to fight something that isn’t really there? My chest tightens, and I try to wake up.
Jana Grissom is a middle school teacher, an advocate for foster children and at-risk teens, a mom of two amazing teens, and married to Roy, her high-school sweetheart. Jana holds a Master of Education in Administration and Policy Studies and offers professional development in bullying identification, prevention, and intervention. She is available to speak to students at secondary schools about the writing process or bring a message that challenges them to S.T.O.P. bullying and suicide. Jana is a Texas girl who loves the outdoors, flip-flops, chocolate, and sweet tea. In her spare time, she loves escaping to imaginary worlds through the magic of books.
LinkedIn ~ Blog
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Available through Jana's website
MoB Promos*** Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty by Kim Headlee!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com— Follow Kim on Twitter— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 10, 2015
#MedMonSpring Music for My Soul by @LaurenLinwood for Medieval Monday
Lauren Linwood shares Music for My Soul
for this week's installment of
Medieval Monday on The Maze!
Synopsis:
As the third wife of an abusive French vineyard owner, Madeleine Bouchard hasn’t produced the expected heir after three years of marriage. Fearing he plans to kill her, she flees during a trip to England. Unable to make her way home, she joins a troupe of traveling mummers and reinvents herself as the only woman troubadour in the land, captivating audiences with both song and story.
Nobleman Garrett Montayne’s fascination with Madeleine causes him to pay the troupe to bypass their next stop in order to journey to his estate. Though he suspects Madeleine of being a thief with dark secrets, love blossoms between them under the magical moon of summer solstice.
But Madeleine’s past is about to catch up with her, as her husband is set to arrive to conduct business with Garrett. Madeleine determines to free herself from her loveless marriage and make a new life with Garrett, no matter what the cost.
Excerpt:
Garrett peered into the angry face of the woman who haunted his dreams by night and left him absent-minded by day. Their encounter had been brief, but he doubted he had ever met a more remarkable woman. Not even his petite Lynnette had brought such a sweet longing to his loins as did the bewitching creature before him.
Her honeyed hair, loosened from its intricate braid, curled around her shoulders. Tiny beads of sweat had formed just above her upper lip. Without thinking, Garrett reached his thumb towards her and wiped it away. She flinched slightly, her dark, amethyst eyes glowering at him.
Garrett smiled in spite of himself, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. He had forgotten how very tall she was as she stared at him, her cheeks flushed with anger.
“Perhaps we could arrange a trade?” he suggested.
She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure if I could trust you, my lord,” she countered.
“Trust me?” he sputtered. “This, from the woman who traipsed about the countryside claiming to be my wife?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, an almost Gallic air about her. She didn’t sound French, but there was an unmistakable manner to her movement. Garrett spent enough time in France to recognize the behavior. However, when she spoke, he quickly put it from his mind.
“I chose a bloody awful name to scare away anyone who accosted me on the road! How was I to know I’d run into you?” She snorted in an unladylike fashion. “I had heard tales of the wicked Lord Montayne, how he frightened old and young alike and gobbled up babes for his dinner. Why, the very mention of his name would cause grown men to plead for their lives and their loved ones. Oh, no, my lord, I was an honest liar. You were the one who resorted to trickery and hid your true identity from me."
Her accusation so startled Garrett his jaw flew open. No sound came out for a moment. The woman lifted her chin high and turned on her heel. That brought Garrett into motion.
He grabbed her elbow and pulled her around to face him. “Not so fast, my lady.” He studied her a second. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she remained silent. Finally faced with her visage square in front of him, Garrett was at a loss of what to do. His emotions swirled out of control as he spoke.
“’Tis curiosity,” he sputtered.
She looked puzzled. “Curiosity?” she echoed.
He nodded, his words spilling forth rapidly. “I know not who you are, nor where you come from. I’ve dreamed of you since that night only to awaken to an emptiness.” His voice became low and tinged with sadness. “I don’t even know your name.”
Buy Links: Kindle | Amazon print copy | Barnes & Noble print copy |
And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
***
Last week: Camulus by Bambi Lynn
Next week: The Gentle Knight by Ashley York
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty !
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— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
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...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
for this week's installment of
Medieval Monday on The Maze!
Synopsis:As the third wife of an abusive French vineyard owner, Madeleine Bouchard hasn’t produced the expected heir after three years of marriage. Fearing he plans to kill her, she flees during a trip to England. Unable to make her way home, she joins a troupe of traveling mummers and reinvents herself as the only woman troubadour in the land, captivating audiences with both song and story.
Nobleman Garrett Montayne’s fascination with Madeleine causes him to pay the troupe to bypass their next stop in order to journey to his estate. Though he suspects Madeleine of being a thief with dark secrets, love blossoms between them under the magical moon of summer solstice.
But Madeleine’s past is about to catch up with her, as her husband is set to arrive to conduct business with Garrett. Madeleine determines to free herself from her loveless marriage and make a new life with Garrett, no matter what the cost.
Excerpt:
Garrett peered into the angry face of the woman who haunted his dreams by night and left him absent-minded by day. Their encounter had been brief, but he doubted he had ever met a more remarkable woman. Not even his petite Lynnette had brought such a sweet longing to his loins as did the bewitching creature before him.
Her honeyed hair, loosened from its intricate braid, curled around her shoulders. Tiny beads of sweat had formed just above her upper lip. Without thinking, Garrett reached his thumb towards her and wiped it away. She flinched slightly, her dark, amethyst eyes glowering at him.
Garrett smiled in spite of himself, offering her a hand to pull her to her feet. He had forgotten how very tall she was as she stared at him, her cheeks flushed with anger.
“Perhaps we could arrange a trade?” he suggested.
She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure if I could trust you, my lord,” she countered.
“Trust me?” he sputtered. “This, from the woman who traipsed about the countryside claiming to be my wife?”
She shrugged nonchalantly, an almost Gallic air about her. She didn’t sound French, but there was an unmistakable manner to her movement. Garrett spent enough time in France to recognize the behavior. However, when she spoke, he quickly put it from his mind.
“I chose a bloody awful name to scare away anyone who accosted me on the road! How was I to know I’d run into you?” She snorted in an unladylike fashion. “I had heard tales of the wicked Lord Montayne, how he frightened old and young alike and gobbled up babes for his dinner. Why, the very mention of his name would cause grown men to plead for their lives and their loved ones. Oh, no, my lord, I was an honest liar. You were the one who resorted to trickery and hid your true identity from me."
Her accusation so startled Garrett his jaw flew open. No sound came out for a moment. The woman lifted her chin high and turned on her heel. That brought Garrett into motion.
He grabbed her elbow and pulled her around to face him. “Not so fast, my lady.” He studied her a second. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she remained silent. Finally faced with her visage square in front of him, Garrett was at a loss of what to do. His emotions swirled out of control as he spoke.
“’Tis curiosity,” he sputtered.
She looked puzzled. “Curiosity?” she echoed.
He nodded, his words spilling forth rapidly. “I know not who you are, nor where you come from. I’ve dreamed of you since that night only to awaken to an emptiness.” His voice became low and tinged with sadness. “I don’t even know your name.”
Buy Links: Kindle | Amazon print copy | Barnes & Noble print copy |
And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
***
Last week: Camulus by Bambi Lynn
Next week: The Gentle Knight by Ashley York
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 8, 2015
Not your mama's Samhainn celebration in RAGING SEA Ch 4/Sc 1B #amwriting #Arthurverse
Pictish stone graphic overlay(c) by Kim HeadleeDance has been an important cultural expression for millennia, and I draw upon that sociological fact to invent dances that represent the four turns of season for my Caledonach (Pictish) clans in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles.
In Dawnflight readers are introduced to the Dance of the Sun (Ruidhle a'Ghrian in Caledonaiche), which heralds the advent of spring at Àmbholc (Feb. 1st). The Dance of the Virgins (Ruidhle na Righinnean in Caledonaiche) is described in Morning's Journey as being part of the Belteine festival at the start of summer (May 1st).
Raging Sea will feature descriptions of the other two dances: Ruidhle an Tairbh (The Dance of the Bull) at Lughnasadh (Aug. 1st), much later in the book, and in today's installment, the Dance of the Summer Wraiths (Ruidhle na Shamhraidhean) at Samhainn (Nov. 1st). Again, I had great fun expanding Caledonach mythology to invent the story and traditions that go with the Dance of the Summer Wraiths.
Previous excerpts of Raging Sea Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |Chapter 2: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 |Chapter 3: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 | Scene 3-A | Scene 3-B |
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.”
***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty by Kim Headlee!
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May 5, 2015
#SpringFling spotlight on Tempered Joy by @psthib #Bookplugs #BYNR
Today's #SpringFling offering features Book 4 in the Tempered series by Pamela Thibodeaux, Tempered Joy.
But first, Pamela has shared some thoughts about why she likes spring:
I’ve often said I have bear blood in me because at the first cold snap I’m ready to hibernate for winter LOL! Cold, rainy, dreary days make me want to curl up under a blanket and/or next to a fire and read or sleep. My energy level & mood sink with the short, dark days.
Spring, however, is that time when the days get longer, warmer and brighter. Of course, balmy days make me want to curl up like a cat on a window seal, but like the flowers and trees bursting with energy and new life, so am I when there are several more hours of sunshine on a daily basis.
I totally agree, Pamela, and thanks for stopping by The Maze!
Title: Tempered Joy (book 4 in Tempered series) Synopsis: All around rodeo cowboy and heir to the Rockin’ H Ranch, Ace Harris is determined not to fall in love. He’s only loved one woman in his life, his mother, and no one can even come close to filling her boots. Lexie Morgan thinks rodeo cowboys have rocks for brains and a death wish for a soul. A broken childhood and the death of her father and best friend leave her doubting and questioning God (despite her years of religious upbringing) and afraid of love. Can two young people who clash from the onset learn to trust in the healing power of God and find love and happiness amidst tragedy and grief?
Excerpt:
Her eyes narrowed when he took a step closer. “Ace,” she warned and wielded the brush like a lethal weapon.
Raising his hands where she could see them, he watched her try to brush some semblance of order to the thick mass of unruly auburn hair. The simple chore made him want to sink both fists in the silken locks and gave him a whole new insight to the word erotic.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled vivid green and spewed wrath. She glared at him as though the tangled tresses were his fault alone. Her chest quivered with each breath she took. He took another step closer and could feel her tremble. Locking his gaze with hers in the mirror, he reached around her and picked up a bandanna off the dresser. He ran it through his fingers in what could have been a caress then slid the cloth beneath her hair and left it trailing over her shoulders.
With hands that shook, Lexie pulled the ends together and tied her hair back into a ponytail. Those bright gray eyes had gone soft and warm, like liquid metal. Mouth dry as dust, she swallowed hard.
Purchase Links for Tempered Joy : Kindle | Nook | Smashwords |
Author bio: Award-winning author, Pamela S. Thibodeaux is the Co-Founder and a lifetime member of Bayou Writers Group in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Multi-published in romantic fiction as well as creative non-fiction, her writing has been tagged as, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ and reviewed as “steamier and grittier than the typical Christian novel without decreasing the message.”
Social Media Links:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | ***
Enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Liberty !
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— Follow Kim on Twitter
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May 4, 2015
Book Blitz for The Para-Portage of Emily by @SexyMuffyWilson
Today I am pleased to showcaseThe Para-Portage of Emily
from the Shadow Seduction Series by Muffy Wilson!
Synopsis:
Emily Macque, a young, beautiful junior partner in her father’s law firm, is but a heartbeat away from love or destiny. Duty brings Emily to a frozen Island estate two hundred and fifty miles north of Chicago. Devotion requires she delve into the property history to settle an estate probate. Death lures her into the arms of the shadows seduction created by the flickering light and dark shadows.
What flames the timeless passions spanning the decades? Love, desire or obsession?
Colin Jorgenson, once a Great Lakes mariner, is a strong man haunted by love and loss. How long will he return each night, gripped by desire, hoping to find the woman he has loved for a century?
Beneath the pristine Island beauty, passions hungered, lingered in the ardent darkness. His passions, fueled by decades of loneliness and longing, could no longer be denied. Will they face eternity together or love in secret as dark things are to be loved between the shadows and the soul?
Buy Link
Excerpt:
“Tell me what you know about Mariner’s Maiden please, Kirby.”
Kirby took a long draw on his beer before he began his narrative.
“It was years ago, around 1800 Miss Emily, when the original land owner arrived on the Island with settlers from Norway. He’d claimed five hundred acres on this southern point of the Island for himself. He became wealthy in cattle, wheat, timber and cheese. As his family grew and were educated on the Mainland, they moved, one by one, off Island. They were a wealthy, hard-working lot, but needed less and less of the acreage they owned. Much of the original plot was donated to the Town throughout the years. Some sections were sold.
“It got down to the last hundred acres when Colin Jorgenson bought the property, around 1890 or 1900. I am not exactly sure. The main house was much smaller and less grand than it is now, for sure.
“Now, Colin was a Maritime Captain and often he’d be gone for months at a time. He sailed the Great Lakes several times a year with supplies, spices, fancy goods and ‘fortunes of bounty’. That’s what they called it then. It was for sale to rich settlers throughout the Great Lakes. He’d earned all his wealth in trading by the turn of the century. He came and went for several years until, in his mid-thirties, he met and married a much younger woman, Amalya, and came back to the Island with her.”
Kirby sat back, drained his beer and continued. “The property was called Mariner’s Cove then. He spent two years with Island tradesmen rebuilding this house for his wife. To honor her, and before his return to the water, he commissioned a maritime woodcarver to create the figurehead of Amalya you saw yesterday on the tree marking the entrance.
He had the figure of Amalya mounted on the bow of his ship and apparently felt she was always with him in his travels. She died one summer, pregnant with their first child, shortly after his returning from his last trip of the season. He shut himself away in this house—a broken man, left forlorn and alone, to die years later of a broken heart as a recluse. It’s said he returns night after night trying to find his Amalya, his beloved.”“But that’s just old folklore, Miss Emily, there’s nothing to it but made up stories from the past by gossips and romantics. This place has never been haunted—no one has ever said it was, anyway. Even though he was long dead, this property was held in Old Colin’s estate until your uncle bought it around 1955, I think. I suppose there is more you can find out at the Archives office in the Island library at the town offices, if you want. That’s about all I know and it ain’t much.”
Refusing a second beer, Kirby was off to finish his chores. “Thank you, Miss Emily,” Kirby said as he stood to leave.
Emily walked him to the door with Barkley in tow.
“Oh, there is one more thing” he added. “There is supposed to be a crypt on the property somewhere. I heard tell that Old Colin buried his Amalya in there and when he was dying, he crawled into it to die on her casket. Creepy, but no one’s ever found it to my knowledge—and between me and my dad, we’ve covered this property as caretakers for over fifty years.”
Emily extended her hand in gratitude for the information and company. “Thank you, Kirby. All of that is so very interesting. He must have been deeply in love with Amalya.”
Kirby, a middle-aged man, stood and shook Emily’s hand. He turned to leave, stopped and dropped his head as he hesitated at the bottom of the steps. A simple country man, this time was no different.
“Miss Emily…” He looked up at her rather sheepishly, and stuttered slightly, “Forgive me, Miss Emily, if I offend you. I have been a bachelor all my life and never had a way with women or much of a need for them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like ‘em well enough, but I never was able to pick the right words in their presence. If…if you don’t mind my saying…you look an awful lot like those paintings in the house of Miss Amalya.”
“Oh my word, Kirby, how you flatter me! It is purely a coincidence, I assure you.” Emily smiled, as she dismissed the compliment and waved good-bye at Kirby. As he left, she thought about the love shared between these two remarkable people, Colin and Amalya. Amalya and Colin.
She had forgotten to ask what became of the baby…
Buy Link
About Muffy Wilson:
Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.
Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.
Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | FB Fan Page | Google+ | Triberr | Wordpress | Amazon | Ganxy | XinXii | Kobo Books |
iTunes Books | Barnes and Noble | Smashwords | Goodreads |
Yellow Silk Dreams Publishing | Secret Cravings Publishing |
***
Last day to enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Morning's Journey !
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May 3, 2015
Medieval Monday spotlight on Camulus by Bambi Lynn @hot_historicals #MedMonSpring
Medieval Monday continues on The Maze with
Camulus by Bambi Lynn
Synopsis:
Camulus Vass wants a simple life, absent the power and responsibility that can consume a man. But being laird of a clan as large as the Munro does not offer such luxury. Always under the domineering heel of his uncle, Cam has allowed himself to become a pawn. But the arrival of a mysterious newcomer awakens a beast within him that will not be tamed.
Màili has been given the task of rooting out the spawn of an ancient god. It’s the only way to take her revenge against the man who betrayed her. But getting what she wants means taking the life of the man she loves. Will her hunger for a mortal man wreak further havoc on her already bleak future?
Excerpt:
Cam pulled the linen from his shaggy, ebony mane and locked his rich brown eyes, glistening with excitement, on hers. He stepped out of the tub, dropping the linen to the floor. "Come to me, woman." Cam wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He claimed her mouth with his, prying her lips open and invading her with the sweetest tasting tongue she had ever known.
Màili lost herself in that kiss. The power of it sent jolts of pleasure to every pore in her body. She tingled all over, her senses melding until she could no longer remember anything other than the man before her. She kissed him back with all the self–pity of a woman who had been betrayed by love and yearned to get even a piece of herself back.
The power of her desire for Cam surprised her. Màili was certainly no stranger to the ways of men and women. She had learned a lot over the centuries. This was the first time she had found anyone she thought could teach her anything. A nagging possibility tickled the edge of her thoughts, but she pushed it aside.
Màili dragged her mouth from his, nibbling along his jaw and across the pulse at his throat. With her hands on his chest, she urged him back toward the bed all the while trailing her lips, her tongue down his body. He tasted like nectar and all Màili could think of was more, more, more.
Buy Camulus on: Amazon.
***And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
Last week: Dragon Knight's Medallion by Mary Morgan
Next week: Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood
***
It's not too late to enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Morning's Journey !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...
— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
Camulus by Bambi Lynn
Synopsis:Camulus Vass wants a simple life, absent the power and responsibility that can consume a man. But being laird of a clan as large as the Munro does not offer such luxury. Always under the domineering heel of his uncle, Cam has allowed himself to become a pawn. But the arrival of a mysterious newcomer awakens a beast within him that will not be tamed.
Màili has been given the task of rooting out the spawn of an ancient god. It’s the only way to take her revenge against the man who betrayed her. But getting what she wants means taking the life of the man she loves. Will her hunger for a mortal man wreak further havoc on her already bleak future?
Excerpt:
Cam pulled the linen from his shaggy, ebony mane and locked his rich brown eyes, glistening with excitement, on hers. He stepped out of the tub, dropping the linen to the floor. "Come to me, woman." Cam wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He claimed her mouth with his, prying her lips open and invading her with the sweetest tasting tongue she had ever known.
Màili lost herself in that kiss. The power of it sent jolts of pleasure to every pore in her body. She tingled all over, her senses melding until she could no longer remember anything other than the man before her. She kissed him back with all the self–pity of a woman who had been betrayed by love and yearned to get even a piece of herself back.
The power of her desire for Cam surprised her. Màili was certainly no stranger to the ways of men and women. She had learned a lot over the centuries. This was the first time she had found anyone she thought could teach her anything. A nagging possibility tickled the edge of her thoughts, but she pushed it aside.
Màili dragged her mouth from his, nibbling along his jaw and across the pulse at his throat. With her hands on his chest, she urged him back toward the bed all the while trailing her lips, her tongue down his body. He tasted like nectar and all Màili could think of was more, more, more.
Buy Camulus on: Amazon.
***And check out this YouTube video highlighting all the participating authors' works!
Last week: Dragon Knight's Medallion by Mary Morgan
Next week: Music for My Soul by Lauren Linwood
***
It's not too late to enter this great giveaway for note cards, e-book copies, and an autographed print copy of Morning's Journey !
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win, you are invited to...— Add Kim as a Favorite Author on Amazon.com
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on any page of The Maze, especially if you have done the Amazon, Twitter, and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!
May 1, 2015
Eileann thinks about Angusel in RAGING SEA Ch4/Sc 1A #Arthurverse #amwriting #MFRWAuthor
Pictish stone graphic overlay(c) by Kim HeadleeOne of the side benefits of the linguistic work I performed for the second edition of Dawnflight , which carried forward into its sequel Morning's Journey and now Raging Sea, was the expansion of the mythology that I had begun developing for the Caledonach people, or "Picts," as their neighbors the Celts call them.
Nowhere was this more evident than when I began examining the meaning of the ancient harvest festival known today by its most common name of Samhain--or Samhainn as it is called in Scottish Gaelic and in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles. I discovered that the Scottish Gaelic words samhradh (“summer”) and samhladh (“ghost” or “replica”) are linguistically similar to samhainn ("hallowtide"). In keeping with the fairly widespread cultural association of heat with a place of eternal punishment, I created a mythological linkage between "summer," "ghost," and "hallowtide" for the Caledonaich, which begins in this excerpt and concludes next week.
Many folk traditions contain several layers of meaning, and in this excerpt Eileann begins to explore some of the beliefs associated with her people's celebration of Samhainn while contemplating the young man who is destined to capture her heart.
Previous excerpts of Raging Sea Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |Chapter 2: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 |Chapter 3: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B | Scene 2 | Scene 3-A | Scene 3-B |
Raging Sea Chapter 4, Scene 1-A©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
EILEANN nic Dynann watched from her seat on the feast hall’s dais as servants delivered more brimming pitchers of heather beer and platters heaped with Samhainn cakes to the lower tables. Each fist-size cake was filled with apple mush, and their appearance on this, the final night of Samhainn, heralded everyone’s favorite rite of the year: the Dance of the Summer Wraiths.
Symbolic of the eternal struggle between the Army of the Blest and the cruel Samhraidhean, this dance was a young warrior’s first opportunity to earn the privilege of joining the Army of the Blest in the Otherworld, should it befall him—or her—to die before experiencing combat on this side of the veil. The unblooded dead were consigned to the ranks of the Samhraidhean, doomed to suffer the ravages of blazing eternal summer without hope of ever receiving the succor of autumn’s bounty, winter’s rest, or spring’s rebirth.
Clan outcasts shared that fate, blooded or not.
Unbidden surged the memory of Angusel trudging from the field hospital’s Caledonach ward, and unbidden sprang Eileann’s tears.
She blotted them with a fingertip on the pretense of scratching an itch.
“An itchy eye means you’ve seen your future mate.” Her mother, Chieftainess Dynann, grinned at her. “Coileach, or perhaps Iomar?”
A fortnight earlier, Eileann had bidden farewell to those men, Coileach mac Airde of Clan Alban and Iomar mac Morra of Clan Rioghail, the latest in a suitor parade that had begun at Belteine. All the visits had gone as well as could be expected under the circumstances—a feast of awkward with a heaping side dish of embarrassment—leaving Eileann no closer to choosing a consort than swimming to the Isle of Maun by way of the ice-shrouded Orkneys.
“We”—Dynann nodded toward her consort and Eileann’s father, Chieftain Rionnach—“favor Chieftain Ogryvan’s cousin Iomar. Ogryvan’s daughter had the wisdom to marry an army.”
Forcing a smile to keep from displaying her discomfiture to everyone in the feast hall, Eileann whispered, “Mother!”
Dynann shrugged and returned to the morsels of roasted venison and carrots on her platter. She speared one of each with the tip of her meat knife, popped them into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I cannot see why Clan Tarsuinn shouldn’t benefit from Argyll’s closer alliance with the Pendragon.”
“The way I understand it,” Eileann said, “the Pendragon promised to aid all the clans as the need arises. Did he not?”
Rionnach, seated on the other side of Dynann, gave Eileann a long appraisal. She resisted the urge to squirm. “Aye, lass, that he did. But tell me who will be first in line for that aid.” Eileann opened her mouth to answer, but her father was faster. “His kin-by-law, that’s who. Stands to reason. No man in his position would do one whit differently.”
Eileann thought about quipping that Arthur the Pendragon did seem to be a different sort of man, based on the tales Tavyn already had shared with her since returning home for the winter, but she refrained. Sometimes there just was no arguing with her parents.
Most times, in fact.
“You cannot postpone your choice forever, daughter,” Dynann said. “Our Ab Fhorchu ferry business shrinks by the day because of the thrice-cursed Angalaranach hold upon Dùn Éideann. Next year they will be menacing other launch points along the south bank, sure as we’re sitting here. Having extra incentive for the Pendragon to help us would be a tremendous boon to the clan.”
“I know, Mother.” First Eileann had to figure out how to stop thinking about someone who could never become her consort. Sighing, she chafed her falcon tattoo and closed her eyes.
“Patience, Dyn,” she heard her father whisper. “Nothing good ever comes of a rush to judgment.”
“Nothing good ever comes from doing nothing,” Dynann murmured.
Eileann couldn’t bear to admit they were both right. Eyes still closed, she sighed again.
***
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