Kim Iverson Headlee's Blog: Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages, page 40
March 28, 2015
Meet one of the 3 "Elaines" in Lancelot's life RAGING SEA Ch 3/Sc 1A #Arthurverse
Dunadd Boar representation(c)2015 by Kim HeadleeIn Raging Sea, I riff on the ancient tradition that there were three Elaines in Lancelot's life.
(And for those of you who religiously cling to the mantra that "Lancelot was a French invention!", I maintain that the name Lancelot may be French, but the original person upon whom the French troubadour Chrétien de Troyes based his ballads was Angusel. I did not, however, discourse upon this theory to Peter David when we shared a panel at MystiCon 2015 last month; it would have been Bad Form to correct a Guest of Honor. :D)
Centurion Elian in my story arc is the second of the three Elaines and old enough to have been Angusel's father. In Dawnflight, he lost a leg after a horse fell on it in battle. Today's excerpt reintroduces Elian in his new circumstances. Like Angusel, Elian's soul is wounded even more than his body ever could be.
Previous #SundaySnippets 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 |
Raging Sea Chapter 3, Scene 1-A©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
THE beggar sat in the dust, his back leaning against the rough-planked wall and dry flagon in his hand, as the tavern’s patrons swaggered into and staggered out of the nearby door. Every now and then, someone would toss a mite his way. The kinder men aimed for his cup. More often, the tiny coin landed many paces beyond reach, forcing him to use his crutch like an oar to pull his maimed body over to it, driven by his desperate need and his benefactor’s guffaws.
His trembling hand caused the coins inside the flagon to jump and jingle. Another half dozen and he could drag himself inside for a draught, perhaps even a crust of bread and a morsel of beef, if the tavernkeeper felt charitable.
He squinted toward the setting sun and sighed. It would take most of the night to collect that many coins, if luck favored him. Business had slowed to a crawl since the Pendragon’s reinforcements had departed Maun—when? A week ago? A fortnight, a month?
Grief over his lost vocation crippled his soul as he shook his head with another sigh. Days meant nothing to him anymore.
God, how his head ached. But that pain could be drowned in ale. Nothing could erase the phantom agony shooting through his body from his missing leg.
Grinding his teeth, he screwed his eyes shut and braced his head against the wall.
“I ken ye need a draught, lad.”
He opened his eyes to find himself staring into the hazel gaze of a man he knew only as Gull. Though Gull kept to himself, he bought him a drink no matter how many coins the beggar had managed to collect.
“As always.” His smile felt thin as he lifted his flagon before his face to parody a salute. “Many thanks, friend.”
Nodding, Gull took the cup, emptied the coins into his fist, and stashed them in a fur pouch chained to his belt. The beggar’s hand closed over the black leather forearm guard that covered Gull’s right arm from wrist to elbow. Gull gave a reciprocal squeeze and disappeared into the tavern.
He massaged his stump, wondering about the exchange that had repeated so often, in words as well as gestures, that it had become almost ritualistic.
Mayhap Gull’s sympathies were sparked by recognition of a kindred spirit. He and Gull were of an age, with the gray hair and sun-weathered faces to show for it. Like him, Gull had the broad back and deep chest and powerful arms and callused, scarred hands of a warrior—though Gull could still get about on two legs, damn him.
Bitterness rose like bile in his throat, and he drew a long breath. Although Gull’s accented Brytonic marked him as a Pict, he was the only soul on Maun who cared about his plight, and he hated himself for thinking ill of the man.
He shut his eyes again and settled back for the wait, serenaded by the off-key singing and raucous laughter and vulgar jests emanating from within the tavern.
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 25, 2015
#EggcerptExchange spotlight on Marketing Exec's Widow by @AuthorTinaGayle #MFRWAuthor
Today I welcome to The Maze the mastermind behind the #EggcerptExchange, Tina Gayle, with the first in her Executive Wives' Club series, Marketing Exec's Widow!Executive Wives' Club series
Four women...
One fatal car wreck...
Everyone's lives changed...
EWC1: Marketing Exec's Widow -- "The Unwilling Widow"
Jennifer Larson, having lost her husband, friends and the perfect life she’d had planned, now faces the biggest challenge of her life, moving into an unplanned future. While the rest of the Executive Wives' Club is still wallowing in the past, Jen is tempted into the future by a sexy chiropractor, Hagan Chaney.
But does he really love her or is he only after her money?
Eggcerpt:
Jen gathered her strength and followed Hagan through the house. The easy flow of his long limbs showed incredible grace for a big man. So tempting, yet, she couldn’t pursue him. Not now, not with everyone watching her, they expected her to act like a grieving widow. If she didn’t, they’d forever brand her as an unloving wife.
She hated the farce, but she had no choice. No one knew her marriage had turned into a sham long before Craig died.
A few minutes later, she walked outside and breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, with the showing done, she could return Hagan to his office. She locked the front door and stored the key in the lockbox. Spinning on her heels, she faced Hagan.
At the end of the porch, one foot already positioned on the first step with a hand out to assist her, he waited. “So, Jen, since we’re done for today, why don’t we meet tomorrow night for dinner?”
Jen edged backward and her butt hit the closed door. The urge to run away from his undeniable magnetism, and the problems he’d cause, sent her mind into a tail spin.
What in the hell should I do now?
Buy it on Kindle
About the Author:
Tina Gayle was born in Texas, the place of her heart and where most of her family still lives. The youngest of four daughters, she grew up a dreamer.
She worked for years in the business world doing a variety of accounting jobs. Then when her two sons were little, Tina decided to go back to school to get a degree in MIS. She only used this degree a few years before deciding to follow her passion for writing romance.
Married twenty-five years, she and her husband love to travel and can’t wait for Mike to retire so they can do it more.
Follow Tina:
Website | Blog | Twitter | Goodreads | Facebook | Google+ | LinkedIn |
***Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 23, 2015
15 Reasons Why @NNP_W_Light Loves being an Author #MFRWAuthor #amwriting
Today on The Maze, I am pleased to welcome author N N Light to spotlight her novel, Princess of the Light, and to share with you why she loves being a writer and blogger!
15 Reasons Why I Love Being an Author/Writer/Blogger
1- I love writing stories I made up and having people read them with delight. There is no greater feeling in the world.
2- I love changing history without having to write non-fiction. There are parts of my stories that are based on real-life experiences and I love re-creating history.
3- I love carrying on the tradition of storytelling for future generations. Throughout the course of history, there have been storytellers. I love carrying on the torch and will continue the tradition by passing it on to future generations.
4- I love inspiring others to be their very best through my writing. I started blogging as a way to tell the world about my book. But as time goes by, I love blogging. Whether it is inspirational thoughts or writing/marketing tips, there is something immediate about blogging that you don’t get when writing a book.
5- I love the feeling I get when I’m writing a new story. It’s like Christmas, only better.
6- I love being a writer because I get to work in my favorite pajamas and no one yells at me about the dress code.
7- I love sharing little bits of wisdom I have learned, especially if it helps another writer to succeed. When I was just starting out in the industry, I learned so much from other writers. I’m so grateful for their advice and insight. I, in turn, help aspiring writers.
8- I love the freedom of being a writer and allowing my thoughts to go out into the world. It’s risky because not everyone will agree with you but it’s freeing too.
9- I love being a writer because it is something I was meant to do and have been blessed with the gift of writing. I am following my destiny and I’m living the life I’ve always dreamt of!
10- Being a writer means I am my own boss, essentially, and I love it. I do have a manager and together we decide the best course of action. Ever since I was fifteen, I have worked for other people. I love being my own boss. All of my hard work (and trust me, it’s hard) is worth it when I find a new reader or get that royalty check.
11- Writing is mysterious and magical to other people and it comes naturally to me. When I tell people, they are awe-struck and want to know everything. The reality is I love to write and I love to weave words together to create a reaction. Ideally, I would like my readers to be inspired but any response is appreciated.
12- I love being a writer and making a difference in the life of another. Having someone say they were moved by what I wrote is all the praise I ever need. Honestly, it’s even better than getting paid.
13- Being a writer allows me to express myself in creative ways and I love it. I am a creative person and I express myself best through words and stories.
14- I love being a writer because I get to live out my fantasies. This is truly the best part of being a writer. I get to create worlds and characters in addition to experiencing things I’ve only ever imagined.
15- I love being a writer because it makes my perspective on life totally different than when I wasn’t a writer. My eyes are open to the possibilities of a story and I’m able to see things from different angles.
Title: Princess of the LightAuthor: N. N. Light
Genres: Urban Fantasy Romance, Christian Fantasy, Inspirational Fiction
Release Date: September 2, 2014
Synopsis:Gabriel, the Archangel and Messenger of God—yeah, that Gabriel—visits Mary Miller. He tells her, as the key, she is destined to spread the Light and vanquish the Darkness. Her first assignment is to restore the soul of the Walking Man. Sounds simple enough—until she’s thrown into the face of evil. And then, Joe Deacons enters her heart. This battle just got a lot more complicated. She must complete her mission without losing all she loves.
Excerpt:
"Can I help you with something, sir?" The woman's voice quivered slightly and she leaned a little, as if she suddenly needed the wall for support.
Whoa, I couldn't help but think. I frankly felt like a moth to the flame. All I wanted to do was have a reason to get closer to her. The fact that her eyes seemed to shine with an actual light didn't help matters. I had never felt such an automatic attraction before, and I wanted to lean closer and see what was going on with her eyes.
She was either looking at me like I was the only man in the world—and quite possibly the sexiest one—or else my open gawking had freaked her out. Either way, I couldn't have told her which it was, because my mouth felt like a cotton ball container.
"Yes," I managed to rasp to her. "Where is your Architecture section?"
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Yes. You, I wanted to say. "I could look to see if it is in stock." Oh. Are there more of you somewhere?
The sound of her voice was starting to make my heart pound.
She had an earthly beauty about her. There was nothing extraordinary in her features, yet something about her just seemed to glow.
I felt my breath quicken. Joe, what's the matter with you? Get a grip. You've seen girls before.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts without worrying what I looked like and said, "Please forgive my manners, but what is your name?"
"Mary." That just became my favorite name.
"I'm very pleased to meet you," I said as I extended my hand to her. "I'm Joseph. Please call me Joe."
She hesitated for a moment before she shook my hand. Electricity bolted up my arm that I wasn't prepared for. I wondered if she could hear my heart beating. Pretty sure these emotions weren't winning me any bro-code points.
Her face was flushed and her eyes brightened with interest. Let go of her hand, Joe, I tried to coach myself. If I didn't let go of it soon, I might never be able to.
Buy Links:
Smashwords | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Indigo | iTunes/ iBooks |
Amazon.com | Amazon Canada | Amazon UK |
Paperback | Goodreads |
Newsletter:
Sign up for my monthly newsletter to get writing and marketing tips, updates and free sneak peeks into what I’m working on: http://ymlp.com/xghjsueygmgh
Author Bio:
N. N. Light was born in Minnesota, lived in Southern California only to move to chilly Ontario, Canada to marry her beloved husband MR N. She is blissfully happy and loves all things chocolate, books, music, movies, art, sports and baking. She has been telling stories since the age of five and her mantra is to spread the Light. Most of the time you can find her on Twitter or getting new ideas on how to spread the Light on Pinterest. She is a proud member of ASMSG, Independent Author Network and Marketing for Romance Writers.
Part of the proceeds of Princess of the Light will go directly to food banks in order to feed the hungry and help those in need. With only 7,500 books sold, N. N. Light will be able to set up a monthly endowment for the local food bank.
I’d love to connect with you either via email or via these various social media sites:
Website | Blog | Goodreads | Twitter | Pinterest | Facebook | LinkedIn |
Google+ | Triberr | iAuthor | Amazon Author Page |
Independent Author Network |
Thank you, N.N., for sharing your light here today!
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
15 Reasons Why I Love Being an Author/Writer/Blogger
1- I love writing stories I made up and having people read them with delight. There is no greater feeling in the world.
2- I love changing history without having to write non-fiction. There are parts of my stories that are based on real-life experiences and I love re-creating history.
3- I love carrying on the tradition of storytelling for future generations. Throughout the course of history, there have been storytellers. I love carrying on the torch and will continue the tradition by passing it on to future generations.
4- I love inspiring others to be their very best through my writing. I started blogging as a way to tell the world about my book. But as time goes by, I love blogging. Whether it is inspirational thoughts or writing/marketing tips, there is something immediate about blogging that you don’t get when writing a book.
5- I love the feeling I get when I’m writing a new story. It’s like Christmas, only better.
6- I love being a writer because I get to work in my favorite pajamas and no one yells at me about the dress code.
7- I love sharing little bits of wisdom I have learned, especially if it helps another writer to succeed. When I was just starting out in the industry, I learned so much from other writers. I’m so grateful for their advice and insight. I, in turn, help aspiring writers.
8- I love the freedom of being a writer and allowing my thoughts to go out into the world. It’s risky because not everyone will agree with you but it’s freeing too.
9- I love being a writer because it is something I was meant to do and have been blessed with the gift of writing. I am following my destiny and I’m living the life I’ve always dreamt of!
10- Being a writer means I am my own boss, essentially, and I love it. I do have a manager and together we decide the best course of action. Ever since I was fifteen, I have worked for other people. I love being my own boss. All of my hard work (and trust me, it’s hard) is worth it when I find a new reader or get that royalty check.
11- Writing is mysterious and magical to other people and it comes naturally to me. When I tell people, they are awe-struck and want to know everything. The reality is I love to write and I love to weave words together to create a reaction. Ideally, I would like my readers to be inspired but any response is appreciated.
12- I love being a writer and making a difference in the life of another. Having someone say they were moved by what I wrote is all the praise I ever need. Honestly, it’s even better than getting paid.
13- Being a writer allows me to express myself in creative ways and I love it. I am a creative person and I express myself best through words and stories.
14- I love being a writer because I get to live out my fantasies. This is truly the best part of being a writer. I get to create worlds and characters in addition to experiencing things I’ve only ever imagined.
15- I love being a writer because it makes my perspective on life totally different than when I wasn’t a writer. My eyes are open to the possibilities of a story and I’m able to see things from different angles.
Title: Princess of the LightAuthor: N. N. LightGenres: Urban Fantasy Romance, Christian Fantasy, Inspirational Fiction
Release Date: September 2, 2014
Synopsis:Gabriel, the Archangel and Messenger of God—yeah, that Gabriel—visits Mary Miller. He tells her, as the key, she is destined to spread the Light and vanquish the Darkness. Her first assignment is to restore the soul of the Walking Man. Sounds simple enough—until she’s thrown into the face of evil. And then, Joe Deacons enters her heart. This battle just got a lot more complicated. She must complete her mission without losing all she loves.
Excerpt:
"Can I help you with something, sir?" The woman's voice quivered slightly and she leaned a little, as if she suddenly needed the wall for support.
Whoa, I couldn't help but think. I frankly felt like a moth to the flame. All I wanted to do was have a reason to get closer to her. The fact that her eyes seemed to shine with an actual light didn't help matters. I had never felt such an automatic attraction before, and I wanted to lean closer and see what was going on with her eyes.
She was either looking at me like I was the only man in the world—and quite possibly the sexiest one—or else my open gawking had freaked her out. Either way, I couldn't have told her which it was, because my mouth felt like a cotton ball container.
"Yes," I managed to rasp to her. "Where is your Architecture section?"
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Yes. You, I wanted to say. "I could look to see if it is in stock." Oh. Are there more of you somewhere?
The sound of her voice was starting to make my heart pound.
She had an earthly beauty about her. There was nothing extraordinary in her features, yet something about her just seemed to glow.
I felt my breath quicken. Joe, what's the matter with you? Get a grip. You've seen girls before.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts without worrying what I looked like and said, "Please forgive my manners, but what is your name?"
"Mary." That just became my favorite name.
"I'm very pleased to meet you," I said as I extended my hand to her. "I'm Joseph. Please call me Joe."
She hesitated for a moment before she shook my hand. Electricity bolted up my arm that I wasn't prepared for. I wondered if she could hear my heart beating. Pretty sure these emotions weren't winning me any bro-code points.
Her face was flushed and her eyes brightened with interest. Let go of her hand, Joe, I tried to coach myself. If I didn't let go of it soon, I might never be able to.
Buy Links:
Smashwords | Barnes and Noble | Kobo | Indigo | iTunes/ iBooks |
Amazon.com | Amazon Canada | Amazon UK |
Paperback | Goodreads |
Newsletter:
Sign up for my monthly newsletter to get writing and marketing tips, updates and free sneak peeks into what I’m working on: http://ymlp.com/xghjsueygmgh
Author Bio:N. N. Light was born in Minnesota, lived in Southern California only to move to chilly Ontario, Canada to marry her beloved husband MR N. She is blissfully happy and loves all things chocolate, books, music, movies, art, sports and baking. She has been telling stories since the age of five and her mantra is to spread the Light. Most of the time you can find her on Twitter or getting new ideas on how to spread the Light on Pinterest. She is a proud member of ASMSG, Independent Author Network and Marketing for Romance Writers.
Part of the proceeds of Princess of the Light will go directly to food banks in order to feed the hungry and help those in need. With only 7,500 books sold, N. N. Light will be able to set up a monthly endowment for the local food bank.
I’d love to connect with you either via email or via these various social media sites:
Website | Blog | Goodreads | Twitter | Pinterest | Facebook | LinkedIn |
Google+ | Triberr | iAuthor | Amazon Author Page |
Independent Author Network |
Thank you, N.N., for sharing your light here today!
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 21, 2015
Romanized Celtic military protocols in RAGING SEA Ch 2/Sc 2 #Arthurverse
Original Celtic-inspired bear overlayCopyright by Kim HeadleeOne of the challenges of writing novels in a series is figuring out how much recapping of previous events to do, and how to slip said recaps into the present story in unusual and interesting ways.
Today's installment of Raging Sea reintroduces Gawain, a character who made his viewpoint debut in the previous novel, Morning's Journey. Gawain is the firstborn son of Arthur's oldest half sister and is almost as old as Arthur himself. He broke with tradition when he announced his intention to enlist in Arthur's army rather than staying home to become groomed as his father's heir; now he is working his way up through the ranks on his own merit rather than relying on familial connections -- a preference Arthur understands all too well. Key events from Morning's Journey are recapped through Gawain's memories as he participates in the events honoring the battle's most valiant soldiers.
The Gawain of legend is recorded as having been Lancelot's greatest friend... up until the day Lancelot slew his younger brothers while rescuing Guinevere from the flames. One of the major themes of Raging Sea is the establishment of this legendary friendship, though not in today's excerpt!
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea
Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |
Chapter 2: Scene 1-A | Scene 1-B |
Raging Sea Chapter 2, Scene 2©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Gawain map Loth, former heir to the chieftainship of Clan Lothian of Brydein—a destiny he’d raced to abandon for enlistment in Uncle Arthur’s army—stood in formation with the rest of the survivors of the Tanroc garrison, watching Aunt Gyan award members of the Port Dhoo-Glass garrison the individual accolades earned during the “Second Battle of Port Dhoo-Glass, on Ninth Calends October, in the Year of Our Lord 492.”
Commander Gyan, Gawain corrected himself with an inward grin, the military title she preferred to the more standard—and more Roman—prefect. Under either designation, she was the Dragon Legion officer in command of all forces assigned to the Isle of Maun, which included the smaller units stationed at Ayr Point and Caer Rushen. Caer Rushen couldn’t mobilize to help counter the assault on Dhoo-Glass because there had been no way to summon them without alerting the Saxons, and the Ayr Point men had to keep guarding that fort’s signal beacon. Both units had lent assistance in the thwarted invasion’s aftermath at Port Dhoo-Glass as well as at the Saxons’ beachhead near Caer Rushen: necessary duties, though not glorious ones.
His aunt looked magnificent dressed in Caledonian ebony leather armor and boots, in stark contrast to Arthur’s gold-and-white Roman parade uniform, the sword riding her left hip second only to the famous Caleberyllus in fearsomeness and beauty. Her short-cropped hair, whipped by the stiff breeze blowing off the sea, framed her head like tongues of flame.
The reason for its shortness struck Gawain with fresh hatred for Angusel of Caledonia. But this was a time to celebrate the honors being bestowed upon Gawain’s brothers-in-arms, so he banished that fatherless whelp from his mind.
“Centurion Peredur mac Hymar, front and center!” Gyan ordered.
This is it, Gawain thought with mounting excitement as her brother, commander of Gawain’s unit, strode onto the award platform and saluted Gyan and Arthur. Tanroc’s citations are next! Even if Gawain didn’t receive an individual commendation, he counted it an honor to have fought in the battle. He had drawn guard duty the night of September 23rd, “ninth calends October” on the Roman calendar.
Aunt Gyan presented to Uncle Peredur the unit award, a large gold disc embossed with the three-legged symbol of the Manx Cohort to be affixed to the shaft that already bore the award won last year, after the First Battle of Port Dhoo-Glass. While other Tanroc soldiers were called forward to receive smaller bronze versions to be worn on their parade harness, Gawain relived the most recent battle in all its confusing, exhilarating, painful, terrifying detail. He felt the ache in spirit as well as foot of the midnight march across the island, culminating in a post-midnight sprint to arrive as the Dhoo-Glass line was breaking against the ferocious blond Saxon onslaught, the shock of seeing Gyan unhorsed by the Saxons’ leader, and the gut-churning determination to fight his way to her side. Gawain had saved Angusel’s life in the process, though that was unintentional. Rumor had it the whore-spawn had taken a spear wound to the chest sometime later in the battle. If there was any justice in this life, that wound would prove to be Angusel’s last.
The gaze of every officer on the platform seemed to turn upon Gawain, and again he buried his hatred for the young man whose failure had inflicted fathomless sorrow upon Gawain’s entire family.
“Soldier Gawain map Loth,” Gyan said, her lips twitching into the barest of smiles, “front and center!”
He squared his shoulders, puffed his chest, lifted his chin, and obeyed.
As with the other award recipients, Arthur’s aide, Centurion Marcus, passed the ornament to Gyan while Centurion Rhys, Gyan’s clansman and aide, read the citation aloud in his lilting Picti accent:
“Soldier Gawain map Loth of Clan Lothian, Gododdin, Brydein is hereby awarded the Phalera Draconis for conspicuous bravery in battle to save the lives of Prefect Gyanhumara nic Hymar, Clan Argyll, Caledonia and Optio Aonar, Third Turma, Manx Cohort. Without any regard for his own safety, Soldier Gawain led a charge to engage a squad of Saxon royal bodyguards. His actions as a warrior and leader bought time for Optio Aonar to reenter the fray, and for Prefect Gyanhumara to kill Prince Ælferd, the Saxons’ leader, thus turning the tide of battle from defeat to victory.”
“You have my everlasting gratitude, nephew,” Gyan murmured beneath the troops’ cheers as she pinned the bronze, dragon-embossed disc to the center strap of his harness. One of the highest decorations in the army . . . guilt flooded his soul.
“I had help,” he whispered. Angusel—Optio Aonar’s—well-timed leap had prevented Prince Ælferd’s seax from completing its deadly arc toward Gyan’s throat. Gawain had only kept a horrible situation from getting worse.
Sadness eclipsed the beauty of her face. “I know.”
“I don’t deserve this.” Gawain began tugging at the disc.
She placed her hand on his, stilling it. “Arthur and I disagree with you. And I do hope to bestow that phalera someday, perhaps with your assistance?”
He opened his mouth but quickly shut it. She must have seen an expression brewing on his face that she didn’t like, for her gaze sharpened to a glare. “But this is neither the time nor the place for such a discussion.”
Loud enough for the entire assembly, she continued, “Soldier Gawain map Loth’s exemplary battle performance has earned him a promotion to the rank of decurion”—Centurion Marcus passed her a folded scarlet officer’s cloak upon which gleamed a dragon-shaped iron brooch with an amber chip for its eye—“as well as his choice of postings.”
Gawain felt his eyes widen as he accepted the symbols of his new rank. The brooch’s ring was devoid of enamel, indicating his freedom to stay with the infantry, transfer to the navy, or back into the cavalry. He thumped fist to chest in salute. “It matters not where I’m posted, so long as I may serve you, Commander Gyan!”
She returned his salute in the Caledonian way: upraised right hand clenched, splayed, and clenched again. As she relaxed and lowered it, she said, “Well spoken, Decurion, and I appreciate it. But I do urge caution before you render your decision. Such postings have not ended well for some.” Her steady gaze swept the assembly. “I refer, of course, to our honored dead, whose sacrifices we shall glorify with each bowshot, spear cast, and sword thrust for the rest of our lives!”
The cheers, shouts of agreement, and pounding of spear butts on the cobblestones of the market square continued as Gawain saluted. He spun about, left the platform, and returned to his place within his unit. As he faced forward, he was heartened to see Uncle Arthur regard his wife with undisguised admiration.
Uncle Peredur prepared to take his leave of his sister and brother-by-marriage, but Arthur bade him wait.
“Your commander has finished presenting her awards,” he said, using battlefield timbre to address the assembly, “and a most impressive array it was. I speak for all Brydein and Caledonia in commending you for your bravery and skill, your loyalty and selflessness. I am proud of you all, whether you have earned the privilege of wearing ornaments during parades or not.”
Arthur turned to point a nod at Centurion Marcus, who withdrew an object from his sack. It couldn’t be a phalera, Gawain realized, because the centurion hid it in his fist.
Facing the troops, Arthur said, “I have two well-deserved promotions to bestow. Centurion Peredur mac Hymar of Clan Argyll of Caledonia is recalled to legion headquarters, effective immediately, to begin duty as Tribune Peredur, Praefectus Cohortis Equitum.”
Gawain couldn’t have been more pleased—or more relieved—to see Peredur accept the red-ringed silver dragon with the sapphire eye to replace his red-and-green-ringed, bronze one. Gawain’s uncle-by-marriage had given up command of the Horse Cohort to accompany Gyan to Maun after Loholt’s death. Gawain hoped this was a sign that Peredur, at least, was beginning to move past the tragedy. The tribune’s Caledonian salute seemed filled with pride and promise.
At Arthur’s signal, Centurion Marcus gave him another small object. Arthur held it aloft for all to see: a sapphire-eyed gold dragon encircled by a braided band of green, red, and blue. Gawain’s mouth fell open as recognition set in. He closed it, but not before Arthur noticed and gave him a short nod.
“Those of you who attended our wedding last year have seen this brooch before. I presented it to my bride that day with the implication that she was to become my honorary second-in-command. Her leadership of the Manx Cohort, on the battlefield as well as off, has proven to me that she deserves far more than an honorary position.
“Therefore, on this the second calends October in the year of Our Lord 492, I revive the Roman office of Comes Britanniarum, second in military authority to the Dux Britanniarum, and bestow that office, with all its duties and responsibilities, upon Gyanhumara nic Hymar of Clan Argyll of Caledonia.” He unpinned Gyan’s bronze dragon brooch and replaced it with the gold one. “Comitissa Gyan shall appoint officers to the posts of Tanroc Garrison Commander and Manx Cohort Prefect, and she is recalled to legion headquarters, effective immediately.”
Gyan gave Arthur a sharp Caledonian salute, and he answered, fist to heart, with a Roman one. She faced the assembly and brandished another Caledonian salute for the troops. Her eyes glistening and her fist resting against her heart, she pursed her lips and wet them.
“It has been my highest honor and privilege to serve with all of you, Brytoni and Caledonian alike. If only half of you feel a tenth as much for me, then I count myself indeed blessed. I shall miss you all until next we may serve together again. May your gods preserve you for that day.” She lowered her hand, and a sudden grin split her face. “But regardless of what he says”—she tossed a nod over her shoulder at Arthur, who beamed back at her—“it will always be ‘Commander Gyan’ to you. Consider that a standing order!”
“Aye, Commander Gyan!” came the thunderous reply. Gawain hoped his shout rang loudest of all.
*** End of Chapter 2 ***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 18, 2015
#EggcerptExchange spotlight on Hotwired by @anitaphilmar #scifi #romance #BYNR #IARTG
The #EggcerptExchange for today on The Maze features the sexy sci-fi romance Hotwired by Anita Philmar!Synopsis:
When Ross Dixon is kidnapped from his office, along with the sexy lawyer who'd been busting his balls over a deal that should have been a walk in the park, he wakes to find a devotion chip surgically implanted in his brain. If that isn't bad enough, the chip, designed to trigger emotional reactions between him and the woman lying next to him, is working overtime on his libido.
Mistaken for Ross's flavor of the month, Kayla Michaels, a 22nd-century lawyer, doesn't have a problem spending time in Ross's bed--or over his desk--but she wants no part in the romantic feelings the chip is provoking. She's been down that road before and ended up burned.
Kayla and Ross struggle to find answers while coming to terms with the constant lust sizzling between them, but along the way each wonders if the emotions are real or just a side effect of being hotwired.
Eggcerpt:
“Mr. Dixon, my parents have been down this road before with your company. This time, I plan to iron out any problems before they even see the contract.” Unwilling to play around, she used her best lawyer voice to drive home her point. “They’re still not certain they want to sell. So don’t waste my time with anything less than your best offer.”
“Kayla, this proposal isn’t like any of the others. Your parents will make enough money to retire and never have to work again.” Ross leaned back in his chair as if she couldn’t find a single issue with the contract.
She pulled out her minicomputer. “Mr. Dixon, money isn’t the only issue. Several other items need to be clarified.”
“Okay, Kayla, where do you want to start?”
His compliance to her demand didn’t ease her anxieties. As a shark in the business world, he didn’t enter into a contract unless he hoped to recoup his cost. So why did he want her parents’ property?
Purchase from:
Amazon.com | Wilderroses.com |
See more at http://www.anitaphilmar.com/hotwirebookpg.html
Check out Anita's FREE read, Hot Prairie Nights!
Bio:
Anita Philmar likes to create stories that push the limit. A writer by day and a dreamer by night she wants her readers to see the world in a new way.
Influenced by sci-fi programs, she likes to develop places where anything can happen and where erotic moments come to life in a great read.
Naughty or Nice?
Read her books and decide.
Follow Anita via:
Website | Blog | Facebook | Goodreads |
*** Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 16, 2015
Character interview of Arthur from Dawnflight by @KimHeadlee #RLFBlog #Arthurverse #Giveaway
Today on The Maze, meet Arthur the Pendragon from Dawnflight, whose dragon symbol--adapted from a Pictish stone in the Meigle Museum in Perth, Scotland--forms the cover's tribal overlay.
Interview questions were developed by Kayelle of the Romance Lives Forever blog (#RLFBlog), and I am grateful for her support of authors!
RLF: Tell us about yourself, please.
Arthur: I am Arturus Aurelius Vetarus, Dux Britanniarum—that is to say, my name is Arthur son of Uther, and I command the army that defends the northern Brytoni territory of the Isle of Brydein from Caledonian, Saxon, Scotti, and Angli threats. I am Roman by my father, and descended from the Aurelii emperors: Antoninus Pius, Hadrian, and Marcus Aurelius. My mother is Ygraine, chieftainess of Clan Cwrnwyll of Brydein—though the circumstance of my birth prevents me from becoming chieftain after her.
RLF: Authors call what you want but cannot have "the conflict" -- what is yours?
Arthur: When I followed my late father to become Dux Britanniarum, what I had wanted was to be granted an exception for my illegitimacy by the elders of Clan Cwyrnwyll so that I could be designated my mother’s heir. But that desire became as nothing the day I met Gyanhumara, Chieftainess of Clan Argyll of Caledonia. I knew she was the woman who would share my vision for a united Brydein and help me bring it to pass. But she was betrothed—by a stipulation of my own treaty with her people—to Urien, my greatest political rival, a man who will stop at nothing, including war, to achieve what he wants.
I cannot bring such a calamity upon those I have sworn to protect.
Perhaps you might be wondering why I do not simply void the betrothal clause. I could—for any man of aristocratic status. As a bastard, I do not qualify under the treaty terms. The day I had drafted that accursed document, I had never thought that in half a year I would be meeting the woman I crave more than breath itself.
RLF: What can you not do (but need to do) during this story?
Arthur: Some of my advisers might argue that I should kill Urien and be done with the matter. The fact is that Urien’s father and mine were great friends and allies, and Chieftain Dumarec has graciously extended that support to me. Dumarec’s men form the backbone of the legion I command, and killing Urien would kill that alliance.
But if there is another way to make Urien pay for his disrespectful—and sometimes hurtful—treatment of Gyanhumara, I swear by all that is holy that I shall find it.
RLF: Tell us about your significant other, that person who makes living worthwhile.
Arthur: Gyanhumara is a chieftainess of the Caledonian people by birth, and a warrior and leader of warriors by training. Her clan, Argyll, led the southernmost Caledonian clans to attack the Brytoni settlement at Abar-Gleann, though Gyanhumara herself did not fight in that battle. If she had, I would have worded that damned betrothal clause far differently, I assure you.
I do not love her because she is gorgeous, or wealthy, or intelligent, or amusing, or amazing, or skilled with a sword, or because a union with her will help to strengthen the fragile peace between our peoples. Indeed Gyanhumara is all of those things, and more. But take away all those attributes, and she would still be the woman for whom my heart thrums its most joyous song.
RLF: What would that person say about you?
Arthur: Hah! Probably that I am secretive, private, and unreadable—because I must strive to keep my feelings for her buried. I would shout my love for her from the very gates of heaven itself, but not one moment before I determine how I can nullify her betrothal to Urien without inviting disaster.
RLF: What special skills do you rely on?
Arthur: Uther and his best general, my cousin Merlin, taught me strategic and tactical thinking, as well as the ability to recognize good counsel and abilities within others. I credit these skills as the reason I was able to defeat Gyanhumara’s people in my first battle as Dux Britanniarum. No doubt they attacked because I was untried as a leader of men, and although I despised the loss of life on both sides of that conflict, it pleased me to prove the Caledonians wrong. Yet it pleased me even more to turn former enemies into valuable allies.
My foster brother Cai would likely name as a “special skill” my ability to bring out the best in men with but a word, a nod, sometimes no more than a brief touch. I cannot explain why this is so, but I have observed the results myself and know that Cai is right. And I am grateful for this ability of mine, for I need all my soldiers to function at their very best in order to help me keep Brydein safe.
Thank you, Arthur, for choosing to open up to us today!
View this awesome narrated book trailer for Dawnflight:
Buy the book! (please :)
Amazon Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BLNN6XS
Amazon Print http://www.amazon.com/dp/1939051134
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dawnflight-kim-d-headlee/1003548584?ean=2940016289618
iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id660038137
Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/dawnflight
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/289281
CreateSpace https://www.createspace.com/4181539
Draft2Digital https://www.draft2digital.com/book/11151
Amazon Audiobook http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E98ZQ8A/
Audible Audiobook http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Dawnflight-Audiobook/B00E8IAZIW
iTunes Audiobook https://itunes.apple.com/us/audiobook/dawnflight-dragons-dove-chronicles/id681882480
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
If you love this post and my books,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
Interview questions were developed by Kayelle of the Romance Lives Forever blog (#RLFBlog), and I am grateful for her support of authors!
RLF: Tell us about yourself, please.Arthur: I am Arturus Aurelius Vetarus, Dux Britanniarum—that is to say, my name is Arthur son of Uther, and I command the army that defends the northern Brytoni territory of the Isle of Brydein from Caledonian, Saxon, Scotti, and Angli threats. I am Roman by my father, and descended from the Aurelii emperors: Antoninus Pius, Hadrian, and Marcus Aurelius. My mother is Ygraine, chieftainess of Clan Cwrnwyll of Brydein—though the circumstance of my birth prevents me from becoming chieftain after her.
RLF: Authors call what you want but cannot have "the conflict" -- what is yours?
Arthur: When I followed my late father to become Dux Britanniarum, what I had wanted was to be granted an exception for my illegitimacy by the elders of Clan Cwyrnwyll so that I could be designated my mother’s heir. But that desire became as nothing the day I met Gyanhumara, Chieftainess of Clan Argyll of Caledonia. I knew she was the woman who would share my vision for a united Brydein and help me bring it to pass. But she was betrothed—by a stipulation of my own treaty with her people—to Urien, my greatest political rival, a man who will stop at nothing, including war, to achieve what he wants.
I cannot bring such a calamity upon those I have sworn to protect.
Perhaps you might be wondering why I do not simply void the betrothal clause. I could—for any man of aristocratic status. As a bastard, I do not qualify under the treaty terms. The day I had drafted that accursed document, I had never thought that in half a year I would be meeting the woman I crave more than breath itself.
RLF: What can you not do (but need to do) during this story?
Arthur: Some of my advisers might argue that I should kill Urien and be done with the matter. The fact is that Urien’s father and mine were great friends and allies, and Chieftain Dumarec has graciously extended that support to me. Dumarec’s men form the backbone of the legion I command, and killing Urien would kill that alliance.
But if there is another way to make Urien pay for his disrespectful—and sometimes hurtful—treatment of Gyanhumara, I swear by all that is holy that I shall find it.
RLF: Tell us about your significant other, that person who makes living worthwhile.
Arthur: Gyanhumara is a chieftainess of the Caledonian people by birth, and a warrior and leader of warriors by training. Her clan, Argyll, led the southernmost Caledonian clans to attack the Brytoni settlement at Abar-Gleann, though Gyanhumara herself did not fight in that battle. If she had, I would have worded that damned betrothal clause far differently, I assure you.
I do not love her because she is gorgeous, or wealthy, or intelligent, or amusing, or amazing, or skilled with a sword, or because a union with her will help to strengthen the fragile peace between our peoples. Indeed Gyanhumara is all of those things, and more. But take away all those attributes, and she would still be the woman for whom my heart thrums its most joyous song.
RLF: What would that person say about you?
Arthur: Hah! Probably that I am secretive, private, and unreadable—because I must strive to keep my feelings for her buried. I would shout my love for her from the very gates of heaven itself, but not one moment before I determine how I can nullify her betrothal to Urien without inviting disaster.
RLF: What special skills do you rely on?
Arthur: Uther and his best general, my cousin Merlin, taught me strategic and tactical thinking, as well as the ability to recognize good counsel and abilities within others. I credit these skills as the reason I was able to defeat Gyanhumara’s people in my first battle as Dux Britanniarum. No doubt they attacked because I was untried as a leader of men, and although I despised the loss of life on both sides of that conflict, it pleased me to prove the Caledonians wrong. Yet it pleased me even more to turn former enemies into valuable allies.
My foster brother Cai would likely name as a “special skill” my ability to bring out the best in men with but a word, a nod, sometimes no more than a brief touch. I cannot explain why this is so, but I have observed the results myself and know that Cai is right. And I am grateful for this ability of mine, for I need all my soldiers to function at their very best in order to help me keep Brydein safe.
Thank you, Arthur, for choosing to open up to us today!
View this awesome narrated book trailer for Dawnflight:
Buy the book! (please :)
Amazon Kindle http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BLNN6XS
Amazon Print http://www.amazon.com/dp/1939051134
Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dawnflight-kim-d-headlee/1003548584?ean=2940016289618
iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id660038137
Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/dawnflight
Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/289281
CreateSpace https://www.createspace.com/4181539
Draft2Digital https://www.draft2digital.com/book/11151
Amazon Audiobook http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E98ZQ8A/
Audible Audiobook http://www.audible.com/pd/Romance/Dawnflight-Audiobook/B00E8IAZIW
iTunes Audiobook https://itunes.apple.com/us/audiobook/dawnflight-dragons-dove-chronicles/id681882480
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
If you love this post and my books,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 14, 2015
Meet the enemy in RAGING SEA by Kim Headlee Ch 2/Sc 1-B #Arthurverse #giveaway
Tradition states that Arthur fought either ten or twelve major battles (depending on which source you read) to establish his reign. The locations of these battlefields is a subject of debate. Most present-day authors of Arthurian fiction cover these battles, assigning them to various enemies and locales, with varying degrees of analysis and descriptive depth.What makes the books in my series The Dragon's Dove Chronicles unique, as some reviewers of the earlier novels have observed, is the presentation of the enemies' reasons for attacking the people under Arthur's protection. These reasons cover the gamut from greed to impressing a future father-in-law to sheer economic desperation.
Today's snippet introduces readers to a new enemy, one largely ignored in most other Arthurian novels: the Saxon princess Camilla, daughter of the historic king of the South Saxons, Ælle. One tradition states that she kidnapped Arthur and tried to force him to love her, and that's just too tempting for me to resist putting my own spin on this tale. The seed of Camilla's plan gets its genesis in this scene.
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea
Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |
Chapter 2: Scene 1-A |
Raging Sea Chapter 2, Scene 1-B©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
Once the jewelry and gold from the transactions had been stowed in the pouch hanging around his neck, Al-Iskandar cleared his throat and called for the last chest to be brought forward.
“And now, King Cissa, I present to you a gift from”—the guttural Saxon tongue lacked certain sounds for the proper pronunciation of the Picti name, forcing Al-Iskandar to improvise—“Queen Guenevara of Caledonia.” As for making the chieftainess appear as if she ruled her entire nation… well. At the rate she was slashing through her enemies, aided by the man the Saxons had dubbed the “Dragon King,” she would earn the title soon enough.
He bid a guard to sever the thick wax seals. Grunting, Al-Iskandar struggled with the massive lid. He was not unprepared for the sight within, or the pungent burst of preserving spices, but it made him blanch.
Camilla gasped, wide-eyed. Her left hand flew to her ivory throat. The men nearest the chest, including the two kings, fought to suppress similar reactions. Those who found their view blocked pressed forward to catch a glimpse of what was causing the stir.
Inside lay the body of a warrior dressed for battle. The bronze-linked hauberk was not torn anywhere that Al-Iskandar could discern and bore not a single fleck of blood. The green-and-gold surcoat likewise appeared intact and clean. A garnet-inlaid gold buckle gleamed from the sword belt. The fingers of the right hand were frozen around the hilt of a naked seax. The left arm was bent, hand to chest. In the elbow’s crook nestled a bronze helmet. The griffin perched on its peak glared through baleful emerald eyes.
The part of the body the helmet had been designed to protect was gone.
King Cissa stared at the corpse. “Merchant, who is this warrior? And who,” he demanded, his eyebrows lowering, “is this Queen Guenevara of Caledonia?”
Wringing his hands and trembling in what he hoped was a convincing show of fear, Al-Iskandar related what he’d heard about the land and naval battles that had occurred on and around the Isle of Maun, now a week past, and of the demon-fierce woman warrior who had defeated Prince Ælferd. He remained all too aware that he trod precarious ground. An ill-chosen word could get him killed.
Or, worse yet, he’d have his gold and jewelry confiscated and be thrown out to beg his way home.
During his tale, a hush blanketed the hall. Al-Iskandar’s words trailed away to make the silence complete.
King Cissa beckoned to the guard captain and whispered into the man’s ear. The captain bowed and strode to one of the closer columns. All eyes watched him tear down the Green Griffin and return to the dais. On bended knee, he offered the banner to his king.
With unutterable sorrow, King Cissa rose, accepted the proffered standard, and laid it over the mutilated body of his nephew. Princess Camilla walked to the coffin, kissed her palm, and pressed it to Prince Ælferd’s chest, tears streaking her cheeks. After she withdrew her hand, King Cissa yanked the lid down. The dull thump echoed around the chamber and died.
“Merchant, I have a message for Queen Guenevara of Caledonia. Tell her she shall answer to me.” Grief twisted Princess Camilla’s lovely face. After she dashed away the tears, her gray eyes glittered with diamond-hard hatred. “I shall not rest until she has paid with her life.”
“As you will, Your Highness.” Al-Iskandar summoned his sincerest smile and rendered the traditional bow of his people.
King Cissa granted his assent, and Al-Iskandar quit the throne room as quickly as decorum permitted, with each step silently thanking Al-Ilyah for his good fortune.
Never mind that the princess had made no payment for the service. Paid or not, were he to deliver such a message to the mercurial Chieftainess Gyanhumara, he would need far more protection than one god could bestow.
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 11, 2015
Character interview: Alice Collins from the Adventures of Xavier & Vic series by @Liza0Connor
Today, we have Alice Collins from the Adventures of Xavier & Vic series to talk about poison.
Kim: Welcome Alice. I’m curious as to why you are discussing the matter of poison instead of Vic.
Alice: Honestly, I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that I received a most peculiar letter that I wished Vic to investigate. However, when I arrived at Thorn’s Private Inquiries, Vic was not there and Xavier was barely there.
%2Bsmall.jpg)
Kim: What do you mean ‘barely there’?Alice: He was behaving in a confused and angry manner. When I offered him coffee to help him wake, he slapped it away and accused me of trying to poison him…again.
Kim: Have you tried to poison him before?
Alice: Of course not! I do not go around poisoning people. I realize my social standing in society is persona non grata, but that doesn’t mean I’ve resorted to poisoning people, and even if I had, I assure you I would never harm Vic or Xavier. Vic discovered where my step-father had hidden my mother so Jacko could rescue her. Thus, she—I meant to say he—helped to return my mother and also sent me the love of my life. I had never expected to marry, and now I’m having my second child with the most wonderful, loving man in the world.
Kim: Sounds lovely. But why did Xavier think you had poisoned him?
Alice: Evidently, the butler of one the Ministers of Parliament poured a half cup of arsenic into his coffee. As you may be aware, poisoning people with arsenic has become a Victorian pastime. It has been said that more people die from arsenic than rats do. The Parliament has attempted to stop the improper use of poisons by requiring the pharmacist to know the person he is selling the poison to. But at most, that can only delay matters a short time as you purchase a few items in advance of asking for arsenic to kill the rats.
Kim: A poor solution indeed.
Alice: Next they passed a law that arsenic must be mixed with charcoal or indigo ink. Fortunately, for Xavier, the butler possessed arsenic with charcoal, which caused Xavier to spit the coffee back into the cup upon first taste. He said it was like licking the inside of a chimney.
Kim: That seems like a much better deterrent. I believe pure arsenic is considered to be almost tasteless and odorless.
Alice: That is correct, which makes soot an effective warning substance.
Kim: What about the other option of mixing indigo ink with the poison? What does that taste like?
Alice: Indigo ink comes from the leaves of Indigofera Tinctatoria. It’s a tropical legume and is used to improve soils between plantings. Depending on the base used to stabilize the coloring, its taste might not have been detected in a strong coffee. If lye was used, it would have been, but there are other options.
Kim: For someone who claims not to be poisoning people, you sure do know a great deal about poisons.
Alice: Well, I run an estate of some of the finest farmland in England. Rodent control is critical to a successful farm. Some farmers use arsenic as a pesticide since it attacks the internal organs of a bug just as easily as it does a human. However, arsenic remains in the soil a very long time, and some vegetables will mistake it for nutrients and absorb it. So while we do use it on rats and other small pests, we are very careful to keep it away from our plants, livestock, and most importantly, the children.
Kim: What are the symptoms of arsenic poisoning?
Alice: If you swallow the poison, first you will feel a burning in your throat, followed by difficulty in swallowing. Next you incur violent stomach pains, which will cause continuous vomiting as the body attempts to purge the poison. Diarrhea, fainting, cramps in the calves, and vertigo would follow, ending in a loss of consciousness and death. It is most fortunate Xavier spit out the first sip at once. In this case, the use of too much poison saved his life.
Kim: Most fortunate indeed. Thank you, Alice. Let’s check out a bit more about this story.
The great Victorian sleuth Xavier Thorn and his partner Vic Hamilton take a case close to home. Their youngest staff member, L’il Pete, discovers his mother murdered in the alley. Jacko is called up from the country to assist in solving the crime. The good woman’s murder proves to be tangled up with a much larger and shocking list of crimes perpetrated by a powerful man who may truly be above the law. Making matters more complex: Vic discovers her recent weight gain may be the result of a condition that could destroy her life and everything she loves.
When Davy dragged his boss through Dr. Connors’ waiting room, which contained the elite of London, they gasped in horror at ‘the poor’ polluting their space. They were baffled when the nurse led the two men straight in to see the doctor.One gentleman rose to object, but whatever the nurse whispered silenced him at once. Once seated, he leaned to the woman beside him and shared what he had been told. Upon taking in the information, she told the woman beside her.
By the time Davy hurried out to his carriage, the entire lobby of very fine people smiled and nodded as he rushed by.
***
Davy didn’t notice the people in the lobby, not when he carried Xavier into the doctor or when Connors told him to bring Inspector Stone at once.
All he knew was someone had poisoned his boss.
Davy ignored the people scrambling to get out of the way of his speeding carriage. Upon arriving at New Scotland Yard, he ignored the policeman yelling at him that he couldn’t leave his carriage in front of the building.
He ran past the officer at the front desk demanding he stop and state his business and up what seemed to be a thousand flights of steps to Inspector Stone’s corner office. Just before he reached the door, he was tackled from behind.
Fortunately, the noise of his fall and his shouts for Inspector Stone brought the head of Scotland Yard to him.
Upon seeing it was Davy, the Inspector demanded his men to release him.
Davy scrambled to his feet. “Xavier’s been poisoned. Dr. Connors says to come at once!”
Book 4
Well Kept Secrets
AMAZON
Free with Amazon Kindle UnlimitedL’il Pete’s mum is murdered,and discovering who & why reveals a great deal of secrets.
Need to catch up?
Book 1
The Troublesome ApprenticeThe greatest sleuth in Victorian England hires a young manwho turns out to be a young woman.
Book 2
The Missing PartnerOpps! The greatest sleuth in Victorian England goes missing, leaving Vic to rescue him, a suffragette, and about 100 servants. Not to mention an eviscerating cat. Yes, let’s not mention the cat.
Book 2.5
A Right to LoveA romantic detour for Jacko. Want to see how amply rewarded Jacko was when he & Vic save an old woman from Bedlam?
Book 3
The Mesmerist The Mesmerist can control people from afar and make them murder for her. Worse yet, Xavier Thorn has fallen under her spell.
All Xavier books Free with Amazon Unlimited
Liza O’Connor was raised badly by feral cats, left the South/Midwest and wandered off to find nicer people on the east coast. There she worked for the meanest man on Wall Street, while her psychotic husband tried to kill her three times. (So much for finding nicer people.) Then one day she declared enough, got a better job, divorced her husband, and fell in love with her new life where people behaved normally. But all those bad behaviors have given her lots of fodder for her humorous romances. Please buy these books, because otherwise, she’ll become grumpy and write troubled novels instead. They will likely traumatize you.
You have been warned.
Mostly humorous books by Liza:
Ghost Lover — Two British brothers fall in love with the same young woman. Ancestral ghost is called in to fix the situation. And there’s a ghost cat that roams about the book as well. (Humorous Contemporary Romance)
Untamed & Unabashed —The youngest of the Bennet sisters, Lydia, tells her story. A faithful spinoff from Pride & Prejudice.
A Long Road to Love Series: (Humorous Contemporary odd Romance)
Worst Week Ever — Laugh out loud week of disasters of Epic proportions.
Oh Stupid Heart — The heart wants what it wants, even if it’s impossible.
Coming to Reason — There is a breaking point when even a saint comes to reason.
Climbing out of Hell — The reconstruction of a terrible man into a great one.
FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUTLIZA O'CONNOR
Investigate these sites:
Liza's Blog and Website Facebook Twitter
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards, and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 9, 2015
#EggcerptExchange: Tova's Dragon by @LyndiLamont #sexy #fantasy #romance #IARTG #BYNR
On The Maze today: erotica author Lyndi Lamont and her fun, sexy tale of magic and a man whose shape-shifted form has neither fur nor fangs in Tova's Dragon!
Tova's Dragon by Lyndi Lamont
Amber Quill Press
Genres: Shapeshifter Erotic Romance
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (20k words)
Synopsis:
Tova, an earth mage, rejuvenates through sex magic. She's on a mission to save her homeland, but her magical energy is running low--closing in on empty. How is she to know the handsome half-naked man she encounters is not only a condemned man, but also a dragonshifter? Talk about hot and steamy sex. And nothing is simple after that...
Kane has always loved Velosian women and their sex magic. Tova's warmth stirs his passions and her courage touches his heart, but he dreads telling her of his true nature, certain she will recoil. But Tova is made of sterner stuff.
Together, Kane and Tova have the power to save Velosia. If they survive, can an earth mage find happiness with a dragonshifter? In a land where sex and magic are intertwined, anything may be possible.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
Once upon a time, in the land of Velosia, lived a young earth mage. Tova, for that was her name, dwelt in harmony with the plants of the fields and the animals of the earth. She felt vibrations in the earth and heard whispers on the wind, basked in the sun and gloried in the rain.
There was but one element that disturbed her. Whene’er storm clouds gathered and thunder rumbled in the distance, she trembled in dread. And when light flashed in the sky, she hid, for the lightning seemed to follow her every movement. The air crackled around and through her, and in her heart, she feared one day it would strike her dead, as it had her father.
In this time also appeared the Outlaw Kane, last of the dragonlords of Velosia, a man-beast who changed shape at will. Back from exile, he bided his time in his aerie high in the mountains, until the day Tova came seeking his help.
And so begins the tale of the Lightning Maiden and the Outlawed Dragon.
* * *
Seek help of the Lord of Drakkenberg. Only he can aid you. You must fly with the dragon.
Her grandmother’s words rang in Tova’s head as she climbed the path into the mountains. Why had Mutti Zee sent her on a fool’s errand? Everyone knew the dragonfolk had abandoned Velosia years ago, driven away by Bruno of Grimmdorn’s crusade against them. Until he was accused of putting the king and queen under an enchantment and forced to flee. Now Bruno was back at the head of a mercenary army, if Mutti Zee’s vision was correct. And Tova knew it was. She’d felt the vibrations in the earth.
And somehow it was up to her to save the kingdom.
Stopping to rest her tired legs, she gazed at the path ahead. It grew steeper and narrower the higher it wound into the mountains. She was glad she’d worn men’s breeches and a tunic with her sturdy boots. A gown and petticoats would be but a hindrance.
She raised her gaze to the sky. “Why me? I’m no hero.” But there was no answer, just clouds forming to her left. She shook her head. Now she was talking to herself, like mad Magnus, the village idiot.
Turning back to the path, she started climbing again. The castle was visible now, high on a cliff, its turrets silhouetted against the sky. For centuries, the dragon lords had resided in the castle, ruling the isolated mountain communities. People in those areas were known as dragonfolk, though Tova knew not why. True, dragon motifs decorated the doorframes of their houses, and rumor had it they worshipped some kind of serpent god.
Over the years, many travelers through the mountains had claimed to see large winged creatures flying in the sky at sunrise, and others swore they’d seen men and women change shape and fly into the night. Old wives tales, no doubt. On the rare occasions she’d seen the dragonfolk, they’d looked much like everyone else. But they kept apart, and visitors to the area were discouraged. It was all a great puzzle, but one she had no time to ponder. Too much was at stake and her chances of reaching Castle Novita in time to warn the king were slim at best.
A shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to see an enormous bird silhouetted against the sky. Goddess, she’d never seen such a large raptor. It turned and the sun’s rays glinted on its shiny red-gold wings and barbed tail. Halting, she stared after it, shaken to the core of her being.
No, it couldn’t be. There was no such thing as dragons.
Buy Tova's Dragon:Amber Quill | Amazon.com | BN.com
Author bio:
Lyndi Lamont is the racy alter ego of author Linda McLaughlin, who writes historical and Regency Romance. Since becoming Lyndi Lamont, she has discovered that writing sexy romance is a license to be naughty, at least between the pages of a book.
Find Lyndi online at:
Website/blog | Facebook | Goodreads | Google+ | Twitter |
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...
— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
Tova's Dragon by Lyndi LamontAmber Quill Press
Genres: Shapeshifter Erotic Romance
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (20k words)
Synopsis:
Tova, an earth mage, rejuvenates through sex magic. She's on a mission to save her homeland, but her magical energy is running low--closing in on empty. How is she to know the handsome half-naked man she encounters is not only a condemned man, but also a dragonshifter? Talk about hot and steamy sex. And nothing is simple after that...
Kane has always loved Velosian women and their sex magic. Tova's warmth stirs his passions and her courage touches his heart, but he dreads telling her of his true nature, certain she will recoil. But Tova is made of sterner stuff.
Together, Kane and Tova have the power to save Velosia. If they survive, can an earth mage find happiness with a dragonshifter? In a land where sex and magic are intertwined, anything may be possible.
Excerpt:
CHAPTER 1
Once upon a time, in the land of Velosia, lived a young earth mage. Tova, for that was her name, dwelt in harmony with the plants of the fields and the animals of the earth. She felt vibrations in the earth and heard whispers on the wind, basked in the sun and gloried in the rain.
There was but one element that disturbed her. Whene’er storm clouds gathered and thunder rumbled in the distance, she trembled in dread. And when light flashed in the sky, she hid, for the lightning seemed to follow her every movement. The air crackled around and through her, and in her heart, she feared one day it would strike her dead, as it had her father.
In this time also appeared the Outlaw Kane, last of the dragonlords of Velosia, a man-beast who changed shape at will. Back from exile, he bided his time in his aerie high in the mountains, until the day Tova came seeking his help.
And so begins the tale of the Lightning Maiden and the Outlawed Dragon.
* * *
Seek help of the Lord of Drakkenberg. Only he can aid you. You must fly with the dragon.
Her grandmother’s words rang in Tova’s head as she climbed the path into the mountains. Why had Mutti Zee sent her on a fool’s errand? Everyone knew the dragonfolk had abandoned Velosia years ago, driven away by Bruno of Grimmdorn’s crusade against them. Until he was accused of putting the king and queen under an enchantment and forced to flee. Now Bruno was back at the head of a mercenary army, if Mutti Zee’s vision was correct. And Tova knew it was. She’d felt the vibrations in the earth.
And somehow it was up to her to save the kingdom.
Stopping to rest her tired legs, she gazed at the path ahead. It grew steeper and narrower the higher it wound into the mountains. She was glad she’d worn men’s breeches and a tunic with her sturdy boots. A gown and petticoats would be but a hindrance.
She raised her gaze to the sky. “Why me? I’m no hero.” But there was no answer, just clouds forming to her left. She shook her head. Now she was talking to herself, like mad Magnus, the village idiot.
Turning back to the path, she started climbing again. The castle was visible now, high on a cliff, its turrets silhouetted against the sky. For centuries, the dragon lords had resided in the castle, ruling the isolated mountain communities. People in those areas were known as dragonfolk, though Tova knew not why. True, dragon motifs decorated the doorframes of their houses, and rumor had it they worshipped some kind of serpent god.
Over the years, many travelers through the mountains had claimed to see large winged creatures flying in the sky at sunrise, and others swore they’d seen men and women change shape and fly into the night. Old wives tales, no doubt. On the rare occasions she’d seen the dragonfolk, they’d looked much like everyone else. But they kept apart, and visitors to the area were discouraged. It was all a great puzzle, but one she had no time to ponder. Too much was at stake and her chances of reaching Castle Novita in time to warn the king were slim at best.
A shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to see an enormous bird silhouetted against the sky. Goddess, she’d never seen such a large raptor. It turned and the sun’s rays glinted on its shiny red-gold wings and barbed tail. Halting, she stared after it, shaken to the core of her being.
No, it couldn’t be. There was no such thing as dragons.
Buy Tova's Dragon:Amber Quill | Amazon.com | BN.com
Author bio:
Lyndi Lamont is the racy alter ego of author Linda McLaughlin, who writes historical and Regency Romance. Since becoming Lyndi Lamont, she has discovered that writing sexy romance is a license to be naughty, at least between the pages of a book.
Find Lyndi online at:
Website/blog | Facebook | Goodreads | Google+ | Twitter |
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow Kim on Twitter
— Add Kim to Google+
— Subscribe to Kim's YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on this blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
March 7, 2015
Enter the enemy's throne room in RAGING SEA by Kim Headlee Ch 2/Sc 1-A #Arthurverse #SundaySnippets
Pictish Z-Rod overlayCopyright by Kim HeadleeToday's snippet represents more material that was cut from an early (circa 1990s) draft of Dawnflight to improve its pacing. It features the activities of an Arabic arms merchant, Adim Al-Iskandar, who is not above carrying, shall we say, less than savory cargo from time to time--if the price is right.
Electronic pack rat that I am and ever loath to waste good material, I found a place for this scene in Raging Sea. It might not make the final cut of this book either, but you are welcome to enjoy the first half of it it today and its concluding half next week!
Previous #SundaySnippets of Raging Sea
Chapter 1: Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4 | Scene 5 |
Raging Sea Chapter 2, Scene 1-A©2015 by Kim HeadleeAll rights reserved.
ADIM AL-ISKANDAR puffed along behind the pair of guards as they escorted him to the audience hall. More guards followed him bearing the chests containing his most expensive wares. He tried not to think about the sealed gilt trunk made of fragrant pine, the contents of which he dared not guess.
He rubbed his arm where the gold torc pinched, reminding himself to have the bauble lengthened. His benefactress had indeed made the journey worth his while. And it was a bad business practice to ask questions about something that was none of his concern.
His Saxon escorts halted at the huge double doors of the audience chamber to exchange watchwords with the soldiers on duty. With a hand pressed to his silk-wrapped head, he took several deep breaths. The guardsmen swung open the oaken doors. Giving a final tug to his best green-and-red brocaded honey-gold robe and putting on his most genial smile, Adim Al-Iskandar of Constantinopolis entered the presence of the overlord of the West Saxons.
In all his travels, from Alexandria to Tarabrogh, Al-Iskandar had seen few sights to compare to this throne room. Though he was no stranger to Wintaceaster Palace, its splendor always stole his breath.
The vaulted chamber was ablaze with light cascading from clusters of burnished gold lamps suspended on thick chains fastened to the ceiling. Dozens more illuminated the gleaming white limestone walls.
Pairs of tall, fluted, snow-white marble columns marched the length of the hall. Their heads and feet bore the intricate art of a master stonemason. From each column hung the banners of the lesser kings and princes and nobles owing fealty to the king who had built this hall.
Arched recesses interrupted the two longest walls of the chamber at regular intervals. Within each recess stood a soldier of the Royal Guard. Over iron-linked hauberks they wore purple surcoats emblazoned with the crowned White Horse. Each man had a seax and longsword hanging from his belt, gripped a spear in one fist, and held a tall oval ash shield with a pointed iron boss in the other.
A magnificent tapestry smothered the wall between each guard-post. Here was the crossing of the first Saxons from the Continent to the Isle of Brydein at the invitation of the Brytoni King Vortigern, half a century earlier. Over there was a bloody scene from Liberation Night—which the Brytons had dubbed Night of the Long Knives—when the Saxons had rebelled against Brytoni authority by killing scores of nobles during a feast.
Many tapestries depicted heroic battle scenes woven in vibrant crimson and azure and gold to commemorate Saxon conquests on the island. Some portrayed hunts with hounds or falcons in muted forest green and gray and brown. Quarries ran the gamut the factual to the fantastic. The fleet stag raced beside the elusive unicorn; the quail covey fluttered toward the soaring phoenix; the fierce boar charged the ravening dragon.
How many hours of work these priceless treasures represented he could not even begin to guess.
The polished cream-and-jet marble floor was crowded with Saxon nobility dancing attendance upon their king. The men, tall and blond and robust, swaggered about the hall attired in surcoats that matched the columns’ banners. Their ladies were veritable blushing flowers of womanhood, lavishly perfumed and gracefully gowned and adorned with jewels enough to earn the envy of Queen Cleopatra herself.
At the far end of the audience chamber on a raised white marble platform stood the gilt throne. On the wall overhead, the crowned White Horse pranced across a deep purple field. Behind and to either side of the platform stood a dozen more royal guards. The mountain-size warrior standing to the throne’s left had to be their captain.
King Cissa sat his throne in full gold-crowned, ermine-robed, amethyst-sceptered majesty.
As Al-Iskandar jostled through the throng, he squinted to discern the identity of the couple, a middle-aged man and a younger warrior-woman, chatting with the king. They reclined on oaken chairs to either side of the throne, flanked by retainers whose black surcoats bore the Gold Hammer and Fist of the South Saxon King, Ælle.
Like Cissa, Ælle was crowned and robed in ermine. It stood to reason that the woman must be Ælle’s daughter, Princess Camilla. She wore a hauberk of exquisite silver links; purely ceremonial, Al-Iskandar recognized, since unalloyed silver was too soft to protect against the deadly bite of iron and steel. The scabbard strapped to her right hip was made of silver studded with garnets. A pity that the scabbard was empty, in deference to her host, for Al-Iskandar would have traded half his possessions for a glimpse of the weapon housed by such sumptuous furnishings. A slim silver circlet bound the princess’s long golden hair.
This had to be a state visit, then, perhaps to discuss trade agreements. He congratulated himself on his timing.
As gracefully as his bulk would permit, he went to one knee before the dais. “Your Majesties,” he greeted the monarchs in fluent Saxon, bowing and tapping fingers to chest and head. He repeated the gesture to the princess. “Your Highness.”
“Well met, Master Adim Al-Iskandar.” Beaming, Cissa rubbed his bejeweled hands together in childlike anticipation. “What fine weapons and armor have you to show us today?”
As news of the merchant’s wares flew from mouth to mouth across the throne room, most noblemen approached for a closer look.
Instinct warned him to transact his regular business first. While he displayed his costliest swords, daggers, greaves, belts, breastplates, and helmets, the gilt chest remained sealed. He politely but firmly sidestepped all queries about its contents.
***
Enter this great giveaway for e-books, note cards,
and an autographed print copy of Dawnflight!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
If you love this post and would like to view the next installment sooner,
I invite you to join my street team, Kim's All-Stars!
All this month, you are invited to...— Follow me on Twitter
— Add me to Google+
— Subscribe to my YouTube channel
— Leave a comment on my blog, especially if you have done the Twitter and/or YouTube follow
...and each action this month is good for one chance to win an e-book copy of Dawnflight . Please enter often, and good luck!
Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages
Welcome to my Maze of Twisty Passages, Goodreads edition! Here I share reviews of books old and new, information about my own critically acclaimed, award-winning books, and whatever else winds its way
...more
- Kim Iverson Headlee's profile
- 339 followers
