Kim Iverson Headlee's Blog: Book Musings from the Maze of Twisty Passages, page 42

Inventing a Language: RAGING SEA Ch 1/Sc 2 #SundaySnippets #amwriting #MFRWOrg

Lady harper overlay
Copyright by Kim Headlee
Gràdh  chì  leis  an  cridhe.Gràdh  naomh  chì  leis  an  deò.~ Caledonian Proverb

“Love  sees  with  the  heart.Holy  love  sees  with  the  soul.”
In my excitement to introduce #SundaySnippets on The Maze last week, I forgot to include the dedication quote that I developed for Raging Sea. And when I say "developed," I mean that quite literally, since I know just enough about Scottish Gaelic to be dangerous. Hence I call it a "Caledonian" proverb, the Caledonians--or Caledonaich, as they call themselves in plural form--being one of the ancient British races featured in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, of which Raging Sea is book 3.

If you missed last week's installment, Chapter 1 Scene 1, click here.


Raging Sea, Chapter 1, Scene 2
©2015 by Kim Headlee
All rights reserved.
SEATED ON the stool beside her brother’s cot, Eileann picked up her small traveling harp. She plucked a few chords but couldn’t decide what to play next.

What a strange young man, whose pain runs deeper than the wounds of his flesh.
 
Most of the other men—those not so badly wounded as to be beyond caring what anyone else did—demonstrated their appreciation for her actions with their smiles and winks and words. That one didn’t appear to want her ministrations, yet he’d seemed to cling to her hand as though it were a lifeline. A lifeline to what, Eileann hadn’t a clue.

Nor did she have a clue as to how she might comfort him, though the odd thrumming of her heart commanded her to try.

“Well, dear sister, are you going to play something else for us? Or do you intend to daydream the hours away?” Tavyn’s tone carried its usual hint of affectionate mockery.

She smiled; her brother had a knack for cutting to the heart of the matter. Play something…yes, of course. All the injured men seemed to enjoy her harping, but that one in particular—the one with a hole in his chest and a hole in his soul—had appeared to be entranced by the music. As her fingers found the right strings, she slid a glance his way and nodded with satisfaction: the warrior’s eyes were closed again, but a faint smile lingered on his lips. She poured her heart into her playing, hoping she could coax that smile to strengthen.

But the next time she chanced to look his way, he had turned his head from her.

When she finished, the applause and spoken praise was greater than before. On any other day, the men’s responses would have pleased her beyond measure. Today, the only person whose response mattered—and it was strange to think of anyone outside her clan in those terms, but it was the truth—remained silent. And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit to herself, never mind to anyone else.

“Daydreaming again?”

Leave it to Tavyn to drag her back to reality. She flashed him a grin and nodded in the direction of the mysterious warrior. “Who is he? Do you recognize him?”

“The one you were speaking with a few minutes ago?” Tavyn turned, and his face tensed. “No, I don’t—wait.” Tavyn’s eyebrows lowered. “Angusel mac Alayna.” The name sounded like poison on Tavyn’s lips. “Now he calls himself Aonar.”

Aonar. Alone.

Then Eileann recalled why: Angusel mac Alayna of Clan Alban had tried to rescue Chieftainess Gyanhumara’s bairn, and his failure had resulted in the bairn’s murder. Gyanhumara had dissolved his Oath of Fealty to her and banished him from Clan Argyll lands. Clan Alban considered him a disgrace, as well. By extension, so did all of Caledon. No wonder his pain had seemed so deep.

And yet as she gazed at his sad and vulnerable-looking face, she could find in her heart no hatred or disgust or contempt or even pity, only profound sympathy.

“Medics!”

Tavyn’s shout broke her reverie. He had sat up and was waving an arm to attract attention. “Tavyn, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

He gave her an annoyed look. “Of course.” To the pair of medics who scurried over to his cot he said, “Move that man out of this ward. Now.” When one of the medics asked which patient Tavyn meant, he jerked his thumb in Angusel’s direction. “The one with the legion officer’s cloak.” Since the cloak of every other warrior in the ward was woven of a clan’s pattern and Angusel’s was plain scarlet, there was no mistaking whom Tavyn meant. Angusel already had pushed himself to a sitting position. As she watched in shocked silence, he swung his legs over the cot’s side and bent to reach for his boots, reeling and gritting his teeth.

Shaking her head, Eileann laid her hand over Tavyn’s. “You can’t! He’s too badly hurt!”

“He doesn’t belong with us.” The stern eyes that stared back at her were at total odds with those of the brother she knew and loved. To the medics he said, “You have your orders, men.”

“Aye, Decurion Tavyn,” replied both men, saluting.

Although the medics weren’t rough as they gathered Angusel’s few belongings and got him to his feet for the walk to the Breatanach ward, Eileann’s heart went out to him. Yet she couldn’t argue with her brother’s logic or military authority. Angusel no longer held a place in Caledonach society, including the portion of it that resided within Arthur the Pendragon’s mostly Breatanach legion.

Supported by the medics, Angusel shuffled toward the door. Except for an occasional moan from one of the other wounded warriors, and the footfalls of Angusel and the medics, the converted barracks room was silent. Every man able to watch the scene trained his gaze upon the departing trio. Angusel ignored them, keeping his head hung low, as though he were being escorted to the gallows. Perhaps, in his mind, that was where he was going. And it saddened her to know that she couldn’t go with him, even if only to play one last song.

In her mind she played that tune for him, a rousing warrior’s send-off, and bade him a silent farewell.


***

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 Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!

Book spotlight on One More Second Chance by @JanaRichards_ contemporary romance #BYNR #IARTG

Today on The Maze, everybody deserves One More Second Chance by Jana Richards!

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Series:  Lobster Cove

Synopsis:

Dr. Alex Campbell has an agenda—finish his contract to provide medical services in Maine, pay off his medical school debt, and head back to his real life in San Diego. But when he meets Julia, all his carefully laid plans are put in jeopardy.

Julia Stewart, Lobster Cove’s high school principal, swears she’ll never let another man drag her away from the home she loves. Her aging parents need her, and the Cove is where she wants to raise her daughter. When her mother’s illness brings her and the big city doctor closer together, panic sets in. Her marriage taught her men don’t stay.

Can she put aside the heartaches of the past and trust Alex enough to accept the love he’s offering? Or will her fear of abandonment mean she’ll send him away forever?

Excerpt:

They drank their tea in silence, but the silence didn’t feel awkward. Julia felt soothed, the stress slowly leaving her body. Perhaps her grandmother had been onto something. The tea seemed to be working.

She finished the last of it and set down the cup. “I should be going. I left Ava with Tracy, and she’s probably hungry by now.”

Julia got to her feet and headed to the front door, with Alex following her. “Thanks for the tea, and for listening. I guess I needed both today.”

“Anytime. Seriously, Julia, anytime you need to talk, about anything, give me a call.”

She wondered if he was speaking as a doctor, as a friend, or as a man. Which one did she want him to be?

“Thank you.”

“I’ll try to keep an eye out for your folks, see if there’s anything I can do for them.”

She was touched by his offer. “I really appreciate that, but I know how busy you are.”

He waved away her concern. “It’s no big deal. I appreciate my grandmother’s neighbors checking in on her, and I’d be happy to do the same.”

He really did understand how she felt. “In that case, thank you.”

She opened the front door and stepped outside. Turning to Alex, she smiled. His thick hair had begun to dry, and the dark strands gleamed in the spring sunshine. Her breath caught in her throat at his beauty.

“Bye, Alex.”

“Bye. Take care.”

Julia hurried down the steps and across the lawn to her car. An appreciation for his looks was as far she could take any relationship with him. Her life was too complicated, too full already. And she would never get involved with a man who planned to leave Lobster Cove in only a few more months.

Author Bio:
When Jana Richards read her first romance novel, she immediately knew two things: she had to commit the stories running through her head to paper, and they had to end with a happily ever after. She also knew she’d found what she was meant to do. Since then she’s never met a romance genre she didn’t like. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and historical romance set in World War Two, in lengths ranging from short story to full length novel. Just for fun, she throws in generous helpings of humor, and the occasional dash of the paranormal. Her paranormal romantic suspense Seeing Things was a 2008 EPPIE finalist.

In her life away from writing, Jana is an accountant/admin assistant, a mother to two grown daughters, and a wife to her husband Warren. She enjoys golf, yoga, movies, concerts, travel and reading, not necessarily in that order. She and her husband live in Winnipeg, Canada with their Pug/Terrier cross Lou and several unnamed goldfish. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website at www.janarichards.com


All this month, 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!

Pantsing by the Seat of my Plot: the writing process of Kim Headlee #amwriting #worldbuilding #MFRWOrg

"The True Picture of One Pict"
engraving circa 1585 by Theodor de Bry
Image courtesy of Wikimedia CommonsPlotter or pantser? I've been seeing that question asked of authors a lot lately. Me, I pants -- by the seat of my plot.

This means that I develop a 20-30 page plot treatment before typing "Chapter 1"  on the page, but I give myself permission to deviate from the outline as the situation warrants.

This did not always characterize my writing process. My first novel, Dawnflight (1st edition published by Simon & Schuster in 1999, ISBN 067102041; 2nd edition available in print, audiobook, and e-book) was written seat-of-the-pants fashion, with only a skeletal timeline of births, deaths, marriages, and battles that spanned my entire series as a reference. Its first draft was only 70K words; the Simon & Schuster edition, published ten years later almost to the day, contained 120K.

So now I pants by the seat of my plot, and write the book from start to finish based upon my comprehensive outline. With such a tool the book pretty much writes itself, as was the case with Liberty (by Kimberly Iverson, HQN Books, 2006, ISBN 0373771347; 2nd edition available as e-book and soon in print).

But what happens when I get a fabulous idea for a scene that fits the plot outline but must occur much later in the book than I'm at in my page count?

Sometimes I just drop a note into the outline and go on. I've had the entire plot arc for the 8-book series The Dragon's Dove Chronicles (of which Dawnflight is book 1 and its sequel, Morning's Journey, is also available in e-book and in print) rattling around in my head for more than a quarter of a century, so I have had a lot of practice remembering things.

However, I'm also that much older now, so I'm less willing to leave crucial details to the vagaries of my dying brain cells.While on an airplane last summer I had a wonderful conversation with a military linguist that sparked an idea I wanted to incorporate in to my series... but since I didn't write it down, it went the way of some of those now defunct brain cells.

This is where my world-building tools come in handy.

With a series like The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, the timeline of which spans at least 75 years, tracking major and semimajor characters hailing from five different cultures (six, if you want to put the Romanized Celts in a different class than their un-Romanized neighbors), which includes significant linguistic elements adapted from all six (including Latin), a master glossary has become an absolute must for me to maintain.

By now you're probably wondering when I will get around to explaining why I have decorated this post with "The True Picture of One Pict." I'm glad you asked! I have been fascinated by this image ever since I first saw it decades ago, during the earliest stages of my research, but I had always written it off as sheer fantasy: i.e., a charming curiosity that I had never intended to utilize in my fiction.

Until last night... when the aforementioned fabulous idea hit me: for a pivotal scene to be incorporated at about the 80% point of my current work-in-progress, Raging Sea (The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, book 3), that pays homage to this 400+ year old image while remaining faithful to the cultural and sociological parameters I have already established in my series. For the record, I am at about the 20% point in terms of my projected word count of Raging Sea.

I could have just dropped a note in my outline and gone on -- in fact, I did. But this scene warranted inventing a specific, quasi-religious ritual for my main character, Angusel (a.k.a. Lancelot), to undergo, and that ritual needed to be named. Here is the entry I added to my master glossary last night:

an tùs (Caledonaiche, “the anointing”). A Caledonach ritual most commonly used for ordaining priests (tùs an sagart, “anointing the priest”), it was also used in generations past for preparing warriors for an important battle (tùs an gaisgeach, “anointing the champion”). The ritual’s primary component involves having the priest’s or warrior’s body painted with woad warding-marks in the shape of the deities’ totem creatures to invoke special blessings for the coming ordeal. A priest undergoing an tùs is anointed by his brethren priests. A warrior is anointed by his soul mate, and there is a prescribed sexual component, since in this case the ritual functions as a farewell too. Origin: Scottish Gaelic an tùs (“the beginning”). [RS]

As you might have guessed, the [RS] annotation at the end is my abbreviation for Raging Sea, a system I developed for ease in pulling out a volume's entries when preparing the book for publication. At that time, I delete the abbreviation(s) from the book's layout file. Of course, words like "Caledonaiche" and "Caledonach" and "warding-mark" also have their own entries in my novels' glossaries. Most of my world building contains invented linguistic components, and I like to think that Professor Tolkien would have been proud of me. :)

And as you might have further guessed, Angusel is not a priest but a champion. This warranted an additional note in my glossary for this entry, one which will not appear in the book's backmatter when published but is vital to help me remember the scene's details when the time comes to write it:

[RS: Eileann resurrects this custom to prepare Angusel for battle, and she conceives Lannchu during this first consummation of their love. This also becomes the first time Angusel is able to have sex with a woman without seeing Gyan instead, because Eileann is aware of his “curse” and helps him conquer it. Although Angusel covers the sacred paint with his armor the next morning before riding into battle, the sight of his parents dying on the battlefield causes the woad-painted, naked berserker (ro-h’uamhasach) to emerge.]

You have the benefit of seeing the final outcome of this exercise; its other component involved my having to invent the Caledonaiche term ro-h'uamhasach, since the word "berserker" is adapted from Old Norse, and there is no such equivalent in Scottish Gaelic today:

ro-h’uamhasach (roh HWAH-ah-sack, Caladonaiche, “the most terrible man”). Term applied to a Caledonach warrior fighting in the deepest throes of battle frenzy; a berserker. Origin: based on Scottish Gaelic ro h–uamhasach (“very terrible,” “very dreadful”). [RS]
[RS: Angusel earns this designation when he strips off his armor to expose his warding-marks and runs naked, screaming, into the battle like Caledonach champions of centuries past.]

Now I can't wait to dive back in to my WIP so I can reach this point in my story as soon as possible!

If you would like to read more about Angusel and his ancient Pictish/Celtic/Roman world, I invite you to check out my new #SundaySnippets weekly feature, where I post a scene from Raging Sea, starting with Chapter 1, Scene 1.


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 Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!

#SundaySnippets RAGING SEA Ch 1/Sc 1 #amwriting #MFRWHook

Today I introduce a new series on The Maze:
#SundaySnippets!
Background image courtesy of
Wikimedia Commons
Lion's head overlay
Copyright by Kim HeadleeI have made a goal of finishing the first draft of my current work-in-progress, Raging Sea, book 3 of The Dragon's Dove Chronicles, by May 1st. It began life more than 10 years ago, but many things have intervened to derail my progress.

No more.

So, to keep myself accountable, I will be posting scenes from Raging Sea serially for the next several weeks, along with a status update. Currently I have finished through chapter 7, approximately 25K words.

For those who may not be familiar with my work, The Dragon's Dove Chronicles is a planned 8-book series that strives to present a historical genesis of the Arthurian Legends. Book 1, Dawnflight (originally published by Simon & Schuster in 1999), describes how Gyanhumara (Guinevere) and Arthur meet, fall in love, and then try to figure out how to get married without causing a civil war with the man to whom she was betrothed by Arthur's own treaty--but the three of them must unite to thwart an invasion. Book 2, Morning's Journey , shows Arthur and Gyan adjusting to married life while fending off threats from without as well as within.

My Lancelot character, Angusel, whose name in Scottish Gaelic means "raging sea," was introduced as a boy in Dawnflight, and his association with Gyan takes a turn for the worse in Morning's Journey. I leave you to discover the why and how of that; my e-books are priced very inexpensively these days. :)

Raging Sea begins in the immediate aftermath of
the concluding battle of Morning's Journey .
Chapter 1Scene 1
THE former Àrd-Oighre h’Albainaich Chaledon was dead.

It didn’t matter that the Otherworld wasn’t at all like what he had been taught—there was no eternal battlefield where Lord Annaomh’s Army of the Blest fought Lord Annàm’s Samhraidhean minions, as far as he could tell. He was certain he was dead.

In fact, there was no light, no pain, no smells, no heat, no chill, no sensation of any kind save the most beautiful strains of harp music he’d ever heard. The images it evoked bespoke love in its many incarnations: the frenzied passion of the Belteine fire-dance, the soaring joy of two souls bonded by the act of love, a mother’s fierce protectiveness of her children, the lament of a bereaved spouse, a lullaby for a newborn, the rapture of a long-delayed reunion. None of the ancient tales mentioned music in the Otherworld. But he supposed the Old Ones could have whatever they liked. Comforted by the melody, which was by turns jaunty and lilting and mournful and jaunty again, he wasn’t about to start complaining to his sithichean hosts.

The final notes thrummed into silence. “Well done, Eileann,” spoke a nearby male voice in Caledonaiche. “I’ll wager the Old Ones themselves are pleased by your harping.” This won the murmured assent of other men, also in Caledonaiche.

“Thank you, Tavyn.” The female Caledonach voice sounded demure, as though unaccustomed to hearing such praise.

He was about to add his lauds to that of Tavyn’s when a wave of pain battered his head and chest. Apparently, the gods weren’t done tormenting him. That much was obvious by the fact that he’d somehow ended up with his own people—his former people, he amended. It was also apparent that this group didn’t recognize him, or they never would have allowed him into their company.

Caledonach warriors didn’t associate with those who had been stripped of honor.

Dragging a hand across his eyes, though unwilling to open them, he felt the folds of a bandage swathing his brow. His hand dropped to his chest, and he found another bandage where his battle-tunic and undertunic should have been. He probed his chest near the left shoulder and winced. If the wound had been half a handspan further down, he would have received one-way passage to the Otherworld.

Where am I?

He must have uttered the question aloud, for the harpist, sounding much closer than before, answered, “Rest easy, brave one. You’re in the field hospital at Port Dhoo-Glass.”

The Caledonach ward, he realized with a groan.

Someone, mistaking that groan for an expression of physical discomfort, pressed a cool, damp cloth to his cheeks and neck. He had to admit it did feel good.

The woman continued, “You were found with a gash on your forehead and a spear in your chest. If you hadn’t moved when you did, the medics would have left you for dead. You’re very lucky to be here.”

Some luck. He wished the medics had left him in the company of the ravens.

Worse, his pain-fogged brain at last attached meaning to the names Eileann and Tavyn. They belonged to the daughter and son of Chieftainess Dynann of Clan Tarsuinn, his dead father’s clan. Tavyn, he recalled with chagrin, was commander of Second Turma, Manx Cohort, the unit that had charged the Sasunach line beside his. He turned his head onto one cheek and groaned again.

A hand slipped under his head to lift it a bit. Eyes still closed, he didn’t bother to resist. No sense in rushing the inevitable. They’d recognize him soon enough. But as a cup touched his lips, brimming with a warm liquid redolent with the tempting scent of honey, he could postpone it no longer.

He gazed past the cup’s rim into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, save one. Lustrous black hair tumbled past her shoulders to sweep toward his chest. Graceful eyebrows accented brown eyes that glimmered with more compassion than he had ever hoped to see again. The light flush of her cheeks made him think of roses beneath a dusting of snow. And her berry-red lips gave him the gift of a genuine smile.

He swallowed a mouthful of the liquid and grimaced at its bitter taste. It was a fitting reminder of the bitterness in his soul.

“Valerian.” Her smile took on an apologetic cast. “For your pain. Shall I add more honey for you?”

“Nay.” Was his voice really as harsh as it sounded? But he couldn’t help it; his worst pain valerian couldn’t cure. He grasped the hand cradling his head and moved it so he could lie flat. To his surprise, he found it difficult to let her hand go. He did his best to return her smile, though it had been several moons since his facial muscles had moved in that direction. “Thank you, my lady.” For more things than just the drink, but of course he couldn’t tell her that.

Nodding, she disengaged her hand and rose, leaving the cup on the stool beside his cot. As though in afterthought, she bent to swab his brow again with the damp cloth. “I’ll be staying at the fortress until my brother is well enough to travel. Send for me if you need anything,” she whispered, doubtless unaware that her smile—and the kindness that was its source—was causing him more anguish than a hundred spear thrusts. “My name is Eileann.”

He knew; gods, how he knew. If he had never heard her speak, he’d have known from the blue woad Tarsuinn falcon tattoo spread-winged and screeching across her right forearm, symbol of her status as their àrd-banoigin. Chieftainess Dynann would retain clan leadership for as long as she remained fit for the task, but now that her daughter was of childbearing age, the responsibility for continuing the line lay with Eileann. By Caledonach law, Eileann was free to choose her consort. That her left arm bore no tattoo meant she hadn’t yet exercised that choice.

Maybe he could…nay; he was forgetting himself. Or rather, what he had become.

Eileann nic Dynann probably had suitors lined up from one shore of Caledon to the other. Even if she didn’t, the likelihood of her choosing an outcast was less than the sun changing its course at zenith to set in the east. Best to put her out of his mind. Best for him—and for her.

But as she glided by the other cots to reach her brother’s side and took up her harp to play another tune, he found he could no sooner forget her than forget the shameful events of his past that prevented him from ever trying to woo her.

This groan he made sure to muffle with the pillow.

***
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 Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!

Winners, appearances, and other book news by Kim Headlee in The Dawnflier Feb 2015 #MFRWOrg

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons Sept. 2013The Dawnflier, February 2015
I'm releasing my newsletter a day early this month because on Feb. 1st I introduce a new series on my blog: #SundaySnippets! Stay tuned. :)

First,  please join me in congratulating the winners (already notified) of the #KASIWC/ King Arthur's Sister in Washington's Court Rafflecopter: KR, Kim, Ron, Angela, Melissa, Mary, Victoria, Ed, Kami, and SB! Thank you all--and everyone who entered--for your support of my work!

You didn't see your name on this list? Scroll down for ways to win an e-copy of Liberty ! The print edition is in proof review and will be available soon.

In February I am scheduled as a guest author at:
Farpoint (Feb. 13-15, Hunt Valley, MD)Mysticon (Feb. 27-March 1, Roanoke, VA)If you're attending either of these cons, please look me up and say hi!

In other book news, my experiment to keep two different versions of Morning's Journey in print (basically, different covers) has proven successful, so I am repeating the process with Dawnflight. This means I can offer books designed to appeal to different audiences, because I have received positive feedback (and sales!) for both cover styles.

To see what I mean, compare the newer cover for Morning's Journey, which matches the e-book cover, with the 2013 edition. When the new Dawnflight print links become available, I will announce it here.

Thanks for your continued interest in my novels, and I hope you have a love-filled February!


This month, 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!

#GRATIS #FREE #Kindle El Color de la Venganza 29-30 enero las leyendas del rey Arturo #IARTG

Gratis en Kindle 29 a 30 enero
Free on Kindle January 29-30Hoy en “The Maze”,  ofrezco “El Color de la Venganza”,  la versión en Español de “The Color of Vengeance”,  una historia corta independiente extraída de  “Morning’s Journey”, libro 2 de “The Dragon’s Dove Chronicles”.

Today on The Maze, I offer the Spanish-language version of "The Color of Vengeance," a stand-alone short story excerpted from Morning's Journey, book 2 in The Dragon's Dove Chronicles.



La sinopsis/Synopsis:

La venganza era el único regalo de entierro que podía presentar.
Cuando los ladrones de ganado Angli matan a su mujer y a su hijo, Dwras hijo de Gwyn jura venganza sobre sus asesinos. Pero, ¿cómo puede un simple granjero prevalecer contra entrenados guerreros despiadados? Dwras no debe mirar a su espada para la respuesta, sino más bien, dentro de su corazón.

Vengeance was the only burial gift he could bestow.

When Angli cattle thieves slaughter his wife and son, Dwras son of Gwyn vows revenge upon their murderers. But how can a mere farmer prevail against ruthless, trained warriors? For the answer Dwras must look not to his sword, but within his heart.


Gratis en Kindle 29 a 30 eneroFree on Kindle January 29-30
US | ES | MX | AU | BR | CA | DE | FR | IN | IT | JP | NL | UK

Edición Inglés audiolibro/English edition audiobook:
Amazon.com | iTunes | Audible.com 

This month, 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!

#Free #Kindle Download Jan 27-31 The Color of Vengeance by Kim Headlee #BYNR #IARTG

Get your FREE copy of The Color of Vengeance , a terrific Arthurian story, today! (January 27-31, 2015, to be precise. :D)
The Color of Vengeance
Free Kindle download Jan. 28-31Genre: Historical fiction (early Middle Ages)

Series: The Dragon's Dove Chronicles (this is a standalone short story excerpted from book 2, Morning's Journey )

Synopsis:

Vengeance was the only burial gift he could bestow.

When Angli cattle thieves slaughter his wife and son, Dwras son of Gwyn vows revenge upon their murderers. But how can a mere farmer prevail against ruthless, trained warriors? For the answer Dwras must look not to his sword, but within his heart.

Links:
 E-book on Kindle Audiobook on Audible | Amazon | iTunes



All this month, 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!

#RockingRomance with Rogue's Hostage by @LyndiLamont #MFRWAuthor #BYNR

We're back to #RockingRomance today with Rogue's Hostage by Linda McLaughlin!
1. What romantic event would you like to see this year? I’m looking forward to the California Dreamin’ Conference coming up in March. I always enjoy getting together with my romance writer friends.

2. Name your favorite romantic tip. Listen to your partner; so many couples talk past each other

3. What Rocking Romance do you find intriguing (Arthur and Guinevere is mine)? I’m loving the romance between bad boy Killian Jones, aka Captain Hook, and good girl Emma Swan on Once Upon a Time. It has been fun to see the rascally pirate fall for the town sheriff. (Oh, I so agree, Linda! ~kh)

4. What is your Rocking Romance flower? Roses are always classic, but orchids are beautiful and special.

5. Plan one romantic evening; what would you do? Since I live in Orange County… a walk on the beach at sunset. We have beautiful sunsets over the Pacific.

Rogue's Hostage
By Linda McLaughlin
Historical Romance

4 ½ stars and a Top Pick from Romantic Times!
Romantic Times Nominee—Best Small Press Romance of 2003!
2nd Place - Lorie Awards - Best Historical Romance!

His hostage... 
In 1758 the Pennsylvania frontier is wild, primitive and dangerous, where safety often lies at the end of a gun. Mara Dupré's life crumbles when a French and Indian war party attacks her cabin, kills her husband, and takes her captive. Marching through the wilderness strengthens her resolve to flee, but she doesn't count on her captor teaching her the meaning of courage and the tempting call of desire.

Her destiny...
French lieutenant Jacques Corbeau's desire for his captive threatens what little honor he has left.  But when Mara desperately offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, he finds the strength to refuse and reclaims his lost self-respect. As the shadows of his past catch up to him, Jacques realizes that Mara, despite the odds, is the one true key to reclaiming his soul and banishing his past misdeeds forever.

Note: Rogue’s Hostage is part of the Romance Super Bundle, a boxed set of ten full-length novels.

Buy links:

Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00BJO26OYARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-rogue039shostage-1163372-158.htmlhttp://www.goodreads.com/photo/author/1216627.Linda_McLaughlinB&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books... iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/rogues-hostage/id645211361?mt=11&uo=4Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/291719

Excerpt:
When he’d finished lacing her bodice, Corbeau took her chin in his strong brown hand and tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “Do not be too proud to ask for help when you need it.”

She glared up at him, her eyes narrowed with anger. “I don’t want you touching me. Not after yesterday.”

Gently he stroked her face. “I never meant to hurt you.”

She pulled away from him and held up her bandaged wrist. “What do you call this?”

A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. “I call it self-defense. Have you forgotten that you tried to kill me?”

“You forced me to do it,” she said defiantly. “You should have let me go.”

“Never. Not if I have to sleep with my back to a tree from now on.”

He advanced on her and she retreated, her alarm growing.

“Will you try to stab me in the back next time?”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head wildly. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to be free.”

He stalked her until she was backed up against a tree with no room to maneuver. He moved closer, looming over her, heat emanating from his body. “I have no wish to hurt you either, madame,” he said in a husky voice.

“Then what do you want?” The moment the words were out, Mara wished she could snatch them back. She saw his intent in his eyes as his gaze focused on her lips.

She pushed against the hard muscles of his chest but to no avail. Easily he encircled her in his arms, one hand at her waist, the other tangling in the hair at her nape, pulling her head back. She couldn’t miss his musky smell as he pressed closer to her. Her knees were weakened by the quivering of her limbs, and she fisted her hands in the rough linen of his shirt.

“What do I want,” he whispered as he lowered his head, his breath hot against her face. “This. This is what I want.”

* * *
Jacques stared at her through half-closed eyes. The anger, frustration, and desire that fired his blood merged into an overwhelming need to kiss her. He claimed her mouth with his own, smothering her lips, knowing the kiss was rough and aggressive, but unable to stop. He wanted to silence her, subdue her, and make love to her all at once.

Her hands beat against his chest in time with the wild drumming of his heart. Then she went still, enduring his embrace, lips clamped tightly together.

Desire won out over anger. He eased the pressure of the kiss, letting his tongue trace the fullness of her lower lip, coaxing her mouth to open. His hand loosened, let go of her hair, and stroked the back of her neck.

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 http://lindalyndi.com
Blog: http://lindalyndi.com/reading-room-blog/
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LindaMcLaughlinAuthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/lindamclaughlin
Twitter: @LyndiLamont https://twitter.com/LyndiLamont

Enter this great giveaway!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For more chances to win 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 Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!

Spotlight on Hook by KR Thompson @TheKeeperSaga YA #fairytale #pirates #giveaway #BYNR

BOOK INFORMATIONTITLE – HOOK AUTHOR – K.R. Thompson
GENRE – Fantasy/Fairy Tale/Adventure
PUBLICATION DATE – January 1, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) - 300 Pages/78,000 words

BOOK SYNOPSIS
Archie Jameson dreamed of adventure.

Today, it found him.

Caught in a chilly October storm, he ducked into a tavern, hoping to escape the rain. What he found, was a room teeming with pirates. Shanghaied by the most elderly of the lot, Archie awakens to discover that he is serving on a ship captained by the fiercest pirate ever to sail the seven seas--the man known as Blackbeard.

Through a series of thrilling twists, Archie finds himself captain of another of Blackbeard's ships, the Jolig Roger. In an attempt to flee danger, his ship becomes lost beneath uncharted stars and arrives at a mysterious island.

Determined to save both his crew and the woman he loves, Archie will make decisions that will forever seal his fate.

For in Neverland, not all is as it seems.
BUY & TBR LINKSAMAZON KINDLE US – AMAZON KINDLE CA – AMAZON KINDLE UK – GOODREADS

EXCERPT

The breeze picked up and was bursting insistent, frigid puffs that threatened to dislodge his hat. Archie clamped one hand on top, squishing it down around his lean face as he resolutely lengthened his stride and marched on, determined to make it home before the storm set in.

He'd almost made it to the corner, to the place where he normally made the left on N. Westburl, and then a right onto 43rd, followed by a various assortment of other long deviations that would get him safely home, when a large crack of thunder shook the air. He decided that just this once he might consider taking the most direct route, albeit dangerous, foreboding, and possibly life-threatening. He stopped right on the bend of the street, uncertain for a split moment, until the next jolting crack of thunder made up his mind for him. He headed straight along Market St that followed the length of the Thames River, hoping that the seedy individuals who lurked around the pier were as mindful of the storm as he and would not cause him trouble on this particular evening, for even though he was quick-witted and could talk himself out of most troubles, sailors tended to be a harder breed of people. They were a sharp and cunning lot, and Archie did not know if he could outsmart anyone else that day and didn't wish to press his luck.

He made it past the pier, hesitating just long enough to glance at the small boats tied to the dock. There were obviously people about, and so far he had been lucky enough not to encounter any of them.

But one final ground-shaking crack and the tinkling sound of bells changed it all. The clouds overhead clashed and he ran for the shelter of a nearby tavern, barely escaping the torrent of rain.

Archie had never been in The Captain's Keg before. He stopped just inside the door and let his eyes adjust to the dark, smoke-filled room. He realized that not only had he run into the very people he wished to avoid, but that he also had a new problem.

These men weren't just sailors.

He was ready to run back out and take his chances of drowning in the street, when he heard the same tinkling of bells from earlier. This time, it sounded like mocking laughter.

Well. He might very well be losing his mind, but a coward he was not.

He straightened to his full height—all six feet and four inches of it—and removed his crumpled hat with a flourish, tucking it under his arm. He walked proudly down the three steps that led into the heart of the tavern—to a bar, teeming with pirates.

A couple of heads turned at his arrival and those who met his solemn, blue gaze were quick to drop their eyes back to their drinks. His spirits momentarily lifted, Archibald nodded to himself more than to anyone else in particular, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was holding his own.

Still erring on the side of caution, he scanned the length of the bar, finding three open seats. Two were between rather burly, shifty-looking blokes with tattoos. The third seat, nearly on the end of the bar, sat betwixt an elderly gentleman with longish white sideburns, a round belly, and spectacles to match that sat precariously upon a rather bulbous nose. The gent on the other side was scrawny, his clothes in tatters, thin face in a scowl as he stared at a leaflet of paper before him. Even though he sat still, there was a nervous energy that pulsed off the small man. He gave Archibald the impression of a jittery, starving squirrel.

Archibald decided his best chances lay between the old man and the squirrel and so he took his seat, nodding in a genial fashion to the old man, whose watery blue eyes barely gave him a passing glance. The squirrel didn't acknowledge his presence.

"What'll it be, mate?" the barkeep asked.

Archibald bit his lip to keep from laughing. Every drink in the tavern was the same yellowish liquid. Why the bald man standing behind the bar bothered to even ask such a mundane question was beyond him. Perhaps he was daydreaming again. He did do that a lot and at times it seemed real. "'Tis all ale, is it not?"

"Aye, but will it be single or double ye'll be havin'?"

Archibald lifted a single finger and waited for his drink.

"Ye'd have much better luck with rum, I should think," the old man said quietly as he stared down into his own glass, "The ale's watered down. Not fit for a fish to drink, it isn't."

One dreg out of the glass, and Archibald was quite certain the gentleman was more than right. It tasted like something poured from an old boot. Not that he regularly drank from old boots, mind you. Thank heavens he hadn't ordered twice the amount of the vile stuff. Deciding it better not to even bother asking for the rum, which most definitely hidden beneath the counter and out of sight, he tossed a couple of coins down on the scarred wooden bar, and sat looking down into the remnants of his glass, listening to the patter of rain on the tin roof.

A strange thought came suddenly. For a bar filled with pirates, it was most unusual. It was rather quiet, an odd comment here or there, but otherwise there was nothing but silence. Surely they weren't all sitting around listening to the rain. Archie couldn't figure it out. But he knew one thing, these people certainly weren't living up to his expectations of the loud, fearless persons he always thought pirates to be.

The squirrel on his left shifted around on his stool, staring even harder at the parchment. Sweat popped out on a face that was now a color that reminded Archie of the paper in the print shop, a colorless, pasty white. Good for paper, not for squirrels.

"Well?" a low, deep voice rolled out from a dark corner and broke the silence so suddenly that it startled Archie. "Give us the news then, Harper."

Ah, well now. Things may get lively yet, Archie thought, casting a quick look to the corner from where the voice rumbled. It was too dark to see the man who sat against the wall, but Archibald got a good look at the pair of worn, dark leather boots propped up on the table, and the curling wisps of cigar smoke that floated up to the rafters.

"It says a r-roy, royy…" the squirrel named Harper stuttered, the paper shaking in his hands.

"Ach! The man canna read it anymore than the rest o' us." A complaint hurtled from one of the tattooed blokes at the opposite end of the bar.

As if he were getting more anxious, Harper tried again, his voice in a near squeak, "A royy-alll…"

Archie spied the lettering, and against his better conscience, whispered just loud enough that Harper would hear, "A royal pardon is offered to those pirates who surrender on or before the fifth of September, this year of 1718." He waited as Harper relayed the message, then continued, "Being limited to crimes committed before the fifth of January. All other crimes committed after such date, will be considered for a death of hanging."

Archie sensed the old man on the other side of him shuffle about, as if he were searching for something on the insides of his pockets, but Archie's attention was fixed on the squirrel he saved. Harper turned and gave him a toothless, yet thankful, smile and set to guzzling the contents of his glass as quickly as possible in an effort to calm his shaking nerves.

"Well, that counts us out, lads," a dark chuckle came from the corner, "'No pardon for the likes o' us, I fear. We all be hanged."

"Aye, but they must catch us first. I won't be finding me neck in a noose," a shout rang out, followed by the murmur of agreement from all the others as they lifted their glasses in salute.

Feeling rather in-tune with the pirates, Archibald picked up his glass as well and toasted the luck of the now boisterous lot, draining the last contents of his glass. Some small part of his brain noted that while the ale was certainly vile before, it also became bitter the longer it sat. The bitterness left nearly as soon as he noticed it, having been replaced with a rather calming sensation.

Pirates truly weren't a bad lot, he thought sleepily, just people like everyone else. They were only misunderstood. He turned to convince the elderly gentleman on his right of exactly that, when the darkness came and took over. The last thing he heard was the old man chuckle, singing softly,

"Yo-ho, me mateys, yo-ho…"

***

"Careful now, lads, mind the poor lout's head, aye? He'll be having a dreadful headache come morning without any extra bumps ye'd be givin' him along the way."

The voice was familiar—rather achingly so—though Archie couldn't quite seem to get his faculties in order to remember who the owner of the voice was. The few times he could open his eyes, nothing at all made sense. It all came and went in blurs with distorted figures he couldn't quite make out. The darkness came and went, so in the end, he figured it better to keep his eyes shut for the time being and try to concentrate on other things, foggy and confusing as they might seem. He thought he was being drug along the rough boards of the pier, and while that familiar voice seemed to care about the condition of his head, his legs and backside seemed to be another matter entirely of which the man cared not a whit as they bumped him along each splintering plank. Luckily, the drug slipped in his drink deadened the pain, and he only registered the faint, odd pricks and scrapes where the wood had its way with his flesh.

"He's got hair like black candles, he does," a crackling voice snickered by his head.

"Aye, Smee, are we taking this poor soul aboard for his long locks? Did the Cap'n order you fetch him a wifey, then?" another voice chimed in, followed by raucous laughter, and a low retort from the man named Smee that Archibald couldn't make out.

"A good bit heavier than he looks," the first voice by his head huffed, "Slow ye down a bit, Murph. I'm losin' my grip. Oh drat, there he goes!"

And those were the last words Archibald ever heard on the shores of bonnie England as his head hit the pier and the darkness crept over him once again.

  AUTHOR BIOK.R. Thompson lives in southwest Virginia with her husband, son, three cats, and an undeterminable amount of chickens.
An avid reader and firm believer in magic, she spends her nights either reading an adventure or writing one.
She still watches for evidence of Bigfoot in the mud of Wolf Creek.AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKSAMAZON AUTHOR PAGE – WEBSITE / BLOG – FACEBOOK – TWITTER – GOOGLE+ - GOODREADS

GIVEAWAY$25 Amazon Giftcard a Rafflecopter giveaway

This Tour Was Organized & Hosted By



For more chances to win this month, 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!

#RockingRomance spotlight on Naked Rebel by @anitaphilmar #BYNR #IARTG

Today's #RockingRomance installment features Naked Rebel by Anita Philmar!
(And I love this cover, don't you?? :)

Before we get down to business, Anita has some thoughts to share with you about Rocking Romances...

1. What romantic event would you like to see this year? A really good romantic comedy movie. Haven’t seen one in years so it would be a nice treat.

2. Name your favorite romantic tip: Text, call, write a note but be sure to tell the ones you love – I love you.

3. What Rocking Romance do you find intriguing? William and Kat (Reminds me of his mom)

4. What is your Rocking Romance flower?  Roses are most people’s favorite but I like daisies.

5. Plan one romantic evening; what would you do?  Have a nice dinner in an expensive restaurant, then head to a nice hotel and spend the evening thinking about each other and not all the responsibilities we have at home.

Naked Rebel, a sci-fi erotic romance by Anita Philmar
Buy it on Kindle

Synopsis:
A spy that prefers to work alone, Nick Royster’s assignment is turned upside down when his superiors sends him a personal companion. Not appreciating the need to watch someone else’s back, he attends a dinner of Salsar’s inner group. Only to learn, he has to sacrifice Rane to get the information he needs to end the war.

Rane knows the important of winning. Her family slaughtered by Salsar, this is her homeland and she plans to do whatever it takes to win her peoples’ freedom.
With everything on the line, can these two have any future together or does love and war equal heartache? 

Excerpt:
“Nick?” she moaned in a weary voice and rolled to her side.

He wrapped his arms around her naked body and drew her to his chest. “Shhhh. You’ve had a busy day. Let’s rest a while?”

She nestled closer and melted into his side.

The seductive caress of her skin ignited an arousing response in his loins. He wondered about taking her again, but decided she needed to rest. They’d have plenty of time for sex in the next few hours. Salzar wouldn’t expect Nick to be back at work until at least tomorrow.

Salzar...

The name evoked so many emotions in Nick, he unconsciously tightened his grip on Rane. She wiggled against him in protest, and he loosened his hold.

If only he could break into Salzar’s inner circle. Once inside, Nick would be privy to the location of the purification plant for the nustru. As Vortar’s sole source of energy, their army would be crippled by the lack of fuel for their equipment, which would also give Nick’s side a huge advantage and possibly end the war.

Nick wondered about Mat’s reasoning behind sending him a companion. Salzar liked woman, and most of his inner circle had at least one woman at their disposal. But Nick didn’t see jeopardizing any woman with such a dangerous assignment.

Yes, women fell into the line of fire occasionally, like his mother and sister when Vortar invaded his country.

But...to purposely put them in harm's way seemed wrong.

With this assignment being at the headquarters of the enemy, the likelihood of exposure threatened both their lives. Salzar, a ruthless beast, slaughtered the ruler of Vortar and his family ten years ago to gain his position of power and would not hesitate to kill again.

But as a woman, Rane was in even greater danger. Salzar’s fetish for sex could lead him to do unspeakable things to her before he allowed her to die.

Buy links:


Amazon | UK | CA | AU |

B&N | Kobo |
All Romance 

Enter this great giveaway!
a Rafflecopter giveaway

As always, for more chances to win 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 Liberty . Please enter often, and good luck!