Tag Archive | paranormal

Teresa D’Amario and “Visions of Fire and Ice”

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Why Egypt?

by Teresa Amario

Many ask me why I’m so fascinated with Egypt, and you won’t believe the answer.  I caught the bug when I was no more than 7 or 8 years old.  It’s because of my great grandmother, a woman I don’t even remember meeting.

medallionfrontShe died when I was too young to remember.  I remember her third husband, Papa Ray, but I don’t recall her. (He taught me to shuffle cards, so I definitely remember him).  But when great grandma died, the family went through her jewelry.  One piece was so ugly, nobody wanted it, so my mother took it to give to me.  The medallion is silver, about the size of a half dollar, and one side are three pyramids, with a child like drawing of what I now know was the sphinx.  Before them is a graphic depiction of the River Nile.  The other side was even more strange.  It showed the image of a bull, on two feet, with odd little graphics all around, scattered about.  Now, as I’m older, and more involved with the Egyptian mythos, I think, perhaps, this was a very bad depiction of Anubis.  I wore the necklace all the time.  It can even see it in my 3rd grade photo, displayed prominently over my dress.  Years later the house was destroyed by fire, and yet my great grandmother’s necklace survived.

medallionbackYou see, my grandmother lived in a time when King Tut’s tomb was open.  The piece is, by no means, from Egypt.  It’s someone’s unusual, and child-like depiction of what they thought would be an Egyptian medallion, sold probably at some cheap jewelry store.

But my determination to figure out what was depicted there opened a joy of Egypt.  I still have the medallion, though the chain on which it hung is gone.  It too had several carvings of what the author thought were Hieroglyphs (Though trust me, they were not).

Jump many years forward, and I was in the military.  The base at which I was stationed did many military exercises in preparation of war, as did/do most military bases.  Somehow I became the “go to girl” to participate in each of these, deploying to a field not far away, living in tents, and doing my job.  I seemed to do this a lot.  Sometimes every six months.  One day they came to me and said I had to do this again. “Can’t someone else do this?” I whined, as I’d managed to work this job at least 6 times out of the last 6 times.  My Commander looked at me and said “well, you can either do that or go to Egypt.”  He was totally shocked when I exclaimed happily “I’ll go to Egypt!  When do I leave?”  He later told me he never dreamed I’d jump on the chance to go to Egypt.  Shows what he knew!

While most of the time there I lived in a tent, and worked in a tent, part of the time was mine, and I got to visit those pyramids depicted in my necklace, and I got to look at that Sphinx in person.  It was probably the most exciting trip I’ve taken in my life, and out of that experience, I bring you Visions of Fire & Ice, a Petiri book.  I hope you enjoy it!

So tell me, what is the most exciting trip you have taken?

About Visions of Fire and Ice

Trapped on a planet not their own, the Petiri spend their lives hiding the natural gifts that set them apart from the world.  They live long and unfulfilled lives, unable to find their soul mates on this backward planet known as Earth.  That is until the night Ramose comes face to face with Tamara, a woman whose gifts rival his own.  Determined to find why this human is in possession of an ancient magical Petiri relic, he arranges a meeting.

Cover_VisionsBut Tamara, embittered from past events, is wary despite lifelong dreams of Ramose and a sure knowledge he is her soul mate.  Before long the couple find themselves ensnared in a battle that has raged for millennia in Egypt’s desert.  Set, Egyptian God of Chaos, is determined to take his just due: the throne of Osiris.

The only way to stop him is for Ramose to put his trust in Tamara, but first must gain the same from her.  The ensuing sensual relationship is filled with romance, lust and love.  Their relationship is tested by an unnatural evil. Will her powers over fire, combined with his ice be enough to win the day?  Or will the ancient gods and goddesses of Egypt destroy more than just their love?

Available

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Excerpt

Ramose ducked and twisted his body, avoiding the flailing fist surging forward to contact with his jaw. With one quick upper cut, he cracked his opponent beneath his chin. The man’s head jerked back, blood spurting from a bitten lip.

“Had enough yet?” asked Ramose.

Darius spat, his bloody spittle spattering the blue floor mat. “I had enough a long time ago. But, then again, you need to have your ass kicked lately.”

Ramose grinned. “Let’s see you try,” he said, snatching a pair of swords from the rack on the wall and tossing one to Darius. He was the Master of Defense for his people. He was responsible for teaching them the in’s and out’s of self-defense. It was what kept them alert and safe.

At least, he liked to think it was what kept them safe. It was probably more luck than anything. Unlike their arrival on this planet more than three thousand five hundred years ago.

“I still don’t understand why you find it so necessary to teach me combat,” repeated Darius for what had to be the fifth time since they’d begun. Ramose sliced forward with his blade, and the man danced away. The sharp edge whizzed past Darius’s ear, slicing a few hairs from the side of his head. The man didn’t blink, but readied his sword for the next attack. “I’ve lasted this long without it, why now?”

Impressed with his pupil’s quick defensive moves, Ramose charged, sending the man off balance. He needed this as much as Darius did. Inside, his nerves sang with an intensity he couldn’t begin to understand.

Darius dodged his advance with a neat parry.

“I’ve told you, things are changing.” Gods, how he wished he could give a good answer. So much remained hidden. Premonitions had haunted Ramose’s thoughts for most of his life. Tiny inklings of a future to come. Images or feelings which were never clear, details blurred beneath the mists of the unknown. Right now, he had the odd sensation of danger. And the focus was Darius.

“You’ve been dreaming about her again, haven’t you?”

Ramose frowned, and parried, the slide of blade against blade vibrated through his muscles. “My dreams are unimportant and have no bearing on your future.”

Darius spun and Ramose blocked. “So, what’s it like, seeing your Kha-Ib?”

Like the rest of those on board the doomed Petiri vessel, Ramose had left any possibility of finding his Kha-Ib on Petiri, waiting for his return. He’d never met her, but he’d dreamed of her since childhood. The woman in his recent dreams couldn’t be older than her mid-twenties. In most of the dreams, she was no more than a child in her teens. Too young and too human to be the heart of his soul.

“She’s not my Kha-Ib,” Ramose grumbled, slicing toward Darius.

“Whoever this woman is, she haunts your sleep the way a ghost haunts an old graveyard. Elo is trying to tell you something.”

“Our god deserted us the moment we arrived on this backward planet. He’s telling me nothing.” Their blades clanged together, and they both leapt back.

“You’re deluding yourself, Ramose. And, until you admit it, you will never find peace. Whoever this woman is, she’s not your wife.”

Ramose rewarded the verbal jab with a physical one of his own, spinning about and slamming a fist into the man’s solar plexus. The sudden flinch in Darius’ face was a little too satisfying for comfort.

He’d never loved his wife, not the way a Petiri would love his Kha-Ib. True, every Petiri dreamed of his Kha-Ib, just like he had. Years ago. But those dreams had stopped the moment he’d given up on ever finding the one meant for him.

Loneliness had wrapped its velvet fist around him, driving him to long for what he would never have. He’d decided to accept second best. Everything had gone horribly wrong. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t forget the anger brought on by his wife’s death. A death she’d intended for him. Anger at the memories coiled in his gut.

Ramose balanced on the balls of his feet before striking forward again. Their blades crashed together, their song of battle echoing through the room, sparks flying.

“Enough talk,” Ramose growled.

Darius shoved hard at Ramose’s shoulders, knocking him backward. “I’m done. I refuse to fight when you’re angry. You’ll kill me.”

Ire burned in Ramose’s gut, and his knuckles turned white on the pummel of his sword. Darius was right. The dreams were getting to him. Dreams of a young girl in peril, with a face he could never see. A human face.

About the Author

authorphotoBorn in Atlanta, the daughter of an army soldier during the early stages of the Viet Nam war, I spent my childhood traveling from state to state, finally ending up overseas in Germany where I graduated high school six months early.

My writing career however began as a young Airman in the Air Force, writing monthly articles for the weekly base paper.  The articles ranged from climatological data to full center fold articles on the destructive forces of hurricanes.  As I increased in rank, my writing changed to more technological instruction, including such works as  WSR-88D Doppler Radar Data Interpretation Guide for North Carolina Stations, and Station Operating Procedures.

But my early writing wasn’t limited only to the technological side.  I’ve written multiple dog training and behavior articles for canine websites such as Sonora Canine Freestyle, and also the Ask Blackjack column, a fun training column in the voice of my labrador retriever, then a young pup.

My first book, SheWolf, won 2nd place for Best First book in RWA’s PFF&P Prism awards.

I’m married to a wonderful man named Doug, who is also retired Air Force.  We live in North Carolina with our two dogs.

Contacts

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Liza O’Connor and “Ghost Lover”

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Liza will be awarding a digital copy of “Worst Week Ever” to a randomly drawn commenter at every stop, and a grand prize of one $50 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn commenter during this tour and her Virtual Book Tour. Click the banner to follow all of the tour stops and increase your chances of winning. Click here for the Rafflecopter.

Liza: Today, I’m risking my sanity by bringing together all my major characters of Ghost Lover in at once. I will attempt to prevent total chaos, by keeping them in a soundproof box and only letting one out at a time. If I lose control of them, for God’s sake save yourselves and run!

Let’s try to survive this ‘met the characters’ interview.

Meet the characters

Liza: Brendon, let’s start off with you. Would you like to explain how stealing Senna’s money ended up with her agreeing to marry you? That’s not the normal conclusion to an act of theft.

Brendon: Well this wasn’t a normal act of theft. I stole the money to save her…and me. She’s the first person since Nan died who can stand me for more than a month. She’s gentle and kind, when she’s not angry—she’s got a wicked temper—highly tolerant of my bad behaviors.

Liza: So you steal her money, to cause her rent check to bounce, to get her evicted?

Brendon: And then I offer her a better life in England. She gets a half million dollars if she marries me.

Liza: Okay, you can go back in and send Senna out next.

*Senna enters and smiles*

Senna: Hi, Liza. Did Brendon behave himself? I explained the importance of making a good impression with your readers. I hope you didn’t talk about him stealing my money or taking the family teacups with him to the states, or breaking my windows—

Liza: No, he talked about you having a wicked temper.

Senna: Oh! We’ll I graduated from my court mandated anger management classes, so under normal conditions I don’t throw things any longer.

Liza: So what’s this I hear that you intend never to have sex with Brendon, even after the marriage?

Senna: This is a marriage of mutual assistance. I’ve agreed to marry Brendon so he can gain access to his money, which I will then manage—otherwise, he’d run through it in a week. Do you know he once lost a million dollars on a single toss of the roulette table?

Liza: I think you mean ‘roll’. There is no tossing at the roulette table.

Senna: Yes, of course. Being raised in an orphanage, I never learned about the various methods to lose money gambling. But my point is Brendon needs someone responsible controlling his money. So he offered the position to me, and not wishing to be homeless, I accepted.

Liza: He’s very cute. Why wouldn’t you want to have sex with him?

Senna: That would be a terrible idea. If I fell in love with Brendon, he’d break my heart with his constant philandering.

Liza: Well, good luck with this plan of yours. You can return to the box and ask Gar to step out.

Senna: That’s it? That wasn’t as bad as I expected.

*Senna leaves, Gar enters*

Gar: Let’s set some rule straight off. I am not discussing the ghosts, my finances, my current girlfriend, or my landscaping.

Liza: So what do you think about Senna?

Gar: I am not discussing Senna, either.

Liza: Sorry, you had your chance for listing exclusions and you failed in include her. Thus, Senna is fair game.

Gar: *sighs heavily* We had a very rough first meeting due to a great deal of misunderstanding on both sides, but now I think her the finest woman of my acquaintance.

Liza: You almost sound like a man in love.

Gar: Nonsense! She is engaged to my brother. Thus, I can only admire her, no matter how much I prefer her to any woman I’ve ever met.

Liza: And now you are grumpy…You can go. Send in Cat, please.

*Gar storms out muttering ‘what a waste of time’. Cat prances in, flips her blue hair then eyes Liza*

Liza: Weird makeup and hair aside, you and Senna look similar.

Cat: I know! Is that wacked out or what?

Liza: So what do you think of this place?

Cat: I love the ghostly vibes of this castle. Brendon is the cutest thing ever and so playful. I normally don’t like sweet and proper girls, but Senna is genuinely sweet and I love her to death.

Liza: What about Gar?

Cat: He’s a great sugar daddy. Let’s me buy all the art supplies I want. A bit stodgy, but I’d do him, only he freaked out when I offered. He’s nothing like his brother.

Liza: Okay, you can go. Ask Mr. Finch to come out.

Cat: There’s no Mr. Finch in your stupid box.

Liza: He’s in there. He’s just in invisible. Just speak my request aloud.

Cat: Should I hold the door open as well?

Liza: Not necessary. He can walk through them.

Cat: Oh, you mean the ghost cat Senna is always petting. Not a problem. I’ll send him right out.

*Cat (the girl) disappears and soon loud purrs resonate in the room.*

Liza: Mr. Finch, I have a laptop for you to type on so we can communicate.

*Lid of laptop slams down and purring stops*

Liza: Oh dear, I guess 15th century ghost cats don’t wish to learn new skills.

*Lassier enters wearing very little*

Lassier: Liza, so good to see you again my dear. You are looking as enticing as ever.

Liza: Lassier, my book is supposed to be a romance, not a failed romance. How are we going to fix matters?

Lassier: I’m working on it. Durran men are incredibly stubborn and strong willed. So untangling this ménage de cinq is going to take time.

Liza: Cinq? I count only four in the ménage, not five.

Lassier: You have to count me. I’ve fallen in love with Senna as well.

Liza: Great, next you’ll tell me the ghost cat loves her too.

Lassier: Without question.

Liza: Interview is over. I’ve a migraine.

Lassier: I’ve a very pleasant way to make it go away.

Liza:  Back in the box, you seductive ghost.

*Lazzier bows and leaves*

Liza: *wipes brow* I can’t believe. I actually survived this interview and more importantly didn’t let it go on for 73 pages. I hope you were able to follow the problem. Senna should be with Gar, but instead she’s engaged to Brendon, who’s in love with Cat, but won’t release Senna because he hates Gar. Lassier the ghost was supposed to get this straightened out, but now that he’s fallen in love with Senna, God only knows what’s going to happen.

I guess you’ll need to read the book and see.

About Ghost Lover

Two sexy English brothers. One irresistible ghost. Who would you choose as your lover?

Cover_GhostLoverCompletely broke and with a criminal record to boot, Senna Smith is one day from eviction from her apartment when Brendon, her promiscuous roommate from London, suggests she go to England, marry him, and manage his fortune. With few other options, she agrees to an open marriage. But she’ll never, ever, have sex with him, knowing if she falls in love with him, he’ll break her heart.

As trustee of Brendon’s family fortune, there is no way Brendon’s older brother, Garrison Durran, is going to let him marry a self-professed American gold-digger. As Senna tries to embrace castle life and English society for Brendon’s sake, Gar discovers Senna is the perfect woman for him–beautiful and intelligent, kind and caring. Now, if she wasn’t already engaged to his brother…

The ancestral ghost of Durran Castle has to intervene if the Durran brothers have any chance of an heir. He can’t leave them to fix matters on their own. They are useless buggers when it comes to love. As counselor to Gar, matchmaker for Brendon, and lover to Senna, a ghost’s work is never done.

CONTENT WARNING: Allergy warning: Ghost cat in book.

Available

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Excerpt

Senna woke to her breast beeping. Trying to make sense of the oddity, she pushed herself up to rest on her elbows and discovered the noise came from Brendon’s wristwatch. Somehow, his hand had found its way beneath her bra during the night, and now chirped like a baby chick.

She contemplated tearing his hand off at the wrist, but he looked so angelic with his curly dark hair framing his handsome face. With a heavy sigh, she unlatched her bra and eased his hand out, then gently shook him until his face scrunched into a pained grimace.

He groaned and frowned at his noisy watch. “This is a god-awful hour to be woken up,” he said in his sexy British accent. “Never bothers me when I’m coming home at this hour.”

Senna rolled her eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Pushing himself up, he shook his head. “Remember the second night I came around? You kept yelling at me, ‘Did I realize it was four in the morning?’ At the time, I couldn’t understand your fuss.” He groaned and scratched his scalp. “Well, I certainly understand it now. It’s bloody hell to be woken at this ungodly hour.”

About the Author

Author PicLiza lives in Denville, NJ with her dog, Jess. They hike in fabulous woods every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Having an adventurous nature, she learned to fly small cessnas in NJ, hang-glide in New Zealand, kayak in Pennsylvania, ski in New York, scuba dive with great white sharks in Australia, dig up dinosaur bones in Montana, sky dive in Indiana, and raft a class four river in Tasmania. She’s an avid gardener, amateur photographer, and dabbler in watercolors and graphic arts. Yet through her entire life, her first love has and always will be writing novels. She loves to create interesting characters, set them loose, and scribe what happens.

Contacts

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Christine Amsden and The Cassie Scot Mystery Series

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The author will be awarding a $50 Amazon or BN GC to one randomly selected commenter.

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How I met Cassie

Cassie came to me, I didn’t go to her.

I finished The Immortality Virus late in the fall of 2008, and though I took pride in my second novel, I felt worn out (creatively). When the new year came, bringing with it the opportunity for all kinds of writerly resolutions, I decided I needed to take the year off. I would read, blog, journal, but otherwise give my muse time to heal.

I didn’t make it a year. It turns out, I really am a writer. Writers write. We can’t not write. Taking the pressure off my muse did turn out to have been a great idea, but putting a time frame on it was a bit naive.

Cassie came to me in mid-February, as I played on the floor with me (then) 9-month-old daughter. I won’t go so far as to say she popped into my head fully formed, but it was close. I sat bolt upright, my eyes probably doing that cartoon bulge, as a light bulb appeared over my head.

What if… What if the hero of a fantasy story was the only one in it without magic?

I wrote the first line of the story as soon as my daughter went down for a nap. It read: “My parents think the longer the name, the more powerful the sorcerer, so they named me Nicolas Merlin Apollonius Roger Scot. You can call me Nick.”

Okay, so it needed work. It didn’t take me long to realize I wanted a female heroine. Nicolas (who does not go by Nick and might set you on fire if you tried) became the oldest of Cassie’s siblings.

After that, Cassie told me new things about herself every day. I had a rough draft by the end of June.

About Cassie ScotParanormal Detective

Cover_CassieScot1Cassie Scot is the ungifted daughter of powerful sorcerers, born between worlds but belonging to neither. At 21, all she wants is to find a place for herself, but earning a living as a private investigator in the shadow of her family’s reputation isn’t easy. When she is pulled into a paranormal investigation, and tempted by a powerful and handsome sorcerer, she will have to decide where she truly belongs.

Excerpt

At random, I picked up a bottle of perfume from the top shelf and read: “Induces powerful lust. Spray on your intended and make sure you are the first person they see. Lasts about an hour.”

The thing you have to understand about any magic is that there are good ways to use it, and bad ways to use it. The concept of black magic is a hotly debated topic among sorcerers. Even death, in self defense, is a shade of gray. As I stood there, reading the functions of the various love potions, I thought of all the innocent and harmful ways they could be used. A couple in a committed relationship might have a lot of fun with a spray of lust. On the other hand, using it on an unwilling victim…

I shuddered as I replaced the bottle and accidentally knocked one of the neighboring bottles of perfume to the ground. It shattered, splashing perfume all over my open-toed sandals.

“Crap.”

“What happened?” Evan asked, his voice hard and alert. I could hear him moving closer.

“Stop! I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Which potion was that?” Evan asked, still in that hard-edged voice of command.

I pointed to the row of similar bottles on the top shelf. “Lust.”

One of the little bottles floated away from the shelf, but I did not turn around to see what Evan was doing with it. Instead, I started looking through my purse for a pack of tissues to clean the mess off my feet.

“Cassie, I have some bad news for you.”

“Worse, you mean?”

“This potion doesn’t take affect until you actually look at someone. Your hour starts then.”

About Cassie Scot: Secrets and Lies

Cover_SecretsAndLiesCassie Scot, still stinging from her parents’ betrayal, wants out of the magical world. But it isn’t letting her go. Her family is falling apart and despite everything, it looks like she may be the only one who can save them.

To complicate matters, Cassie owes Evan her life, making it difficult for her to deny him anything he really wants. And he wants her. Sparks fly when they team up to find two girls missing from summer camp, but long-buried secrets may ruin their hopes for happiness.

Excerpt

The door opened with a jingle, and something in the air told me my day had just gone from bad to worse.

“Edward,” Victor said, as if greeting an old friend.

I faced my former father for the first time since he had announced his intention to disown me. He looked just as he always had, with straight dark hair, brown eyes, a long, angular face, and a wide, curving mouth – curving downward into a frown, that is.

If Victor was the last person I had expected to see in the diner that morning, then my former father was the last person I wanted to see. Even now, with Victor explaining my part in his unusual scheme for revenge, I didn’t want my former father nearby. I didn’t want his help. I only hoped Nicolas and Juliana hadn’t broken their promise and told him about the life debt, or I would never hear the end of it.

The air crackled with visible tension. Sparks of shimmering red fire danced around my father’s head. Behind the counter, Mrs. Meyers twisted her hands together anxiously, as if afraid her diner might burn down. Her fears were not unjustified.

I stepped boldly between them, facing my father. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I have nothing to say to you. You disowned me, remember?”

The color seemed to drain from his face as he stared past me, at his oldest enemy.

Victor raised his water glass in a mock toast. “I’ve known for some time. If it makes you feel any worse, so does everyone else in town who hasn’t been asleep for a week. Or at least, they guess.”

“I don’t care what you think you know. Stay away from my daughter.” With that, he grabbed my arm with a hand hot enough to leave a reddened imprint on my skin, and dragged me through the kitchen to the employee room at the back. Only then did he release my injured forearm.

About the Author

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAward-winning author Christine Amsden has written stories since she was eight, always with a touch of the strange or unusual. She became a “serious” writer in 2003, after attending a boot camp with Orson Scott Card. She finished Touch of Fate shortly afterward, then penned The Immortality Virus, which won two awards. Expect many more titles by this up-and-coming author.

 Contacts 

Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook • Goodreads • Google+

Adrienne deWolfe and “Scoundrel for Hire”

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Adrienne will be awarding a $25 Amazon Gift Card to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour; a Professional Story Critique of Chapter 1 of your novel (a $125 value) to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour; an ebook copy of TEXAS OUTLAW (Book 1, WILD TEXAS NIGHTS) to to three randomly drawn commenters during the tour; an ebook copy of HIS WICKED DREAM (Book 2, VELVET LIES) to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour, and character worksheets to write Heroes, Villains, and Sidekicks for your novel to two randomly drawn commenters during the tour. Click here for the Rafflecopter. Click the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning.

About Scoundrel for Hire: Book 1, Velvet Lies Series

Raphael Jones is a Kentucky-born scoundrel, who has never played by the rules. When Colorado mining heiress, Silver Nichols, hires him to stop her precious daddy from marrying a golddigger, Rafe sets out to seduce Silver and win her fortune.

Cover_SCOUNDREL FOR HIREBut beneath Silver’s cool veneer, Rafe encounters a sweet vulnerability and an aching secret that threatens to send his whole world up in smoke.

Now the wily scoundrel must choose: walk away or wager the one thing he can’t afford to lose—his heart.

Excerpt

Rafe Makes Mischief at the Party

Oblivious to the knife that was twisting in Silver’s chest, Papa blew his fiancée a kiss. Celestia pinkened like a bonbon. Clasping her well-corseted bosom, she made a great show of blowing back her answer, and Papa chortled, reaching up to catch it.

It was more than Silver could bear.

“Papa,” she said tersely, “perhaps it’s time you introduced Lord Chumley to your fiancée. I’m sure Celestia might be persuaded to tear herself away from her palm-reading long enough to… uh…” She tossed a withering glance at Rafe’s preposterous, chartreuse waistcoat and outlandish muttonchop whiskers. ” … Meet such a distinguished member of the British House of Lords.”

“Odds fish,” Rafe drawled, squinting through his quizzing glass at Celestia’s equally outlandish costume. “A palm reader, is she?”

“She sure is,” Papa said proudly. “She talks to spirits, too. Why, we’re planning on having a séance to talk to that pesky ghost,” he continued over Silver’s sputtered objections. “You know, the one that’s been haunting our mine and driving all the shovel stiffs away.”

“A ghost, you say?” Rafe looked like he might burst out laughing. “Lud, what rotten luck. Can’t be good for business, what? My great grandmummy’s castle was haunted once,” he improvised brightly. “The bugger kept driving her sheep away. It was deuced inconvenient; they kept drowning in the moat. Turns out, Sir Harry—that was our ghost—had it in for the critters. Choked to death on a leg o’ lamb, you see. So he’d ring a cowbell to lure them over the drawbridge.”

Silver narrowed her eyes at her playactor’s ad-lib. “Fortunately, there are no sheep in Silver’s Mine.”

“But there is a bell,” Papa added thoughtfully. “‘Course, it’s supposed to be a warning bell, but it’s got all the men spooked ’cause it rings for no danged reason. Or at least, that’s what we used to think. But maybe Nahele’s been trying to warn us away. Do you suppose that’s why he’s resorting to more drastic measures, like snuffing out lanterns and dumping lunch pails into the abyss?”

“Papa,” Silver ground out, ever-conscious of the newsman who was trailing after them, “Nahele is not roaming our tunnels, upsetting lunch buckets. The very idea is ludicrous.”

“Now, daughter, you can’t be so sure. No one knows for certain what happens to the spirit after it leaves its fleshy abode. Celestia says we can ask Nahele anything we like during the séance, and I mean to ask him to stop harassing our shovel stiffs. Besides,” Papa added more ominously, “who knows what Nahele might do next if we keep ignoring him?”

“A séance is a rather novel approach to avoiding a miners’ strike,” Buckholtz interjected snidely.

Silver scowled. So much for trying to keep that headline out of the newspaper.

“Our miners are reasonable men,” she told the newsman with long-suffering dignity. “I’m sure their peculiar set of grievances can be logically explained. With safety being our primary concern, of course, I shall direct our mining engineers to re-inspect the timbering for buckling and cracking. I’m sure this will allay the Union’s fears.”

“Dash it all.” Rafe donned a hangdog expression. “Does that mean there won’t be a séance? I was so looking forward to chatting with a real, live ghostie—”

Silver furtively stomped his foot.

Available

http://ebookdiscovery.com.p8.hostingprod.com/AdrienneDeWolfe.html

About the Author

Adrienne deWolfeAdrienne deWolfe is a #1 Bestselling Author and a recipient of 48 writing awards, including the Best Historical Romance of the Year.  She consistently delights readers with sexy, action-packed, western-style romances, including her Wild Texas Nights series and her Velvet Lies series.  In addition, she is the author of the bestselling non-fiction ebook series, The Secrets to Getting Your Romance Novel Published.

Fascinated by all things mystical, Adrienne writes a weekly blog about dragons, magic, and the paranormal at http://MagicMayhemBlog.com to help her research her upcoming YA Epic Fantasy series. She also writes a weekly blog with fiction writing tips and advice about the business of writing at http://WritingNovelsThatSell.com.  She enjoys mentoring aspiring authors and offers professional story critiques and book coaching services.

Contacts

Other Books in the Velvet Lies series

Book 1: SCOUNDREL FOR HIRE

Book 2: HIS WICKED DREAM

Book 3: SEDUCED BY AN ANGEL

Book 4: DEVIL IN TEXAS (Available 2014)

VELVET LIES_Trio_Adrienne deWolfe

Clare Austin and Selkie’s Song

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Clare will be awarding a print (US only) or digital copies (international) of the first two books in the series, Butterfly and Angel’s Share to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. Click on the banner above to follow the tour and increase your chances of winning!

About Selkie’s Song

They call her Selkie. Muireann O’Malley often felt she was born of the sea but refuses to let sentimentality stand in the way of her crusade to protect the shore she has wandered since a small child. A patch of West Clare, Ireland, and a derelict building are all that stand between the cliffs she loves and the callous grip of progress.

Cover_SelkiesSongTynan Sloane should be content with success, but a dream beckons. O’Fallon’s Pub in historic downtown Boston is for sale and Tynan wants to make it his. An unexpected inheritance of land in the west of Ireland could provide the financing he needs. He doesn’t expect his quick trip to sell the land to rekindle youthful passion.

Fifteen years ago, they had an adolescent crush. Now disparate ambition and a legend as old as Ireland herself stand between them. Will love and myth collide to bring them together or tear them apart?

Available

Amazon

Excerpt

Solar heat warmed the rocks where she lay. Her pelt discarded, white skin exposed to the morning light, the selkie closed her eyes and listened to the song of the sea, a pulse to match the one of her own blood in her veins. Gulls circled, their shadows fleeting past, voices raised in an ancient call.

A darkness blocked the sun and she opened her eyes. Ebony wings hovered over her. A raven lighted gently on her breast. She watched as feathers stroked her skin, causing cool tingles to warm as the sensation moved across her body. Wingtips evolved into fingertips. Deep rivulets of heat spread in concentric circles, radiated from her core to extremities and down her midline to the cradle of her belly where pleasant fire kindled.

As she closed her eyes she could feel the beating of his heart in counter-rhythm to the pulse in her own chest. His breath was warm on her cheek. “Open your eyes,” he beckoned in a deep musical tone. “I came here to find you.”

Her eyes were heavy. Through slitted lids she could see his face, his pale skin and eyes that rivaled the blue of the sky in evening. Paralyzed with sleep, she tried to lift her hand to stroke the angle of his jaw, but her body would not respond to her brain’s demand. She ached to weave her fingers into his hair and pull him to her.

About the Author

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAClare Austin submitted her first manuscript to a publisher at the age of eight years. She wishes she still had that rejection letter.

Many years and not a few stories later, with characters knocking at the inside of her cranium and begging to be released, Clare’s romantic comedy, Butterfly, was published. There followed a suspenseful sequel, Angel’s Share, and Hot Flash, a women’s fiction/romance for mature women and the men who love them.

Clare lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains and enjoys her horses, playing her violin, and traveling to Ireland every summer.

Contacts

Website • Blog • Twitter

Andrea Cooper: “The Garnet Dagger” and “Viking Fire”

Since The Garnet Dagger is written from Brock’s point of view, we have Celeste here today to answer a few questions that readers might not know.

Andrea: What did you think of Brock when you first saw him?

Celeste: Magical. He took my breath away. I felt compassion for him, which is why I healed him as soon as Father Morgan left. I could not leave him in pain and in such a weakened state. His dark hair hid his face, but I knew he wasn’t human—I healed him anyway even though at the time I didn’t know what darkness clouded his green eyes. I could have taken the dagger and left him there, but I felt such kindness for him that I couldn’t leave him to the whims of Father Morgan. His sarcasm, even while being tortured, made me feel proud even though I didn’t know him. I’d seen too many cower and whimper over the years that his words were refreshing.

garnetAndrea: Why didn’t you give the garnet dagger back to Brock?

Celeste: Well, he gave it to me. First, he didn’t say I couldn’t keep it. (She dusts off imaginary lint from her shirt, then looks up), Besides it belonged to me. Sort of.  It’s hard to explain, but it was as if someone broke off a piece of my soul and fused it into the dagger. I also knew in anyone else’s hands, it would bring ruin. In Brock’s it would either cause him to leave me or if he used it against me it would destroy him. If the Warloc took it, he would bring his reign of evil. Later, I offered to give it back, but Brock said I could keep it.

Andrea: Some say you have Brock wrapped around your finger.

Celeste: What? That’s insane. If that were true, he would have listened when I told him not to kill the Bergone. That would have saved us a lot of trouble. I also told him to leave once he confessed about what he thought the garnet dagger was for, yet he hung around and then followed me.

Andrea: When did you know Brock was the one?

Celeste: I knew before he did—or rather before he could admit it to himself.

Andrea: What did you do after you left Brock in the woods?

Celeste: Despite what happened to my aunt, I needed to see for myself if she was still alive or not. No doubt my aunt’s magic had blasted not only the Bergone, but herself and home as well. I had to be sure. I was careful in case the Warloc had laid a trap back there, but it was as I feared, she was dead.

I journeyed to a nearby village of my aunt’s friend and fellow witch. She wasn’t as experienced as my aunt, but I had no one left. The Warloc had killed everyone I was close to. For weeks I mourned my aunt and tried to forget about Brock. Then I studied her magic and practiced for the battle to come. I journeyed to the Warloc’s lands two days before Nivel and Brock arrived.

Andrea: What is your greatest regret?

Celeste: Sigh, there are too many. I guess it would be not telling Brock what I felt when I touched the dagger. Maybe he would have listened and still come up with the same conclusion that he did, maybe not. But I was too new at trusting others to take that chance at the time.

Andrea: What is a misconception readers may have of you?

Celeste: That I know all the answers. I don’t. Sometimes I just wing it and hope for the best. My instinct usually leads me on the right path. It’s only when I second guess that soft voice inside me that things go wrong.

Celeste: That I’m not kind. I am. It’s just whenever you’ve gone through years watching your kindness used as a weapon against so many innocent people for years, you learn to guard your feelings from others. I hope that by my actions; even if they are not understood at the time, show my intentions. I have only done what I have done to save mankind and Brock—even from themselves.

Andrea: What would be a romantic evening with you and Brock?

Celeste: That we would be able to make love all night, he doesn’t need sleep you know, and cuddle as we watched the sunrise. We wouldn’t have to go anywhere or have anyone, like Nivel, with us. We would be alone for an entire day. I get so tired of traveling and fighting the villain. I just want a night off with my love. To smell his musky pine scent and feel his hands on my body and kiss his full lips. To explore every inch of him with my hands and my lips. Taste him with my tongue and mouth.

Which reminds me…are we done here?

Andrea nods and Celeste leaves the room. Closing the door, she leaps into Brock’s arms and gives him a big kiss.

Interview With Andrea Cooper

authorWhat inspired you to start writing?

I wrote poems when I was fourteen until my senior year of high school. For novels, ironically, it was reading a historical romance that wasn’t logical in my opinion. The hero, a Viking, for no reason I could fathom just gave up his beliefs for the heroine. I thought I could write a better story, so I tried. However, I’ve always been a story-teller.  Earliest memory I have was in first grade, I was the kid my friends came to at recess and asked what we were going to play – or rather what plot and characters we were going to act out.

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing novels since my late twenties. Of course this was when I had a full-time job and a child so condensed down, it probably equals five years total writing time. But I’ve been making up stories and characters longer than I can remember.

What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

Read. Read the authors you love, read authors you hate – but understand why. Read writing manuals, take classes, join a critique group. Most importantly, if you have passion for writing do not let anyone discourage you—just keep trying. If you are a real writer, then you’ll write regardless if you are published are not because you can do nothing else.

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

Since I’ve been a stay-at-home mom for the last three years, I don’t suffer from writer’s block; I suffer from lack of time and sleep. The only time I’ve writer’s block is when I have to write nonfiction then I’d rather do anything else 😉

What comes first: the plot or the characters?

Depends on the story.  For Viking Fire, my historical romance, it was the plot. What would happen if a feisty highborn Irish lass was forced to marry her enemy—a Viking? For The Garnet Dagger it was the character. Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

Mostly a pantser. First I come up with an idea, character, or a situation. Then I brainstorm and start thinking ‘What If’ questions. I do not plot per se, I have a general idea of where the story is going to go, and sometimes the ending will change slightly. I enjoy it when characters take over and guide me. However, if they get us lost, I pull out the dreaded outline and map out where we’ve been and where we’re going. Hopefully since there are surprises for me that come up when I write, it will be a surprise for the reader as well.

Tell us something about your newest release that is NOT in the blurb.

Elva in Viking Fire starts off as only the handmaid in the story, or she was when I first started writing this novel. As her character unfolded as she tries to help Kaireen and Bram, so too did it unfold when I was writing. I had no idea of her secret (despite hints she gave me) until she let lose her hair – literally.

Are you working on something at present that you would like to tell us about?

I am working on revisions of the second book in The Garnet Dagger trilogy. Another historical romance set during 16th Century Japan, and two Viking romances one which I need to finish and the other edit.

What are you reading now?

Lover Eternal by J.R. Ward. I’ve never heard of her until recently on Goodreads so I wanted to see what everyone’s excitement was about. It took forever to get this book from the library.

What author or authors have most influenced your writing?

There are many, but I’ll name just a few: Terry Goodkind, Anne Bishop, Julie Garwood, Yasmine Galenorn, Kim Harrison, PC Cast, and Christine Feehan.

What is your work schedule like when writing?

I have a four year old and a nine month old, so my writing schedule is when the baby is sleeping and the other one is engrossed in playing—or after they’ve both gone to sleep.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Despite always making up stories and characters, I wanted to be a teacher. However, I think my belief was it would be a perfect class of kids who would love to learn and listen…and that’s not reality. I’m happy with my life now and am ecstatic about being a published author.

What is your favorite food? Least favorite? Why?

Mexican is my favorite food—or rather TexMex. I love spicy foods and cheese.  And chocolate, got have that in there too. Least favorite? Catfish or Tilapia—I like any other fish out there except those two.

What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to learn about you?

That I am one of those writers who had a drawer full of novels before I published my first one. I have eight completed novels, two have been published, and five others in various stages.

Is there a writer you idolize? If so, who?

There are many, but if I had to pick one, it would be Terry Goodkind. I fell in love with his Sword of Truth series and it inspired me to try my hand at writing a fantasy story, which became a paranormal romance, The Garnet Dagger and my first published novel.

What would we find under your bed?

Hopefully nothing. I banished the boogie man to the closet years ago, that’s why I always sleep with it closed 😉 It’s also good feng shui to have nothing under your bed, so it doesn’t hurt to follow that advice J

If your publisher offered to fly you anywhere in the world to do research on an upcoming project, where would you mostly likely want to go? Why?

Scotland. My ancestry on my mother’s side is Scottish. I would love to touch the old stones that make up the McLaughlin castle ruins and know my ancestors once lived there. It’s also a quick ride from there to England, Wales, Ireland, and France—so it would be like several trips at one time 😉

Do you have a favorite quote or saying?

Yes, I love Robert Frost’s quote: “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader; no tears for the writer, no tears for the reader.” To me it means letting the characters come to life rather than playing dictator.

Do you write in multiple genres or just one? If just one, would you consider straying outside your genre?

Currently, I write in paranormal (with a historical setting) and historical romance. I’ve tried to write a contemporary novel, but I don’t enjoy reading those much. It’s difficult to do, in my opinion, because things can become dated very quickly. I’ve thought about writing YA as that is one of the genre’s I do enjoy reading besides historical, paranormal, and fantasy.

What is something you’d like to accomplish in your writing career next year?

I would like to write more and have three books published next year. Thankfully I already have them written, but am chipping away at edits.

When was the moment that you knew you had to be a writer?

After I read a historical novel, that wasn’t logical to me, I thought I could write a better story. However, it wasn’t until after I wrote my second historical novel that I knew I wanted to be a writer. I’ve always been a storyteller and have made up characters and plot since early childhood and have never stopped.

Every writer dreams of getting “the call.” What were you doing when yours came? Who got to hear the good news first?

I was at home with my three year old and one month old when I got “the call.” I was so excited that I didn’t believe it at first. My husband was the first one I told.

Who gave you the writing advice that sticks with you to this day?

The best writing advice I received was from an Elementary teacher. She said to read the last sentence on the last page of your writing first. Then read the sentence before that and so on. It’s hard to do, but excellent for editing.

Describe the “perfect hero.” What about the “perfect hero” for you?

The perfect hero is compassionate without being wimpy, intelligent without being cruel, brave without being reckless, and passionate without being compromising. It’s hard to find that balance.

The perfect hero for me is my husband. Especially when he watches the kids and cooks breakfast while letting me snooze on the weekend.

What are favorite pastimes?

Besides writing? I love to read. I don’t have nearly as much time as I would like. I also used to play video games (hack & slash, dungeon crawlers)…in fact I have the latest Diablo on my computer but with two kids under the age of four, I haven’t played in months.

What has been your biggest adventure to date?

Having my daughter. Even though I had two boys before her, she has been completely different from them.

What is the one modern convenience you can’t do without?

Though I love my dishwasher and microwave, I’d have to say my laptop. If I didn’t have it, I wouldn’t be  able to write or check all the social media out there and would lose my mind much sooner than anything else.

Describe the ideal romantic evening.

Both kids in bed by 8pm and a babysitter at the house while my husband and I go have dinner and watch a movie. I know it’s not romantic to some, but if you have kids, you know it’s amazing to be able to chew your food and have a conversation and then just to snuggle with your honey while watching a good movie without someone calling “mom is the sun awake or asleep?”

About The Garnet Dagger

Everyone knows what happens when a vampire bites a human…but what if the victim is Elvin?

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

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

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

The Garnet Dagger Excerpt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crimson Romance ebooks | Amazon | B&N 

About Viking Fire

In 856 CE, Ireland is a land of myth, magic, and blood. Viking raiders have fought the Irish for over half a century. Rival Irish clans promise only betrayal and carnage.

Kaireen, daughter of Laird Liannon, is suddenly forced into an arranged marriage with her sworn enemy, a Viking. She refuses to submit. With no mention of love, only land and the protection of her clan, she endeavors to get her betrothed banished from her country. Will love find its way around her stubborn heart?

Bram, the Viking, finds himself without future or inheritance as a younger son in his family. A marriage to the Laird’s daughter would grant him land if he swears fidelity and if his men will fight along with the Liannons against any foe—Irish or Viking. However, the Laird’s feisty daughter only holds animosity for him and his kind. Is marriage worth the battle scars of such a relentless opponent?

With the blame for a rival laird’s death treacherously set against the Liannons, Kaireen and Bram must find a way to lay aside their differences as an unforeseen darkness sends death snapping at their heels.

Viking Fire Excerpt

Viking_fireIreland 856 CE

“I renounce Father for this.” Kaireen threw the elderberry gown. Dressed only in her leine, she glared at the new gown on the stone floor.

“Shame on you and your children for speaking such.” Her handmaid, Elva, gathered the damask and then dusted off the rushes. “It’s a wonder one of the clim has not scolded you from your hearth for such talk.” She wore her white hair twisted in a chignon, underneath a linen head cloth. Strands of white hair poked out the sides of her covering.

“No, curse Father for a fool.” She plopped on her bed and a goose feather floated away. With a huff, she leaned against the oak headboard. Red curtains puffed like a robin’s chest around oak poles supporting her wooden canopy.

Her bare feet brushed against the stone floor. Why was she not born plain like her two older sisters? Already they had married and expected their second bairns by spring. Well, at least so far she had enjoyed twenty years of freedom. Neither of her sisters had had matrimonial dreams of love matches. Both were arranged marriages.

“You know your da arranged a marriage within a season.” Elva smirked.

Kaireen shook her head. “To another land holder,” and waved a hand in disgust, “not t-this heathen. Twice they raided our land in the last month alone. Many a raid has come from them. Now father wants me as wife to one of them?” She clenched her fists. “No, I will not marry this Viking.”

Elva smiled, reminding Kaireen of the rumors of her handmaid’s uncanny foresight.

Whispers of Elva making strange things happen and often blamed as the cause of Kaireen’s stubborn refusal to behave as a laird’s daughter should.

“You’ve not seen him yet.” Elva wiggled her brows.

“So?” Kaireen shrugged. “I would like to never see him.”

“Well then, would you not like to know if you have a handsome husband or not?” She waited for her response, but Kaireen scowled at her. Elva chuckled. “I would rather get a good look at him now than the morning after.

Kaireen’s ears heated. “I am not marrying.” She shook her head for emphasis. “So there will be no morning, nor night, nor wedding.”

“If he is handsome, I may fight you for him.” Elva smiled, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Welcome to him either way.” Kaireen laughed.

Viking Fire Book Trailer: http://youtu.be/bpk2ZMGwJik

Crimson Romance ebooks | Amazon | B&N |Google Books

About the Author

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

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

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

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

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

Twitter: @AndreaRCooper

Website: www.AndreaRCooper.com

Goodreadshttp://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18104475-viking-fire

 

Rebecca Trogner and “The Last Keeper’s Daughter”

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Today’s post is part of a Goddess Fish tour for Rebecca Trogner’s The Last Keeper’s Daughter. One commenter from the tour will receive a $50 Amazon gift card, so follow the other tour stops and comment often to increase your chances of winning!

About The Last Keeper’s Daughter

Born into old money, Lily Ayres lives at Waverly, her family’s estate situated at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains in Paris, Virginia.  She is a strange, small, almost mute, young woman who has no idea that her father has given her to the Vampire King Krieger.  Walter Ayres is the King’s Keeper and part of a secret society of historians who unearth, preserve, and attempt to understand relics of long forgotten civilizations.

Lily has never felt comfortable in the human world, but after she suspiciously falls down a flight of stone steps, and is healed and claimed by Krieger, she realizes there is another world.  In this Other Realm she feels a sense of belonging, and begins to untwine the mysterious event which left her mentally and psychologically damaged.  When Walter disappears in England, Lily works with human and supernatural beings to uncover his whereabouts.  With each new discovery, she is pulled deeper into the vortex of magic, intrigue, and dark desires that permeates the supernatural world.  The revelations revealed unfold a story of deception and betrayal that threaten to tear the thin veil between the supernatural and human world asunder.

Excerpt

 Cover for Last Keeper's Daughter“You said, ‘my time’. You mean when you were human? How old are you?”

“I was born in the reign of Augustus Caesar.”

Her mind furiously worked through her history class timeline. “Before Christ?”

“Roughly two thousand years ago.”

There had to be a million questions she should ask, important things, and yet none of them came to mind.

“I thought people were smaller, less healthy back then, but you’re huge.”

He laughed, and she liked the sound of it. “I came from a tribe of warriors. We were considered giants in our time. The lands have changed hands many times since then but it was once called Germania under the Roman Empire.”

“Barbarians,” the word slipped out. She hadn’t meant to say it.

Krieger gave a wolf’s grin. “We were called that, and many other things. After my human death, I became a centurion.”

“But weren’t you fighting the Romans?”

He nodded. “I was to be sold for the gladiatorial games. A Roman took an interest in me, and the rest is history.”

“Did you want to become a vampire?”

She could see the question had caught him off guard.

“I wanted to live, and so I have.”

“And Liam, is he a werewolf?”

“He was born a werewolf. He became a Vantor.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When you feel more comfortable with Liam, you should ask him about the details. I will say that he and his pack are werewolves with vampire blood running through their veins. They are one of the most dangerous of the Others.”

Available

Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Books A Million

About the Author

Rebecca Trogner PictureRebecca Trogner lives in the Shenandoah Valley region of Virginia, and frequently crosses the Blue Ridge Mountains that were the inspiration for Krieger’s home. She always dreamed of being a writer, but got sidetracked by the day-to-day adventures of life. With the encouragement of her family, she has finished her first novel and is currently writing the next book in The Last Keeper’s Daughter series. Rebecca lives with her husband and stepson, and a rescue dog named Giblet. To find out more about the author visit www.rebeccatrogner.com.

Contacts

Website • Blog • Goodreads • Twitter