fantasy

#EggcerptExchange: Dark Brew by Diana Rubino

DARK BREW A time travel romance

Learn from the past or forever be doomed to repeat it.

Accused of her husband’s murder, Kylah McKinley, a practicing Druid, travels back through time to her past life in 1324 Ireland and brings the true killer to justice.

Two months of hell change Kylah’s life forever. On her many past life regressions, she returns to 14th century Ireland as Alice Kyteler, a druid moneylender falsely accused of murdering her husband. Kylah’s life mirrors Alice’s in one tragic event after another—she finds her husband sprawled on the floor, cold, blue, with no pulse. Evidence points to her, and police arrest her for his murder. Kylah and Alice shared another twist of fate—they fell in love with the man who believed in them. As Kylah prepares for her trial and fights to maintain her innocence, she must learn from her past or forever be doomed to repeat it.

An interview with Diana about Dark Brew

Where did the story come from?

The story took 12 years from start to finish. I’m a longtime member of the Richard III Society, and in the spring of 2004, I read an article in The Ricardian Register by Pamela Butler, about Alice Kyteler, who lived in Kilkenny, Ireland in 1324, and faced witchcraft charges. After her trial and acquittal, she vanished from the annals of history. I couldn't resist writing a book about her.

How did you decide to make it a paranormal?

I’m a believer in reincarnation, and I go on paranormal investigations whenever I can. I’ve gone on several past life regressions. Cape Cod has a lot of history and paranormal activity. I’ve been on many ghost walks and ghost hunts there. I wanted to connect Alice in the past with someone in the present, her reincarnation.

Was Alice Kyteler famous in 14th century Ireland?

Not at all but she was the richest woman in Kilkenny, and for that reason the villagers hated her, especially the men. They accused her of killing her first husband, but she was acquitted. Then they accused her of killing her fourth husband, John LePoer, with witchcraft, the accusations more absurd than those of the 1692 witch hysteria in Salem, Massachusetts. Chancellor Edward de Burgh arrested Alice because her stepsons claimed she had murdered John by casting a witch’s spell with malefecia…and she used the enchanted skull of a beheaded thief as her cauldron.

She went to trial and her dear friend Michael Artson had her acquitted, but she vanished into the annals of history. According to legend, she went to England. But no one knows for sure.

Why did you make it a time travel?

Because my heroine, Kylah McKinley, is a druid and has done many past life regressions, she knows she’s the reincarnation of Alice. So she has to go back and find out what happened to Alice, because too many weird things are happening to her in this life that parallel Alice’s life.

Kylah lives on my beloved Cape Cod. She’s a druid, a ghost hunter and owns a new age store in a restored Revolutionary War-era tavern. She was also the target of a hit-and-run. Another hit-and-run crippled her husband Ted. That’s no coincidence—she’s convinced someone’s out to get them both.

She brews an ancient Druid herb mixture, goes back in time and enters Alice’s life to find out exactly what happened and who killed her husband.

These two months of hell change her life forever. Kylah’s life mirrors Alice’s in one tragic event after another—she finds her husband sprawled on the floor, cold, blue, with no pulse. Evidence points to her, and police arrest her for his murder. Kylah and Alice shared another twist of fate—they fell in love with the man who believed in them. As Kylah prepares for her trial and fights to maintain her innocence, she must learn from her past or she’s doomed to repeat it.

Have you ever spoken to Pamela Butler, who wrote the article about Alice?

Yes, we’ve corresponded. She lives in New Mexico, so we’ve never met in person. I asked Pam what inspired her to write about Alice. I’d never heard of Alice until I read her article, “Witchcraft & Heresy. She replied:

“You asked why I wrote about Alice Kyteler, who preceded Richard by a century-and-a-half. I only wrote it because others on the listserv encouraged me to write about witchcraft, a subject about which I knew very little. I ordered three books from Amazon.com on the subjects of witchcraft, heresy, Satanism, etc. for research reasons. That was my basis, plus I searched the Internet. The Malleus Malleficarum was published in 1487, just two years after Richard's death, so it's almost contemporary. I chanced across Alice in this reading and thought that it was an interesting case. Witch burning was fairly rare in Ireland, and wasn't as bad in England at that time as it had been on the Continent. I wish that the M.M. had never been published; still, the fact that it was published and accepted may reveal the mindset of those times.”

An excerpt from Dark Brew

Kylah shut Ted’s den door. She couldn’t bear to look at the spot where he gasped his last breath. His presence, an imposing force, lingered. So did his scent, a blend of tobacco, pine aftershave and manly sweat. Each reminder ripped into her heart like a knife. Especially now with the funeral looming ahead, the eulogies, the mournful organ hymns, the tolling bells . . .

These ceremonies should bring closure, but they’d only prolong the agony of her grief. She wanted to remember him alive for a while longer, wishing she could delay these morbid customs until the hurt subsided.

Throughout the house, his essence echoed his personality: the wine stain on the carpet, the heap of dirty shirts, shorts and socks piled up in the laundry room, the spattered stove, his fingerprints on the microwave. But she couldn’t bring herself to clean any of it up. Painful as these remnants were, they offered a strange comfort. He still lived here.

“I’ll find that murderer, Teddy,” she promised him over and over, wandering from room to empty room, traces of him lurking in every corner. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure justice is served. Another past life regression isn’t enough anymore. I know what I have to do now. And I promise, it will never, ever happen again—in any future life.”

She inhaled deeply and breathed him in. “Go take a shower, Teddy.” She chuckled through her tears as the doorbell rang. She cringed, breaking out in cold sweat when she saw the black sedan at the curb.

“Not again.” No sense in hiding, so she let the detectives in.

“Mrs. McKinley, we need your permission to do a search and take some of your husband’s possessions from the house,” Nolan said.

“What for?” She met his steely stare. “I looked everywhere and found nothing.”

“Mrs. McKinley, the cupboard door was open, four jars of herbs are missing, and the autopsy showed he died of herb poisoning. Those herbs,” Nolan added for emphasis, as if it had slipped her feeble mind. “Foxglove, mandrake, hemlock—and an as-yet unidentified one,” he read from a notebook. “The M.E. determined it was a lethal dose.”

Sherlock Holmes got nothin’ on him, she thought.

“Where’s this cupboard, ma’am?” Egan spoke up.

“Right there.” She pointed, its door gaping exactly the way she’d found it that night. Nolan went over to it and peered inside.

“Ma’am, it would be better if you left the house for a half hour or so. Please leave a number where you can be reached,” Egan ordered.

Nolan glanced down the hall. “Where is your bedroom?”

What could they want in the bedroom? “It’s at the top of the stairs on the right. But we didn’t sleep together,” she offered, as if that would faze them. It didn’t.

After giving him her cell number, she got into her car and drove to the beach.

An hour later, she let herself back in and looked around. They’d taken the computer, her case of CDs, her thumb drive, her remaining herb jars, Ted’s notebooks, and left her alone with one horrible fact: This was now a homicide case and she was the prime suspect.

Purchase Dark Brew

Contact Diana
#RomanticIdea:
Cook an authentic Italian meal, cheese ravioli with marinara sauce, garlic bread, a salad with Italian olive oil, a fine Italian red wine, and a sweet gelato for dessert. Then put on some Sinatra CDs and dance the night away!
My favorite Sinatra album is Come Dance With Me
We always had Sinatra playingin my house when I was growing up. Nearly everyone from Hoboken or anywherenear Hoboken has a Sinatra story; being from Jersey City, I have a Sinatra story: my great grandmother and his mother Dolly were very good friends. Unfortunately I never asked Great Grandma about what she and Dolly talked about but I’ll bet a lot of juicy gossip went around!

My Not-So-Guilty Pleasures #MFRWAuthor

We all have guilty pleasures, although I’m not sure guilty is the correct word. The things that I really feel guilty about are not things that give me pleasure. Things like buying clothes that I rarely wear, or books that I never read do make me feel guilt, but the pleasure component isn’t there.

I tend to think of guilty pleasures as things other people look at askance or tease me about, but that I’m going to continue to do anyway.

In no particular order, here are my top seven guilty pleasures:

Gorgeous men I can discover gorgeous men in many places, such as  TV, movies, and WWE. The men for whom I obsess tend to have traits in common--long hair, facial hair, and often they're unusually tall. Consider Jason Momoa, Roman Reigns, and Steven Strait. Interestingly, if you line these guys up side by side, they'd pretty much look like brothers. Of course, my longstanding love was--is--Prince. He was the exception to the rule, "unusually tall". Then again, he was the exception to all the rules.

Weird TV I am teased quite a bit about watching WWE. I also can’t seem to pass up miscellaneous documentaries, programs explaining conspiracy theories, ghosts, hauntings, aliens, and ancient civilizations.

Journals If I never bought another journal and wrote pages and pages every day, I would still never run out. My family refuses to add to the collection at gift giving time, so I'm forced to buy any new ones I want.

Re-reading my old favorite books. There are books by favorite authors that I have practically memorized and I still read them over and over again. This wouldn’t be too bad if I added new books to the list. That's one of my goals for 2017.

McDonald’s cones.  I'm allergic to dairy products but McDonald’s cones are purely chemical.  I can eat this frozen treats with no problems at all.

Hats I can’t seem to pass them up even though I rarely wear them. I have a huge collection of fedoras in various colors, patterns, and materials. I’m also attracted to steam punk hats because of all the accessories hanging from them. I’ve yet to find one with goggles that's small enough to fit my head. Usually they slide over my ears and cover half my face. At the last ComicCon I attended, I found a woman who has agreed to make one for me.

Expensive magazines love magazines like Bella Grace, Daphne’s Diary, Breathe, and all the Somerset lines. These do have a degree of guilt because many of the craft magazines are expensive  and I never get around to doing the craft.

As far as the guilty pleasures go, mine are pretty mundane. I’m sure yours are much more interesting. Why dont you tell me about them?

Dress Up, Dress Down with L.M. Brown: Falling into Darkness #MFRWAuthor

Falling into Darkness is a story that takes place over a lengthy period of time. And when I say lengthy I mean epic. The story begins shortly before Lucifer falls from Heaven and sets himself up against God, continues right up to the present day, and then on into the future. You’d think that would be a lot of costume changes for my guys, wouldn’t you? I’m afraid that isn’t the case. Much of this story is set in the realm of angels or in the Underworld, where clothing doesn’t move with the times. Michael and the other archangels like their comfortable robes too much to give them up. They are creatures of habit and quite set in their ways. The classic angel attire is what they wear most of the time.

In the Underworld, the domain of Lucifer and the demons, things are a little hotter and the robes have been discarded in favour of tunics, which are cooler to wear, but still very old-fashioned.

What both the angels and demons need to remember, is to change into modern clothing when they walk the Earth.  At some points in the story, this turned out to be a handy way to show the passage of time. The modern era, as we know it, was entered the moment Lucifer decided to torture Michael by dragging him round clothes shops. Since angels (and Lucifer) can change their clothes with  falling-into-darkness-500-x-800nothing more than a thought, it was an entirely unnecessary venture, but it did help highlight the time period for the reader.

So there you have it, my angels are mostly dressed in typical robes of a bygone era, but with the power of a thought, they can blend into any culture by donning the appropriate garments. A handy power to have, I’m sure you’d agree.

Falling into Darkness by L.M. Brown

A Male/Male Romance

Blurb

Their love could save the soul of a fallen angel or damn an archangel to an eternity in Hell.

The realm of angels was created as a paradise where angels could watch over the earth as mankind took his first steps. For the archangel Michael, it is the only home he has ever known and he could never envisage another life. Michael’s life changes the day his path crosses that of the favoured son of the morning. From the moment he sees him, Michael wants Lucifer for his own. When the two angels come together the passion surprises them both.

Their love is forged in Heaven, but is doomed the moment Lucifer falls from grace to become the leader of an army of demons.

Separated by war, the former lovers know the time will come when they must face each other in battle.

Their confrontation will set in motion events that neither could have foreseen. For Lucifer it is the chance to persuade Michael to stand at his side, as his partner as leader of the demons. For Michael, it is a mission to save his lover’s soul, while risking his own.

Torn between his love for Lucifer and his duties as an angel, Michael walks a fine line, where one wrong step could result in his own fall from Heaven, and an eternity in Hell.

Excerpt

Across the table from him, Gabriel’s jaw dropped in apparent surprise as he stared at something over Michael’s shoulder.

Next to him, Raphael twisted in his seat and his expression morphed into one of shock too.

Michael wondered what might be happening behind him, yet he couldn’t move a muscle to see for himself. His spine tingled and he had the strangest sensation someone was staring straight at him.

“What is it?” he whispered, and in the silence of the room even his quiet question seemed obnoxiously loud.

“The son of the morning,” Gabriel murmured as he set Michael’s plate back in front of him with a shaky hand. “Lucifer.”

Michael must have misheard. Lucifer never came into the communal areas of Heaven. He, along with the other favorites, remained solitary, rarely associating with the rest of the angels, and never in a crowded setting such as this.

Slowly, barely able to draw breath, Michael faced the entrance.

Lucifer stood in the archway, the morning sun behind him. There could be no mistaking his silhouette for that of another.

In the brightness of the light, Michael couldn’t tell what Lucifer searched for, at least not for sure. Only his instincts told him Lucifer had eyes for him, and him alone.

Slowly, Lucifer strolled into the room. Every angel in his path stepped aside to let him pass. Some bowed their heads respectfully, but he didn’t acknowledge their deference in any way.

Finally he arrived at Michael’s table and came to a halt.

“Good morning,” Lucifer said.

“I…” Michael mumbled, once again silently cursing his ineptitude.

“I see you still have trouble forming sentences,” Lucifer commented. “Let us hope you can manage more than a single word by this evening.”

“Er…”

Raphael gathered his wits together first and rose to make a sweeping bow. “Great angel, welcome to our table. Won’t you join us and partake of the fruits?”

Lucifer spared the archangel a momentary glance. “I have already eaten this morning.”

Raphael didn’t seem to know what to say, so he sat back down with a bump.

Lucifer returned his attention to Michael. “This evening, at sunset.”

“Where?” Michael asked, his voice croaking embarrassingly.

“Rumor has it your beach is quite pleasant.”

Michael nodded, not trusting his voice enough to try speaking again.

“Tonight then, Michael,” Lucifer said, before sweeping away in a flurry of robes, everyone once again stepping aside to make way for him.

“The son of the morning knows your name?” Gabriel asked as soon as Lucifer had gone. “Is he the one you’ve been meeting each dawn?”

Michael ducked his head. “I wouldn’t say I was meeting him, exactly.”

“But you have been with him in the mornings?” Raphael pressed. “You kept that quiet.”

There would be no escaping the interrogation and Michael accepted he had to come clean.

“I couldn’t sleep one night and ended up walking through the lands to the north of here. I chanced upon Lucifer coming to the pool of jewels one dawn. It seems he visits there most mornings.”

“And you’ve been at the pool with him,” Gabriel concluded.

“I wouldn’t say with him,” Michael mumbled. “I just happen to be in the area at the same time.”

“Just happen?” Raphael chuckled and leaned in to whisper. “I heard a rumor that when Lucifer is diving for jewels he disrobes completely.”

Michael’s face heated again.

Gabriel roared with laughter. “You’ve been spying on Lucifer?”

“I wouldn’t call it spying,” Michael replied.

“But everyone else would,” Raphael teased. “Oh, Michael, what would we do without you to keep us entertained?”

Raphael and Gabriel laughed and teased him for a little while longer, until Gabriel asked the question that had been bothering Michael ever since Lucifer’s appearance.

“If all you’ve been doing is ogling him, how did Lucifer know your name?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I projected it telepathically without realizing.”

“Or maybe he’s been watching you too?” Raphael suggested.

Buy Links

Pride Publishing - https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/falling-into-darkness

Falling into Darkness will also be available at Amazon, All Romance Ebooks and other online stores from 13th December 2016.

falling-into-darkness-email

Bio

L.M. Brown is an English writer of gay romances. She believes that there is nothing hotter or sweeter than two men in love with each other… unless it is three.

When L.M. Brown isn’t bribing her fur babies for control of the laptop, she can usually be found with her nose in a book.

Links

Where to find L.M. Brown

Website & Blog – http://lmbrownauthor.wordpress.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/L.M.Brown.author

Twitter - @LMBrownAuthor

Fall in Love With New England!

This weekend I'll at the Fall in Love with New England Reader event in Manchester, New Hampshire. I'm excited to meet everyone and talk about books we love.

Our first gathering is an apple social.Although I'm no culinary genius I do manage to cook up something good once in a while, like my apple pie baby s.If you like them too, here's the recipe:

Ingredients 1 package sugar cookie mix 1 egg 1/2 cup butter, melted 3/4 of can of apple pie filling 2 tbs brown sugar ground cinnamon to taste

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 8 x 8 in baking dish. In a mixing bowl, combine sugar cookie mix, egg and melted butter. Mix and set aside 1cup.

Press the rest of the dough into bottom of pan. Spread apple pie filling over it.Take reserved cup of dough and break up into small pieces.Sprinkle on top of filling.

Combine brown sugar and ground cinnamon. Sprinkle on top of dough. Bake for 30 minutes or until edges are brown and dough is cooked through. Depending on your oven this could take longer!

If desired, serve with ice cream!

 

Dress Up, Dress Down with Marie Dry

Happy Friday! Let's welcome Marie Dry to the LAM Blog today, talking about her book, ALIEN BETRAYED. ********************************

NAKED ALIENS AND CLOTHES DOING DOUBLE DUTY

I thought it was really amusing, doing a blog about my characters clothes. Why? Because mostly I forget to put clothes on them. I literally have to go in afterwards and make sure they’re not running around naked. In the process I learned a lot about the function clothes serves in a story.

The first editor at Black Opal Books who worked on Alien Mine thought the Aliens in the Zyrgin Warriors series walked around naked. I was shocked that she could miss the wonderful description of their uniforms, loaded with weapons that became the size of pennies when placed in their pockets. Then I went searching for the specific paragraph where I described it. It wasn’t there! I had to go in and put clothes on them. I was mortified, this was my first book to be published and I did something so careless. The worst part was that I could see their clothes so clearly and knew the function they served and it only happened in my mind. And I managed to forget to put it down on the manuscript.  I knew from the beginning that their clothes were made of some really strong material with some amazing properties, allowing them to simply step out of their shoes without using laces and their uniforms were developed to withstand most weapons. I wanted their clothes to juxtapose their primitive joy in battling with swords. To illustrate that this was a culture with advanced technology even though they come across as rather primitive in their ideas.

After that I went and checked a contemporary I’ve been fiddling with and yip, no clothes. Once again the heroine’s clothes were clear in my mind, but not on the page. She’s a rather frumpy dresser and much more interested in developing her mind than her fashion sense. To make matters worse, her way of looking at herself and what she wear through the book, illustrate her acceptance of herself as a beautiful woman by the end of the book. Or it would have if I’d just taken the time to really describe her clothes. Since I made the changes and ensured that the clothes mirrored her development the story has improved.

What I learned from this was that clothes can illustrate aspects of the character, they can show the technological stage of development of a civilization or poverty or riches, it can illustrate the characters jobs or lack of jobs. In other words, clothes has their own job to do in a story. They can also do absolutely nothing if the author, namely me, don’t use it as a tool.

Mary Buckham wrote an excellent craft book. Active Settings by Mary Buckham. I cannot recommend this enough. She has examples that illustrate what I tried to say above. Here is a link to amazon to her book. A Writer's Guide to Active Setting

Thank you for inviting me to write for your blog. I’m off to make sure my Gargoyle is wearing clothes and not running around Cape Town naked.

More about Marie

All her life Marie Dry has read romances and was fairly young when she decided she would travel the world and write the perfect story that had all the elements she looked for in a romance. In 2007 after living in Morocco for four years and back in South Africa, she shared a pizza with a friend and promised to go all out with her writing and to work at getting published. In 2014 her first book was published by Black Opal Books. Two more books has since been published and a fourth contracted.

There are several wonderful moments in her life that she would never trade for anything. One of them is meeting President Nelson Mandela and the second being published.

www.mariedry.com

Marie's Amazon Page

Find Marie on Goodreads

BOOK BLURB

MD picALIEN BETRAYED

In a bleak and apocalyptic future, where the Zyrgin Warriors are getting ready to conquer Earth, Marcie is sent to infiltrate the alien stronghold in the Rocky Mountains, only to be betrayed by her own people. Instead of stealing the alien’s technology and accomplishing her mission of causing mayhem and destruction among them, she is captured by Larz, an arrogant alien, who wreaks havoc with her heart when he insists that she will be his woman. Still, he may no longer want her when he discovers her secrets…ones she doesn’t even know she has.

EXCEPT: CHAPTER 1

Larz clasped the training sword with both hands and swung it in a wide arc around his head, conquering his favourite patch of the Rocky Mountains.This was the closest a Zyrgin warrior came to the human emotion of joy. The sword fit his hand like an extra limb. His body moving with strength and fluidity gifted to him by generations of the strongest blood on Zyrgin. Still swinging, he moved the sword to his left and then his right hand, increasing his speed until his movements became a blur.

Every day after his warrior duties, he came to this rocky patch on the mountain.Practiced to ensure he was worthy and ready for the day the leader of all Zyrgin territories would give him his sword of honor. That was the moment all warriors lived for. When their leader, who they called The Zyrgin, gifted them with a sword that would respond to the touch of a certain warrior only. Warriors from a strong bloodline, and some warriors born stronger,received swords that, with the aid of technology, could be made to shrink to nearly invisible size. To the enemy, it looked as if they disappeared and appeared as if by magic.

Many warriors used their cloaking technology to make it seem as if they had received such a sword from The Zyrgin. Larz knew he’d never have to resort to such measures. He was from The Zyrgin’s bloodline, descended from the strongest Zyrgin that ever ruled.

Larz lunged sideways then stepped back, performing the sequence of the warrior conquering with his sword with ease. Instinctively compensating for the uneven boulder strewn patch he stood on. Though his movements were swift and smooth, as a warrior’s should be, today he performed without his usual fierce concentration.

Worry for his human occupied his mind. Months ago, shortly before his second change, he claimed Marcie as his breeder after they rescued her from a raider camp. Everyone else called her a loud, mean woman with ugly red hair. Not a day went by without one of the warriors offering to kill her or bring him a better human. When he looked at her, he saw his breeder. A woman he’d never give up.

If he claimed her after he went through his third change, it might mean he had to give up his need to do battle in their wars, to serve on the Zyrgin homeland. The friend of Natalie and Julia, Sarah had disappeared more than a year ago and it had taken many months to find her in a raider camp. She had been starved and bruised and told them Marcie was responsible for many of the things that happened to her in that camp. They may have rescued Marcie from a raider camp, but they were certain she was sent to infiltrate them. Her attitude made her very unpopular. Shortly after they brought her to their guesthouse, she’d tried to hurt Sarah and Sarah had been moved to live with Natalie. Larz had to go through his third change soon, or he might not be able to claim her.

From the time the first Zyrgin ruled, millions of centuries ago, Zyrgin warriors were not allowed to claim a breeder before their third change. It was a strange knowing each warrior carried within. Larz turned and decapitated an imaginary enemy behind him. His third change was months away, and he needed to claim Marcie before she got herself killed.

He stumbled and compensated for the uneven rock beneath his boots. Adding challenge to his workout, he closed his eyes. A warrior who owned a foul-mouthed human had to be prepared for anything.

This barren patch of the alien planet he was born on, this little piece of earth, always drew him. On the hard rock, where no trees grew and no reintroduced wildlife ventured, he was reminded of his home planet. Out here, with the exotic earth sun shining down on him, he could think about claiming a strangely compelling woman with a mean mouth and ugly red hair. Make plans for keeping her safe from the consequences of her actions.

Zorlof, his brother, ran up to him, his pre-second change body small, but stronger than that of a human male. Their doctor couldn’t explain why he took so much longer than Larz to go through his second change, but all indications were that he would be very strong once it did happen. Zyrgin warriors were born with the knowledge of battle, with strength in their small bodies. With each change their knowledge and strength grew. In Zorlof’s case, he suspected that strength and knowledge might be much stronger in him than the average warrior. Even taking into account their strong bloodline, Zorlof was taller and stronger than any pre-second change warrior born for centuries.

Zorlof easily leaped over a few boulders and increased his speed until he skidded to a halt in front of Larz.

“Marcie tried to kill Zanr to get to Sarah. She screamed she’d kill Sarah the whole time,” Zorlof said.

The mountain blurred around Larz and noise rang in his ears. Like their ship’s klaxon, instead of danger to the ship, it heralded danger to his human. Larz sank down on his knees and leaned his head on his sword. “That human will drive me to Solarian drink.”

If she had simply gone after Zanr, they would’ve laughed at the idea of a human woman trying to overcome a Zyrgin warrior. No warrior would give an attack from a human woman any serious attention, beyond ensuring she didn’t hurt herself. Threatening the Zyrgin’s breeder? Larz might not be able to save her.

His time was up. He had to choose between Marcie and being a warrior and probably his life. Give up everything that defined him to save that female who had no concept of honor. He didn’t understand her mean nature and why she hated Sarah this much? If she was sent to infiltrate them, wouldn’t it make more sense to befriend them?

Larz closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Would the woman never stop putting herself in danger? When he claimed her, he’d make sure she understood that such behavior would have severe consequences for her. Ever since they rescued Marcie from the raider camps six months ago, she’d angered every human and Zyrgin who came into contact with her.

 

 

Dress Up Dress Down with Abbey MacMunn

Today we're joined by Abbey MacMunn, who is here to talk about characters from her debut release. Welcome to LAM, Abbey! ***************

Hello, my name is Abbey MacMunn and I write paranormal/fantasy romance. Today I’d like to talk about my debut paranormal romance, TOUCHED.

My main character, Cami Wilson, hates being cold, so naturally the story takes place during a winter month in England – sub-zero temperatures, biting winds, and a magical blizzard thrown in for good measure. When Joseph Carlisle first meets her, she’s wearing a thick winter coat and fur-lined boots – “all padded coat, messy hair and innocence” is how he describes her.

Cami prefers to wear casual clothes: jeans or leggings, topped with a baggy jumper two sizes too big to hide her bum, which she thinks is too big—Joseph thinks it’s the peachiest arse he’s ever seen.

Joseph is an immortal guardian – he doesn’t feel the cold. His attire is casual too: faded black T-shirt and worn jeans.

Here’s a scene from Touched, written from Joseph’s point of view. 

A few minutes later Cami returned, dressed as though embarking on an Arctic expedition instead of a stroll around the Manor. The black leggings were gone, replaced with dark blue jeans—a bit of a shame since he kind of liked those skin-tight leggings. But he had to smile at the enormous padded coat and fur-lined boots, complete with gloves, a woolly hat and a ridiculously long scarf wrapped three times around her neck. The whole ensemble made her look twice the size, and three times as charming.

She frowned. ‘What?’

‘You warm enough?’

Frown turned to grin as she glanced down at her clothes. ‘I don’t like being cold.’ She untangled her long hair from under her scarf before going over to Nana to kiss her cheek. ‘Won’t be long, Nana. Love you.’

‘Love you too, darling, and don’t hurry on my account.’ Nana lowered her voice but Joseph still heard her whisper, ‘He likes you just the way you are, Bridget.’

Cami laughed, clearly sharing a private joke they thought he wouldn’t understand.

‘You ready?’ He didn’t let on he knew what movie she’d quoted. ‘We should get an hour or so before the sun goes down.’

‘Great, let’s go,’

Joseph held the door open to the corridor.

Nana flapped her arms. ‘Hurry up you two, you’re letting in the draft. I swear penguins would be at home out there.’

‘Bye, Nana,’ he said, chuckling. Once they were alone he couldn’t help making a comment. ‘You and Nana have a thing for rom-coms do you, like Bridget Jones’s Diary?’

She looked surprised. ‘You heard that?’

‘Yeah, Nana’s whisper was kind of loud, even without the immortal hearing,’

‘Sorry, subtlety is not one of Nana’s strong points,’

‘So you’re a bit of a romantic at heart?’

‘I don’t know. I could be…’ She blushed and headed down the stairs. ‘With the right kind of guy.’

‘And what kind is that?’

Her voice dropped to a husky whisper. ‘I think you know what kind,’

His pulse rate quickened, and so did his footsteps as he followed behind her.

TOUCHED is available now.

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

Smashwords

Apple

Kobo

Nook

TouchedbyAbbeyMacMunn-500Blurb:

When inquisitive antique dealer Cami Wilson learns she’s the revered offspring of an immortal mother and a mortal father, it’s not just her hybrid status that has her all flustered. The title comes with her very own super-sexy guardian.

Jaded immortal Joseph Carlisle has only one thing on his mind; his sworn duty to protect the hybrid from those who wish her harm. Anything else would be complicated. That is until they meet.

Chemistry sizzles between them but there’s a problem—the hybrid’s curse. Cami’s touch, skin to skin, proves near fatal to her and all immortals, Joseph included.

But the fated lovers discover her curse is the least of their concerns when a friend’s deadly betrayal threatens to tear them apart forever.

 

 

 

Dress Up Dress Down with Rachel Leigh Smith

Please join me in welcoming Rachel Leigh Smith to the LAM blog! ~~~~~~

imageMy Name Is A’yen is set in the far distant future, after humanity has spread through the stars and encountered another species, the Lokmane. Out of fear, humanity enslaved them and so succeeded in wiping out the past that the Lokmane don’t believe there was ever a time they were free and had a home.

A’yen, the main character, also believes this. As a slave, and a male of his species, he can’t afford to dream like that. Humans are afraid of him due to his size and strength. Lokmane men always top six feet in height, and they’re telepathic. Though most of them aren’t able to use it.

He’s not a big fan of clothes. Neither are the other Lokmane males. Starting at the age of 18 and broken up into three sets, they’re covered with metallic ink tattoos to provide humans with an easy way of controlling them. Because of how their bodies process electromagnetic energy, the tattoos, called markings, are torture to endure. Both having it done, and living with it.

Unfortunately, going around half-naked is dangerous for a Lokmane male. A’yen prefers wearing cotton shorts and soft t-shirts when he has to get dressed. In his ideal world, he never has to wear a shirt. He’s not fond of shoes either, since one of the marking sets covers the tops of his feet.

His heroine, Fae Hart, is an archaeologist. She’s almost always in cargo pants, boots, and loose, breathable shirts. Since he’s helping her on her dig, and they’re on an unexplored planet, he’s wearing the same things. Much to his dismay.

A’yen has lived most of his life in pain, so his clothing choices are designed to lessen it as much as possible. It’s something I have personal experience with, unfortunately.

The excerpt I’ve chosen is one where he’s stripped down to go swimming. And he can’t help thinking about Fae. Though at this point in the story, he doesn’t really like her.

Bio: imageRachel Leigh Smith was swept off her feet at the age of six by Magnum, P.I., then again at nine by Frank Hardy. She remembers her favorite romance novels by the hero’s name, so of course she writes romance for the hero lover. She lives in central Louisiana with her family, a half-crazed calico, a ginger tabby lion, and a menagerie of book boyfriends.

www.rachelleighsmith.com www.facebook.com/rachelleighsmithauthor www.instagram.com/rlsauthor www.pinterest.com/rachelleighgeek www.goodreads.com/author/show/8425584.Rachel_Leigh_Smith

Blurb:

They've taken everything from him. Except his name.

The Loks Mé have been slaves for so long, freedom is a distant myth A'yen Mesu no longer believes. A year in holding, because of his master's murder, has sucked the life from him. Archaeologist Farran Hart buys him to protect her on an expedition to the Rim, the last unexplored quadrant of the galaxy.

Farran believes the Loks Mé once lived on the Rim and is determined to prove it. And win A'yen's trust. But she's a breeder's daughter and can't be trusted.

Hidden rooms, information caches, and messages from a long-dead king change A'yen's mind about her importance. When she's threatened, he offers himself in exchange, and lands on the Breeders Association's radar. The truth must be told. Even if it costs him his heart.

Excerpt:

He kicked back again, eyes closed, and Dr. Hart’s face filled his mind. For the first time, he didn’t shove it away. Instead, he ignored the fact she owned him. Still couldn’t bring himself to think of her as mistress. To him, the word was intimate, symbolic of a relationship they didn’t have. Without doubt she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. In a playful, impish sort of way. Her nickname fit.

What would it be like to kiss her? He didn’t shove that thought aside either. Full lips begged to be teased, tasted to their fullest. Her green eyes, almost too big for her face, captivated him. Whether he was ready to voice it or not. So deep, almost mysterious. Glossy black hair with just the right amount of wave. How would it feel on his skin?

A physical attraction like this wasn’t unusual for him, or the other Loks Mé men he’d talked to over the years. Fantasizing was safe. No one got hurt this way. It was acting on it that broke hearts and families.

Which meant he needed to stop it now before the urge to act on it became a need and ruined everything. He’d acted on his attraction to Tala without getting to know her first. Not a mistake he needed to repeat with someone he was likely stuck with for the rest of his life.

On the other hand, Mother was right. He had to let her in, show her he wasn’t a smart-ass all the time, that he could accept her authority. If he didn’t give a little and show her he could be obedient and respectful, she’d never give him even an inch of freedom. He’d spend the rest of the journey locked in their quarters, bored out of his skull. Not be allowed to explore the planet where he’d tasted the closest thing to total freedom any Loks Mé had ever known.

Before he could change her expectations, first he had to meet them.

Easier said than done.

Dress Up Dress Down with Ava Cuvay

Please join me in welcoming "out of this world" romance author, Ava Cuvay to the LAM Blog! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! Thanks for letting me come chat about the importance of attire in my upcoming book Love and the Corps. My character’s choice of clothing in this book, and in specific scenes, was particularly fun to write because it helped to complement/contradict my characters.

My heroine, Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps, has a large scar across her face and a strong, sturdy body (thick in all the right places). Rumor has is she is 90% dude, and she has never bothered to prove the rumors wrong. Because she is career military, her clothing choices center around her Corps-issue, boxy, sexless uniforms. She finds the prospect of having to wear a delicate satin evening gown more terrifying than being inserted in the middle of battle with only her fists as weapons. While her uniforms intrigue my hero—is she a plentiful handful or a sweet little mouthful? —the sight of her womanly charms beautifully displayed in a gown sets his passion aflame.

By contrast to his love interest, Lux Krotah of the Klorakian mercenary army—like all his kind—is tall, lithe, and silver, with a beauty nearly effeminate in nature (except for his muscles!). Where the Corps is a blunt, brute-force type of military operation, their girly Klorakian counterparts embody grace in all things, from their physical features to their combat tactics to their architecture and clothing. So, while Jo must wear a gown to the royal ball, the Klorakian ceremonial formal dress is… a skirt. A kilt of iridescent scarves covering just enough of Lux to make Jo’s mouth water.

In Love and the Corps, I enjoyed dressing my characters to contradict stereotype, while trying to keep them sexy in the eyes of the one person who matters: Their Happily-Ever-After. At the very least, I get to have an alien character dressed in a sexy kilt!

Love and the Corps Snippet

Two harried hours later, Jo eased her way through the palace corridors. The quiet halls echoed the soft patter of her sandals—dainty, strappy sandals which were the epitome of femininity, but at least their heels were flat. Her steps were careful, cautious. She attempted a slow, gliding gate, unnerved by how her unsupported breasts swayed and jostled within the bodice of her dress. If she was overly cavalier with her movements, her breasts might escape their delicate confines.

Only one layer of luxurious satin rested between her naked body and disaster.

K’Ahla and the servant girls had transformed Captain Jo Behsue of the Corps into a creature she did not recognize. They had crafted a flowing, watery gown from satin sheets purchased but never used by the former dictator—Jo appreciated the subtle insult to his failed legacy—and swept her thick hair upon her head in a simple chignon she could never replicate. They applied enough make-up for her eyes and her lips to catapult off her face and diva-slap her scar until it faded to obscurity. Jo had stared at her reflection, wondering who the lovely woman was on its surface. Tendrils of dark hair curled at her nape and temple. The dress revealed enough of her olive skin to tempt without putting her on vulgar display. The bodice fell gracefully from one shoulder, over her full breasts, and cinched at her waist. The skirt cascaded to the floor and, as she walked, the hem fluttered like her own ethereal cloud of blue. With each step, the side slits allowed a long, muscular leg to peek through before ducking shyly behind the folds of the fabric.

Jo had to admit K’Ahla and the other women had accomplished the impossible. She was beautiful.

As she made her way to Lux’s room, eager to see his reaction to her transformation, she tried not to ruin their miracle with unnecessary movement. She was accustomed to clomping around in fatigues and boots, giving no regard to how her hair looked or how she moved her body. One wrong turn or a carelessly placed foot could ruin all their hard work.

She turned the corner and saw his door was ajar. Her heart hammered in her chest, her inner soldier immediately at arms. Had someone entered and killed him? Had the despot brother achieved revenge without raising a single alarm? She tiptoed through the opening, her hand at her thigh where her knife was strapped. Even for such a formal occasion as tonight’s ceremony, she was not about to go completely unarmed. Though what she saw next did a damn good job of it.

Lux was alone. And alive. And naked but for a skirt of wispy scarves held low on his waist by an intricate, gem-studded silver belt. A wide collar of matching gems glittered at his neck. What was left was a long, wide expanse of smooth, silvery skin filled to rippling with sleek muscles. Muscles she’d explored with her hands several times. Muscles which could kill in a flash, yet had made her body sing so divinely. Her mouth watered and her body heated. She’d never seen a man in a skirt before, and knew many planets where such a sight was a death wish. Had anyone asked her opinion before this moment, she would have assumed the clothing choice would render the man effeminate.

The vision before her was anything but.

Lux was all man, and one hundred percent sexy. Like Klorakian architecture, he was a perfect meld of power and elegance, fluid grace and fierce strength. He leaned back against the wall, an arm slung casually over his head, the other resting on the exposed thigh of a leg propped against the wall at his back for support. The pose was both relaxed and seductive, an upright version of how he might look in bed after lovemaking. What would it be like to kneel before him, part the scarves like a curtain, and take him into her mouth?

Fire burst in her nerve endings at the thought.

Ava’s Bio:

Ava Cuvay writes out of this world romance featuring sassy heroines, often-alien-but-always-sexy heroes, and an alcoholic beverage or two... Set in a galaxy far, far away. Think "Star Wars" meets "Firefly", without Jar-Jar Binks, and with a lot more heat.

She resides in central Indiana with a hubby who makes her laugh and kiddos who are growing up way too quickly. She enjoys the world of wine and spirits, amusement park thrill rides, and laughing at her own foibles (yeah, she laughs a lot).

She believes life is too short to surround yourself with negative people, and Han Solo shot first. When not writing, Ava is thinking about writing. Or wine. And she’s always thinking about bacon.

Look for “Love and the Corps” Book two of The Heart Nebula Series. To be published by the end of the month!

www.AvaCuvay.com

Ava Cuvay Amazon Author Page

Binge Watching #Stranger Things: A #Review

I never seem to have time to watch a show while it's playing in real time. Consequently, I occasionally fall victim to binge watching. My latest is the Netflix series, Stranger Things. I saw the trailers and meant to watch but—no surprise here—I forgot. That is, until my nephew connected with me to tell me his opinion. He said the acting is good, the cinematography and music are “leaps and bounds ahead of other shows”, and the story is so good each episode feels like a movie. Since we tend to like similar things, I knew I had to try it. I watched the first episode and was hooked. I didn’t stop until I’d devoured the entire season.

My nephew was right. It was a beautiful show with gorgeous camera work and music that set a mood so well it was as if I was in the scene with the characters. But reflecting on the experience, I think if I’d I watched one episode each week I may have gotten bored and wandered off like I have with so many other shows—Beauty and the Beast, Legends of Tomorrow, Haven, to name a few.

On the surface, Stranger Things seemed to have huge flaws. Too many one dimensional adult characters—the doctor, the government agents, the police, the ex-husband. Most of the acting was so over the top it verged on parody—including Winona Ryder, who I’ve respected for years.The teenage drama storyline would have been hard to watch if it had dominated any episode. And at various places I thought, “Oh they're redoing Species, or ET,” or now that I think about it, any number of sci-fi tropes we’ve seen hundreds of times.

Worse, some of the twists and turns were illogical. For instance, the main character, Mike Wheeler (played by Finn Wolfhard) turns on the young girl (the one he’s risking a lot to help) for protecting him. Who does that? Or poor Lucas (Caleb McLaughlin) a character so gratingly negative I kept wishing the monster would get him. Thankfully we had Dustin (Gaten Matarazzo) who was completely adorable and softened my reaction to the others.

13730990_664914880332375_7378526587307493243_o

Another clear bright spot in the show was young Eleven, played by Millie Bobbie Brown. Her expressive face (and acting chops that belie her age) made me care about her despite the plodding backstory that was explicitly designed to make her sympathetic. I also connected to Jonathan (Ryder’s oldest on, played perfectly by Charlie Heaton). These two, along with Gaten, are the reasons I watched episode after episode. I plan to watch the show again to figure out how they brought these young protagonists to life and what hooks kept me glued to my seat for eight hours.

Eight hours? Remind me to never admit that again.

Dress Up Dress Down: Guest Blogger Margaret Fieland

Please join me in welcoming poet and novelist Margaret Fieland to Living After Midnight. Thanks for stopping by, Margaret!

Dressing my Characters

Do you even wonder what your characters look like and what they are wearing? I do; in fact, I started a Pinterest board for their clothing.

https://www.pinterest.com/margaretfieland/clothing-for-my-characters/

and another for actors I would cast to play them:

https://www.pinterest.com/margaretfieland/actors-to-play-my-characters/

When I write, I see the scenes unrolling as a movie in my head, with the characters moving and talking. If I can't picture something, I can't write it, to the point where I have to lay out the rooms, where the furniture is, the color of the rugs. Never mind that only a tiny fraction of this ends up in the novel. If I can't see my characters getting up from the dining table and marching the dirty dishes into the kitchen, I can't write it.

If you take a look at my Pinterest boards, you can see who I would cast for Rob Walker, the main character in Rob's Rebellion, the latest in my Novels of Aleyne series, as well as his wives, Carol and Laura, and his best friend, Reuben Tyler. And since my characters keep coming back, you check out who I'd cast as the four main characters in Broken Bonds; they appear in the current novel as well. And you can check out the clothing I've selected for them.

For the new novel, I decided to try drawing some clothing for my characters using GIMP, (Gnu Image Manipulation Program), a freeware program with many of the features of PhotoShop.

If you've never tried GIMP, it's great fun.

Robs Rebellion 200x300Blurb

Colonel Rob Walker always does his duty, even when it means risking  shaky relationship with his family. When he's ordered to bring the treaty negotiations between the Terran Federation and the Aleyni to a successful conclusion, he's determined to do just that, even when both sides would rather he fail. How can Rob pull off a miracle and avoid a war, one where both sides could be destroyed?

Trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lRxFdOJp6Q

Excerpt

"Laura? Carol? Where is everybody?" Rob drew in a deep breath.

Footsteps clattered on the fake wood floors. "Carol took the children to Fellowship. I didn't want to go." Tear streaks marked the dust accumulated on Laura's face. "I want to go home. I don't want to live in this dump."

"This is home," Rob grumbled. "I'm commander of this base. This is my posting. Why would you expect me to take us back to New Oregon?"

"You might have refused the posting." Laura's mouth formed a straight line in her oval face. "You can resign from the Federation Guard."

"Resign? What would I do then? Come on, Laura, be realistic. I've got two wives and four children to support. We wouldn't even have the price of tickets home for us on a commercial star ship" What the blazes would become of his career if he quit? His father's sneering face rose in his mind. His father continued to predict Rob's career would crash and burn. He clenched his fist. He'd do anything to prove his father wrong.

"Surely you can find other work." Laura swiped a hand across her eyes. "Everyone here hates us."

"For God's sake, Laurie, I'm a fifty year old career colonel. The Guard is my life. My career. What else would I do?" Rob stomped into the living area and over to a small section devoted to cooking. "What the hell is there to eat around here?"

Laura shrugged and dropped into a chair at a small table. "Check for yourself." She glared at Rob, her arms crossed over her chest. "You can starve for all I care."

Rob pulled out another chair and sat opposite her. "We're not going home, er, back to New Oregon, and that's final. Relations between the base and the Aleyni are touchy enough. They liked Reynolds, and I arrested him for treason. The treaty with the Federation is up for renegotiation. If the Guard sent the wrong officer, the Aleyni could refuse negotiation altogether. I'm not going to be the one who is responsible for starting a war." He was sick of defending himself for doing his duty. He was a soldier, blast it. He might not be much of a commander, but no one was going to fault him for shirking his duty.

"You're being melodramatic," Laura protested.

"Maybe, but we're staying here." Rob stood and jerked open the cold store, which held nothing but some juice. "Come on, we're going to the market. We'll find someplace to eat." He extended a hand to Laura and pulled her to her feet.

"There's nothing here and nowhere to go."

"Not on the base, but in Aleyne City." Rob pulled out his pocket comp and began searching for Restaurants, Aleyne City.

"Not until I wash up." Laura glared at him and stumped off down the hall.

Rob sighed and lowered himself into a chair to wait

Bio:

Born and raised in New York City, Margaret Fieland has been around art and music all herphoto1 life.  Her poems and stories have appeared in journals such as  Turbulence Magazine, Front Range Review, and All Rights Reserved. She is one of the Poetic Muselings. Their poetry anthology, Lifelines, was published by Inkspotter Publishing in November, 2011.  She is the author of  Relocated, Geek Games,  Broken Bonds, and Rob's Rebellion published by MuseItUp Publishing , and of Sand in the Desert, a collection of science fiction persona poems. A chapter book is due out later this year.

Links:

Rob's Rebellion on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Robs-Rebellion-Novels-Margaret-Fieland-ebook/dp/B0198UXBF8/

Rob's Rebellion on publisher's website:

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/series/robs-rebellion-detail

My Website:

http://www.margaretfieland.com/

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/MargaretFielandAuthor/

Pinterest:

https://www.pinterest.com/margaretfieland/

 

Dress Up, Dress Down Friday: Nicole Evalina

Please join me in welcoming Nicole Evalina, author of Daughter of Destiny, as she discusses the wardrobes of the Priestesses and the High Priestess. Guinevere and the wardrobe of a priestess of Avalon

The first third of Daughter of Destiny takes place on the mysterious isle of Avalon in Britain in the late 5th century. Guinevere is sent there to learn to control her gift of the Sight and to study with the priestesses.

The priestesses of Avalon wear different colored and cloaks tunics that designate them by rank:

  • Acolytes (first degree, early in their training, usually lasts a year or two): white
  • Neophytes (second degree, mid training, usually begins at the onset of menstruation and lasts several years): dark green
  • Priestesses (third degree, advanced studies, lasts the remainder of their lifetime): blue. All bear a blue tattoo of the waxing crescent moon on their foreheads, right between their eyes, after consecration.

Each has only three outfits, two for daily use and one for rituals.

The Lady of the Lake, the high priestess of Avalon, has a very distinctive wardrobe. “She wore a blue gown similar to Viviane’s but decorated with intricate spiraling patterns. A single glittering crystal bobbed from a silver chain around her neck, and a thin silver circlet rested on her head, just above the mark that signaled her rank as High Priestess—the three visible phases of the moon drawn in blue ink. Her crown mirrored the mark so that the waxing and waning moons peeked out from her hair on either side of an opaline full moon.”

In the second part of the book Guinevere’s dress is mostly the simple tunics and cloaks of the time in various colors and cloths, depending on the occasion. In only one scene does she wear a veil, because her father makes her (in order to cover her priestess tattoo).

Blurb:

Before queenship and Camelot, Guinevere was a priestess of Avalon. She loved another before Arthur, a warrior who would one day betray her.

In the war-torn world of late fifth century Britain, young Guinevere faces a choice: stay with her family to defend her home at Northgallis from the Irish, or go to Avalon to seek help for the horrific visions that haunt her. The Sight calls her to Avalon, where she meets Morgan, a woman of questionable parentage who is destined to become her rival. As Guinevere matures to womanhood, she gains the powers of a priestess, and falls in love with a man who will be both her deepest love and her greatest mistake.

Just when Guinevere is able to envision a future in Avalon, tragedy forces her back home, into a world she barely recognizes, one in which her pagan faith, outspokenness, and proficiency in the magical and military arts are liabilities. When a chance reunion with her lover leads to disaster, she is cast out of Northgallis and into an uncertain future. As a new High King comes to power, Guinevere must navigate a world of political intrigue where unmarried women are valuable commodities and seemingly innocent actions can have life-altering consequences.

You may think you know the story of Guinevere, but you’ve never heard it like this: in her own words. Listen and you will hear the true story of Camelot and its queen.

Fans of Arthurian legend and the Mists of Avalon will love Daughter of Destiny, the first book in a historical fantasy trilogy that gives Guinevere back her voice and traces her life from an uncertain eleven year old girl to a wise queen in her fifth decade of life.

Daughter of Destiny eBook Cover I

Excerpt:

An aged, stately woman emerged from the dark interior room and took her place on the throne. Her hair was a rich auburn streaked with heavy bands of gray, her face lined and furrowed from many years of living, but her eyes were bright and perceptive, like a hawk’s. She wore a blue gown similar to Viviane’s but decorated with intricate spiraling patterns. A single glittering crystal bobbed from a silver chain around her neck, and a thin silver circlet rested on her head, just above the mark that signaled her rank as High Priestess—the three visible phases of the moon drawn in blue ink. Her crown mirrored the mark so that the waxing and waning moons peeked out from her hair on either side of an opaline full moon.

As I watched, awestruck, every woman in the circle around us, including Viviane, dropped to one knee in unison and touched the thumb of her right hand to her forehead, lips, and heart—the same gesture my mother had made to Viviane when she arrived at Northgallis. As one, they whispered, “May the Goddess grant me wisdom, may the God govern my speech, and may my heart be filled with their love.”

I looked around nervously, unsure if I should do the same, and fumbled a slight curtsy instead.

“Her name is Argante, but always address her as Lady,” Viviane whispered.

The old woman smiled slightly at my attempted reverence but then just as quickly resumed her serious disposition. “Viviane, for what reason have you gathered us here?” Her voice was stern and authoritative.

Viviane stepped forward and nudged me toward the Lady. “Sisters, I have brought with me a new candidate to be counted among our number.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, turning to address the woman on the throne. “Most blessed Lady of the Lake, this is Guinevere of Northgallis, who wishes to be named a servant of the Goddess.”

Viviane had warned me on the journey here that in Avalon, when speaking in general, all the goddesses of our people were collectively referred to as the Goddess, and likewise, all the gods as the God. Avalon welcomed people of many tribes and traditions, each with their preferred deity names and mythologies. This way, they avoided confusion and arguments over exactly which deity was being referenced or whose gods were better. Here, all were equal and, except on feast days sacred to a specific deity, all were worshiped according to individual preference. Personally, I favored the horse goddess Rhiannon, worshiped in my homeland, and the sun god Lugh, patron of my mother’s Votadini tribe.

Argante’s eyes met mine with an all-knowing gaze that pierced my soul and laid the entire contents of my being out on the floor for her examination. As her eyes searched mine, I trembled and said a private prayer to my gods, terrified she would find in me some imperfection, some reason to send me back to my father in shame. Argante reached forward, placed a hand on my brow, and my eyes involuntarily snapped shut. Moments passed in silent darkness, and then wood creaked as she sat back in her chair. When I opened my eyes, she appeared pensive.

The women in the assembled crowd shifted their weight restlessly, and tears began to prick at the back of my eyes. I feared this lengthy pause was a sign of disapproval; surely if I was pleasing to her, the Lady would have made it clear without delay. I searched the air between us for Viviane’s hand, and she gave mine a gentle squeeze before leaving me once again on my own.

“This child is pure of heart,” the Lady said at long last, her voice far-off and intense, as if it was not she who spoke, but someone greater through the medium of her voice. “Her innocence and faith please me greatly. I see in her no duplicity or capacity for betrayal, only a strong desire to love and serve. In her blood the sight runs strong, and she will be for Avalon a great asset.” She paused, and a slight frown played on her lips. “However, she will not ascend to greatness on this isle. Another crown sits on her brow, one that will secure the safety and prosperity of many, but at a great cost, both to herself and to those she holds dear.”

A whisper of concern ran through the circle as I knitted my brows together, trying to puzzle out the meaning of her words.

“But that is the future and its lines are not writ in stone, only hinted at by an uncertain sight interpreted by the human heart.” Argante looked at me lovingly now, seeming much more human, her voice softer. “Do not fear what is to come but embrace it, following the Goddess’s voice—which you shall not fail to hear in your heart—and trusting she will lead you on the right path. Guinevere, you have been chosen by she who created life itself and now you must prove your devotion by stating your intent. Why have you come to the isle of Avalon?”

I shifted my gaze to the floor in embarrassment, unsure how to reply.

“Answer from your heart,” Viviane whispered.

I raised my eyes to meet the Lady’s. “To serve the Goddess, who has protected me since before my first breath.” My voice issued forth strong and clear, as if propelled by a will other than my own. “My mother promised me to this isle in thanksgiving for our safe deliverance from her difficult labor. Now I fulfill the vow she made eleven years ago.”

In truth, this was my fate, but I purposefully neglected to mention my visions in such a public arena. Argante likely knew about them already, and I feared the judgment of the others.

Argante nodded in understanding. “Honorable as that is, it does not compel you to stay. Do you come here free of coercion and choose to remain here of your own will?”

“I do.”

“Look around. The women gathered here are your sisters. Do you promise to treat them as such, harming none and living in love and trust so strong that you give freely of yourself when needed and accept their aid when offered to you? Will you treat each woman as you would treat the Goddess, your own mother, or yourself?”

I looked out over the sea of strange faces. “I will.”

Argante caught my gaze and held it, impressing on me the seriousness of what she was about to say. “Know that the vows you now take are not binding and you may be released from them at any time, should you so desire. They are, nevertheless, a promise, and you will be held to them by value of your word, as it is your source of honor.”

Uncomfortable, I wanted to look away but could not break her gaze.

“Do you vow to serve the Goddess and God with all of your mind, heart, and soul and preserve your maidenhead until such time as you take your final vows or part ways with our community?”

I swallowed, sensing the sacrifice required in assenting to these terms. “I do.”

Argante smiled at me with all the warmth of a doting grandmother and leaned forward to kiss me on the forehead. “Welcome to the sisterhood, Guinevere.”

Buy Link  Daughter of Destiny

Nicole Evelina headshot horizontalAbout the Author:

Nicole Evelina is St. Louis-born historical fiction and romantic comedy writer. Her first four books are coming out in 2016.

  1. Daughter of Destiny, the first book of an Arthurian legend trilogy that tells Guinevere's life story from her point of view
  2. Camelot's Queen, March 23, the second book in the trilogy
  3. Been Searching for You, May 16, an award-winning contemporary romantic comedy
  4. Madame Presidentess, July 25, historical fiction about 19th century American Presidential candidate Victoria Woodhull, the first American woman to run for President

Nicole is one of only six authors who completed the first week-long writing intensive taught by #1 New York Times bestselling author Deborah Harkness in 2014. She’s traveled to England twice for research, where she consulted with internationally acclaimed author and historian Geoffrey Ashe, as well as Arthurian/Glastonbury expert Jaime George, who helped Marion Zimmer Bradley research The Mists of Avalon.

Blog: http://nicoleevelina.com/blog/