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Thursday, May 21, 2015

Mythean Arcana, a Paranormal Romance Boxed Set by Linsey Hall.



Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Linsey Hall, author of Mythean Arcana, a Paranormal Romance Boxed Set, Books 1-4.

Publisher: Bonnie Doon Press

Date of Publication:  May 20

ISBN: 978-1-942085-34-8
ASIN: B00WDCMARY

Number of pages: 898
Word Count: 290,000 
3 full length novels, 1 novella

Cover Artist: Damonza


Book Description


In celebration of the release of Fate Undone, Book 5 of the Mythean Arcana series, the first four volumes are available for a limited time for only $0.99!

"Linsey Hall's brilliantly imaginative Mythean Arcana is THE must-read series of the year for fans of paranormal romance." - Maggie Shayne, NY Times Bestselling Author of TWILIGHT GUARDIANS

GIVEAWAY! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after the post for a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card. 

Let’s hear from Linsey Hall…


Bad Ass Cats by Linsey Hall

I grew up in a household where we rescued stray and feral cats. It was our family bonding activity (I’ll never say we aren’t a little weird). We’d get them fixed and find them homes. Except for the mean ones. Those, we kept as our own. I say that those cats are mean, but in reality, they’re just very wary of people. In cats, however, this wariness usually displays as hissing and biting, which my mom calls love bites.

The cats rule my mom’s house, both indoors and out, and they love her like they love deli ham. She is a true cat whisperer. They’re suspicious of the rest of us, however. But we love them anyway. I’ve always really liked these cats (and still do – my mom’s house is now a retirement home for a bunch of really mean cats). They have personality and opinions they aren’t afraid to share - no matter who fills the kibble bowl - and I respect that.

When I went to college, I moved into a menagerie with my best friend, Emily. We had two dogs, two rats, a snake, and one truly bad ass cat. All of this was contained in about 800 square feet of 1920’s house in a very questionable neighborhood. You’d think I’d have asked why there were bars on the windows before signing the lease, but I’ve never been very practical when faced with original wood flooring and walking distance to bars. But I digress. The dogs, rats, and snake were Emily’s. The cat, Chairman Meow, was mine.

The Chairman came to me from a rescue shelter at the wise age of 13. For four years, he traveled the country with me, always riding shotgun in my little sedan. He’d put his paws up on the dash and sniff the air that blew out of the air conditioning vent. He did that all the way through Mississippi once (I have a theory that he was born there). We’d take walks together outside – me, drinking a beer and chatting with my grandmother on the phone, the Chairman sniffing grass and car tires.  When I was asleep and he wanted to be fed, he’d slam the bathroom cabinet door, then look at me to see if I’d woken up from the noise. No? Slam again, look at me, rinse and repeat until I woke up and popped the top on his can of wet food.

No question, I was raised to love badass cats. I even love internet cats. From the late, great Colonel Meow to humanitarian Little Bub and my family’s favorite, Business Cat. My cats are my colleagues while I write and it was only natural that they show up in my books. Chairman Meow appears briefly in the first book of my series, Braving Fate, but he really has his day in the second book, Soulceress. One of my current cats, Miss Kitty, has a cameo in book three, Rogue Soul, while Fluffy Black, a sweet foster kitty that we lost to illness, has her moment in book 4, Stolen Fate.

Who were some of your bad ass animals? Do you have any favorite internet cats like Lil Bub or Business Cat? 

Braving Fate


Bookish academic Diana Laughton has been having terrible dreams. Dreams of battle, dreams of blood... dreams so vivid she's living them day and night. When demons invade her quiet life and she flees to Scotland, she wonders if she's going mad. Or if perhaps she's remembering a past life she had no idea existed...

Mythean Guardian Cadan Trinovante loved and betrayed Britain's warrior queen Boudica two millennia ago. Now he's tasked with protecting mortals whose lives affect the fate of humanity. His latest assignment is Boudica herself, reincarnated as a woman with no idea of her past or her fated future.

Thrown together in a shadowy world that exists alongside our own, Diana and Cadan must fight not only the demonic forces that want Diana dead, but a past and a passion that have lasted centuries. Their desire could be deadly. But as evil from the underworld unites against them, their only hope could be each other.

Soulceress


Three hundred years ago, Warren sold his soul in exchange for the safety of his people. He lives immortal and inhuman, a life in the shadows, hiding his secrets. Until now, when he finally has the chance to reclaim his soul after three centuries of suffering…

Esha is a soulceress, an immortal who drains the magical powers of others. Shunned by everyone she meets, she’s a rogue mercenary who hunts evil for a living. The only man she cannot harm is Warren, whose secrets intrigue her and whose body sparks her desire…

Esha is the only person who can help Warren reclaim his soul. But what begins as a simple quest soon becomes a deadly battle, one in which choices will be made and secrets revealed that could tear them apart. As Esha and Warren uncover their passion, they must defeat the evil forces unleashed against them before time runs out…

Rogue Soul


Andrasta, Celtic goddess of victory, has fled the cold, sterile wasteland of Otherworld for the steamy South American jungle. It's only a matter of time before the vengeful gods catch and punish her - unless she can convince the man she betrayed two thousand years ago to help…

Born in Otherworld to the life of a god, Camulos went rogue centuries ago. He's living on the banks of the Amazon, boxing in bare-knuckled fights. The gods believe he's dead--until Ana finds him. Ana, the woman who gave him nothing but trouble, and the woman he could never forget…

Thrown together, Ana and Cam must evade the wrath of the gods and a return to the living death of Otherworld. But as they flee through the jungle - and as their passion ignites - they find themselves at the heart of an ancient secret. One that could kill them both and extinguish their souls forever...

Stolen Fate


Fiona is an Acquirer, an immortal who uses magic to hunt for ancient artifacts. Ever since she failed to live up to her fate and find the Book of Worlds,, she’s been slowly losing her mind as her subconscious keeps trying to accomplish her fated task. When she’s presented with one last chance to find the Book and save her sanity, she’ll stop at nothing to accomplish her goal.

For more than one hundred years, Ian has been locked in a nightmarish prison. An accomplished thief, he was thrown into hell for failing to maintain the secrecy of his magical race. When Fiona presents him with an opportunity for escape, he’ll do anything it takes to ensure that it’s permanent, even if it means betraying the woman he’s grown to care for.

As Fiona and Ian get closer to finding the book, they learn that there’s more at stake than they ever imagined – like the fate of the world.


Available at    Amazon     Kobo     Google Play    iBooks    BN


Chapter One of Rogue Soul, book 3 in the Mythean Arcana series

The Caipora’s Den
Edge of the Amazon River, Brazil
Present Day

Andrasta, Celtic goddess of victory, swallowed hard, her gaze transfixed by the man in the makeshift boxing ring. Was he that handsome when I tried to kill him? Or that brutal?

She honestly couldn’t remember. It had been more than two thousand years since she’d seen him last, and she barely recognized him. Dim spotlights gleamed off sweat-slicked muscles and highlighted the feral brutality with which he pounded his opponent. No gloves protected his big hands, just white fabric wrapped around knuckles. They were spotted with blood.

She swallowed hard again, unable to look away.

She’d known she would find him here when she’d strolled up to the Caipora’s Den, a little dive bar perched on the edge of the Amazon River. But she hadn’t expected the outdoor boxing ring surrounded by a horde of cheering Mytheans or that her prey would be inside it, pounding his opponent into a sack of broken bones.

She’d never before been to the bar, which catered only to the supernatural beings who lived secretly alongside mortals. The building itself was ramshackle, and she had a feeling that it was just as run-down on the inside. The outdoor lot in which she stood was pressed between the building and the river. It housed the boxing ring and nearly a hundred Mytheans, most of whom looked human even though they weren’t. They screamed and cheered as punches landed with fierce smacks.

“All right, that’s enough,” hollered the ref, a big ugly brute who stepped forward to end the fight. The man she’d come for stood over his collapsed opponent, his heavily muscled chest heaving. He was declared the winner—no surprise, considering his opponent didn’t look like he’d be getting off the floor anytime soon.

She sank back into the crowd when he turned to exit the ring. Though she wanted to watch him, to devour every hard inch with her eyes, she didn’t want him to see her before she could approach him on her terms.

Their past was a pit of snakes, so confusing that even she couldn’t figure head from tail though she’d lived through it. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was pissed as hell, considering the arrows she’d sent through his heart the last time she’d seen him. Not that he hadn’t wronged her. He had. He’d started the nightmare that had ended in her stealing his godhood for herself. Worse, they’d cared for each other. Until it had all gone to shit, at least.

And now she needed his help.

She turned and pushed her way through the crowd, toward the small bar pressed against the outside of the building. She needed to buy herself some time to recover from the sight of him but didn’t want to do it inside the bar where she might lose track of him. Seeing him again made her shaky, even though it had been so many years. She just needed a minute to catch her breath, that was all.

She squeezed between two Mytheans of indeterminate species and reached the bar—which was more of a table with some liquor bottles and a cooler, but it would do.

“A beer,” she said to the bartender, a beautiful brunette who had the slightly feral face of some kind of shifter. Ana had never been any good at identifying Mytheans since she rarely got away from her own kind.

The bartender handed over a sweating glass bottle and hissed, “On the house.”

Anaconda Incantada. The sound of her voice gave away what her features did not. She was a snake shifter.

And it had better be on the house. There had to be some perks to being a god, since everything else had been a disappointment. Although Ana never tired of Mytheans fearing or bowing to her. Some watched her warily even now, and she appreciated it all the more for not having had it when she’d been mortal.

“How often does this happen?” Ana asked the bartender, hiking a thumb at the ring.

The shifter shrugged. “Every night.”

“Know anything about the fighters?”

“Not the loser. But the winner, he’s never lost. Fights pretty often. Seems to like it. Keeps to himself otherwise.”

Ana nodded and turned to look for her prey. The beer slid refreshingly down her throat, and she sighed in pleasure at the smooth taste of the infrequently allowed delicacy. Focusing on the taste helped calm her nerves just a bit. She was raising the bottle to her lips a second time when she spotted him standing off to the side of the crowd near the jungle that crept up to the dirt lot.

It had been two thousand years since she’d seen him last, when she’d thought she’d killed him and taken his place as a Celtic god. Those years had been kind to him, considering that he was still alive. Almost as kind as the way-too-hot woman draped around him, sucking on his neck while he unwrapped the bloody cloth from his hands.

Ana stifled the strange little twinge in her chest. She’d cared for him once, and he for her, but that was so long ago the memories had gone to dust. Or so she told herself. She took one last swig of the beer to chase them away.

Now or never. If she wanted a permanent escape from Otherworld, the land of the Celtic gods and what felt like her eternal prison, there’d be no more dawdling, no matter how nervous she was about his reception or willingness to help her.

She needed him. Admitting to it scraped something raw inside her. But after two thousand years, she wanted out more than she wanted her pride.

Ana sucked in a deep breath and wound her way through the crowd. When a lobisomem got handsy as she passed, an elbow to the gut halted his straying paws, and a glare stopped another. Fancy Brazilian name or not, they were dogs like the rest of their werewolf brothers. Within moments, she’d reached the edge of the crowd and stood before the now-kissing pair.

She squashed her nerves as she gazed at the strong profile of the man she’d never been able to forget—whose mouth was glued to the woman’s. He was a bruiser, even from the side, a contrast of hard features and short ginger hair. He looked rougher than she remembered. Bigger, too.

“Camulos,” Ana said. She glanced dismissively at the sultry woman now trying to swallow his tongue.

“Cam,” he said absentmindedly as he drew his face away from the woman’s to look at Ana. His brows shot up, his gray eyes widening the barest fraction. A scar sliced through one of the brows.

“Recognize me?” she asked, absorbing the fact that he no longer went by Camulos.

“Andrasta,” he rasped, shock plain on his face.

Did she hear his breath catch?

Hers certainly did. He looked every inch the god he’d once been—strong and powerful, with broad shoulders and big arms that looked like they’d been cut from steel. A man comfortable with the mantle of worship, even if he no longer carried it.

Ana shot a pointed glance at the other woman.

“Luciana,” he said, drawing the woman’s mouth away from where it had suctioned onto his neck.

Ana’s eyes zeroed in on the huge hand that cupped the back of Luciana’s neck, then looked back to realize that he’d kept his gaze trained on her own face.

“You need to go,” Camulos said to Luciana.

Luciana pouted at him, then turned to look at Ana.

“A goddess?” Her brows shot high. She no doubt noticed the small glow emitting from Ana’s skin and marked her as one from Otherworld. Her lips twisted in a sneer. “I thought you Celtic gods never left your cold realm.”

She’d be right, Ana thought bitterly. Cold and emotionless, that was Otherworld, and she was trapped there except for a few times a year when she could sneak out without the other gods noticing. But that’s what she wanted to change.

“Beat it, sister,” she said, trying out some earth slang she’d seen on a TV show. Sneaking a laptop into Otherworld and firing up movies with her magic was one of the few ways she stayed sane.

The woman pouted, gave one last longing glance at Camulos, and then moved off into the crowd.

Camulos gave her a hard, searching look, his shock now masked. He didn’t make a move to kill her—which was good. Not that she’d let him. But still, it was promising. He might have cared for her once, but after what had happened at the end, she wouldn’t be surprised if that had been pushed out by anger.

“Come on. Let’s get a seat inside.” He jerked his chin toward the ramshackle bar.

Ana nodded and turned to lead the way. This time, with the huge male of indeterminate species following closely behind her, the crowd parted in waves to let her pass. Camulos was so close on her heels she swore she could feel the heat of him. It made the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She tried to ignore it.

The smell of sweat and stale beer assaulted her nose when she walked into the bar. It was even more crowded than the outside, with dozens of volatile Mytheans partying and fighting in the dark, smoky space lit only by bare, dangling light bulbs.

She blinked. Wow. This was so different from Otherworld. Gross, definitely, from the smell to the cleanliness of the occupants.

But it was great. It was nothing like Otherworld, and she loved it. There was one small unoccupied table in the corner, but it was far enough from the main crowd to suit her.

They hadn’t so much as settled at the table when a beer appeared in front of Camulos, carried by a smiling waitress whose eyes didn’t stray from him. He ignored it and spared her only a curt nod.

“How the hell did you find me?” he asked when the waitress slunk away.

His rough voice sent a shiver down her spine. That first tingle of attraction hadn’t been a fluke, after all. Damn it. This was what had gotten her in trouble so many years ago. Insane attraction that had blinded her to the danger she’d stepped into.

She dragged her mind back to the present. “More importantly, how the hell are you still alive? I thought I killed you.”

His big hand clenched on the table. Scars sliced across his knuckles.

She tried not to squirm in her seat as his eyes roamed from her face down to the hint of cleavage she knew peeped above the top of her leather breastplate. She always wore it, but then she spent most of her time in temperate Otherworld or Scotland. It was damn hot in the jungle.

Finally, his gaze dragged back to hers. The sight hit her straight in the solar plexus. Damn, he looked good, no matter how wary or how harsh his gaze. His short reddish-blond hair glinted in the dim light that struggled to illuminate the seedy bar with its sticky seats. He still looked like a damn god, no matter what he’d turned into.

“You didn’t kill me,” he said, one corner of his mouth hiked up.

“Then what the hell are you? How are you immortal?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

So it was going to be this way? A game of chance where neither showed their cards? But it suited her too, since she had no idea how she felt about him. She glared at him as a Jurassic-sized fly buzzed around her head, as annoying as the questions hanging in the air between them. She still didn’t fully understand everything that had happened those many years ago when she’d taken his place as a god by sending an arrow through his heart. Twice. She flinched at the mental image that came with the thought—him dying in the snow, his blood soaking through the knees of her dress.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked.

“Nope.” If she was going to be afraid of anyone, it would be him—with his huge body, scowling face, and potentially deadly grudge against her. But she wasn’t. She could take care of herself, damn it. Being afraid was a thing of the past.

“Cocky.”

“Yep.” She wasn’t the same girl he’d once cared for, however briefly. After they’d gotten caught in the crosshairs of the gods and her whole life had gone to hell, she’d changed.

“Anyway, it worked out for the best.” He raised his smudged glass in toast to her.

“Really?” Her brows shot up. He truly thought their past—trading places so that she became a god and he went to earth—had worked out for the best?

He nodded, but she had a hard time believing him.

“Why? You should have loved Otherworld. You’re a god,” she said.

“Not anymore.”

“Yeah, but you get what I mean,” she said. “Otherworld, the coldness there, shouldn’t have bothered you since you were born a god. The power, the perfection. It was all yours. Without all the downsides.”

Like the soul-sucking loneliness of a place with no emotion. No one could care about anyone else. 

She was a fluke, a god with the ability to feel because she’d once been mortal. But there was nothing to feel there. No joy, no love, no fun. No way to distract herself from the misery of being trapped. All the other gods, they were perfect for it. Automatons in their impeccable world. But not her.

“So why would it be better for you on earth?” she asked when he didn’t respond. He had less power here and had to hide from the other gods. And earth was messy and miserable compared to Otherworld. But it was that ability to be miserable, and alternately joyful, which made her want to return. “There’s nothing for you here.”

His gray eyes darkened, his expression effectively closing the subject. “That’s my business, not yours. Why the hell are you here?”

 “I want out.”

“Are you kidding? Do you know what will happen to you when the other gods figure out you’ve tried to run?”

What was it about his voice that made her want to squirm in her seat? The mixed accent from his long life sounded exotic somehow and a hint of roughness dragged across her skin.

She shivered. “I’ve snuck out before.”

“For a few hours maybe, and not with the intent to flee.” He nodded smugly and she knew he must see acknowledgment in her eyes. “When they figure out that you’re gone and don’t intend to come back, you’ll end up chained to the most desolate tor in Blackmoor for a thousand years while ravens circle for dinner.”

Ana swallowed hard. The knowledge of the great rock formations where lawbreakers were punished was something she’d tried not to focus on when she’d decided to run. Blackmoor was the most desolate place in Otherworld, all scrubby ground punched through with granite tors and howling wind and rain. She had about a day before the other gods figured out she was gone. At that point, she’d be considered a deserter and they’d hunt her down.

“I’m aware of the risks.” She tried to make her voice hard. “I want out.”

“What the hell do you expect me to do about it?”

“You cared for me once.” She didn’t want to play that card—not after how it had ended between them—but she was desperate.

Truth flashed in his eyes, then his jaw hardened. “It was a long time ago.”

It had been. But seeing him was dredging up emotions she’d forgotten she’d ever had. She tried to force them to the back of her mind and focus on her goal. “I want to know how you became mortal.”
“Not mortal.”

“Damn it, you know what I mean. I just don’t want to be a god anymore. You stole my life when your obsession with me attracted the attention of the other gods. I want my life back.”

“I don’t owe you a thing.” He raised his glass and his strong throat worked as he swallowed, drawing her eyes to it. She couldn’t help but notice the way his worn shirt stretched over his broad chest. She scowled at her own interest. Long ago, that same interest had gotten her into trouble.

“Fine. I’ll just have to convince you,” she said.

He didn’t respond, just smiled and folded his muscled arms over his chest. She sighed, then tensed when he swung his feet up onto the chair next to her.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could almost feel the heat of his thighs close to hers. Her leg tingled, her skin prickling. Something low in her stomach tightened, and it reminded her that this was one of the reasons she wanted to be back on earth.

Fates, her nerves were on edge, and he wasn’t helping matters. She’d spent nearly every day of the last two millennia in Otherworld—the dullest, loneliest place in all of creation. As much as she loved the hustle and bustle of the Mytheans and mortals on earth, there was way too much of it in this bar. Her senses were on overdrive, and the air fairly buzzed with emotion from the dozens of volatile 

Mytheans carousing around her.

She swallowed hard and met his eyes. His smile reappeared, as if he knew what was going on inside her head. Inside her body.

“I need some air.” She jumped to her feet. “Come on.”

As soon as he stood, she spun and headed for the front door of the bar, hoping it would be quieter than the fighting ring out back. She had to cool down or things were going to get out of control. 

About the Author



Linsey Hall is the author of the Mythean Arcana, a sexy paranormal romance series. Before becoming a romance novelist, Linsey was an underwater archaeologist who studied shipwrecks in all kinds of water, from the tropics to muddy rivers (and she has a distinct preference for one over the other). Her books draw upon her love of history, travel, and the paranormal elements that she can't help but include.

Several of her books may or may not feature her cats.






   



Monday, May 4, 2015

Paranormal Romance. Duke, Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club by Candace Blevins.



Today I’m thrilled to welcome over Candace Blevins, author of Duke, Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 1.

Genre: Motorcycle Club, Paranormal Romance

Publisher:  Excessica

Date of Publication:  April 24, 2015

Word Count:  105,000 words

Cover Artist:  Syneca Featherstone

Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win 2 ebook copies of The Dragon King, winner’s choice of epub, mobi, or pdf.

Book Description


Book one of the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club...

Duke’s friend’s little sister had been off limits when they were growing up, but Gen is all woman now, with the sexiest curves ever. However, bringing her into his life now, as the new Rolling Thunder chapter establishes itself as a powerhouse in Chattanooga, would put her in danger.

Gen has no idea she already knows one of the bikers until she arrives to show them some downtown properties they’re looking to buy.

They live in different worlds, and despite being a successful businesswoman, Gen has led a sheltered life. She wears couture, while Duke wears Levi jeans and his MC colors on a black leather vest. Not to mention, he's a werewolf and she's a blissfully unaware human. Can two people, so different, possibly work?

Warning: Graphic sex, and a controlling, drop-dead gorgeous werewolf who happens to be president of a motorcycle club.

This book is also part of the Kirsten O’Shea Universe, but reading the other series in Kirsten’s Universe is not  necessary in order to enjoy the Motorcycle Club books.


Other Books by Candace

Only Human series (Urban Fantasy)

* Only Human (Feb 20, 2015)
* Book two - title tba (late 2015)


Chattanooga Supernaturals (Paranormal Romance)

* The Dragon King (winter 2015)
* Riding the Storm (spring 2015)
* Acceptable Risk (June 2015)


Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club

* Duke (spring 2015)


Safeword Series

* Safeword: Rainbow
* Safeword: Davenport
* Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon
* Safeword: Quinacridone
* Safeword: Matte
* Safeword: Matte - In Training
* No Safeword: Matte - The Honeymoon
* No Safeword: Matte - Happily Ever After
* Safeword: Arabesque 


About the Author


Candace Blevins lives with her husband of 17 years and their two daughters. When not working or driving kids all over the place she can be found reading, writing, meditating, or swimming.

Candace writes BDSM  Romance, Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and a smokin’ hot Motorcycle Club series.

Her Safeword Series gives us characters who happen to have some extreme kinks. Relationships can be difficult enough without throwing power exchange into the mix, and her books show characters who care enough about each other to fight to make the relationship work. Each book in the Safeword series highlights a couple with a different BDSM issue to resolve. Books are standalone and can be read in any order, with the exception of the two Davenport books, and the four Matte books.

Her urban fantasy series, Only Human, gives us a world where weredragons, werewolves, werelions, three different species of vampires, as well as a variety of other mythological beings exist.

Candace's paranormal romance series, The Chattanooga Supernaturals, is a sister series to the Only Human series, and gives some secondary characters their happily ever after.

You can visit Candace on the web at CandiceBlevins.com and feel free to friend her on Facebook at Facebook and Goodreads.

You can also join www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters to get sneak peeks into what she's writing now, images that inspire her, and the occasional juicy blurb.







Newsletter signup -- http://eepurl.com/W_Cij

Feel free to join Candace’s Kinksters -- https://www.facebook.com/groups/CandacesKinksters/


   


Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Urban Fantasy. The Reaper Series by Lisa Medley.



 Today it’s my pleasure to feature The Reaper Series. So sit back, relax and check out some great Urban Fantasy's.

Reap and Repent
The Reaper Series
Book 1
Lisa Medley

Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: Big Cedar 
Date of Publication: March 3, 2015 
ISBN: 978-0-9908856-2-7
ASIN: B00TJFIOFK 
Number of pages: 328
Word Count: 84k 

Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs


Book Description


They see death. Can they share a life?

Ruth Scott can read the energy of every person she meets. Then she meets Deacon Walker. She can see his ice-blue eyes, his black hair, and his gorgeous face. But this beautiful stranger has no aura.

Deacon is just as unsettled by Ruth—and, having spent more than two hundred years ushering souls to Purgatory, Deacon is seldom shocked by anything. As he helps Ruth to understand her true nature, she awakens desires that he decided long ago a Reaper can’t afford.

A demon invasion forces Deacon to confront the darkness in his own past even as he fights to save the human souls he’s charged to protect. When he’s taken captive, his first concern is for Ruth. But Ruth just might be able to save herself—and the Reaper she can’t live without—if she can learn to wield her newfound powers.


                  
Reap and Redeem
The Reaper Series
Book 2
Lisa Medley

Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: Big Cedar 
Date of Publication: March 10, 2015 
ISBN: 978-0-9908856-4-1
ASIN: B00UKBZO7S 
Number of pages: 326
Word Count: 80k 

Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs

Book Description


He’s a reaper who has given up on saving souls. Will a dying woman be his salvation?

After a century of enslavement to pure evil, Kylen Larson is finally free. But he’s long past caring. The only woman he ever loved is dead, and he’s tormented by memories of the horrors his demon parasite forced him to commit. Now, he lives for nothing more than hunting down the infernal creatures invading Meridian, Arkansas, and destroying them.

Olivia Evans is in the final stages of cancer when Kylen accidentally saves her from demonic possession. When he rescues this innocent soul, Kylen rediscovers his mission—and his heart. All he wants is to help Olivia stay alive. He’ll just have to fight off an invasion from Hell first…


          
Reap and Reveal
The Reaper Series
Book 3
Lisa Medley

Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: Big Cedar 
Date of Publication: April 5, 2015 
ISBN: 978-0-9908856-6-5
ASIN: B00VB4VFJY 
Number of pages: 302
Word Count: 78k 


Book Description


By day he saves lives in the city he loves. Can he save souls too?

Nate is an EMT, a witch and a newly inducted member of the Reaper Authority Force. What he's not is a reaper. With unexplained abilities, his true nature lies somewhere in between the angels, demons and reapers he finds himself involved with. When he's paired with the reaper Maeve, he struggles to find his place in the rising war to save the souls of Meridian and the world.

Maeve has tried to hide her reaper handicap--her toxic reaper energy--from her colleagues. But when she's possessed by a fallen angel and forced to poach souls for Hell, her greatest weakness might be the only thing that saves her.

Nate uses his growing powers and his innate magic to find Maeve. He'll do whatever it takes to save her, revealing more than he ever imagined in the process.


About the Author




Lisa has always enjoyed reading about monsters in love and now she writes about them, because monsters need love too.

She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig.

She may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.








Thursday, April 16, 2015

Historical Romance. Scent of the Soul by Julie Doherty.



Today it’s my pleasure to welcome over Julie Doherty, author of Scent of the Soul, a Historical Romance.

Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing

Date of Publication:  February 11, 2015

ISBN:  978-1-61935-705-1
ASIN: B00SZ0SKUE

Number of pages: 288
Word Count:  91,000

Cover Artist: Leah Suttle

Book Description


In twelfth century Scotland, it took a half-Gael with a Viking name to restore the clans to their rightful lands. Once an exile, Somerled the Mighty now dominates the west. He’s making alliances, expanding his territory, and proposing marriage to the Manx princess.

It’s a bad time to fall for Breagha, a torc-wearing slave with a supernatural sense of smell.

Somerled resists the intense attraction to a woman who offers no political gain, and he won’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.

It’s when Breagha vanishes that Somerled realizes just how much he needs her. He abandons his marriage plans to search for her, unprepared for the evil lurking in the shadowy recesses of Ireland—a lustful demon who will stop at nothing to keep Breagha for himself.

Book Trailer  




Available at   Amazon    Amazon UK    Amazon Canada

Giveaway! Be sure to enter the Rafflecopter after this post for a chance to win one of the following: 10 bars of soap open to US Shipping or one of five Kindle Gift Copies of  Scent of the Soul.

Let’s Interview!


What inspired you to write this book?

It was a combination of things. The first occurred at a gas station while I was waiting in line to pay. A man stepped into line behind me, and I felt this unbelievable energy emanating from him. It was really bizarre, because he was not the sort of guy I’d ever notice. In fact, if I met him in an alley, I’d probably run the other way, but as he stood behind me, I could feel the heat of him against my back. It’s been about twenty years since that happened, and I’ve never forgotten the power of it. I’ve often wondered why I found him so magnetic. There was nothing sexual about it—just a magnetic pull, like I already knew him somehow. Were we soul mates in a past life? Were our lives somehow meant to connect? I’ll never find out, because I paid for my gas and ran out of there like my pants were on fire. It’s crazy, I know, but it led to the question: what would happen if someone bumped into a soul mate from a past life? Would we recognize him/her? How?

It wasn’t until later that I decided to write a novel featuring reuniting soul mates. I was researching my ancestry at the time, and I came across Somerled of Argyll. Although much of his story has been lost to time, we know he was a hero long before Robert the Bruce and William Wallace. In fact, he’s the progenitor of many of the Highland clans so popular in fiction today. Without him, those clans may have disappeared altogether, since it was Somerled who wrenched Scottish lands from the hands of the Vikings. He’s also credited with inventing the moveable stern rudder, which changed the way men sailed. If that’s not enough to earn a spot in a novel, what is?

I combined the “soul mate recognition” spark with Somerled, threw in a little supernatural scenting ability, and SCENT OF THE SOUL was born. Readers will recognize the “gas station event” in the scene where Somerled appears behind Breagha in the slave corner.

How did you come up with the title?

My female character recognizes Somerled by scent, so SCENT OF THE SOUL made perfect sense.

If you could spend an hour in real life with one of your characters, who would it be and why?

Somerled, but I’d want more than an hour. As for why, well, heh heh.

Tell us a little bit about the conflict in your story.

Somerled has risen from obscurity in western Scotland. He plans to cement his position as a man of considerable wealth and influence by marrying the Manx princess, but when he meets Breagha, a slave with a supernatural sense of smell, she turns his world upside-down. He resists the intense attraction, knowing Breagha offers no political gain, and he can’t have a mistress making demands on him while he’s negotiating a marriage his people need. Besides, Breagha belongs to a rival king, one whose fresh alliance Somerled can’t afford to lose.

Somerled thinks he has time to decide between power and love. What he doesn’t know is someone else wants Breagha, too—someone who will stop at nothing to keep her for himself.

Tell us about your book cover and how it relates to your story.

Somerled was a twelfth century warrior king with a vast fleet. It seemed only fitting to feature a longship, since he owned many of them. The cover image hints of a voyage to some mysterious place, which is pretty much what happens in the novel. We journey with Somerled, not to a place, but to himself  . . . and to fulfillment.

Are you currently working on another story? If so, we’d love some details.

I finished a second novel called SCATTERED SEEDS. This story features Ulster-Scots Edward and Henry McConnell, who flee impoverished, eighteenth century Ireland with the one valuable thing they still own—a torc that once belonged to Somerled of Argyll, their ancestor. Unfortunately, they arrive in Philadelphia at the outset of the French and Indian War.

Currently, I am writing my third novel, which sees one of Somerled’s present-day descendants unearthing a torc on her Pennsylvania farm. Curious about its origins, she travels to Scotland to investigate, where she’ll find more than she bargained for.

What sort of personality does your hero have?

Somerled is a passionate and driven man with a wicked temper and an inferiority complex due to past insults and his mother’s Norse blood.

Did you enjoy writing one scene above all the rest? If so, share.

I loved writing the scene where Peader the monk is cooking turnips over an open flame because I was furious at someone in real life that day. The monk paid the price, unfortunately.

Tell us about your favorite writing environment. Is it indoors, outdoors, a special room, etc.

Believe it or not, my car. It’s the only place I can find complete privacy.

Thank you so much for the spotlight and interview. I know how much time blogging takes. I truly appreciate your dedication and willingness to share my work.

My pleasure, Julie. Wishing you much success. Scent of the Soul sounds like an amazing read.

Excerpt


As Godred’s oarsmen shoved off from the jetty, Somerled wondered if there was any man less suitable to deliver a marriage proposal. Godred of Dublin was coarse, marginally Christian—indeed, marginally sane—and easily riled. Nevertheless, King Olaf liked him, and for that reason alone, Somerled had selected him as his envoy.

“No side trips,” Somerled shouted before Godred was too far away to hear. “Ye have three places to go and that’s it: the Isle of Man, your clan, and back here.” Godred was prone to unscheduled detours.

Unless bad weather or the scent of easy plunder pulled Godred and his thirty oarsmen off course, Somerled would have Olaf’s answer in a few days. If Olaf agreed to the marriage, Somerled would add a wife to the items decorating his new castle at Finlaggan and eventually, the Isle of Man to his expanding area of influence.

The nobles would respect him then. Half-breed or not.

Behind him, a door squealed on one of the two guardhouses standing sentinel over the Sound of Islay. The small building spat out Hakon, his chief guard, another man of Dublin birth and temperament. Hakon strode the length of the jetty to join him. “I have every confidence the Norns will weave Godred a successful journey, my lord king,” he said, his words puffing white clouds above his tawny sheepskin cape.

“If your goddesses have woven anything, it’s an unfortunate headwind,” Somerled said. “Godred is forced to tack.” He closed his cloak and secured it at his throat with a brooch he once plucked from a Viking who no longer needed it. “The wind promises hail. My proposal will be delayed.”

“Aye, likely,” Hakon said, his hair and beard whipping into copper clouds, “but it will hasten Olaf’s reply. Do not despair, my lord. Ragnhilde will marry ye soon enough.”

Despair? Somerled stifled a laugh. Did Hakon think he had feelings for a lassie he had never met? He was about to tease his guard about being a romantic when Hakon stiffened.

“Another ship,” Hakon said, looking past Somerled’s shoulder.

Somerled spun around to inspect the northwestern waters of the channel separating Jura and Islay—the jewel of the Hebrides and the island that served as the seat of his burgeoning kingdom. “Where?” he asked, squinting.

Hakon thrust a finger toward the fog bank blanketing the horizon. “There, at the promontory, in that pale blue strip of water. See it?”

At first, Somerled saw nothing but swooping terns and ranks of swells. Then, an unadorned sail appeared. It crested on a wave, dipped low, and vanished.

“Should I sound the horn?” Hakon asked.

Somerled raked his fingers through the coarse, wheaten mess slapping at his eyes and held it at his nape while he considered his response. Behind them, the signal tower on Ben Vicar was smoke-free. Across the sound, the towers on the frosty Paps of Jura were likewise unlit, although clouds partially obscured their peaks. The Paps had a commanding view. If a signal fire blazed anywhere, the men stationed there would have seen it and lit their own.

“My lord king, should I sound the horn?” Hakon impatiently palmed the battle horn dangling at his broad chest.

Men began to gather on the jetty.

“Let us wait. It is only one ship, and it looks to be a trader. The signal fires would blaze by now if it were someone worthy of our concern.” Somerled glanced back at the mud and thatch cottages shouldering against one another. At their doors, the bows of half his impressive fleet rested on the shoreline, a sandy slip extending well into the distance. The rest of his ships sheltered at the far side of Islay, in Loch Indaal. A signal fire would deploy them quickly and, perhaps, needlessly.

“Alert the village. Have Cormac ready Dragon’s Claw,” he said, “but send only the nyvaigs for now.” The nyvaigs were smaller, but no less deadly. They would be out and back quickly.

Hakon sprinted through the gathering crowd and past the guardhouses. He leapt over a pile of rocks with surprising agility for a man of his years and size. In no time, specialized warriors and oarsmen were boarding the boats. A pony thundered inland, its rider instructed to warn, not panic, the people of Finlaggan.

Though Somerled carried his mighty sword, he had dressed for warmth, not battle. His mail shirt, aketon, and helmet hung in his bedchamber, two miles away in Finlaggan. He singled out a boy in the crowd. “Lad, find me a helmet and a shield, and be quick about it.”

The boy shot like an arrow toward the cottages.

Somerled held his breath as he watched the nyvaigs head out. At the first flash of steel, he would blow the battle horn. His men would light the towers and he would board Dragon’s Claw. The foreigner would be sorry he entered the Sound of Islay.

The ship’s features were barely discernible, but he could see that its high prow lacked a figurehead. He was trying to identify the banner fluttering on its masthead when the ship’s sail dropped and scattered gulls like chaff in the wind. His heart hammered against his chest as he waited for the foreign vessel to sprout oars; it didn’t. It stalled—a sign its crew had dropped anchor.

Dragon’s Claw bobbed next to him at the jetty, her top rail lined with colorful shields and her benches holding sixty-four of his savage warriors. Cormac gripped the tiller, but he would move aside when Somerled barked the order to do so. He would serve as his own shipmaster in the face of an enemy.

Low and curvy with a dragon’s head exhaling oaken flames from her prow, Dragon’s Claw was his favorite vessel, not because she was new or particularly seaworthy, but because he had wrenched her from the last Viking to leave his father’s lands.

The memory of that battle warmed him and occupied his thoughts while the nyvaigs swarmed around the foreigner. Then, they swung about, furled their sails, and rowed for home like many-legged insects skittering on the water’s surface.

When the boats reached the beach, Hakon jumped from his nyvaig and jogged through ankle-deep water, apparently too impatient to wait for his men to haul the vessel’s keel onto the sand. “Well, my lord king,” he said, “it seems to be the day for marriage proposals. It is an envoy from Moray, who comes at the behest of Malcolm. He asks to speak with ye regarding Bethoc.”

“Malcolm MacHeth . . . the Malcolm MacHeth . . . wants my sister?”

He had met Malcolm MacHeth only once, at King David’s court, on a night spoiled by ill-bred lassies who had mocked his foreign garb and speech. Malcolm, a bastard nephew of the Scots king, had observed his humiliation and pretended not to notice.

Yet here was Malcolm of Moray, a claimant to the Scottish throne and a known rebel, seeking Bethoc’s hand in marriage. Tainted bloodline or not, Somerled was apparently worthy of notice now.

 About the Author




Something magical happened in the musty basement of Julie Doherty’s local courthouse. She went there intending to research her ancestry, not lose herself in a wealth of stories, but the ghosts of yesteryear drew her into the past and would not let her go. The trail left by her ancestors in those yellowing documents led her from rural Pennsylvania to the Celtic countries, where her love of all things Irish/Scottish blossomed into outright passion.

She became particularly interested in Somerled, self-styled "King of Argyll" and progenitor of the Lords of the Isles. In 1164, he led a fleet of 164 galleys up the River Clyde in an all-or-nothing attempt to overthrow the Scottish crown. What would lead a man of his advanced years to do such a thing?

Of course, history records he did so because the king demanded forfeiture of his lands. But the writer in Julie wondered ...what if he did it for the love of a woman?

Those early ponderings led to SCENT OF THE SOUL, Julie’s first novel, coming soon from Soul Mate Publishing.

Readers will notice a common theme throughout Julie’s books: star-crossed lovers. This is something she knows a bit about, since during one of her trips to Ireland, she fell in love with an Irishman. The ensuing immigration battle took four long years to win. With only fleeting visits, Skype chats, and emails to sustain her love, Julie poured her heartache into her writing, where it nourished the emotional depth of her characters.

Julie is a member of Pennwriters, Romance Writers of America, Central PA Romance Writers, The Longship Company, Perry County Council of the Arts, and Clan Donald USA. When not writing, she enjoys antiquing, shooting longbow, traveling, and cooking over an open fire at her cabin. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, who sounds a lot like her characters.