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
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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.
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