One of my favorites #SundaySnippet

I loved this story. In fact, Torin is one of those characters that haunts me still. I think of him at the oddest moments, like he's a living, breathing part of my life. I don't do that with all of my characters. Just the special ones.

                                                          

B

Blurb:

They say an eclipse yields a powerful force, an energy that can be harnessed by those with magic in their souls. On such a day when the sun disappears behind the shadow of the Earth, a mighty wizard evokes the elements of nature. With ancient, Celtic incantations, he sends an angel upon the wings of time to tempt a fallen king.

Angel Cashion is struggling to make ends meet and saving for when she can own her own repair shop in hopes of fighting her ex for custody of their daughter, but she is whisked away from home by a quirk of fate. Torin O’Faelain has spent the past two years enslaved by Vikings. A man of strong principles, Torin is committed to finding his way back to his native land and nothing will stand in his way, not even an angel from the future, but love and fate intervene.

Excerpt:

“Ye’re a bold one and have much to learn. Come.” He placed his large hand at the small of her back and gave a gentle shove. If he had to suffer her presence, at least she could perform duties befitting a woman. “’Tis time you earned your keep. A fine meal would no’ be amiss.

“You want me to cook?

“Aye.

She snorted. “Unless you have a ready supply of frozen dinners and a microwave, don’t get your hopes up.

He had no idea what microwave meant but didn’t feel inclined to ask.  Her tone implied an aversion to domestic chores, something he’d have to cure her of right soon. 

They reached the hut, and he hesitated. “Did ye leave behind a husband? Wee bairns to care for?”

Instant pain filled her eyes. She turned her back and lifted the flap. “Nope. Not even a goldfish. At present the only love in my life is T-Bone.”

An odd stab of jealousy hit him at the mention of a love interest. He shook it off as nothing more than weariness. When she would enter, he stayed her hand. “Nay. I would set rules afore ye abide in my home.”

She dropped the rawhide and held up her hands. “Fine. Whatever floats your boat. I’ll play your way until it no longer suits me.”

The girl’s nonchalance and dismissive words stirred his anger. Suddenly having his own slave gave him a sense of power he hadn’t expected. Under Erik’s rule and now Rurik’s, he’d forgotten how it felt to be in charge, to make decisions and have no one gainsay him. “Slaves canno’ choose when to quit being a slave.”

“Did someone forget to oil your squeaky parts?” She tugged at her ear as if her hearing had deceived her. “You keep spouting the same nonsense.”

          Nonsense? Did the girl not understand that certain things could mean life or death in this harsh land? 

          He grabbed her chin, forcing her attention. “Ye’ll obey my every command or find your stay most unpleasant. I ken that certain tasks might prove difficult, but I’ll no’ tolerate laziness or lack of respect.”

          Angel’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yep, you definitely need the squeaky parts oiled,” she muttered beneath her breath.

          Not fully understanding, he ignored her odd comment. She twisted from his grasp and followed him inside, her manner more subdued. If she only knew how her presence frightened him. Already, he felt protective of her, even attracted to her. The witch had cast a spell, one not to his liking.

          “Only a weak man uses his physical strength against a woman.” She stroked her jaw with nimble fingers. “Are you weak?”

          By the saints, she dared much. “Do you accuse me of being less of a man?”

          “Touchy.” She glanced off to the side. “I’m not handling this—you very well. You’re overreacting to everything I say. Usually, overreaction is a symptom of fear.”

          That she touched upon the truth made his insides curl.

          A curtain of black hair swept across her back as she tilted her head and laughed. When she quieted, she pierced him to the core with her dark, brooding eyes. “I’m just as frightened as you. I suppose that gives us common ground on which to proceed.”

 

Available at Amazon and AllRomanceEbooks

The Rose Hunter is here!

Today is the big day!  The Rose Hunter is now available for purchase through Champagne Books, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and All Romance Ebooks.

Blurb:

Lucian Willshire is plagued by thoughts of a fey world and the disappearance of his aunt some nineteen years past, but when his friend drags him back to Hamingjur Castle, he stumbles into Alfheim Haven once more where mystical beings become more than a distant memory.

Lyerra Ahdia is baffled by the sudden emotional changes she’s experiencing until she discovers she’s the only witch to suffer “the change” since her mother stole the Rose, a special talisman with the power to perpetuate life among those in her coven. Tasked with finding and bringing the Rose home, she begs Lucian’s help in navigating the human realm. Against his better judgement, he agrees.

Though neither set out to find anything except the Rose, fate has other plans. Will love be more elusive than hunting the Rose?

Excerpt:

Lyerra’s mouth gaped. She scanned the contents again. Surely he was wrong, but as she reread the letter from the new viewpoint, she had to agree. “Even so, he still claims he laid a trail to the Temple Church in Bristol.”

“If I had possession of a treasure as valuable as the Rose, and I had to hide it in a safe place, I’d leave clues perhaps, but I wouldn’t just blurt out its location. The probability of thieves and unscrupulous folks getting a hold of it would be too great to chance with such a missive.” He tapped the parchment. “Gareth paving a path to the Temple Church only means danger follows in that direction.”

“Oh, he’s trying to be clever.”

“Quite right. Your father was a smart man, one who must have loved you and your mother very much. I think we’ll find answers in Somerset.”

“Isn’t that where your friend, John, resides?”

“Pretty convenient but yes, we’ll pay him a visit in the morning and beg a few nights stay at his summer home at Runsford Hill. Perhaps he’ll have some books regarding the history of the area.”

She stared at the letter in wonder, and her eyes misted with tears. Brushing them aside, she tried to make light of her emotional reaction. “The smoke is making my eyes water. Perhaps we best take our rest.”

“There’s nothing wrong with crying.”

“Unless you’re an elfin …”

“Damn it, Lyerra, you’re half ...” He lowered his voice. “You’re half human. The fact you can cry gives me hope.”

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that should I succumb to your charms, it won’t be because of some magic you possess. It will be because your humanity speaks to mine.”

She slipped a hand across the surface of the letter, transforming it once again into a piece of antique jewelry. “I no longer wish to seduce you, Lucian. I see now that consorting with you in such a manner would be wrong.”

“Wrong for whom?”

“For both of us.” She latched the locket back into place. “The change forced me to make undue advances for which I humbly beg your pardon. That you were a gentleman of strong morals saved us both from sure heartache.”

“Lyerra, I …” The deep timbre of his voice sent tingles down her spine.

“No, let me finish.” She pushed her chair back and stood. When he’d done the same, she continued. “The strength of the physical attraction we seem to share frightens me. I know I tempt you each time I’ve need of your kisses or even your touch, but Lucian, you tempt me as well. And each time you walk away without taking more, you give me strength to resist my desires. For that I’m deeply in your debt.”

She had no idea what demons she’d stirred when Lucian pulled her into his arms. “Perhaps, I’m tired of resisting.”

 

 

 

The Rose Hunter releasing in November!

The Rose Hunter will be available for purchase on November 2. Right now, you can pre-order a copy from Champagne Books and ARe.

Blurb:
Lucian Willshire is plagued by thoughts of a fey world and the disappearance of his aunt some nineteen years past, but when his friend drags him back to Hamingjur Castle, he stumbles into Alfheim Haven once more where mystical beings become more than a distant memory.

Lyerra Ahdia is baffled by the sudden emotional changes she’s experiencing until she discovers she’s the only witch to suffer “the change” since her mother stole the Rose, a special talisman with the power to perpetuate life among those in her coven. Tasked with finding and bringing the Rose home, she begs Lucian’s help in navigating the human realm. Against his better judgment, he agrees.

Though neither set out to find anything except the Rose, fate has other plans. Will love be more elusive than hunting the Rose?

Excerpt:

             After a frozen moment, she trudged up the stairs and to her room. When she entered her temporary sanctuary, something felt quite wrong but try as she might, she couldn’t put her finger on the problem. Shrugging, she sank onto the plush mattress and removed the locket. She was about to spread the parchment out on the bed when the dangling bird cage caught her eye.

She jumped from the bed. The tiny door on the cage gaped wide. Charl was gone.

Clutching the paper to her breast she hurried out the door. “Lucian!”

She ran down the stairs and skidded to halt. At the foot of the steps, Lucian stood beside Mary Elizabeth. The child held a limp Charl in her palms.

“I broke the doll.” Mary Elizabeth hiccupped and sniffed back tears.

Charl dead? No. Lyerra had locked him up in the cage to keep him out of the cat’s way and keep him from following her and Lucian into the city.

“Did you take the doll from my room?”

The little imp nodded. “I just wanted to play with him. Can you fix him?” She extended her arms, offering Charl for inspection.

Lyerra bent and examined the poor pixie. A tear slipped from her eye to think of the creature’s untimely death. Just as she was about to answer, Charl opened one eye, winked, and quickly closed the eye again. Lyerra blinked. The pixie played dead while a young girl suffered.

“Fix the doll? Yes, I know just the cure. If you’ll soak him in vinegar water for half an hour, that should do the trick nicely.”

Charl sprang to his feet, balanced for a moment atop chubby fingers then leapt to the floor. Mary threw her hands wide and screamed. An exaggerated ‘oomph’ escaped Lucian’s lips, and he bent double. Mary’s small fist had connected with a very vulnerable place on Lucian’s anatomy. Lyerra covered her mouth with her palm to stifle the chuckle.

Meanwhile, Charl scampered up the stairs and toward the guest room. Luckily Gremlin must have been occupied with other endeavors.

Though difficult to keep the mirth from her voice, Lyerra bent to reassure the frightened child. “I think the doll is fixed now. Perhaps he’ll want to play later.”

Mary gave her a shy grin. “All right.”

“But if you play with the doll again, you’ll have to be very gentle. Charl doesn’t like being handled too much.”

Mary nodded and took off after the fleet-footed pixie. Lyerra straightened to check on Lucian. “I could kiss you and make it better.”

“Madam?” His eyes widened at her suggestion, and his voice sounded strangled.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you in much pain?”

He slowly stood upright. “I do believe you meant that a kiss would give you the power to heal but by the saints, my rather seedy imagination drummed up a totally different image.”

Now it was her turn to show dismay. “Indeed. But since you’re standing and your words aren’t too breathless, the damage must be minimal.”

“I’ll live.” Warmth suffused his cheeks. “But that pixie might not be so lucky. If he continues to wreak havoc, I’ll be tempted to let the cat ...”

“Surely you wouldn’t be that medieval.”

He sighed. “Probably not, but I give fair warning. Keep that menace from under foot and out of my way while it’s in my home.”

“Pixie’s aren’t easily restrained.”

“Are elfin witches easily restrained?”

“I should hope not.” She turned on her heel. “We have a way of getting what we want no matter the consequence.”

Excerpt from On Timeless WIngs of Gold

I've been watching the Vikings on the History channel and really enjoying the series until it got a bit too bloody for me but it came out after I'd written On Timeless Wings of Gold and On the Silver Edge of Time. I truly enjoyed seeing their interpretation of that period of time and how it correlated to my own research of that era. Anyway, I'm feeling nostalgic and I truly loved these two books so thought I'd entertain with an excerpt.

Excerpt from On Timeless Wings of Gold, a Viking Historical Time-Travel Romance:

Torin wanted no part of this alluring mystery, but the storm brewing across Rurik’s features promised dire consequences should he refuse to accept his new responsibility. No one deserved Rurik’s wrath, not even a misplaced witch. He squared his shoulders, resigned for the time being.

Truly magnificent in her stance against Rurik, she had sparked his interest. Memories of his first days of captivity flooded his thoughts. The fear, the pain, the degradation. Aye, the lass would do well to accept her fate and not fight.

He’d turned his back, expecting her to follow. A scuffle sounded behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

Rurik dragged the woman toward him. Mindless of her bare feet, she dug her heels into the hard ground. Torin’s nostrils flared, and his fists itched to pound the beast for manhandling the woman. She struggled against Rurik’s hold, and he backhanded her.

“You’ve no cause for brutality, Herre Rurik.” Torin could stand no more. He stepped forward. “Release her. I’ll accept your gift.”

“No.” She fought harder.

“Hush, lass. Ye’ve given these men enough fodder for one day.”

“I just want to go home. If kidnapping is your game, I promise I’m not worth all this fuss.”

“Your prattle makes no sense. No one means you any harm.”

She raised her hand to her burning cheek. “I’m standing here in my birthday suit, surrounded by candidates for a boxing club, and...”

“I do no’ fully ken the situation, but I suspect your home doesn’t exist in this time.”

“What—what do you mean?” She dropped her hand.

Torin didn’t want to tell her she’d traveled to the past, not with so many witnesses about. He assumed she’d not accept the news with grace. Better he wait until they were alone.

“Ye’ve no other safe harbor from the elements, and the jarl has commanded you to my protection. Best do as ye’re told afore he changes his mind. Methinks ye would not survive his swift temper.” Already a purple bruise formed along her jaw line.

Behind them, the murmurings of disgruntled men grated on his ears. She’d be a fool to stay and subject herself to more of the Finn-Gaills’ welcome. Not waiting for an answer, he started down the path again. He could have hauled her over his shoulder and forced the issue, but he refused to give Rurik the satisfaction.

The crunch of small rocks and dirt alerted him to her progress. He resumed walking, knowing she followed at a discreet pace. The short distance gave him little time to contemplate his prize.

“Could you slow it down a bit?” Her voice sounded breathless. “I like exercise, but I think the excitement has worn me out, and I’m not used to going about barefooted.”

He rolled his eyes but did as requested. Afore long, the pixie came abreast. He shot her a sour glare and chose a stride that kept him a pace ahead. He’d accept the care of this strange woman, but he refused to do so graciously.

“Great. I’m saddled with a baboon.”

“Name calling will no’ secure you a place in my heart.” He continued toward his hut, refusing to acknowledge her attempts to claim some power.

“A place in your heart is not where I want to be. Home on the other hand...” Though her words held a ring of sarcasm, he detected the fear she tried to hide. His attitude softened. Having been subjected to a similar fate two years prior, he could almost sympathize.

“For whatever purpose, ye’ve been given into my keeping. I, too, am no’ happy about it, but alas, I have no say.” He inhaled a sharp breath. The salty air stirred memories. A sudden pang of homesickness clutched his insides, and he almost cried out with the senselessness of it all. He yanked open the thick slab of rawhide draped over his doorway with more force than intended. “Get inside.”

The shuffling of her feet stopped. She drew herself up and took a step back. “I won’t be manhandled by another Richard.”

He had no idea what a “richard” was, nor did he care. “I’ll no’ ask again.”

“That’s a relief.” Another step backwards put more space between them. “Ouch.” She lifted her foot and rubbed.

“Ach, ye’re right. Run. The wild beasties will take care of my dilemma.” He shrugged and ducked through the portal. Carting her inside might prove entertaining, but if she entered without force, she’d give him less grief. Aye, he’d once tamed a stray dog in much the same way. But then, the stray dog had more sense.

The wattle and daub house proved dismal compared to Jarl Erik’s laborious abode, but it kept him warm and dry at night. Rather spacious for a thrall’s quarters, Erik had gifted him with a few amenities. The jarl’s way of relieving guilt, he supposed. His interest shifted to the wide bench that served as his bed. Would they both fit? No other place would allow rest unless he arranged deer hides on the ground. Nay, that wouldn’t do either. No doubt, she’d scream at the first insect that crawled along her smooth skin.

He picked up a knotted stick and poked at the coals in the center pit. Herre Erik and Rurik thought to bind him to this land forever with this gift. No other reason made sense.

Hidden within the tangled arms of the forest, supplies and a half-built raft awaited him. Two years serving the Finn-Gaills had given Torin many opportunities to leave, but he bided his time. Having suffered the bite of Rurik’s lash after his last effort to escape, he’d make sure his next attempt would prove successful. The time for going home neared—unless the girl interfered.

The book can be purchased from Amazon.

Excerpt from On Timeless Wings of Gold

With so much going on this week, I figured I'd just share a snippet from my latest. Enjoy an excerpt for On Timeless Wings of Gold:

“You said earlier, that when you escape you’d not come back no matter the cost. I know you have a plan.” Her mind raced with plans for leaving. She knew enough about survival to risk the inherent dangers, but where would she go?

          “You wear your thoughts for all to see. You’ll do naught to bring danger to this house. Do you ken?”

          She gave him an innocent shrug. “I can’t just do nothing. Escape isn’t so farfetched an idea, especially if we work together.”

          “Nay.” He jumped to his feet and grabbed hold of her arm. “I’ll hear no more talk of such.”

          “Unhand me, or I’ll lay you low like I did your Viking friend.”

          “I welcome your attempt to try.”

          She shivered. Apprehension warred with desire.

Desire? Where had that thought come from? She needed to be free from his hold, free from her budding awareness of him as a man.

          “Please take your hands from me,” she demanded again, her voice less steady. She couldn’t back down, and he wouldn’t back down. They were at an impasse, and it didn’t look like he was one for compromise.

          “Answer me, first.”

          She tried to pull away. “I won’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. I’m old enough to make decisions for myself, and I certainly don’t need some self-assured male with an ego problem to dictate to me. Now, drop your hands from my person, bud.”

          Tension mounted, sizzling into a more heated emotion. Slowly the anger faded from his face, replaced by a lustful smoldering. Instead of loosening his hold, his hands tightened, and he drew her closer, gentling his touch. “Nay. I think I like my hands upon your person.”

          His voice dropped to a low, mesmerizing pitch, a silky invitation designed to break through her resolve. She licked dry lips. When had she lost control of the situation?

          She didn’t dare knee him in the groin as she wanted, but she had to let this oaf know she could be as stubborn and determined as he. In a maneuver made difficult by the overlarge shirt she wore, she managed to elbow him in the stomach. Her actions proved unwise. Pain shot through her funny bone. The man’s stomach was as hard as the stone floor.

          “Ach, sweet angel. I should no’ care what happens to you, but I do. I’ve forced my will upon you, and ’tis no’ the way I meant for this morn to begin.” He dropped his hands.

          She rubbed her arms. He wanted to impose his will upon her but when thwarted would claim nonchalance with an I-don’t-care attitude. He didn’t like losing.

          “Ye’ll no’ be surprised when I do all I can to see you do no’ escape. You will no’ have an easy time of it, for I mean to have my way. Alas, I can think of no better way to pass the time. ’Twill be a fine game for the two of us to play. No’ friends, no’ lovers, no’ enemies, but adversaries, nonetheless. I look forward to the diversion.”