Meet Sara R. Turnquist (#giveaway #historical #interview @sarat1701)

Today I'm hosting Sara Turnquist's blog tour for her new historical romance, A Convenient Risk. I've got a couple questions for her. Then we'll take a look at the book. And be sure to enter her giveaway at the end of the post!

Lisabet: What is the sweetest thing someone has done for you?

Sara: My husband knows I love my author swag. So he indulges me…maybe too much. For our anniversary, he bought me bangle bracelets, one for each of my books, with a picture of the cover of each book on each bracelet.

How would you spend ten thousand bucks?

Probably on swag.

Where do you get your best ideas?

When I’m searching the internet or watching television…some random history tidbit will cross the screen and I’ll be drawn in.

What comes first, the plot or characters?

First, I’m usually inspired by the plot, but I definitely develop the characters first.

What does your main character do that makes him/her special.

My main character in “A Convenient Risk” is Amanda. She is strong-willed and determined that she is not going to be a burden to anyone or need anyone for anything. Though she is trapped in a situation in which she cannot help herself. But I digress… She is very capable on the ranch. Pretty much as capable as any ranch hand. And she is not afraid of hard work. Her domain extends beyond the house to the stables and fields.

Blurb

He never imagined her heart would be so hard to reach.  

Forced into a marriage of convenience after her husband dies, Amanda Haynes is determined she will never love again. Not that it bothers Brandon Miller. He needs her husband’s cattle. She needs financial stability and long-term support for her son and herself. But she never expected to care so much about the running of the ranch. Or the rancher.  

Butting heads over the decisions of the ranch, adding to her frustration and grief at her loss. Her well being is soon threatened as their lives become entangled with Billy the Kid and his gang. What has she gotten herself into? What kind of man has she married? Is there any way out?

Excerpt

A strong arm grasped Amanda, catching her upper arm and dragging her onto the horse. As soon as she was solidly on the animal, she grabbed ahold of Brandon as tightly as she could.

They took off. The bull pawed at the ground, making all manner of grunting noises, but as if by some miracle, he ran off to the left. All of this happened as if time had slowed.

The horse continued to push forward. And as they neared the edge of the fence, Brandon urged the horse to go even faster. Were they going to break through? What would happen to the cattle with the fence destroyed?

But as they approached the fence, the horse leapt. Amanda gripped Brandon impossibly tighter. Jolted when the horse landed, her teeth chattered.

Only then did Brandon slow the horse. He then placed a hand on her upper arm and pushed.

She released him.

He sucked in a deep breath and expelled it.

Had she been holding him too tightly? Her face warmed.

He took hold of her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, and though their faces were but a breath apart, she was not quite able to meet his eyes, fighting tears in her own. Only then she found herself staring at his bare chest. Jerking her head away, she averted her gaze.

“Do you realize what could have happened?” His voice rose.

She nodded, still not able to meet his eyes. The force of his emotion hit her. Was he so concerned after her?

“I would have had to shoot that bull.”

What? Eyes wide, she tilted her face up to look at him.

“That bull is worth half my herd.”

So he was only worried about the cattle. Not her. His precious cattle.

About the Author

Sara is originally from Middle Tennessee. After a short stint in Memphis, where she earned a degree in Biology and began a career as both a Zoo Educator and a Sleep Technician, she then followed a dream to work for a large zoo in Orlando, FL as an Educator. Once she and her husband started their family, they moved back to Middle Tennessee where they currently reside. 

Sara and her husband now enjoy a full life with their three beautiful and very active children. She enjoys many creative outlets – singing, piano, drawing, drama, and organizing anything. And even though she has enjoyed her career as a Zoo Educator, Sara's great love of the written word continued to draw her to write. She has always been an avid reader and, for many years, has been what she terms a “closet writer”. 

Her travels and love of history have served to inspire her to write clean Historical Romance. Sara has made several trips to the Czech Republic. Her time among the Czech people and the landscapes of the country inspired her and greatly influenced her work on her debut novel, The Lady Bornekova, set in Hradec Kralove, Czech Republic. Sara is also the author of The General’s Wife, Off to War, Hope in Cripple Creek, and A Convenient Risk and a member of ACFW.

Website/URL: http://saraturnquist.com/

Twitter: @sarat1701 - https://twitter.com/sarat1701/

Facebook: AuthorSaraRTurnquist -https://www.facebook.com/authorsararturnquist/

Pinterest: SaraVTurnquist – http://www.pinterest.com/saravturnquist/

Buy Links:

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Sara-R.-Turnquist/e/B010VHFAQ0

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Review Tuesday: Woman of the Mountain by Angela Caperton (#reviewtuesday #erotica #spirituality)

Woman of the Mountain by Angela Caperton

Extasy Books, 2010

Zenthe is the Earth Mother, the supreme Goddess of fertility and desire. Zenthe is also the volcano that towers over the far-flung lands of Corsinium, from the lush fields of Margate to the desert frontiers at Damtown. The dark waters of Zenthe’s Mirror, the bottomless lake that half-fills the crater, reflect the gleaming spires and halls of her centuries-old temple perched along the volcano’s rim. Within the temple, High Priestess Adita, the latest ever-young incarnation of Zenthe, presides over orgiastic rituals of fleshy bliss and waits for the one true Lover who will claim her forever. Adita struggles against loneliness, resisting the despair that has been the downfall of so many of her predecessors. Meanwhile, the rising power of a violent, paternalistic faith threatens to subjugate and destroy the Goddess and her people.

In Woman of the Mountain, Angela Caperton has created a vividly sensual world maintained by an intriguing mythos. Woman of the Mountain is about religion and sex. It is also concerned with the feminine, nurturing principle, contrasted with the masculine instinct to conquer. As I am personally fascinated the spiritual aspects of sex, I found Ms. Caperton’s thesis exciting. Unfortunately, she does not completely succeed in realizing the promise of her theme.

One problem (and I’m certain my readers will find this astonishing) is the fact that Woman of the Mountain includes too many sex scenes. Perhaps I should qualify this and say that the book contains too many scenes where the characters couple purely for immediate pleasure, without any deeper connection. In Zenthe’s world, sex should be a sacrament, but all too often, even among the folk of the temple, it seems to be no more than a recreation. Rarely is there a sense of reverence, a sense of communion in the flesh should sanctify Zenthe’s rites.

A second difficulty lies in the characters, who are generally too simple and one-sided to be realistic or to invite identification. Adita, in particular, seemed empty, a sketch of a woman who fills a necessary role in the plot but who never comes alive. Casmin, her loyal captain of the guard, has more depth, with his steadfast faith in the Goddess and his earthly but suppressed desire for Adita, but he is still the archetypal hero, with no flaws to make him real. The scheming, sexually opportunistic priestess Rivah was particularly disappointing. When we first meet her, she is an ambitious novice in Zenthe’s temple. There’s an almost childish glee in the manner with which she blackmails an older Priestess into granting her the boon of ordination. I was hoping that Rivah would prove to be a complex villain, or at least a powerful one. Ultimately, she turns out to be treacherous, but weak and uninteresting in her uninspired evil.

Perhaps the most successful character in this tale is Sul Tarkus, the prophet of the Father-God Kahmudj, leader of the hordes who lay siege to the holy mountain and the body of Adita. With his charisma and his fanatic certainty that he is the incarnation of his god, he is intensely believable (and indeed, familiar). When he finally stands face to face with Adita and is vanquished by his own doubts, the reader feels relief and joy, but also sympathy.

Woman of the Mountain is at its best in the scenes of high drama, when the mysteries of divine power are made manifest. When Sul Tarkus captures and opens the sacred floodgates on the River Sorrow, loosing the torrent to flow into the desert lands even as he dangles the sex-besotted Rivah above the abyss, I hardly dared to breath. I half-expected him to sacrifice her to his brutal god. I half-expected the power of Zenthe to rise in the traitorous priestess, calling her back to fulfill her long-ignored vows. When Sul Tarkus confronts Adita, alone at the pinnacle of Zenthe’s Needle, I knew that a miracle was imminent. And when the volcano/goddess belches lava and steam to fight off her attackers, I became a true a believer.

All in all, I found Woman of the Mountain diverting but disappointing. The grand themes of sexual union as a sacrament, of devotion and sacrifice to a higher power, of love as a force transcending death and time, rise in the background, but they are obscured, like Zenthe’s face behind its seductive veil. I have the sense that Ms. Caperton wanted to write a different book, a book of erotic mysteries that celebrates the magic of the flesh. Of course, her audience may prefer the book that she actually produced, full of saucy wenches and lively, superficial rolls in the hay. As for me, I regret the loss of the vision that I sense behind this book, the hints of transcendence that are, for the most part, unrealized.

Please note: This book won first prize for erotica in the prestigious EPIC ebook competition in 2007, when it was first released. So obviously not everyone agrees with me!

Icarus by David K. Hulegaard: Review and Giveaway (#suspense #scifi @hulegaardbooks) )

Blurb

It’s the winter of 1947 in Ashley Falls, West Virginia, and a teenage girl has gone missing. Local private detective Miller Brinkman takes the case, quickly uncovering a string of bizarre clues. A hidden diary, cryptic riddles, and buried secrets all pique Miller’s interest, but one key detail gives him pause: the girl’s parents haven’t reported her disappearance to the authorities.

As the case deepens, Miller’s investigation begins to poke holes in the idyllic picture of his beloved hometown. No longer certain whether anyone in his community can be trusted, Miller dives headfirst into a desperate search for the truth that extends far beyond the borders of Ashley Falls. He soon discovers that his missing persons case is not an isolated incident, but part of an otherworldly mystery—one that, if confronted, may threaten the very future of humanity.

Review

First, seventeen year old Jane Emmett disappears from Ashley Falls, West Virginia. A rebellious young woman often in conflict with her parents, Jane might well have run away from home, but if that’s true, there’s no trace of her, aside from some cryptic poetry and a pocket watch that clearly belongs to someone else.

Next, Jane’s best friend Jessie Fryman is found dead at the foot of the cliff that gives the town its name. The town sheriff plans to pin the murder on Miller Brinkman, a mild-mannered private eye whom Jessie had consulted about her missing friend. Sheriff Coleman knows Brinkman isn’t the culprit, but the sheriff has a score to settle. Besides, the lawman is somehow mixed up with the shadowy “men in black” who seem to have caused Jane to vanish.

Brinkman is a man with a strong moral compass, and more courage than he gives himself credit for. Despite his agoraphobia, he leaves Ashley Falls, where he has spent his entire life, to follow clues left by Jane and Jessie. His gut tells him there’s something sinister going on and he’s determined to get to the bottom of the situation, even though it puts him in mortal danger.

He expects to find something peculiar, but the horrible truth about Jane’s fate is far beyond anything the sheltered PI could possibly have imagined.

Icarus is a brilliantly suspenseful novel with a unwitting but winning hero. Miller Brinkman thinks he’s ordinary, a small town guy who will never amount to much. However, he’s intelligent, intuitive, surprisingly brave, and above all, good. He pursues the question of Jane’s disappearance and Jessie’s murder not because he’s being paid by a client, not for the intellectual satisfaction of solving a puzzle, but because he senses some dark fate has swallowed her and maybe others.

From the first pages, I was sucked in to the mystery. We know from the prologue that Jane has been abducted, but we have no idea by whom. As the book progresses, though, it becomes clear that her kidnappers are both determined and vicious. I couldn’t guess the real story, despite many hints.

David Hulegaard does a great job bringing both Brinkman and post World War II America to life. In those times, a train trip from West Virginia to Baltimore was a major journey. Hulegaard makes you feel the distance. The writing is generally excellent, as is the editing (something I really appreciate in an indie novel). The story flows smoothly, propelled by Miller’s almost heart-breaking quest for justice. In fact the PI loses what he holds most dear before he solves the mystery.

I have only two complaints about Icarus. First, though the build up is amazing, the truth about Jane’s fate struck me as far-fetched, even contrived. Although I knew that the book was labeled as science fiction, it reads more like a who-dunnit until that point. The change was a bit disorienting. Second, although the dialogue overall struck me as excellent, Sheriff Coleman’s speeches were rendered in an incredibly irritating dialect:

Coleman stepped away. “Head back to the station, and when ya get there, leave yer badge on my desk.”

I rubbed my throat and coughed.

“Yer days as deputy are done,” he said with his back to me. “And a word of advice: forget any of this ever happened, and don’t ya ever come ’round my station again. It’d be a cryin’ shame if ya ended up like Benny.”

I have a feeling that the author wanted us to remember that Coleman was a black man. However, this really rubbed me the wrong way. No other character in the book has this sort of extreme accent.

Overall, though, I greatly enjoyed reading Icarus. Indeed, the book left me eagerly awaiting the next novel in the series, because I really wanted to know more about Alyssa Noble.

Who is Alyssa Noble, you might ask?

Well, you’ll have to read the book and find out for yourself.

Excerpt

Jessie stalled in the doorway, studying the parking lot. She turned her head left to right several times, conducting a sweep of the area.

I plopped a coin on the table and joined her. “Is everything all right?”

“It’s probably nothing.” Jessie adjusted the book bag on her shoulder. “I think my mind’s playing tricks on me. Earlier I thought I saw… Oh, never mind.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe I was being followed on the way here from school.”

“Followed? Did you see someone?”

“Well, I didn’t get a good look or nothing, but I could’ve sworn I saw a man in a black suit behind me. Sort of keeping a distance, you know?” Jessie said. “But when I got here, he was gone.” She covered her eyes. “Gee, it sounds like I’ve read Jane’s journal one too many times, huh?”

I chuckled, though it was more from nerves than humor. “Tell you what, Jessie: how about I walk you home? I’m headed that direction anyway.”

“Oh, that’d be swell. Are you sure it’s no trouble?”

I reached into my coat pocket and felt the familiar shape of my Colt revolver at my side. “Nope. No trouble at all.”

About the Author

David K. Hulegaard is an American author and paranormal investigator. His Noble trilogy has garnered comparisons to the works of Philip K. Dick and Stephen King. In 2016, he collaborated with best-selling author Tony Healey on the novel Planet of Ice.

David previously worked at BioWare, a premiere video game development studio known for creating the popular Mass Effect and Dragon Age franchises. He now lives in the Victorian seaport town of Port Townsend, Washington with his wife Jennie, and their banana-obsessed Welsh Terrier Tobi. In his spare time, he enjoys video games, professional wrestling, and photography.

Links:

The Official Website of David K. Hulegaard: http://davidhulegaard.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/hulegaardbooks

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/davidkhulegaard/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4464396.David_K_Hulegaard

Amazon Page for Icarus: https://www.amazon.com/Icarus-Noble-Trilogy-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01MTZZVZA/

David Hulegaard will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

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Smut Sunday: Father’s Day (#fantasy #ageplay #SmutSunday)

Welome to another week of Smut Sunday, the brainchild of the irrepressible Ms. Victoria Blisse.

Today is Father’s Day in the U.S., and maybe elsewhere too. I thought I’d like to share some smutty bit involving some character who’s a father. However, I came to conclusion that none of my male characters have ever had kids (which shows a certain lack of diversity, doesn’t it?)

However, I realized that I do have some age-play erotic scenes in my novel Incognito. Miranda, the heroine in that book, is frigid when she’s with someone who cares for her. On the other hand, she’s an insatiable sexual adventuress when it comes to doing things with strangers.

In this particular case, she discovers that her roommate Lucy has been hanging out in a fetish chat room, and that she has made contact with a guy who calls himself Big Daddy. In the meantime, Lucy has fallen in love and is off in Paris. Miranda takes a call from Big Daddy, and on the spur of the moment, decides to impersonate Lucy.

When you’re done with my smutty excerpt, head back to the Smut Sunday page for more outrageous fun.

And don’t forget to be good to your Dad—today and every day!

All eyes were on her when she walked into the bar at eight sharp. She had raided Lucy’s closet again, and the effect was startling. She wore a plaid kilt that would have been short on her petite apartment-mate, and a plain white blouse with a Peter Pan collar. Her long legs were bare down to her white ankle socks and patent leather flats. She had parted her hair in the center and gathered it into two braids, tied with red bows.

In these conservative surroundings, among the hunting prints and the leather upholstery, she knew that she looked bizarre, bizarre but sexy. It felt like Halloween. After a few moments, the eyes turned politely away. A marketing gimmick, they thought, or perhaps some twisted young heiress. They returned to their martinis and their gossip.

Somehow, she recognized Big Daddy immediately. He was a handsome man of about fifty with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He sat in a corner, one knee over the other, swirling brandy in a snifter and watching the door. Their eyes locked across the room. She felt pulled to his corner by some type of magnetism.

He rose as she approached, offering his hand. “Lucy, my dear,” he said warmly. “You’re right on time.”

Miranda felt shy and tongue-tied, but fortunately he carried the conversation. “Please, sit down.” He gestured at the cocktail waitress. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Red wine, please.”

Big Daddy looked at her sternly. “Now, don’t be naughty, Lucy. You know that you‘re too young to drink wine.” He turned to the waitress. “A Shirley Temple for my little friend here.” The waitress smirked at Miranda and disappeared.

Miranda desperately wanted some alcohol, to dull the edge of her nervousness and help her to relax. When the fruity drink arrived, the waitress served it with a flourish and a wink. Taking a sip, Miranda thought she detected a hint of vodka under the grenadine and soda. She mentally thanked the saucy young woman.

Big Daddy was staring at her. She found that she liked it. “You look delightful, my dear,” he said at last. She glowed at his approval. “Perfect in every respect. I do expect that I will have the chance to examine you more closely when we go upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Miranda’s voice was almost a squeak.

“I took the liberty of reserving a room for us, where we can be more—private. Of course, if you are not comfortable being alone with me, I will quite understand.”

Strangely, Miranda found that she trusted him. He seemed gentle and courteous, if somewhat authoritarian. His melodious voice was soothing, almost hypnotic. “No,” she said finally, “I think that I would like to be alone with you.”

She wondered what Lucy had told this man, what fantasies they had shared on-line before setting up this meeting. She had to know—needed to be prepared.

“Big Daddy…”

“Yes, Lucy.”

“Remind me, what did I say in the chat room? Sometimes I have a hard time remembering.”

He smiled indulgently. “You told me that you wanted to be my little girl. That you wanted me to spank you if you were bad. That you had nasty thoughts and feelings, and knew that you needed to be punished for them.”

“And what did you tell me?”

“That I had just the kind of firm hand to keep you in line.”

[Warning: things get a lot smuttier after this point. But given this is Father's Day, I thought I should keep the post PG!]

Free To Write (#amwriting #inspiration #epiphany)

Last week I wrote a blog post about how frustrated I was feeling, not having the time I wanted to write. In the last few days, though, I’ve been seeing things from a different perspective. I still have to steal bits and pieces of time to work on my naughty stories. However, when I do manage to sneak away for an hour or two as Lisabet Sarai, I’ve been amazed at how easily the words flow.

This seems to be true regardless of the story or the genre. I just finished a short story for an anthology. It’s darkly erotic, full of poetry and emotion. To be honest, I believe it is among the best things I’ve ever written. At the same time, I’m working on my silly, smutty novella set in Larry’s world, which is totally different in mood and style. In both cases, I’ve felt a remarkable sense of freedom and control. Well, not exactly control—I believe that inspiration can’t be summoned and hence is not subject to conscious control— but a sense of the writing being in sync with my intentions and desires.

I’ve been writing and publishing for nearly twenty years. Maybe I have finally learned how to do it right.

The other day I was chatting online with an author friend, about my recent erotic romance Damned If You Do. It’s a rather unconventional story, which breaks a lot of romance rules. I really didn’t think this tale, about a romance author who makes a deal with the devil, would be well-received, but I felt compelled to write it any way. It’s a deeply personal story. No, I haven’t been approached by Mephistopheles and offered a contract. But sometimes I’ve felt the same despair experienced by my heroine Wendy—the fear that no matter how good a book I write, it doesn’t matter, because nobody is going to buy it.

Wendy (spoiler alert!) ultimately breaks her infernal contract and keeps her soul. In talking to my friend, I experienced an epiphany. I realized that by writing Wendy’s story, I had exorcised my own demons of envy and regret.

I’m through writing for the market. Not that I won’t try to sell my books, but if I can’t, that’s okay. It’s more important for me to write what’s in my heart or what tickles my imagination, to challenge myself with new genres, themes and forms—to have fun.

At last, I’m free to be Lisabet Sarai—whenever I can find the time!

Wandering around on tall buildings... (#gayromance #voyeurism #scar @parr_books)

 


By E.D. Parr (Guest Blogger)

I loved writing this story. Alex the fun, sexy hero thinks nothing of wandering around on tall buildings both in his day job and in his clandestine antics at night.

Lovely Blake has the wrong idea about himself. The scar on his face is a heavy load for him to carry but hunky Alex sees the beauty before him and falls in love with Blake.

There are some red-hot love scenes but behind them is a love story to make you smile.

Alex isn’t who he first appears to be. Love changes him as much as it lifts Blake from his self-doubt.

I hope that you enjoy their story.

Thirty year old, lawyer, Blake Aster gazes from his high-rise office window wondering if this summer he’ll find love, but deep inside he doubts anyone will ever want him again. He can’t forget the scar he has running the length of his handsome face.

Hunky, daring, Alex Ryan is cleaning the building windows. Struck by the mythical beauty in the Blake’s looks, fun-loving Alex sets out to get Blake’s attention. Maybe a striptease outside Blake’s eighth floor window will do the trick.

M/M erotic romance—contains gay male anal sex, oral sex, partner masturbation in the love scenes

Excerpt

Alex ran his hands into the beast’s thick dark hair and held his head, plundering his mouth with kiss after kiss, and grinding his cock on the beast’s hard body.

The man in Alex’s arms broke away. He gulped in air. “You’re the window cleaner.”

Alex smiled with amusement. “You noticed. You are so fucking hot. How soon do you think you’d come if I sucked your cock?

The delectable man’s eyes widened. He gasped. “Feel my cock.” He took Alex’s hand and pressed it onto the rock hard column in his suit pants.

A low moan escaped Alex. He grazed his lips on the beast’s. “Open your pants.”

In seconds, Alex had dragged the beast’s pants and shorts down his legs. He dropped to his knees and licked all the way up the perfect cock that sprang free. He grabbed the man’s thighs, opened his mouth wide, and took the leaking dick deep into his throat, simulating fucking for a few strokes. Alex, felt his own cock leak. The tip was high against his jeans waistband and strained at the fastening. He drew the beast’s cock in and out of his mouth, circled the head, sucked at the pre-cum, and pushed his hand around to tease at the man’s hard ass crack. The beast groaned and thrust, his hips finding a rhythm, he fucked Alex’s mouth.

Alex’s thighs weakened. His head filled with the scent of sex, and cum. He basked in the male energy exuding from the hot guy who orgasmed in his mouth with a long groan.

Buy the Book

On launch special at Evernight!

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/thief-of-hearts-by-e-d-parr/

http://www.bookstrand.com/thief-of-hearts-mm

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071K9BDC4

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B071K9BDC4

Find E.D.Parr

Twitter https://twitter.com/parr_books

Amazon page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01MUNJ3I8

Blogs

https://parrx.blogspot.com

https://parrx.blogspot.co.uk/

https://edparr.blogspot.com

G+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/109826263935095799032

Manic readers https://manicreaders.com/EDParr/

TRR http://www.theromancereviews.com/EDParr

Magic will not be denied - The Goddess's Choice by @JamieMarchantSF (#epic #fantasy #giveaway)

Blurb

In a world where the corrupt church hides the truth about magic, the fate of the joined kingdom falls on the shoulders of two young people from opposite ends of the social hierarchy.

Crown Princess Samantha’s life begins to fall apart when she starts seeing strange colors around her potential suitors. She fears that she’s going insane--or worse that she’s defying the Goddess’s will. Robrek is a lowly farmboy with incredible magical powers. He has been biding his time waiting to get revenge on those who call him a demon.

Thrown together by chance, they must overcome their differences to fight their common enemy Duke Argblutal, who, with dark magic, is slowly poisoning the king’s mind and turning him against his own daughter. Time is running out for those chosen by the Goddess to prevent the power mad duke from usurping the throne and plunging the joined kingdoms into civil war.

Excerpt

“Let us be painting your face tonight, Your Highness!” Ardra begged, in her north Korthian accent. Samantha’s maid was as small and slight as the princess herself and had hair so blonde it was almost white.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Malvina chimed in. “Lady Shela’s maids said just yesterday we couldn’t possibly know our business ’cause you never wear paint.” Malvina, more of a typical Korthlundian woman, was tall and broad and not nearly as pretty as Ardra.

“Lady Shela,” Samantha snorted in disgust. Shela wore so much paint she resembled some ghastly sea creature. Samantha knew she wasn’t pretty, but she was fond of the freckles that speckled her nose and thought the emerald green brilliance of her gown set off her white skin and auburn hair beautifully. Besides being appallingly uncomfortable, paint would absolutely spoil the effect. The princess gestured toward the huge portrait that covered one wall of her bedchamber. “Do you think Danu wore paint?”

Malvina shrugged. “The Princess Danu was said to be a powerful sorceress, Your Highness. She probably didn’t need to wear paint to attract men.”

Samantha laughed bitterly, as she thought of the army of men waiting below. “I wish not wearing paint was all it took to scare them off. They say Danu never married, and see how happy she is.”

Samantha yearned for Danu’s freedom. The long-dead princess was laughing as she galloped across the fields. Danu’s auburn hair flew out behind her in the wind. The stars on the forehead and chest of her horse shone against its gorgeous coat. Samantha loved this painting, which was just as well because it was bolted to the wall and couldn’t be removed without tearing her chambers apart. She’d decorated the rest of her bedroom to match. Tapestries of horses covered the walls. Her dressing table, armoire, and large four-poster bed had horses carved into the woodwork. A quilt, embroidered with horses and stars, was spread over the bed. The mantle over her fireplace sported figurines of horses in gold, silver, jade, crystal, and precious stones. Every new ambassador added to her collection.

About the Author

Jamie began writing stories about the man from Mars when she was six, and she never remembers wanting to be anything other than a writer. Everyone told her she needed a back up plan, so she pursued a Ph.D. in American literature, which she received in 1998. She started teaching writing and literature at Auburn University. One day in the midst of writing a piece of literary criticism, she realized she’d put her true passion on the backburner and neglected her muse. The literary article went into the trash, and she began the book that was to become The Goddess’s Choice. She is now releasing an expanded edition of the novel. 

Her other novels include The Soul Stone and The Ghost in Exile. In addition, she has published a novella, Demons in the Big Easy, and a collection of short stories, Blood Cursed and Other Tales of the Fantastic. Her short fiction has also appeared in the anthologies--Urban Fantasy and Of Dragons & Magic: Tales of the Lost Worlds—and in Bards & Sages, The World of Myth, A Writer’s Haven, and Short-story.me. She claims she writes about the fantastic . . . and the tortured soul. Her poor characters have hard lives. She lives in Auburn, Alabama, with her husband and four cats, which (or so she’s been told) officially makes her a cat lady. She still teaches writing and literature at Auburn University. She is the mother of a grown son.

Links

Website: http://jamie-marchant.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jamieofkorthlundia/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JamieMarchantSF

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5258855.Jamie_Marchant

Newsletter Sign up: http://jamie-marchant.com/newsletter/

Buy Link (99 cents on release day only!)

https://www.amazon.com/Goddesss-Choice-Book-Kronicles-Korthlundia-ebook/dp/B071RQ786T/

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