Showing posts with label dragons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dragons. Show all posts

Friday, October 17, 2014

Excerpt from paranormal romance Violca's Dragon by Lailani Love

I have another dragon on the blog this week! Today we’re learning a bit about Leilani Love’s paranormal romance Violca’s Dragon.

During her virtual book tour with Goddess Fish Promotions, Leilani will be awarding a $15 Amazon or Barnes and Noble Gift Card to TWO randomly drawn winners and a Swag Giveaway to FOUR OTHER randomly drawn winners. To be entered to win one of these prizes, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free to visit her other tour stops and enter there, too!



Blurb about Violca’s Dragon:
Violca knows life can change instantly. Her parents died suddenly, leaving her to raise four younger sisters and keep them safe ~ even from the golden-eyed stranger.

Chase knows the Grey sisters possibly hold the key to his fate. He is determined to get close, protect them and bring them to his Dragon King.

What Violca doesn't know is that once a dragon decides he wants something, there is no stopping him from getting it.


Excerpt from Violca’s Dragon:
Chase stays behind her as she walks on a path that leads away from the cabin, heading near the direction of the river. He knows Violca is aware of him and smiles to himself, knowing she is not turning around because she is trying to ignore him.

When she stumbles, he reacts quickly and is at her side, his arms around her before she can fall. She squirms, pushing away from him, almost falling with the effort.

Once he is sure she’s okay he carefully releases her. Standing in front of her, he looks her over and when she finally looks up at him, he notices that her violet eyes are darker as she looks at him angrily. “I didn’t ask you for your help,” she snaps.

Chase knows that smiling at her right now will not help him, nor will telling her she looks beautiful when she’s angry. Watching her breasts rising up and down as she breathes, her violet eyes sparkling with anger and the straight line of her lips, he fights the urge to kiss her. “You didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt.”

She glares at him. “Why are you here? What do you want with me?”


Author bio and links:
Leilani Love is a proud mother of two very active boys. A military wife, she loves getting to meet new people wherever they move. She loves to read books crossing many genres. Her love affair with dragons started when she was young and one day dreams of having her own dragon and black panther.


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Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Interview with paranormal novelest Dean C. Moore

Paranormal author Dean C. Moore is here today as we feature his new novel, Blood Brothers.

While Dean does a virtual tour through Goddess Fish Promotions, he'll be awarding a lucky winner a $20 Amazon gift card. To be entered for a chance to win, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free to visit his other tour stops and enter there, too! 

Welcome, Dean. Please tell us a little bit about yourself.
I write sci-fi, fantasy, action-adventures and thrillers, or some combination thereof—usually with a strong vein of dark humor. Though, my works are dramas first; the humor is there to take the edge off as with the Raiders of the Lost Ark, Transformers, and Jurassic Park franchises. 

I wrote screenplays for a while, and while enjoying them, I found them a bit confining. After a while you just need the extra page count to flesh out characters better and do additional world building, especially when considering doing anything epic in scope. I also took a run at future forecasting and trend tracking, being as I always had my head in the future, things like Alvin Toffler’s Future Shock. I also relished this, and can certainly see myself releasing a few titles accordingly in the nonfiction area. But since delving into novels, short and long, I’ve definitely found my home and my voice. For the first time I feel the restraints have been taken off of my imagination. I suppose all mediums have their limits, so I may end up doing a mix of things, but I suspect I will continue to spend most of my time with novels. Series add an additional dimension, allowing for even more depth and development both in the character and world building departments. But I remain at heart a divergent thinker, so, no surprise, I seem to have more series going than follow up installments at this point. That too may change over time; we’ll see. Until then, it may be best to just think of these books as one-offs if you’re fond of my writing style and some of the themes I work with.

My current catalog of twelve books represents a little over five years' worth of work. I'm currently averaging a couple books annually. Of my existing franchises with multiple installments, The Hundred Year Clone books can be read in any order, while the 5 books of Renaissance 2.0 must be read in sequence as they form part of a singular story arc (much as with A Game of Thrones.)

I live in the country where I breed bluebirds, which are endangered in these parts, as my small contribution to restoring nature's balance. When I'm not writing, or researching my next book, I may also be found socializing with friends, or working in my organic garden.

Please tell us about your current release.
Blood Brothers is a paranormal fantasy about fraternal twins with extraordinary powers. They’re taken by a secretive government department as infants and raised separately with the intent of keeping them from knowing of one another’s existence. Trained to be assassins, it isn’t long before their abilities graduate from making them exemplary at their jobs to making them something the government can no longer control. They are subsequently scheduled for cancellation and given their final assignment: take out one another. Not only does that not work out, they team up to go against the people trying to bring them down.

Heading the department tasked with eliminating the brothers is none other than their own father, who turns out to be several magnitudes of power beyond either of the boys. Even together, they’re no match for him. But they have an ace up their sleeves they don’t know about. Drawn to the same kind of women, they discover that their wives are sorceresses only now coming into power. But is the menagerie enough to take down dear old dad?

One reviewer said it best: “The series is called Blood Brothers, but this adventure is really a family affair: the brothers, their partners, children and even their old man in a starring role as the villain. Think Disney's Incredibles, but in a violent and bizarre fantasy world.”

What inspired you to write this book?
I would write not only Blood Brothers, but several other titles before consciously realizing that what I write isn’t fantasy so much as paranormal fantasy (at times blended with sci-fi). I would have thought my range was greater than that, but I guess not, lol. As with Nietzsche, I’m fascinated with the man into superman idea. And I’m constantly on the lookout for dark situations that put my heroes under the kind of pressures that would destroy baser mortals. There I will find the rare few individuals who manage to rewire their minds post their traumas to emerge as something more than what they were before, usually with any number of psychic and paranormal abilities.

My novels and my characters thus tend to take one of two paths to self-transcendence. In the case of my sci-fi, it’s usually some type of cyberpunk upgrade. Or the characters may in fact be robots determined to better themselves. But with my fantasies, such as Blood Brothers, the path from the human to the superhuman is different. Here I borrow more on ancient Tibetan scrolls, Zen wisdoms, Buddhist philosophy, the teachings of saints and sages alike, and studies done on Shaolin monks, to name some influences. I look at studies into peak performance among star athletes and mentalists and I stir in a little imagination and extrapolation to look at what’s ahead for us as we evolve individually and collectively into something more than human.

For some people, paranormal fantasy means stories about shapeshifters, werewolves and vampires. You’ll find these in my books also, but always coming from this private place, from the same nagging question, how can each of us—not just our fantasy escape characters—do this? So my books, if you read between the lines, are primers for turning each of us into something a good deal more extraordinary. No one book has all the answers. After all, I have to entice you to keep reading. And I have to keep the stories fun and fast-moving, as opposed to pedagogic, which means lightly sprinkling the technical details of how you too can follow a path into the mystical and magical.

Excerpt from Blood Brothers:
Just beyond the perimeter of the military encampment, Clay and Jared soared in with the F-14, still moving relatively slowly under the influence of Clay's telekinesis, the jet’s fuel long spent.

They observed the drama with the dragons breathing fire on the soldiers and having it deflected by the force field.

And then they watched as Rydell took out the two-headed dragons one after the other with blasts from his eyes, boring basketball-size holes through each of their hearts.

The beasts emitted agonizing cries as they fell. The first to land, the one with the more pointy snouts, managed to penetrate the shield with her heads as she landed on top of it. With her dying breaths, the fiery boluses she emitted took out a healthy allotment of soldiers already panicked and fleeing beneath the energy dome. Then, with her body limp and arched to accommodate the shield, she slid off.

As the second dragon crashed, it flicked its tail, penetrating the shield, and slicing any number of running soldiers in two, before the shield pushed it back out, resuming its perfect spherical shape.

The last of the second dragon’s heads hammered the ground moments after.

Jared took over the F-14, firing up the afterburners. “We're outta here.”

“And the defenseless women we're arriving like knights in shining armor to save?”

“We'll say a prayer.”


What exciting story are you working on next?
One of the ones I’m working on now, Odd Man Out, is a darkly funny tale about a FBI profiler who hunts serial killers by day, but is a serial killer himself by night. Fans of the Dexter TV series will feel right at home here. Though ostensibly a high-tech thriller, as always with my writing, paranormal elements lurk just beneath the surface. Part of the fun with this series is watching the FBI profiler cum serial killer mentoring his protégé on how to take his game to the next level. Sharing best practices includes divulging some of his meditative curriculum, and other mind-enhancing disciplines for being all he can be. His ability to stay ahead of the best and brightest the various world agencies have had to throw at him over the years, after call, can’t be explained entirely by simply being smarter than they are.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I had a palm reader look at my right palm once and say, “Hmm, you’re very fickle.” She promptly handed my arm back to me and turned forward in the car seat. We were driving someplace at the time. I hated her for that. I thought, “The audacity of the woman!” But she’d clearly hit a nerve. Some years later I decided for myself, “Dean, you’ll never be able to be one thing for the rest of your life unless that one thing allows you to be everything else.” Through my writing I can be a lawyer, a doctor, a spy, a mad scientist, a health nut, and the hundred and one other things I would like to have been in real life—if only I weren’t so fickle. Better yet, I can enjoy superhuman abilities that only people who live in fantasies much of their waking life can ever hope to enjoy.

The above realizations came to me during my college years at Cal Berkeley. It was an age of revelations, all in all. I’ll save the rest of the shattering insights into myself and my world made back then for next time.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
I do write full time. You would think that without the distractions of a day job that it would all be downhill skiing as far as resistance to getting my daily allotment of pages written. You’d be wrong. It requires years of discipline and technique to keep the pipes open and flowing, to circumvent writer’s block, to know how to balance the writing with the editing and the researching of the next book, and with some semblance of a social life that keeps you from becoming a peculiar form of recluse. All of which explains why I started writing late in life (when I was younger I had none of those things going for me.)

And then there are the health issues surrounding such a sedentary life. I constantly have to interrupt my writing to do my twenty-minute exercise breaks if I expect to keep my mind sharp and in the “zone” of peak performance. And then there’s the issue of what to do about those hundred and one errands I’ve been putting off, just so I can write, all screaming for my attention. Unfortunately, I’m not British royalty who can afford to hire out for every little thing. That means when the faucet is leaking, I have to fix it. When the car needs a tune up, it strangely won’t drive itself to the shop and take care of this on its own. (Ask me why I also write sci-fi, if not to ensure that cars of the future do just this. And houses clean themselves, and yard work gets done by robo-lawn mowers, which I hear they actually have, I just can’t afford one. Please buy my books so I can, and so I can feed this strange, insatiable addiction that really does want to gobble up the rest of my life, and which I’d be happy to let do just that, if only life didn’t have a mind of its own.)

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I’m into power drinks. I’m constantly seeking out new exotic ingredients to throw into the blender before hitting “purée.” Spirulina. Chlorella. Acai berries. Noni. You name the superfood, I’ve tried it separately or in combination. Then there are the herbal supplements for mind enhancement, better memory, better focus, faster mental processing—I’m a huge fan of lecithin on that score. I think it’s a post-40 thing. You hit that age and you’re told your heart beats less, sending less blood to your brain. Did I mention the yoga and the part where I stand on my head for some of the day to compensate? Writing is mind-work. Being told your mind is heading south—not encouraging. I jog. I do tai chi.

I remember when I was younger I had this dear friend in his 40s, and I thought, “God, what a hypochondriac.” He’d run from his Sufi dancing and Whirling Dervishes class to his Chinese medicine and acupuncture class. Spirulina wasn’t good enough for him. (This was before superfoods was even a big thing). He wanted Klamath lake algae (something about targeting the brain better than Spirulina.) He played Mozart the livelong day because it helped with secretion of hormones that aided peak performance. And he flew to Findhorn, a New Age community in Scotland, to find out how they grew tomatoes the size of watermelons for his organic garden. I used to laugh and make fun of him (in a loving, chiding way.) Then somewhere along the line I became him. Though I do take the same time out that I did with him to laugh at myself. After all, it’s only fair.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
An astronaut. I was humble enough back then to realize, “Dean, you’re not rocket scientist material. But getting out of the space capsule, going over and introducing yourself to the alien, that’s very you.” As it turns out, they have standards for being an astronaut. Go figure. One of which I think requires not being at all claustrophobic for those long journeys to never never land. Scratch that idea. Writing, however, has no such limitations. And rather than wait for a space program that would never get me where I wanted in my lifetime, I opted for the more audacious scheme of dreaming up entirely alien worlds all for myself. Some of these worlds fit far more solidly within the fantasy paradigm, as with Blood Brothers. Others are more get out the phaser, and require more of a Star Trek Into Darkness approach. But wherever I go with my mind, you can bet I’ll be able to do things there I could never do back on Earth. Not even if I could be anything I wanted.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
There’s definitely a “Dean heavy” and a “Dean light.” “Dean light” includes my shorter works like Blood Brothers, Escape From the Future, The Warlock’s Friend, and Love on the Run that are just unmitigated fun, and shameless escapes from reality. “Dean heavy” includes my big, fat books, the epics, like The Hundred Year Clones and Renaissance 2.0 franchises which are a return to the days of heady sci-fi. They’re part psychological thrillers, and they delve into ethical and other thorny dilemmas facing societies that rely increasingly on more and more technology, until even people have to become upgraded, that is to say, part machine or part computer, just to keep up. Or they must find some paranormal pathway to self-transcendence if they have any chance of staying atop the food chain.

But with “Dean light” and “Dean heavy” both, the underlying question remains, how do we get from here to there? How do we survive the shift in global consciousness that insists if we are to survive into the future we must find a way to be transcendent? There are many ways to be transcendent. For some of these paths, fantasy stories work best, for others, sci-fi, and for some, a hybrid version of the two. But if you’re experiencing what Alvin Toffler termed Future Shock, and what another writer has more recently coined Present Shock to indicate just how pressured we’re all feeling to hang in there, as the demands of the workplace and of survival continue to ratchet up, then you may find some help by way of my novels. Just keep in mind, all that helpfulness is disguised in the subtext. After all, God forbid it get in the way of the fun of telling a good story.

Links:

Thank you, Dean!

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Monday, August 18, 2014

Interview with Christian novelist Carey Green

Carey Green is a retired Pastor turned author, multipreneur (he just has too many ideas), and marriage and family coach. He's married ever-so-happily and has 5 kids, a wonderful daughter-in-law, and two grand-boys. He lives in the mountains of Colorado and never, ever wants to move again. He's written a handful of non-fiction works centered around Christian growth but most recently has taken a step into the fiction world with his first novel in a 3-novel series, Dragon Slayer: Beginnings.

And he’s here today to chat about that first novel.


Welcome Carey. Please tell us about your current release.
Dragons have been forgotten, relegated to the realm of legend and myth. But tales of horror circulate among the common people. Rumors of their attacks float on the night wind. They are a fearsome presence that haunts the memories of the old and the nightmares of the young.

They are forgotten, but they are not gone.

The dragon masters wait, a dark force lurking in the shadows of every land.

They will have their opportunity. They will rise.

A young boy is stripped violently from his family and thrust into the conflict between dragon masters and feudal lords. Through tragedy and loss Hon is swept into the conflict while battling the fear and pain that grips his own soul.

Dragon Slayer: Beginnings is a story of life and the growth of faith in the midst of loss. It’s about the battle every person goes through to become more than their past has destined them to be.

He is the first. He will be the best. He is the Dragon Slayer.

What inspired you to write this book?
For years I've told my kids stories at bedtime, on road trips, whenever… all right from my head. The dragon slayer stories are some of those that my kids have urged me to put into print for years. I finally listened to them and Dragon Slayer: Beginnings is the first fruit of those efforts. But more than that, I believe in the power of fiction. I know from my own experience that a story well told that includes significant truths about life, faith, and people can change a person's life. I endeavor to make my writing THAT kind of writing.


Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE

            As Hon awoke, the sky outside his window was dark, but the room was as bright and hot as if it were mid-day. His hair and night clothes were soaked with sweat.
            His bleary eyes were drawn to the wall opposite his bed, where flames danced atop it, quickly consuming the thatched roof. The darkness of the night sky showed through the flames. He thrust himself backward into the corner of the room, only to feel the heat of rising flames as they came through the wall behind him. As he leapt over his pallet toward the closed door, he could hear his Mamma frantically screaming his name and the faraway shouts of the men of the village. The six-year-old boy began to cry.
            He climbed over the smoking, thatch-strewn quilts of his parents' bed. Patches of burning straw dotted the floor. The room was growing brighter and hotter by the second. Gripping the door pull, he tugged, finding it unusually difficult to open. Trying again with all his strength, the door suddenly swung free.
            It was in the midst of this chaos that he first heard the sound, a piercing screech that filled his heart with fear. It seemed to be right above him, but within the fire as well.
Without thinking, Hon began running for the front door of the cottage. Debris showered over him as he dodged his way through the blazing room. Fright drove him over the hot embers on the floor; he didn’t feel the blisters that were rising on his feet. Suddenly, he was through the front door of the cottage, his face blackened and his bedclothes smoking. He ran like a frightened deer, away from the house and the terrifying sound above it. He came to a stop by the well in the center of the town square.
            The pain of the burns on his feet awoke him to the reality of the chaos about him. Tears flowed again as he took in the scene. People were shouting, running, seeking cover. Most buildings were in varying degrees of flame. Wood popped and hissed, smoke filled the air. He picked out his Mamma's slight figure through the crowd. She was back across the square, turned away from him. She knelt in the dirt in front of their flaming cottage, her head hung low. In his terror, Hon had run right past her.
            The sound pierced his ears again, coming from the dark sky above the square. A second sound accompanied it; a powerful, pulsing, whooshing sound that drew closer each second. His Mamma turned her head away from it, hands over her ears and eyes clenched shut. Hon's only thought was to be with her so he began another mad dash, straight toward her.
            The sky erupted with fire and a building to his right burst into flames. The blast knocked him to the ground. He suddenly felt strong, rhythmic bursts of cool night air pulsing down onto his head. A chill overtook his small body as the black sky seemed to descend upon him. Down came a hulking, scaly, red beast, gracefully lighting on the dusty ground immediately in front of him.
            The creature was huge, towering at least fifteen feet higher than his childish frame. Its muscular legs were like tree trunks, its body covered in impenetrable rows of rock-hard scales. It was a legend come to life, a monster to strike fear into the bravest heart.
            Hon could see his Mamma's cowering form as he looked through the widely spread legs of the dragon. Instinctively, he made his way toward her again, choosing a path directly through the legs of the beast. Just as he emerged from underneath the massive body, his Mamma's eyes met his.
            "Hon! Hon, no!"
            As he darted toward her a lightning fast thrust of the dragon's strong fore-claw plucked him from the ground, midstride. With a screech of triumph the beast rose to its full height, violently shaking its head from side to side as flames spewed from its mouth.
Though he could no longer see her, Hon heard his Mamma's voice again.
            "No!"
            Swinging around to face her, the dragon focused its attention on his Mamma. She screamed at the beast.
            "Let him go, you devil!"
            Reaching for stones and pieces of smoking wood, she pelted the dragon with one measly object after another, each one emphasizing a different word.
            "Let… him… Go!"
            Enraged at her pitiful assault the dragon advanced. In one stride it towered above her like a mountain. Mouth wide and teeth bared, it roared fiercely into her face. She turned to run, but found nowhere to go. Behind her was the burning remains of their home and in front of her was the dragon. Spinning around she glanced from Hon, to the dragon, and back again. Mother and son locked eyes and tears began to flow. The dragon swiped viciously at the woman and she flew limply through the air, landing in a heap 50 feet away, at the far side of the square.
            As the beast turned, a shower of arrows and rocks peppered its rough hide. The men of the village had gathered themselves to make a defense. Hon saw his Papa in the front ranks, notching an arrow and letting it fly. Their missiles bounced from the monster's scaly hide, causing no harm at all. It roared in defiance and, with a quick twist of its mighty body, swept its tail across their small company, sending men flying like dust in a gale.
            Suddenly, Hon was rising, high above the blazing village. The men below were picking themselves up from the ground, and some did not move at all. His Papa was running toward the blacksmith's shop. Hon craned his neck to find his Mamma. Her still form lay motionless on the far side of the square. The beast rose higher, circling the town as if taunting the helpless villagers. The sound of its mighty roar echoed through the valley. Hon wept, helpless and afraid as he soared high above his home.
            A quick gust of wind blew against his cheek and he heard a loud "thwap," just to his left. Something wet and sticky fell across his burnt arm and the dragon screamed, and lurched to one side. A short, thick shaft protruded from the base of the dragon's neck. Far below, his Papa was frantically trying to load a crossbow while two other men ran out of the blacksmith's shop with crossbows of their own. With a screech of pain, the dragon began to climb higher into the dark sky.
            The wind violently whipped Hon's night clothes as the rhythm of the huge, bat-like wings grew faster. The pair rose higher, above the clouds, into the starlit night, the boy clutched tightly in the dragon's bony claw.
            The compressing grip of the dragon's claw caused Hon’s head to pound and his breath to become short. As the wind blew harder and colder against his face, he gasped for air, unable even to cry. His thoughts became a jumble, fading as he lost consciousness... flames... Mamma... the dragon… Papa... pain... the sound...
            Then all was silent.


What exciting story are you working on next?
I'm working on book #2. Hopefully, it will be published by Thanksgiving 2014.

When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I guess I first thought of myself as a writer when I realized that the curriculum I'd created for church classes was actually a form of writing. It's taken me a bit longer to believe that I could do this as part of "what I do" to make a living, though.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
No, I don't write full time (though I'm always writing something, even in my other lines of work). I'm also a marriage and family coach (www.ChristianHomeandFamily.com), a podcast producer (www.PodcastFastTrack.com) and an online course creator (www.PassTheSafeExam.com), as well as a mortgage loan broker in the state of Colorado. I'm self-employed for the most part so I do my best to schedule writing into my work schedule every day.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
A quirk… hmmmm. Let me see. I often type exactly what I'm thinking when asked questions like this one. I think it's an example of what Dawson Trotman once said, "Thoughts disentangle themselves when they flow from the lips or the fingertips." I guess for me it's the fingertips.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A professional baseball player. But by the time I was 15 I realized that I didn't have the raw talent to accomplish it, which was OK. Really, it was.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
I love to interact with my readers. Feel free to contact me at carey@dragonslayerbook.com or by commenting on my Facebook page or website or Google+ (I really, REALLY love Google+).


Thanks, Carey!

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Book blast tour stop for The Cracked Slipper by Stephanie Alexander

Today is a super book blast tour stop for The Cracked Slipper by Stephanie Alexander. It's a romantic women's fiction fantasy now available.


Stephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. To be entered for a chance to win, leave an e-mail (so you can be contacted) with your comment below. For more chances to win, visit other tour stops and leave comments there. 

Blurb:
When Eleanor Brice unexpectedly wins the heart of Gregory Desmarais, Crown Prince of Cartheigh, she's sure she's found her happily-ever-after. Unfortunately, Prince Charming has a loose grip on his temper, a looser grip on his marriage vows, and a tight grip on the bottle.

Eight years of mistreatment, isolation and clandestine book learning hardly prepare Eleanor for life at Eclatant Palace, where women are seen, not heard. According to Eleanor's eavesdropping parrot, no one at court appreciates her unladylike tendency to voice her opinion. To make matter worse, her royal fiancé spends his last night of bachelorhood on a drunken whoring spree. Before the ink dries on her marriage proclamation Eleanor realizes that she loves her husband's best friend, former soldier Dorian Finley.

Eleanor can't resist Dorian's honesty, or his unusual admiration for her intelligence, and soon both are caught in a dangerous obsession. She drowns her confusion in charitable endeavors, but the people's love can't protect her from her feelings. When a magical crime endangers the bond between unicorns, dragons, and the royal family, a falsely accused Eleanor must clear her own name to save her life. The road toward vindication will force a choice between hard-won security and an impossible love.

The Cracked Slipper is a book club friendly fairytale retelling in the vein of Gregory Maguire, with a dash of romance. Set in a pseudo-renaissance, corset-and-petticoats enchanted kingdom, The Cracked Slipper brings a magical twist to women's fiction.

Excerpt:
"Their host, Sir Robert Smithwick, rose and gave a toast to the health of his nephew. Other speeches followed, each more suggestive than the next. She laughed out loud when Dorian subtly mocked Brian’s inability to hold his liquor. Gregory spoke last, and gave a surprisingly thoughtful salute to his cousin. She patted his arm when he sat, and he gave her a tentative smile.

As everyone returned to their venison and cliff shrimp Eleanor's stepmother tapped her goblet. Mother Imogene rose and lifted the cup. “I must ask you to pause for just one more moment,” she said. “I have another announcement.”

“My darling,” she said to Sylvia. “We’ve all so enjoyed your hospitality this summer. But now my daughter must remember herself, and rest, for with the winter will arrive a future duke! Our dear Sylvia is expecting!”

The guests applauded, congratulating Imogene and Sylvia. Sylvia gazed demurely in her lap, as if embarrassed by the association with procreation. As for the expectant father, he was nowhere to be seen. His wife’s entertaining had proved too much for him, and the duke returned to Harveston for some peace.

Eleanor glanced down the table. Anne Iris retched into her cup, but it was Dorian’s calm face that inspired her. She stood and the room quieted. “My dear sister,” she said. “Let me extend my good wishes.”

Sylvia’s simpering went rigid.

“I will say, Sylvia always had a flair for the dramatic when we were children. Who knew you would entertain so many with your widely varied talents? While I have recently been ill, I’ve heard you neglect no one, from the loftiest lord to the most common stable hand. We are so fortunate there is one among us who gives so generously of herself to others. It’s no wonder His Grace, your husband, took his leave. It must be difficult to share you with so many.”

Imogene’s eyes bulged and her nostrils flared, while Sylvia gave an uncertain twitter. Eleanor looked at Dorian again. He winked.

“So I salute you, Your Grace,” she said.“May your child look just like you. Just as lovely.”

The guests applauded, all the while hiding their smirks and chuckles in their goblets and napkins. Eleanor sat down. This time Gregory touched her arm. “Well played,” he said."

Author Bio and Links:
Stephanie Alexander grew up in the suburbs of Washington, DC, the oldest of three children. Drawing, writing stories, and harassing her parents for a pony consumed much of her childhood. After graduating from high school in 1995 she earned a Bachelor of Arts in Communications from the College of Charleston, South Carolina. She returned to Washington, DC, where she followed a long-time fascination with sociopolitical structures and women’s issues to a Master of Arts in Sociology from the American University. She spent several years as a Policy Associate at the International Center for Research on Women, a think-tank focused on women’s health and economic advancement.

Stephanie embraced full-time motherhood after the birth of the first of her three children in 2003. After six wonderful years buried in diapers and picture books she returned to her childhood passion and wrote her own fairytale. Her family put down permanent southern roots in Charleston in 2011. Stephanie is an adjunct professor of Sociology at the College of Charleston.



REMEMBER! Stephanie will be awarding a $10 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. To be entered for a chance to win, leave an e-mail address (so you can be contacted) with your comment below. For more chances to win, visit other tour stops and leave comments there.  




Sunday, April 22, 2012

Live chat/interview with novelist Karina Fabian


The Writer's Chatroom presents multi-genre novelist Karina Fabian

WHEN?

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Eastern USA Time.....7-9 PM

Not sure what time that is wherever in the world you are? http://www.worldtimeserver.com

WHERE?

The Writers Chatroom at: http://www.writerschatroom.com/Enter.htm

Scroll down to the Java box. It may take a moment to load. Type in the name you wish to be known by, and click Sign In. No password needed.

Please note: The chatroom is only open for regularly scheduled chats.

Friday, June 6, 2008

Review - Choices Meant for Kings by Sandy Lender

Choices Meant for Kings
Written by: Sandy Lender
Fantasy
Rated: Excellent (*****)
Review by: Lisa Haselton

Twenty-year-old Amanda Chariss has a lot of responsibility weighing on her young shoulders. She has been appointed as The Master’s Protector and must keep the god safe from coming to harm as the prophecies proclaim.

Long-time friend and companion, Hrazon has been on the run with Chariss for years. They find themselves now residing at Hleo-Arcana as guests of the Taiman’s. Chariss has sworn to protect centuries-old Rhone Taiman from all possible enemies. Her vow to Nigel Taiman to be his wife is centermost in her mind, but must not take priority in her life at the moment.

With enemies powerful in casting spells, Chariss longs to have use of her gaesa’n abilities again, but until then she must trust her gut instincts and experience. She also knows she can rely on her wizard, her betrothed, and her dragon to be there when she needs them. Her ability to win over warriors with a smile and light manner is balanced with her spectacular swordsmanship of which no one can best.

Sandy Lender grabs the reader by the hand and pulls him along until the finish with her exception writing style. The quick-witted dialogue keeps the story moving along at such a clip that the reader is grateful for a pause so he can catch his breath. Lender creates a fantasy world with gods and goddesses, dragons and wizards, swords and daggers, love and betrayal, that feels incredibly real. The characters are multi-dimensional and quite interesting. Lender’s style makes it seem like you’re watching a movie rather than reading a book.

Sandy Lender’s second novel and second in the Choices trilogy, Choices Meant for Kings, picks up just after Choices Meant for Gods. She has an English degree from Truman University and has been in the magazine publishing and public relations/marketing field for numerous years. She finds herself needing to stay extremely organized in order to make time for writing. She is hard at work on the final book in this trilogy and plans a prequel. You can read more at Sandy’s writing and marketing blog.


I highly recommend any lovers of fantasy read Choices Meant for Kings. The fantastic world is as real as its characters. The action and dialogue move you along a fantastic thrill ride that is as curvy and treacherous as paths along a steep mountainside. Make sure you have time set aside because once you start reading this book, you won’t be able to put it down. There is never a dull moment.

Title: Choices Meant for Kings
Author: Sandy Lender
Publisher: ArcheBooks Publishing
ISBN: 978-159507-219-1
Pages: approx. 323
Price: $27.99