by Sarah | Nov 16, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Excerpt, Guest Authors, Writing
Night of Pan, by Gail Strickland
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Date of Release: November 7, 2014
Series: Book One of The Oracle of Delphi Trilogy
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Description:
The slaughter of the Spartan Three Hundred at Thermopylae, Greece 480 BCE—when King Leonidas tried to stop the Persian army with only his elite guard—is well known. But just what did King Xerxes do after he defeated the Greeks?
Fifteen-year-old Thaleia is haunted by visions: roofs dripping blood, Athens burning. She tries to convince her best friend and all the villagers that she’s not crazy. The gods do speak to her.
And the gods have plans for this girl.
When Xerxes’ army of a million Persians marches straight to the mountain village Delphi to claim the Temple of Apollo’s treasures and sacred power, Thaleia’s gift may be her people’s last line of defense.
Her destiny may be to save Greece…
…but is one girl strong enough to stop an entire army?
*~*
EXCERPT:
A sun-bronzed hand thrusts from the shadows, grabs my shoulder. Ebony fingernails dig into my forearm. Panic fills me. My feet feel like they grow tendrils snaking into the dirt, rooted with the poppies and wild grasses. I can’t breathe or cry out.
A hairy leg steps from behind the pine. I don’t move.
A satyr squats before me, his muscled thighs matted with bristling fur that curls over hooves. His broad chest—sturdy as an old oak—heaves.
The air between us is charged with light and a hum like a swarm of bees.
A quizzical smile crosses his face. He lets my arm go and steps back.
I should run, but I can only stumble one step away, afraid to turn my back to this creature, half man, half goat smelling of garlic and musky wine.
My heart, filled at first with mindless terror is stunned by the delicate lift of his fingers as they dance across his flute. The rippling notes tighten my chest; conjure images of deep forest dancing down to a wine- dark sea. Strong muscles shape his bronzed shoulders. With a tilt of his head, he seems to float from stone to fallen log, leaping and twirling with the music. Dark trees bend like an attending chorus, drawing the forest shadow away from the center of the glade until it fills with light and melody, motion and power. Needles cling to the satyr’s curls.
He stops circling. His eyes are blue like the summer sky.
Pulling me close, he licks my neck. I stiffen in his embrace.
Once more he leaps around me.
I am drawn to his grace, the power of wild goats in the delicate lift of each leg, his hairless torso, gold with oil and sweat. Corded veins at his neck course with heated blood as he dances lightly before me then hides behind the old pine. Is he gone?
I whirl around as his hoof strikes an exposed rock behind me.
His knees prance as he plays quick trills on the flute. The satyr kneels before me. His silence, his breath envelops me. Like harsh ice crystals melting to warm spring waters, his gaze that once filled me with revulsion sweeps a rush of warmth up my legs. Longing tightens my heart and strangles my outcry.
With lithe fingers he lifts my hair, lets it fall strand-by-strand clinging against my breasts then leans his sun-bronzed forehead against my chest, snuggling into the crook of my neck. He peers at me, his face—wide like a bear’s—inches away from mine.
I gasp.
I understand.
He is the god Pan, his eyes full of me. They know me. As no one understands me, this god, smelling of goat and thyme and garlic, his eyes laughing and full of scheming… this god sees into me. I smile back at his gap-toothed grin. His tongue works a hole where one of his front teeth is missing between full, smiling lips.
A tiny green hummingbird with a long, black beak and scarlet red throat flits around one of the satyr’s stumpy horns then the other before deciding to land on his curls, golden bristles between the two.
When I laugh, his face smoothes. Gently, slowly, he lifts my fist, uncurls each finger, by blowing soft breaths as a potter does to keep the clay from cracking. He presses his panpipes into my hand and closes my fingers, one by one over the reeds. “Thaleia, I’ve waited for you.” His voice is earthy, deep like black mud. Stroking the inside of my wrist with a light, quick caress, he trails claw-like nails slowly up the inside of my arm. The pipes are warm from his lips.
Though his touch is gentle on my skin, I pull back, when I see his hairy thighs and restless hooves. Waist up, he is a young man, but his legs!
“Do I scare you?” I jump when his deep voice jerks me from my musing.
“Well, I’m not surprised. Just look at me. Even my mother thought I was ugly!” Pan prances a quick dance back, his hooves lifting high. Laughing, he throws his arms to the sky, “She abandoned me at birth! All the gods laughed the day I was born.”
The satyr sweeps his fingers through a clump of poppies, plucks one and with a deep bow holds it up for me to take.
“Look at the flower, next to its petals… behind. There… do you see a light? Like a leaf shadow? Be the heart of the color. Feel with color. Find color in your body and hear its song. There you will find your power.”
Pan strokes my cheek.
“Know thyself. It’s really that simple, Thaleia. Trust who you are. You plan to run away and never return.”
“How do you know?”
He wraps strong fingers around my arm and stares into my eyes. No, he seems to fall into my eyes, or I into his.
“You are needed in Delphi. Your destiny is here.” He stands close before me, waiting, calm. His eyes hold the sky, his fingers the power of deep roots grasping rock and soil.
“Let me go,” I say, suddenly afraid of his power over me, but my heart rebels against my own command.
A flash of lightning tears his attention. I twist free. There is another flash. The lightning bolt—Zeus’ anger?—strikes the pine. We stand two stark shadows; the thunder’s rage bursts around us, answered by a roar of fire. Flames consume twisted branches, making a torch of the old tree. Another flash and answering roar sweep over us.
Pan looks over his shoulder at the flaming tree, his back muscles ripple, tense; his nostrils flare… and then he is gone, disappeared into the woods.
*~*
About The Author:
While studying the Classics in college, Gail Strickland translated much of Homer’s ILIAD and ODYSSEY, Herodotus’ prophecies and THE BACCHAI by Euripides. Living on the Greek islands after college, she discovered her love of myth, the wine-dark sea and retsina.
THE BALTIMORE REVIEW and WRITER’S DIGEST have recognized Gail’s fiction. She published stories and poems in Travelers’ Tales’ anthologies and the San Francisco Writer’s anthology. Her poetry and photography were published in a collection called CLUTTER.
Born in Brooklyn, New York, Gail grew up in Northern California. She raised her children; was a musical director for CAT children’s theater; taught music in schools; mentored young poets and novelists and introduced thousands of youngsters to piano and Greek mythology. Gail is passionate about bringing the richness of Homer’s language and culture to today’s youth.
Find Gail Strickland Online:
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by Sarah | Nov 10, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Guest Post, Writing
- I wear a shirt when I write that has Shakespeare’s face on it and says “This shit writes itself.”
- I am a middle child. I have a sister that is two years older and a sister that is two years younger.
- My favorite movie of all time is Casablanca.
- When I was 21, I did an internship working at Walt Disney World. Best seven months EVER!
- I met my husband in the parking lot of a Jimmy Buffett concert. He was working. I was drinking.
- My favorite beer is Blue Moon.
- I love the Red Sox.
- Every time I publish a new book, I drink champagne and watch Anchorman and Talladega Nights. It’s a tradition now.
- When I was moving out to California from Connecticut after graduating law school, the hubs and I drove route 66 all the way from Chicago to the Santa Monica Pier. It was such an amazing experience, and I think there may be a book in it.
- My pen name is a play on my real name. My full name is Tracy Leigh Kellam. I don’t think I need to spell out where T.K. Leigh came from. 😉
- I have a yellow jeep wrangler that I love. Her name is Savvy J.
- In my opinion, there is no such thing as too much coffee. Or peanut butter.
- I am a sushi addict.
- I am deathly afraid of snakes. I can’t even watch a movie with them in it or I’ll flip out.
- My favorite New Kid on the Block was Donnie. I’m glad I picked one that aged well.
- I am a huge proponent of “Adopt, don’t shop.” We have a dog and 3 kittens, all of whom we have found on the streets and saved.
- One of my favorite TV shows is Arrested Development.
- My favorite book of all time is The Great Gatsby. What can I say. I’m a sucker for a story with no HEA.
- I currently have 8 works in progress.
- You will all be seeing Cam and Jolene again. 😉
Title: Heart of Marley
Author: T.K. Leigh
Release Date: November 3, 2014
Genre: New Adult/Romantic Suspense
Synopsis
To the moon and back…
From the stars to the ocean…
That was Marley and Cameron Bowen’s secret code.
Twins born just five minutes apart, they have the perfect life… Until tragedy strikes just weeks after their eighth birthday and their father is killed by a drunk driver. Having trouble coping with the loss of her soul mate, their mother tries to find comfort in drugs and alcohol… And an abusive man with a penchant for underage girls.
No longer able to stand listening to his sister’s screams and cries every night for nearly three years, Cam takes matters into his own hands and they’re finally able to escape the nightmare.
They’re finally able to start over…
But the nightmare still haunts Marley. The years go on and she is forced to put on a smile, making everyone think that she is the perfect, well-adjusted teenager that she is supposed to be… Until she is faced with a painful reminder of her past during her senior year of high school and she’s no longer able to keep on the mask that she has been compelled to wear.
Recommended for ages eighteen and over due to strong language, sexual situations, and graphic violence.
Buy Links
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Book Trailer
[vimeo http://vimeo.com/109320856]
Excerpt
I had gotten used to things over the years. Marley’s emotions always took you on a wild roller coaster ride, the ebb and flow often unexpected and sometimes tumultuous. But during those moments that things flattened out, and the ups and downs of her life were on an even keel, even if for just an instant, those were the times that I treasured. I wouldn’t trade those rare memories for anything in the world. Those were the times that I saw the real Marley…the girl that forced me to play Barbie’s with her, the girl that convinced me the mud pie she made for me was really chocolate. The way her eyes brimmed with enthusiasm and mischief at the same time, you couldn’t help but believe her, knowing that she would squeal with excitement and delight when you pretended to take a bite of her ‘chocolate’ pie.
“Remember the tree house?” she asked, bringing me back from my own memories. I could hear the lump in her throat.
“How could I forget? You hounded Dad for months to build you one.”
“Remember going out there after he died, but before Mama lost the house?”
I nodded, finding Marley’s hand and grabbing it. “Yeah, I do.”
I felt her body tremble beside me as big, fat rain drops began to fall. “I think it would have been the best tree house on the block.”
“The way Dad doted on you, it would have been a tree mansion by the time he was done with it.”
Losing my father was hard enough when I was just eight, but having to be faced with the constant reminders of his life made it even more difficult. The worst was looking out our back window at a tree that he had begun to build a house in for Marley and me. The night that Mama had explained to us that Dad had gone to heaven and wouldn’t be coming back, I remember glancing out there and seeing Marley sitting on the lone wood plank that he had set up as the foundation of the tree house. Nearly every night that we lived in that house, we would go out there and simply lay down and look at the stars.
“This reminds me of that,” I said softly. “Of those nights in the tree house.”
The sound of thunder boomed around us and we remained on that roof, not caring that we were both drenched from the late summer downpour cloaking the town.
“Me, too,” Marley said. “I think that’s why I like coming out here so much. It reminds me of ‘before’. It makes me feel closer to Dad. I always swore I could hear him talking to me in that tree house and, some nights when I’m out here, I can still hear him.”
“What does he say?”
She turned to face me and almost broke into tears. “That he’s proud of you. That he can’t believe how much of him he sees in you. That he’s happy you don’t let anyone or anything influence your decisions. That he’s thankful you’ve never abandoned me.
About the Author
T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is the USA Today Best Selling author of the Beautiful Mess series. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, dog and three cats, all of which she has rescued (including the husband). She always had a knack for writing, but mostly in the legal field. It wasn’t until recently that she decided to try her hand at creative writing and is now addicted to creating different characters and new and unique story lines in the Contemporary Romantic Suspense genre. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found running and training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls and far too many halfs to recall). Unlike Olivia, the main character in her Beautiful Mess series, she has yet to qualify for the Boston Marathon.
Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Blog ~ Pinterest ~ Amazon Author Page ~ Goodreads
Purchase Her Other Books Today
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Giveaway
$100 Amazon Gift Card and (10) signed paperback of Heart Of Marley
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by Sarah | Nov 5, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Excerpt, Guest Authors, Writing
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Blurb
In Regina Cole’s steamy novel of hot ink and delicious angst, two tortured artists take a leap of faith—but the past threatens to tear them apart.
After her parents pull the plug on her college fund to finance their nasty divorce, Hailey Jakes is desperate to pay her own way and finish her degree in graphic design. She can hardly believe her luck when the sexiest guy she’s ever seen hires her to be the receptionist at his tattoo shop. With sea-blue eyes, jet-black hair, and full sleeves of tattoos on his muscular arms, Neill Vanderhaven looks like the kind of guy who wouldn’t give her the time of day. In fact, he’s mesmerized by her—and it doesn’t hurt that she’s talented as hell.
But Hailey and Neill have more in common than instant chemistry: They’re both carrying serious baggage. Hailey’s parents split after years of blowout fights and sloppy affairs. Neill just got out of something serious with a woman who loved her bad habits more than she loved him. When they take the plunge on a new relationship, they’re both breaking their own rules.
But then a terrible misunderstanding brings Neill’s worst fears to life, and their connection threatens to come crashing down. What they have is more than skin-deep, but now Hailey and Neill need to decide whether the kind of love that lasts forever is worth such exquisite pain.
Link to Follow Tour: http://www.tastybooktours.com/2014/08/draw-me-in-by-regina-cole.html
Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22551565-draw-me-in?ac=1
Author Info
Regina Cole, lover of manly muscled arms, chest hair, and mini-marshmallows, has been reading romance since her early teens. While she loves a love story of any heat level, she’s been drawn to the erotic side and is loving every minute. When she’s not frantically pounding away at the keyboard, she can be found fishing with her family, playing with her dogs, trying out strange new recipes, or snuggling with her hubby. She also writes mainstream romance as Gina Lamm.
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Excerpt
I quickened my step and hurried toward my tutoring appointment with Dr. Fields, my student adviser. The manicured grass swished under my sneakers as I cut the corner past the campus police station. I rounded the math building toward Adams Hall. The large stone structure that housed psychology and English classes, as well as my adviser’s office, was one of the oldest on campus. But that was Leesville. Ancient stone structures surrounded by modern architecture and wonderful, colorful landscaping. A mishmash of old and new that had inspired probably a hundred of my drawings since I’d been here.
A burst of laughter caught my attention, and I moved to the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for a group of girls to pass so I could mount the steps to Adams Hall. It wasn’t until after they’d gone that I heard the last chime of my cellphone.
“Crap,” I muttered as I yanked it from my pocket. The screen flashed. Missed call—Home. I frowned. It wasn’t like Mom to call me in the middle of the day.
As much as I hated to, I navigated to the missed call and tapped the number. With the sound of ringing in my ear, I wandered down the walk a little way. Sunlight streamed through tiny gaps in the thick canopy above, oak trees lining the shady, acorn-covered sidewalk. With the small nuts crunching under my steps, I counted the rings.
Three, four, five . . . I frowned. Mom always answered by the third ring. She worked from home, and it was Thursday, so why the delay? Six, seven . . .
The heavy click of someone answering was a temporary relief.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up? Sorry I missed your call. I couldn’t hear the ring until it was too late.”
It wasn’t my mother who answered. It was Dad. “Hales, I’m sorry.”
“Dad, why are you home? What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?” I stopped there, in the middle of the sidewalk. My stomach tightened and my nails cut into my palm as I made a tight fist and waited for his answer.
His heavy breath was full of sadness, even through the phone’s tiny speaker. “I’m sorry, but it’s over, Hales. Your mother and I . . . we’re through.”
I slammed my eyes shut. I’d known it. Before he had said a word, I’d known what he was going to say. But that didn’t stop the bolt of shock from slicing me in two. I took a deep breath to steady myself, then answered. “When, Dad?”
“Yesterday.” His voice broke. “It’s not my choice, honey. It’s hers. She left, and she’s taken all our savings with her. I did everything I could, but she read my text messages and misinterpreted them to mean I was having an affair. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen.”
I cradled my forehead in my hand. Nausea swirled in my belly. I didn’t care if they split up, I really didn’t, but for him to pull this shit . . . “How can she believe that, Dad? It’s not like this is the first time.”
“Hey, I’ve told you both that I was drunk at that New Year’s Eve party, and that it didn’t mean anything . . .” He trailed off, but his voice came back much stronger. “I don’t have to explain myself. But listen, this is going to affect you. Why don’t you come home tomorrow after your classes and we can talk about it?”
“I can’t do that. Whatever it is, can’t you tell me now?” I didn’t want to know, not really, but I sure as hell wasn’t stepping foot back home, not for as long as I could swing it. I wrapped my arm around my midsection, trying to hold myself together.
Dad made a sound deep in his throat. I waited him out, and after about ten seconds of silence, he broke. “I’m sorry, I was trying to figure out a way to keep you in school, but I can’t. We’ll have to put your education on hold for the time being.”
The world shimmered around the edges, and I swayed. Leave school? He had to be kidding. There was no way.
Shocked tears tracked down my cheeks. I hated the way the oxygen couldn’t find my lungs, how my icy fingers gripped the phone so hard it creaked. It wasn’t my parents’ split. It was something much, much worse. “You can’t do that.”
by Sarah | Nov 1, 2014 | Books, Masked Hearts, WeWriWa, Writing
Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!
I’m back with my travelling wild west show story, Masked Hearts.
Jumping again. Only a few more weeks on this one, for sure. I do need to leave you wanting more, after all 😉
This is a few days after Minnie and Roy’s night together. After a few days at Rawlins homestead they are travelling again. Minnie ended her liaison with Roy as soon as it had started…but try though she might, she can’t forget it happened. Travelling means she has little to do until they make camp, which means…:
The jolts and creaks of the old wagons quickly replaced the pleasant aches that lingered from her night with Roy. Knowing this would be her last journey away from that home, the last leg of her life in these wagons, robbed what little joy she used to glean from traveling.
To make matters worse her mind kept wandering, always to Roy. The warmth and strength of his calloused hands. The soft touch of his lips to every part of her body. The heat of his eyes before he’d removed the last barrier of fabric between them. How he’d eased her embarrassment with a simple touch, a kiss, a…
“You all right, Minnie?”
*Tiny bit of creative editing was used to get the 8
*~*
If you want more of these wonderfully damaged pair…pick up a copy!
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Minnie Woodward lives a lie. After barely surviving the Bear River Massacre she’s lived in the white world of her guardian Mister Rawlins, her life debt keeping her tied there. The last thing she needs is Roy’s attempts to gain her favor. Her fate’s sealed. She’s never believed in hope, and not even Roy can make her start.
Roy Ornum saves Minnie every night in the traveling Wild West show. The job he took to break his gambling habit brought him a new addiction – her. He knows she doesn’t want to be rescued, but maybe he does. She’s the key to a past he lost, one he wants to find again.
As the two grow closer old wounds are reopened and their burgeoning trust is shattered. When lives hang in the balance of their choices they’ll need to work together. Otherwise everything will be lost before hope can be found.
*~*
Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!
by Sarah | Oct 30, 2014 | Book Spotlight, Guest Authors, Writing
Enter to Win
$10.00 eGift Card or
eBook Copy of MIDNIGHT MASQUE
Nashville is the newest breeding ground for the darkest creatures of the occult. Huntress Josie Hawk will protect her streets—whatever it takes.
Bar owner and paranormal ass-kicker, Josie Hawk, is dealing with the stress of how to introduce her vampire-lover, Keller, to her vampire-hunting father. Meanwhile, the streets are buzzing with excitement over the announcement of a masquerade themed celebration with the up-and-coming stars of country music.
Josie and Keller are forced to abandon their trip into the secret world of hunters when a mysterious crew of cloaked beings emerge from the shadows and threaten to crash the biggest party of the year.
With the supernatural activity escalating to code red, Josie must find a way to stop the insidious evil hidden behind the array of masks. If she doesn’t, the masquerade party could turn into a mass funeral.
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Elle J Rossi grew up in rural Indiana surrounded by great people, a huge family and more animals than she could count. Sadly, there were no vampires or shape shifters lurking about in the woods behind her house. What’s a girl to do? Seek them out, that’s what! The sights and sounds of the world beckoned, so she left her small town to escape into a creative world full of music – and hopefully rendezvous with a vampire or two. As a full time singer she was able to lose herself in a thousand different songs in a hundred different places, all the while scanning the crowds for those ever-elusive beings of the occult.
After meeting the love of her life and settling down, she yearned to find a new and fulfilling creative outlet. Overly fond of the happily ever after, she wondered what it would be like to have her own characters lead her down dark and twisted paths. The very first word on the very first page sealed her fate. She’d found a new love. She’d found her escape.
Now along with weaving haunting tales about the journey to love, she’s creating cover art for authors around the world and loving every second of it. For fun, she cranks country music to take her back to her roots, and sings karaoke anytime she gets a chance. Her husband, two children, and three cats that rule the roost keep her company along the way and guarantee she doesn’t get lost in the enchanted forest. She wouldn’t have it any other way. And, yes, she is still on the lookout for real-life vampires.
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About The Author:
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