Friday, 2 October 2015

and Smashwords.
URBAN FANTASY Romance -Time slip.

 Silverdawn, daughter of Mikkasah, born to the magick. Mikkasah, King of Rastehm is forced to send his only child into the unknown future of the 20th century Australia, where she grows to maturity and moves to London with her adopted parents. She has no knowledge of her origins nor that she holds the key to the safety or destruction of both her new world and her old, until one night, she is stalked by a lion and a griffin, and cast into an adventure that will change her life. A dark knight becomes her saviour. Faren Malaan, Knight of Paladia, is sent forward in time to track and retrieve the Crystal Pyramid. The king’s astronomers have learned that the pyramid, which shifts through the portals of time, is cracked. And, if not restored, the sorcerer, Isanti's demons will escape. Through sheer luck, Istani was not imprisoned by the Goddess, when she created the Pyramid to banish him and his demons. Istani travels through time, taking over the bodies of innocents, then casting them aside. But this time he is trapped in the sickly weak body of Peter Waymer. His only escape from the cancer eating away at him is to find the Pyramid, release his demons and have them in turn heal him. With one thought in mind after his escape, to wreak destruction upon mankind Celtic Mythology, Dark Urban Fantasy, Time Travel, Lust and Romance! The fate of two worlds rests in the hands of a banished Princess of Rastehm and a Knight of Paladia who is battling his own personal demons. They must join forces with three friends they meet along their way to restore the Crystal Pyramid to Deharna, and battle the tormented mind of Iraj who will stop at nothing to gain his prize.


...She watched him, silent, bemused, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Aching for him to come to her, aching for him to fill her as no man ever had.
He rose and, in the muted light of the bed lamp and the dying embers of the fire, she watched his hands go to the fastening of his jeans. He flicked open the top button and their eyes met. He paused, running his gaze over her body then cursed loudly and swung toward the window, threading a hand through his hair. “I am sorry. I cannot do this.” His voice came like the crack of a whip in the silence.
Elanessë turned onto her side, her face flushed. She reached for his raw silk shirt and pressed the dark cloth against her breasts. “Was it something I did?”
He turned. Her skin was so fair, so beautiful, against the ebony of his shirt. The sight of her distressed face made his heart weep—a fair rose he had almost defiled.
She turned from his gaze, unable to meet the blueness of his eyes now circumstances had changed. “I was too forward? Is it because I allowed you to do that? I know I am probably different from the women you have known…” She left the sentence hanging.
Faren hurried to kneel before her, framing her face in his hands. He pushed her damp tousled hair back from her cheeks. “Never think that. You are perfect. It is I. I feel nothing but loathing for my own weakness. I made a promise to myself, which I have now broken. I should never have let this go so far. I am but a Knight in your father’s court. You are the Princess of Rastehm, perhaps one day to be queen. Your father means too much to me for me to besmirch his daughter.”
“And I mean too little to you to love,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes.
He wiped the tears away with his thumb then released her and rose to move to the window. He stared into the night. Funny how the brilliance of the stars reflected none of the pain that he felt.
The sharp claw of desire clutched at his gut. He was so hard with the wanting of this woman, he thought he would burst. Yet he could not bring himself to take her. As much as his mind and body screamed to do so, his head told him it would go against all his teachings as a Knight of Paladia. “I know little of love, Elanessë. I have never had time for matters of the heart. I am but a rough soldier. I do not know if I understand what love is.”
Elanessë donned his shirt, which came just below her thighs, and rose to follow him. Her arms snaked about his waist; she pressed her cheek to the hard warmth of his skin. “Then, Sir Knight, I shall teach you.” She felt a tremor run through his body as her breasts pressed against his back.
He stepped away, deliberately putting distance between them, and turned to face her. “Perhaps, but you are still who you are, and I am who I am.”
Elanessë felt her heart clench. What could she say to stop his words of rejection? Stop him from walking out of this room and never touching her again. Even the thought was too painful to contemplate. “And never the twain shall meet?” she asked softly, almost flippantly, while the knife pain in her breast twisted a little more. “What of Guinevere and Lancelot?”
“And to what end did they come?” he countered dryly. “He a monk and she a nun.”
“You don’t know that for certain.”
Faren raised a dark brow. “If I could change the proof I would, but to refute the truth is akin to holding back the waning of the moon.” He gave a bow and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips.
The gesture seemed to Silverdawn only to distance them more, slotting her neatly into her place—princess to his knight, far beyond his reach.
“You are a stubborn man, Faren Malaan.”
“Goodnight, princess.” He rounded to stride to the door.
Elanessë found her voice as he reached for the handle. “One question.”
He stilled but did not turn.
“Does the dragon tattoo bear any significance?”
Faren glanced down at the red dragon that scaled his arm from elbow to shoulder then turned, his gaze locking on Silverdawn. “All Knights of Paladia receive the dragon on the day of our investiture. It is our insignia.” He pulled the door wide.
“And are damsels not sacrificed to temper the dragons?”
“Not this time, my lady, not this time,” he said, not turning as he pulled the door closed behind him.

Thursday, 1 October 2015


Every Thursday starting the 1st Oct. until 18th December.


Whisper of Yesterday

Heat Index - 3 Flames -
 Sensual Paranormal Historical Romance

 A cry for help, echoing through the ages, inspires a young nobleman torewrite history– and rediscover a passion he had only dreamt of…

 Cole d’Morgan is contacted by a lawyer telling him he has been willed a castle in Cornwall, but to inherit he must arrive at Castle Thornwood on All-Hallows-Eve.As he pulls his car to a halt at the castle gates he sees a beautiful red-haired woman clutching the bars in the rain. However, before he can climb from his car she vanishes into the night.On arriving at the Castle he is told the tragic tale of Aidan and Alyssa d’Morgan …A love story that spans three hundred years.Alyssa d’Morgan burned as a witch for refusing to wed her dead husband’s father in 1644 haunts the castle where she was put to death. She has sworn she will not rest until she is reunited with her husband and soul mate, Cai.
Aidan d’Morgan, re-incarnated soul of Cai d’Morgan is reborn in the 1800’s and wins back Castle Thornwood on the turn of a card.
On entering the castle he cannot shake the feeling he is being watched, and soon learns that the castle is haunted by a beautiful red-haired woman who speaks to him in his dreams. However, these are not simply dreams, but a past life, which he is forced to revisit in order to find an answer to an age old curse…    What transpires is an interwoven tale of chilling betrayal and a haunting love story that traverses three centuries...


EXCERPT from Whisper of Yesterday

It had to have been a dream.
Naked; the breeze was cold, but sweat still trickled down his back. He stared down at his hands. They trembled. “It was a dream.” If he repeated the words emphatically enough, perhaps he would believe them.
He ran a hand through his hair. He had been in Cai de Morgan’s body. He had seen what he had seen, done what he had done, and thought what he had thought. It was as if he was a spectator in another time and all had been beyond his control. Yet as incredible as it was, he had been there. And who was Cai de Morgan? What was the man to him? And more so, who was the woman? Why did she remind him so much of the woman in the fire? Countess Llewellyn, the woman who was supposed to haunt this castle?
He strode to the dresser, lit a candle, and crossed to the large freestanding mirror in the corner. Critically, he viewed his features. Was it his imagination, or was there the slightest hint of another image superimposed over his own? Did the face look more angular, the jaw harder? He held the candle closer to the glass, and a chill prickled the back of his neck. The hair on the man in the mirror waved and curled past his shoulders, and there standing behind him was a woman. A woman with a riot of deep red hair, brilliant emerald eyes, full lips, and fine brows—a woman with the face of an angel—the woman in his dream. His hand tightened on the candlestick. It felt as if it were frozen; his fingers glued to it and could not be uncurled.
She no longer wore the yellow gown and headdress, but instead the white shift she had worn the first night he had seen her amidst the fire in the courtyard.
Their eyes met and held in the reflection.
He swallowed, trying to free up his throat, trying to force words that would not come. As he watched, she drifted closer, yet no step could he hear on the polished wooden floor.
“Who are you?” he managed at last, his words a strained whisper. He twisted around. She vanished. He swung back and stared into the mirror. She stood behind him with a look of accusation in her green eyes. It was as if he was a moth and she pinned him with her diamond bright gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to be certain.” He spoke quietly, afraid to raise his voice lest she disappear. “Will not you speak to me? Will not you tell me your name?”
She opened her mouth, and just a soft sound issued forth, almost a sigh, as if it was coming from a long distance. “Cai.”
Cai. Had she said Cai? The man in the dream had been Cai. The man whose body he had inhabited for a short time. Inhabited. The thought disturbed him, but he could think of no other word to describe the happening. Was he going crazy? But no crazier than seeing and talking to a ghost. Again he wondered what Cai de Morgan had to do with him. How Cai was connected to the murdered Countess.
“I have so many questions,” he said, holding her reflection in the mirror.
She moved closer, pressed her warm soft body to the length of his back, and encircled his waist.
His mouth went dry. He couldn’t swallow. He had always thought a ghost would be cold, but he had never felt such heat as that which now filled his body and hastened to pool in his loins at the soft caress of her silken hair and the touch of her hands on his sweat-damp skin.
She leaned her smooth cheek against his shoulder, and his body hardened with desire as she tilted her head to the side to watch him for several painful heartbeats through sooty lashes, her eyes dark, intense, wanting.

Suddenly he swung to seize her, but his hand passed through a draught of cold air. Goose bumps raced up his arm. She was gone, and he cursed himself for a fool. He should have known better than to try to capture something as elusive as an angel.




Create Space Print




 Novel Title: Princess of the Light
Genre: Paranormal Romance, Romantic Suspense, Inspirational Fiction


Other Boggers on this tour

Carmen Stefanescu:
Daisy Banks:
Flossie Benton Rogers: M. S. Kaye:
Kim Kasch:
Cassandra Ulrich:
Margo Bond Collins:
Adrienne Woods:
N. N. Light:
Penny Estelle:
Lyndi Lamont: