Medieval Monday ~ Mask of the Highlander

The goddess has heard the cries for more: more story, more character, more detail. More. More. More. In response, the first five stories in the Gods of the Highlands saga is going away. That’s right, as of September 1st, publication will cease. But never fear, the goddess will not stay hidden for long. Mask of the Highlander, the prequel to the series, will be re-released with 35, 000 words of new material. Included is a prologue that sheds light on why the goddess Arduinna hid Ioeannan away in the Highlands, the catalyst that sets the saga in motion. This full-length novel heralds the rebirth of of the entire series, with a new edition being released every other month between now and Summer 2018. Subscribers to my newsletter received the prologue in its entirety. Not a subscriber? You can sign up here. For now, here is a sneak peak.

The Ardennes Forest – a thousand years after the birth of the Son

Arduinna emerged from the trees for the first time in four hundred years. She had not seen Demona in at least a dozen millennia and curiosity had gotten the better of her. Why would the wife of Borvo, the god of warm springs, summon her? They were not friends, not even in the old days, when the entire pantheon had lived a carefree existence, foolishly believing humans would worship them forever. Arduinna had at first feigned disinterest but she could no more lie to herself than she could the small contingent of fairies that flitted around her like annoying little mosquitoes.

She sauntered through what remained of the village, towering over the few humans she passed. Most of them kept their eyes downcast. Others, bolder, gaped openly, waving their hands before them to make a sign that had been in existence long before it came to symbolize the sacrifice made by the Son.

She chuckled. Humans would be pagans until the end of time.

Sign up for my newsletter to read the full prologue and be entered to win an Amazon gift certificate and be one of the first to get word of the release of the NEW Mask of the Highlander.

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Medieval Monday ~ Lucan

We have a new theme and a new format for Medieval Monday. For the next few months, you’ll be treated to ongoing excerpts as you hop from one blog to another each week. Each of the Medieval Monday authors will post their excerpts today, then introduce you to some new authors in the posts that follow. If you’d like to get a glimpse (and a head start) on each of these fabulous Medieval Romances, you can follow the links at the bottom. Here is the first installment of my excerpt from Lucan.

Lucan_200x300EXCERPT: These men looked different than the others. Darker, more sinister. Power radiated from them that had been absent in the first wave of attackers. One of them looked familiar.

Lucan drew his brows together, confusion making him hesitate. “Fergus?” he breathed. He looked like Angus’ brother, but younger. “I saw ye die, by my own hand.”

This version of Fergus grinned, a gesture so purely evil, Màili gasped behind him. “Demon spawn,” she murmured.

Follow along next week by checking out Ruth A. Casie’s blog with excerpt #2 http://ruthacasie.blogspot.com/

BLURB: Neala Comyn, wife of a powerful laird, wants to end the pain and suffering of an abusive marriage. She is a woman without hope, believing God has forsaken her. When she is kidnapped by a rival laird who claims to be a god himself, her faith is further shaken. Could Lucan Munro be the salvation she has prayed for? Or will her sins condemn her to eternal damnation?

Lucan Munro, has the power of a Celtic god. He can conjure his heart’s desire from thin air. But can he save the woman he loves from a demon hell-bent on claiming her soul?

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Check out all the Medieval Monday authors:

Lane McFarland ~ Rue Allyn ~ Sherry Ewing ~ Jenna Jaxon ~ Elisabeth Hobbes ~ Ashley York ~ Mary Morgan ~ Barbara Bettis ~ Laurel O’Donnell ~ Cathy MacRae ~ Ruth A. Casie

Thursday Thrillers ~ Solid as a Rock

I’ve been doing rounds of #MedievalMonday with several Medieval Romance authors for a while and have been thinking of setting up a similar exchange on Thursdays featuring Paranormal Romance authors. I’m thinking #ThursdayThrillers might work well. I have several authors in mind to approach about such an exchange, but if you have suggestions, please pass them along via my email: bambi@bambilynn.net. If I can get it going, we’ll start up in January. That should give me plenty of time to get everything set up. In the meantime, I’ll be sharing some of my favorite Paranormal Romances with you. I’m starting off with my new release, Solid as a Rock.

solid-as-a-rock-ecover-200-x-300EXCERPT:  THE SLAM OF PRISON DOORS CLANGED IN HIS EARS.

The memory of that sound washed over Michael Munro as he stared down at the body. He rubbed one hand over his throbbing forehead. He would never go back. He had made a vow, and it was one he intended to keep. The searing pain that had originated behind his eyes radiated to the back of his head and spread to his neck and shoulders. Images flashed across his vision. He closed his eyes against them, but they only became more distorted, more confusing. The tiny nerves and muscles of his eyes ached at trying to see them all at once, yet he could no more stop himself from trying than he could prevent his heart from beating.

Forsyth Park was usually quiet this time of night. Even the tourists had called it a day by this late hour. Opening his eyes, he looked around, peering into the darkness for further signs of trouble. But he didn’t have to. Amidst the blurry, random images causing havoc in his brain, he saw them emerge from the shadows an instant before they actually did.

They had come for him, and there were too many to fight off this time. Any advantage his gift might have afforded him was swallowed up by the chaos in his head. He had barely defeated the man who lay dead at his feet, a decoy or a test, apparently. Either way, he was far outnumbered now, and the power inside him was out of control. If only he could slow the images down, organize them, make sense of them. Then he could use his gift to kill these bastards and be on his merry way.

Among the scattered scenes in his mind, he noticed one man in particular closing in behind him, a vicious-looking knife poised to slice him open down the length of his spine. Michael waited, his gaze on the men before him, his hearing tuned behind. He detected the subtle difference when the men in front of him tried to distract him rather than engage. He strained to hear his attacker’s footsteps closing in. Just as the man lashed out to bring the knife down, Michael whirled and landed a powerful upper thrust to the man’s nose, his strength sufficient to shove bone and cartilage into his brain. The man dropped like a stone.

Michael retrieved the discarded knife. The throbbing in his head intensified as the swirling images came faster and faster. There were so many, he no longer made the effort to see them clearly. Instead, he tried to block them out, knowing before he did so that he could not. The images came and went, seemingly random visions that could appear at any given moment, usually the wrong moment, yet were impossible for him to recall or make sense of.

The dead man’s companions closed in. Michael resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against the blinding pain in his head. He swayed on his feet, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. A wave of nausea swept over him. He swallowed the bile that burned the back of his throat. He needed all his wits about him if he had any hope of getting out of this alive.

Jaw clenched, he took up a stance with the dead man’s knife held menacingly before him. He took several steps back as they moved closer, anything to keep them from surrounding him completely. He wondered briefly if he could outrun them, but that was not his style. Michael had faced death before. He was not afraid.

He was going to die. It was inevitable considering the odds. But he would take some of these bastards with him.

Would she be saddened by the news? Would word of his death even reach her?

He had not thought of her in days. Quite a feat as he had thought of little else since she left without so much as a “fuck off” ten years ago. The devastation of her rejection had nearly driven him mad. The prospect of death was almost a relief.

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