Good deal and good excerpt

Marci, our fabulous publisher, has released the first PODcast of a Freya's Bower excerpt. Ok, I'm going to do my lazy bit and cut and paste. Here it comes: 20% Discount! Freya's Bower is offering a 20% discount coupon for account members who are also signed up for the store newsletter and purchase more than $3.25 in ebooks. If you already have an account, just sign up for the newsletter. You can sign into your account here, or create a new one. You can use the coupon as many times as you like until May 31st. And there it is. On with the good excerpt, another from In the Gloaming, this time from Esmeralda Bishop's Robin's Cap. Robin Redcap, btw, is a scary little... You should read the excerpt. (He dyes his hat with fresh human blood!) Blurb: Tales of ancient evil surround Hermitage Castle. What happens when legend becomes reality? Graham Parish and Kat Davis are about to find out. *** Kat stiffened in his arms. “Graham, what is that?” she breathed, fear shaking her voice. He peered around her and shot to his feet, pulling Kat behind him. He backed up, pressing her to the wall. There, before them, stood the subject of his thoughts. The powrie’s grin spread across his face, its razor sharp teeth gleaming in the dimly lit room. “Graham, what the hell is that?” She screamed the words in his ear. Her grip tightened on the back of his shirt. The material flattened across his chest. Shrugging, Graham tried to loosen her grasp. “That is Robin Redcap.” He felt Kat jerk behind him. “The troll from the fairy tale?” The faerie growled. Graham got the impression he didn’t take kindly to being called a troll. Redcap moved. A colorful burst of blurring light streaked across the room. The creature materialized where the light stopped. Graham swallowed. He had no doubt the creature was fucking with them by showing off its speed. “How do we get rid of it?” Good question. Should he tell her getting rid of it was not an option? The only end result would be it getting rid of them. Subconsciously he had known that, but had refused to admit it until now. Now he was faced with the reality that they would not survive this night. Redcap moved again; this time the beam of light headed straight for them. Graham grabbed Kat as he stumbled backward, trying to put space between them. Kat clamped onto his arm, bringing it against her chest and screamed in his ear. The closer the creature crept, the scarier it looked. Deep wrinkles lined its filthy face. Its red eyes filled with bloodlust. The metallic smell of blood and the musty odor of death hung in the air. The powrie’s lead boots clunked heavily on the floor. Kat screamed. Redcap smiled. “Don’t be afraid, kitty. It will only hurt a lot.” *** Visit Esmerelda at her web site, her blog, or her MySpace. To purchase In the Gloaming, click here. And now I'm going to thank Nita Wick for all the hard work she put into posting these excerpts, because I'm just a lazy butt who copied them from her blog. Nita's blog link here. Nita is wonderful. She's on the ball with her blog, her website (linkie!) and with regards to promoting In the Gloaming. Thank you, Nita!

April Freya's Bower interview and an In the Gloaming excerpt

Our publisher, Marci Baun, interviewed Debbie Mumford not long ago. The PODcast is up on site and ready for listeners. Here's a link. On her blog, Debbie said she enjoyed the chat (via Skype) and forgot it was an interview. You know what this means, of course. It's got to be a candid and warm conversation with a wonderful author lady. :-) This next excerpt is from Kelley Heckart’s The Enchanted Meadow, one of five stories published in Faith Bicknell-Brown's fairy anthology. Faith is planning a second anthology. You can find out more about it, I believe, on her writers' group, which is dedicated to discussions about all aspects of writing. *** Blurb: Warriors from the Raven clan are sent to guard the king’s cattle. They are unprepared for the strange, otherworldly happenings in the new winter grazing land, including nocturnal visits by a beautiful lass. Only their leader, Taran, can save them—if he remembers how. *** Alina wanted to cry out to him, but her throat would not form any sounds. The one who had betrayed her and trapped her in this tree had taken away her speech so she could not ask for help to escape her prison. So many centuries had turned, each season passing in a blur of muted colors, her hope fading. Now someone had come, a mortal who could help her, but she needed to communicate with him in some way. Sighing, she realized she was not even sure she knew how to break the curse. He watched her now with curious eyes, unaware that she also watched him. When she concentrated all of her power, she could imprint an image of her face on the tree trunk, becoming one with the tree. Only he had seen her face in the tree bark, so she knew he was more than a simple warrior. He had the mind of a druid. Only the one who could help her would be able to see into other realms and pay such close attention to her tree. She sensed the affection in his caress. Shivers of pleasure shot through her body at his gentle touch, giving her a sense of hope. She studied him, admiring the confident way he commanded his men even as he faced the unknown. He stood regal and powerful, the blue warrior marks he earned shadowing the austere planes of his handsome face. Long, golden-copper streaked hair plunged down his back in a wild tangle. She yearned to run her hands through his thick mane again. As if reading her thoughts, he glanced back at her tree, his bright blue eyes darkening to a deeper hue in the shifting light, his face softening from its usual hardness. When he looked in her direction, he let slip his true feelings he hid from his warriors. Her heart sang with compassion for him. She felt herself blush at his penetrating gaze. His eyes awakened that feeling of familiarity in her again, but she still could not place it. If she escaped her prison, she could go to him now. Frowning, she thought how she hated the tree that felt like a tomb. The world beyond the tree taunted her with its bright autumn colors, a world so full of life and freedom. She could not bear to look upon it any longer. To help her bide her time, she thought about their coupling. Her body flushed at the memory. She recalled how wonderful his muscles had felt beneath her touch and the way he had kissed her, caressing her secret places with his skillful tongue, making her moan and quake. A twinge of desire flickered inside her at the thought of having him touch her again tonight. When they discovered another missing cow, they would have to stay. At least she hoped so. She continued to hide some of their cattle to keep the warrior there so eventually he could help her escape. At first, she only wanted to use him to help her escape, but now her body trembled with affection for the golden warrior. After he rekindled what had been dormant for so long inside of her, she began to yearn for him and his tender, passionate touch. Could she let him go? And if he should eat of the apples…. *** Visit Kelley at her web site or MySpace. To keep informed about her new books, contests and other book related news, you are invited to join her Yahoo group. To purchase In the Gloaming, click here.

Excerpt week continues....

...in the style it began: late. I guess I'll be skipping a day before posting each. This next is from from Cora Zane’s story, At the Edge of Twilight. Cora is a North Louisiana author with a penchant for shapeshifter stories. But this story is about fairies, of course. Expect the unnerving. Blurb: Lured by otherworldy music, Colleen braves a midnight garden and meets a man full of secrets…one who’s determined she should stay with him forever, locked within his world at the edge of twilight. *** Hands shaking, Colleen clicked on her flashlight and held the rake handle out in front of her for protection. She levered the dull beam of light toward the old tree and scanned it back and forth across the tall grass. She saw nothing, no movement that should not have been there, but she couldn’t chase away the sensation of being watched. The music played on, more loudly than before, but now it seemed further away than she had originally anticipated. She pushed on through the tall grass, toward the hated oak tree, and raised the flashlight higher. The beam stretched longer and longer still, until the light stretched so far away it bled away into moonlight and wilderness. She stopped beneath the sprawling canopy of the oak, the hard-packed earth barren save for the running roots that poked through the rotting carpet of dry, dead leaves that crunched under her feet. She moved to the far side of it and stopped there to listen. The lilting, woodsy music crawled over her, through her, made her shiver. “Hello?” Abruptly, the music stopped, and Colleen could’ve sworn her heart stopped with it. She lifted a hand protectively to her throat and waited for someone to emerge, to say something. Seconds ticked by. A minute. Only night sounds answered her. Swallowing hard, she turned a circle where she stood and gathered her courage around her. Despite the silence, she was convinced she wasn’t alone. “This is private property,” she announced, trying to seem brave to whoever might be watching her. Something dashed off through the leafy foliage to her right. Colleen yelped in fright and stumbled back, her heart kicking violently against her ribs. She scrabbled out from under the darkness of the tree, too terrified to immediately recognize that whatever had run away had been too small to do her any harm. By the time the thought finally occurred to her, it was too late to regain her calm façade. She turned in a circle, scanning the nearest trees and bushes with the flashlight. Her ragged breaths sounded loud to her own ears, but her nerves were shot, she couldn’t have controlled it if she’d tried. I never should have come out this far, not at night. Overhead, black clouds drifted, stretching open in places as the jet stream caught them, thinning them so they revealed fragments of moonlit sky the color of bone. She moved to the far side of the oak and stared across the threshold into the patchy wilderness beyond the back yard. Long years had passed since the last time she trekked past the oak tree. Her aunt had forbidden it, had alternately bored her and scared her with tales of dangerous wild animals, of missing children lost forever in the woods. How clear everything looked over there. A faint blue gleam settled over everything, revealing the spiky needles of the pine trees and highlighting the leafy canopies of the sweet gums and maples. In a small clearing just beyond the wood line, stood a broad ring of mushrooms so white they appeared almost to glow. Plucking up her courage, she walked toward the white caps gleaming in the dark, wondering all the while, Where did the music go? “They draw the eye, do they not?” Colleen nearly jumped out of her skin. The beam of the flashlight zigzagged wildly as she spun around in the direction of that voice. She bungled the rake handle; it slipped from her fingers and landed somewhere among the ferny bracken at her feet. She couldn’t bring herself to look for it; she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the silhouette of the man watching her a few feet away. He sat on something, or perhaps crouched down. The beam of the flashlight made a narrow circle on the ground in front of him, and instinctively she jerked the light upward, shining it in his face. He pulled an arm up over his eyes, and all she could make of him was an olive green sleeve and that he had russet-brown hair. *** Visit Cora at her web site and her blog. Purchase In the Gloaming

Excerpt week

Beginning yesterday, I was to post excerpts from Into the Gloaming, but seven cases of chokecherry wine, which I began bottling on Sunday, demanded a shopping trip for corks (bought 250 so I wouldn't have to worry about needing any for a while) and more bottle washing (the last two cases of the bottles from hell; in other words, commercial wine bottles recycled for my use; equals labels with sticky glue; meaning an hour of scraping and scouring per case to get all the sticky crud off). In the end, I ended up with seven cases of chokecherry or chokecherry blend, plus one extra bottle. Eighty-five bottles. Unless my math is off this morning, which it might be. I'm skipping chokecherry picking this year. I have enough to last two years easily. My wine cellar is all but full. And yet I have three kits of white wine to start and two kits of red. And I still intend to do my second attempt at dandelion wine. The first attempt made an incredible delicate wine. Well worth the effort. So. Nine months of aging in the carboy. That's how long the chokecherry sat about before bottling. When I first began wine making, I had no idea, really, how much aging was required to make a good wine. But four batches of chokecherry have taught me that wines made from astringent berries require more time to become palatable. Chokecherry makes a wonderful wine, but it does require that extra time. Maturing at least a few months in the bottle will help as well. On with the In the Gloaming excerpt. Today is Nita Wick's day. She's an author from Tennessee and...oh, my! Nita! The heroes page! Whoa! (Hot! Hot, hot, hot! Eyes melting!) Links! I have them below the Gloaming cover, and you'll also find the excerpt from Nita's story, The Dream. Remember the scary children's tale about trolls under a bridge? Perhaps you'd like to revisit the bridge. Links: web site: www.nitawick.com blog: www.nitawick.com/blog MySpace: www.myspace.com/nitawick The Dream by Nita Wick Lost in one of Scotland's enchanted forests, a sleeping Katie dreams of trolls, faeries, and her fantasy lover. And never has a dream felt so real. Excerpt "Have you no sense at all, lass?" "What?" "Sittin' on the trow's bridge. Are you daft?" "Oh, for heaven's sake. I didn't know it belonged to a troll. I got lost. I just needed a place to rest, but I fell asleep." She shrugged. "And now I'm dreaming." He grunted. "What are you doin' out here in the forest in the first place?" He didn't slow his pace. Jogging to keep up with him, she said, "The bellboy at the hotel said the forest is enchanted. I didn't believe it, of course. But I thought it was a good excuse to see the forest and some of the countryside while I'm on vacation." "Did it ever occur to you that there are tour guides for a reason?" He had the irritating tone of an adult reprimanding a mischievous child. She frowned and pulled her hand free. "What is wrong with you?" He halted and turned to gaze down at her. "Me? You're the one what's wanderin' around in the forest talkin' to trows." She crossed her arms. "Look. This is my dream, and I don't like your attitude. Shouldn't you be making mad, passionate love to me now?" He leaned down, his face hovering just above hers. "Is it your habit to offer sex to complete strangers?" Rolling her eyes, she groaned. "Never. But this is different. You're not a stranger. And?" "Do you even know me name, Katie?" "I?." She thought back to all the erotic dreams she'd shared with this man. "Well, I guess you never told me." He raised one brow and spun on his heel. She ran around him and stood in front of him, blocking his path before he'd taken more than a few steps. "So what is your name?" Blowing out a long breath, he rested his hand on his hips. "Aidan. Aidan McLain." "Aidan." Katie searched his features and smiled. "It fits you. I like it." "I'll tell me ma you said so. Can we go now?" He stepped around her, and she fell in line behind him. "Go? Where?" "I dinnae know where you're goin', lass, but I'm goin' home." She stared at his back for a moment before she let her gaze fall to firm buttocks encased in tight denim. She followed him in silence, enjoying the view until they came to a clearing. The little meadow lay nestled in the forest like a hidden treasure. Summer wildflowers bloomed and swayed in the gentle breeze. "Oh, how lovely. So this is where you'll make love to me. In a bed of wildflowers. This dream may turn out all right after all." He stopped without warning, and she ran into him. Facing her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. "You're not dreamin'." "Of course I'm not. That was a real troll. And a fantasy man really can come to life. What's next? Are you going to show me your unicorn?"

Why we create

Another review out, and a recommended read as well. Click the Dark Divas image to visit the review page. Do we create art to get admiration? One might wonder if that's the case, but I believe it's only the case "after" the artwork has manifested in the world. Prior to that manifestation, there is this urge to create. Why? I am following Oprah's on line workshop with Eckhart Tolle and, the day after, I visit Oprah's site to download the transcripts and MP3 format of the weekly broadcast. (Here's a link for you.) Of course, there are always interesting links to the sides. Today, I followed one to a page on creativity. I quote Julia Cameron: But what we are actually talking about is that any time that you are engaged in a creative act, you are engaged in a spiritual act. And that's probably the single most important sentence: Any time we're engaged in a creative act, we're engaged with an inherently spiritual act. And I offer a link to the article: http://www.oprah.com/spiritself/beliefnet/200802/know_create_b1.jhtml Back to my take on things. After the creative act is done, we promote a product; hence reviews, chats, book signings and what not. Beforehand, it's a spiritual act. I can attest to this. Oh, perhaps some of you might not think I can, since I write erotica, but let me remind you that the act of love can transcend the physical mechanics. Eroticism can lead to spiritual awakening. But sure, if pleasure ain't for you, you can find some way to suffer to awaken spiritually instead. Creation is an act of pleasure, from starting a writing project, to starting a child in the womb. (If it's not an act of pleasure, something else is involved in the scene that has nothing to do with creation.) Back to my erotic writing. Almost all of my stories--well, perhaps all the stories, actually--have in them a theme beyond erotica, beyond relationship, action or adventure. So far, I always delve into the concept of faith, immortality, spirituality, ethics. Sure I write to entertain, but I also write as an act of faith. When I read the article on Oprah's site, I felt validated, recognized as a being and as an artist. I'm sure others will as well, whether they write, paint, quilt, work with wood or whatever medium that suits.

Podcasting, editor appreciation

Freya's Bower started Podcasting a few weeks ago. Wild Child Publishing now has a Podcasting page as well. I'm intrigued by this Podcasting thing. It's another way to promote, but it's more planned (beforehand at least) and you get to hear the author speaking. There's something warmer about that than loop chats and live chats on a Java window. Some specifics for the Wild Child Podcast (I'm being lazy, doing the cut and past thing): Join Marci Baun for our inaugural podcast where she interviews Jack Maeby, author of The Thorazine Mirrorball. To listen, just click on the link. If you are on a PC and would like to download the file, right click on the link below. If you are on a Mac and would like to download the file, control click on the link. Title: Wild Child Publishing's Inaugural Podcast Interview Date: March 25, 2008 Length: 18 min 02 sec File Size: 16.9MB Listen now! All of our podcasts are also available on Pod Show.com and soon will be on iTunes. And now for editor appreciation. I'm going to talk about myself for the remaining blog post. Yes, indeed. I am. Actually, I woke up this morning and found an email from fellow author/editor M.E. Ellis. She left a link to a blog post written by author Debbie Mumford. Linkie time: http://talesfromthecrit.wordpress.com/2008/04/02/in-praise-of-editors/ Ok, I got to say this. Debbie has some kind of empathy tracking radar, because I needed that. I really did. Won't get into details, but Debbie rescued me this morning. She's a gem. And ain't it funny, but I said that to another editor just the night previous, before I'd read this blog post. Definitely, she's got an empathy tracking radar. Thank you, Debbie!

Release day

Well, it's release day for In the Gloaming, and we five authors are having our first chat on Brenda Williamson Romance Party. Fairy lovers, come and join us. Oh, and my sort of fairies, though based on actual fairy lore, are not the wee sort. I'll post excerpts. Come and read them. We have reviews already! Cocktail Reviews Score: A champagne bottle and a flute! By Nutty Nana: "In The Gloaming really is a superior set of tales. I have read many authors and many anthologies, and this is the first one for me where every tale is rich and enthralling in their own right. I turned the page expecting more and found myself deflated that the book had ended. I wanted more, damnit!" Read the entire review. ---------------- Paranormal Romance By Beth Senters: "In the Gloaming is a collection of amazing stories written by five very talented authors. Each story is so unique and well written. From finding true love to defeating evil, there is something for everybody in this book. I thoroughly enjoyed it and I know others will too." Read the entire review.