Love in a letter–Passion’s Sacred Dance

Passion's Sacred Dance

cover art by Kim Mendoza

Okay, there’s a reason for the silly post title of this Sweet Saturday Sample/Sunday Snippet. In this scene  from my new book, Passion’s Sacred Dance, Aaron’s just turned over a note to Stacy which will change everything. (It’s a little longer than the customary six paragraph but…I hope you will find it intriguing…)

 

[Stacy] unfolded the paper, and her breath stopped when she read the words written there in black ink.

Ms. Macken,
I have something you might be interested in. A rare diary in your ancestor’s handwriting.
Should you be interested, tell Mr. Fielding. I’ll unlock my vaults for you.
D. McDunn
“McDunn? Who’s McDunn? What is this?”

“A private collector. According to our last chat, he sounded fairly adamant that you should have the diary.”

“Someone local?” she asked.

Aaron nodded.

“Do you know how much he’s asking for it? We’re a little low on cash.”

“He didn’t discuss figures. It can’t hurt to ask.”

She thought a moment. Depending on varying factors, old diaries could be very inexpensive, or priceless. Which category would this fall into? “I just don’t know.”

“What’s the harm in taking a look?”

An interesting question. She wondered why he cared whether or not she saw the thing. If he really was a harshad warrior, and if the diary could stop the war, why didn’t he just present it to their leaders and be done with it? And leave me out of it.

****

If you’d like to find out more, to read more of Passion’s Sacred Dance it’s available at Amazon.

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The new release partying continues.

Okay, yes, I am still doing the Snoopy dance. Speaking of …. This Sweet Saturday Sample comes to you from my brand new release from The Wild Rose Press, Passion’s Sacred Dance, This shows the hero, Aaron, in a little battle to save his charge (soon to be beloved) Stacy. (FYI, Harshad is the name of his army’s special sword-like weapons):
Excerpt:
Aaron planted his stance against the ground like the roots of a great oak tree, and pulled out his harshad. He flipped the handle over in his hand and two flail-like ends emerged. The ends cut through the glass wall, and snaked around the lawyer’s throat like metal ropes, before tightening.

The lawyer’s face began to turn red. Rendered immobile, he stumbled easily as Aaron gave the handle a hard tug. Stacy screeched as she tripped along with him. Aaron stepped through the wall, pried Bradley’s fingers from Stacy’s flesh, and shoved her protectively behind his back.

“Do me a favor,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Call the number I gave you yesterday. They’ll  do us more good than 9-1-1.”

Stacy turned and ran for the hall as the lawyer  hissed out, “You should learn not to get involved,  unsavory one.”

Aaron swallowed his relief when he heard Stacy slam the door against the wall. He turned his attention back to the cackling lawyer.

“I would give you the same warning, human.” Aaron studied the man in earnest, his voice calm.

“You  have no idea what you’re involved in.”

“I should say the same to you.”

“Oh, I know the depths of their malevolence.” He tugged Bradley’s shirt collar down to reveal the glowing green eye tattooed on his chest. The lawyer’s breathing became more shallow, and sweat trickled from his temple.

“Do you know what you’re dealing with? Think long and hard about which side of the debtors’ line you’ll be on when the battle comes.” He slung the lawyer around, towards the back door. “Tell your masters this ground will carry my brand when all is said and done, or I shall gladly hound them to the ends of their unnatural lives!”

That’s one of my favorite scenes. Aaron’s such a bada** in this one. But he’s got good reason to want to disembowel this fool, don’t you think? Some nerve this guy has, messing with his woman. ;)

Here’s the synopsis:

Passion's Sacred Dance by Juli D. Revezzo Battling mounting debt, Stacy Macken is determined not to lose her historic art gallery. When Aaron Fielding appears and offers to help, she fights to keep the attraction sizzling between them from clouding her judgment. He may be her savior in disguise–but can she trust him?

Aaron intrigues her with tales of the Tuatha dé Danann, sworn warriors who protect humanity from the monsters seeking their destruction. If Aaron can prove what he claims, she would give up anything to help–even the gallery he claims is sacred ground. But with her property set to stage the next epic battle, she needs answers. An old family diary will confirm the ancient legend is true, if only they can find it in time.

If the battle is lost, the enemy will take control of Earth for the next five hundred years. Stacy and Aaron’s budding love might only complicate things.

If you’d like to check it out, it’s available now on Amazon. For more Samples see  Sweet Saturday Samples

Sweet Saturday/Sunday Sample

For this Sweet Saturday we have a spooky entry from House of Cards (Reign of Tarot, book 1)

Spanish Dungeon© Kacpura | Dreamstime.com

Spanish Dungeon
© Kacpura | Dreamstime.com

Surely, he was seeing things: the poor soul hadn’t been there a moment ago.  Ignoring the driver’s warning, he turned back to demand he lend a hand as Sinjon intended to cut her down. The more he looked, the less he was sure she was human. There was something odd about her: the nails weren’t right seeming almost like razors, her skin more like wrinkled leather, her throat a little too long. Her eyes were altogether strange, gouged, yet whole; staring and lifeless, yet somehow they seemed to watch him. What had happened to the right side of her torso, he couldn’t tell, but it was torn to shreds, strips of bloodied flesh hanging, ribs showing through the injury. Yet, when he tilted his head for a different view, the skin and sinew seemed almost woven together. Something protruded from her back, but whether two humps, knives, or—it couldn’t be—stubby wings, he couldn’t decide. Or didn’t want to know the nature of what he saw.

As he turned back to his driver, a wall of ethereal flame erupted between them. Sinjon fell back, staring in astonishment. The ice-blue flames crackled and spat, the wind gusting from the blaze was cold as a winter’s breeze. Beyond, noises of battle erupted.

Sinjon reached for his pistol. A screaming woman flew from the conflagration and locked her hands around his throat. Shock paralyzed him as she dragged him to the flames.

The fire engulfed them utterly. The hag hissed, baring wicked fangs. Twisting her grip, her nails cut his flesh like blades. He shivered in the chill of the unreal blaze, struggling for freedom. She laughed and tossed him about until nausea threatened to overtake him.

Sudden darkness blinded him. Chains snaked around his chest, his limbs. He slammed against a stone wall alive with spiders; the monsters sunk their teeth deep into his flesh, shocking him with unmatched pain.

“Where are you?” he screamed. “Come and face me, damn you! I’m not afraid of you!”

The inhuman hag stepped from the shadows. “Aren’t you afraid, Sinjon? I wouldn’t expect such feigned bravado, were you unaffected by tonight’s events.”

He pulled against his chains. “What do you want of me?”

What does she want? If you’d like to see what happens next, House of Cards (Reign of Tarot, #1) is available at Amazon and Smashwords. Book two is in the works to be released (tentatively) next year!

For more Sneak Peek Sunday writers see the main site at: http://sneak-peek-sunday.blogspot.com/

For more Sweet Saturday Samples, see the main site here.

Sweet Saturday Sample–Caitlin’s Book of Shadows

My first Sweet Saturday Sample of the new year, and let’s go with the new story, shall we? This is from my newly released story, Caitlin’s Book of Shadows, available at Amazon.

caitlinsbos-blogcopy

“What do you have there, Abigail?”

“More recipes, I guess.” She opened the cover and read the title, drawn in Trevor’s sure hand:

Caitlin’s Book of Shadows

Abigail gasped. No, not recipes.

Was it true? Had she really committed something like this to old-fashioned pen and ink? She flipped a few pages, reading entries.

I’d like to put in some orange trees.

Trevor told me Arianrhod might stop by.

She narrowed her eyes at the text. Was this really Caitlin’s work? She’d have to compare it to what they called Caitlin’s ideas pages—those pages scattered throughout Trevor’s five decades of collected sketchbooks wherein his wife had jotted down random thoughts and lists. Though the bulk of Caitlin’s work existed in electronic print the notebooks and this shared a similar slant. Although their grandson’s handwriting did seem comparable to this . . .

She set the book on her desk, running her fingers over its soft leather cover again. Caitlin’s book of shadows. She couldn’t wait to read the story therein.

Had Caitlin written it herself? If not, who had?

Some said she entertained the devil. Some said she spoke to the dead and heroes from the distant past. Was it true? No one knew, but perhaps this would solve some of the mystery?

***

What’s inside Caitlin’s book? Well, you know you have to read to find out! If you’d like to, Caitlin’s Book of Shadows is available at Amazon for $.99.

Would you like to read more? Then visit all the other contributors to this Saturday’s blog hop at Sweet Saturday Samples.

Sweet Saturday/Sunday Sample

Another Saturday another Sample. Here we go…

Juli D. Revezzo, paranormal, supernatural, horror, Reign of Tarot series, ParisFrom House of Cards

A scream pierced the night. Sinjon turned to spot an eagle as it landed in the dead

branches of the nearby tree. Below its perch, the body of a woman hung from a rope around her left ankle, heavy and lifeless, her throat cut, blood dripping down to stain her white hair, the ground beneath her.

Surely, he was seeing things: the poor soul hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Ignoring the driver’s warning, he turned back to demand he lend a hand as Sinjon intended to cut her down. The more he looked, the less he was sure she was human.

There was something odd about her: the nails weren’t right seeming almost like razors, her skin more like wrinkled leather, her throat a little too long. Her eyes were altogether strange, gouged, yet whole; staring and lifeless, yet somehow they seemed to watch him.

What had happened to the right side of her torso, he couldn’t tell, but it was torn to shreds, strips of bloodied flesh hanging, ribs showing through the injury. Yet, when he tilted his head for a different view, the skin and sinew seemed almost woven together.

Something protruded from her back, but whether two humps, knives, or—it couldn’t be—stubby wings, he couldn’t decide. Or didn’t want to know the nature of what he saw.

As he turned back to his driver, a wall of ethereal flame erupted between them.

Sinjon fell back, staring in astonishment. The ice-blue flames crackled and spat, the wind gusting from the blaze was cold as a winter’s breeze. Beyond, noises of battle erupted.

Sinjon reached for his pistol. A screaming woman flew from the conflagration and locked her hands around his throat. Shock paralyzed him as she dragged him to the flames….

Poor Sinjon. He’s in for it now! If you’d like to see what happens next, House of Cards is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords.

For more Sweet Saturday Samples, see the main site here.

Sweet Saturday Sample–The Artist’s Inheritance

We interrupt this party to bring you our weekly story time. :) This week, another excerpt from The Artist’s Inheritance: a little bit more about our ghostly soldier from Fort Pickens:

The Artist's Inheritance, cover art by Boulevard PhotograficaCaitlin shook her head and took the stairs, leaving
him to his work. Trotting down the porch steps she
glanced across the gulf to the fort. Standing majestic and
quiet in the warm afternoon, she watched tourists move
back and forth around it.
She could swear she could almost hear them speaking
in low tones about the coming battle.
Men in blue ran to accomplish their duties, carrying
rifles, and lining up the cannons. A Confederate boat
sped in her direction.
The colonel wheeled his horse around and called to
his men. One ran to his side and handed something up to
him.
The light flared off a crude pair of binoculars.
Caitlin startled at the glare. A motorboat, presumably full of tourists, moved away from the docks. Her home stood behind her, the air conditioner humming along, combating the afternoon’s stifling heat.
Her hands shook. She leaned against the car and took a deep breath, then another. “What in the world?”
She sped inside and pulled a bottle of water from her refrigerator. Standing there, door open to let the cool air seep over her she shook the reverie away, for once, embracing the chill.
Daydream. That’s all it was.
She set the empty bottle in the recycle bin and took to the stairs. She poked her head in the attic door. Trevor stood considering his project, one hand on his hip.

***

Uh huh. Daydream. Sure….I believe that…(not!). If you’d like to find out more of what’s going on with Caitlin and these ghostly soldiers, The e-book of The Artist’s Inheritance  is for a limited time, $.99 at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. Also in paperback via Createspace.

Enjoy more Sweet Saturday Samples at their homepage, and have a happy Halloween and enjoy the rest of our Halloween party. :)