The Queen of Swords hits the national media!

Check it out. My book trailer for The Queen of Swords is on USA Today's HEA Blog today: http://www.usatoday.com/story/happyeverafter/2014/02/06/book-trailers-alive-walking-dead-in-like-a-lion/5247205/

Thursday Threads: R. B. Austin

This week's spotlight shines on R. B. Austin, author of the sizzling paranormal romance FALLEN REDEMPTION. Don't you just love the cover?
 

Here’s the blurb:

 

Killing Fallen to save mankind is Cade’s redemption for murder and only one human—mouthwatering and absolutely forbidden—stands in his way.

Cade committed himself to saving lives before he learned the full consequences of his life-altering decision. It wasn’t until he was tending his sick wife that he learned the enormity of what he’d done and he was unable to save her from the monster he had become. Consumed with guilt and praying for absolution, he threw himself into killing every Fallen he could find to save the humans he’d sworn to protect. But then Emma, deliciously mortal and completely forbidden, swept into his world, stirring an overpowering desire. Now he’s not only fighting soulless creatures, but also his inner cravings, trying to maintain his distance and continue on his path to forgiveness. He won’t lose control again and lose another love.

Here’s a wee sample to whet your appetite:

 

The cut was small and not deep, it would stop bleeding in a matter of minutes.

Blood seeped from the wound. It trickled down Sarah’s wrist and pooled in her upturned hand.

He froze.

Changes overcame his body. Uncontrollable. Unknown.

Breath quickened. Heart pounded as loud as a horse’s gallop. Sarah hadn’t awakened. The pain from her cut was insubstantial compared to the pain of her sickness.

The thick, crimson liquid flowing from the wound was anything but insubstantial to Caderyn. Still unable to move, his eyes hadn’t wavered from the blood. The tray left his hands and clattered to the ground. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, bringing himself an inch from the cut. The scent of blood filled his nostrils. Consumed all thought. Sight. He wanted to close his eyes and savor the reverent aroma filling his senses. Something awakened inside of him.

Foreign.

Monstrous.

Wrong.

He was hungry, yet didn’t want food. Thirsty, but didn’t want to reach for a cup of water. Another drop of blood welled from the cut. A growl tore from his throat.

It was the switch and it had been thrown.

One moment he was himself. The monster inside separate. Next the wall between the two vanished. He was the Behnshma. His humanity gone. Another growl. It echoed around the house. Filled his ears.

He was ravenous. The fact he hadn’t eaten in a little over a week ached his empty belly and burned his dry, parched throat. There were two pricks of pain in his top gum. Finger in his mouth, he found two long, sharp as knives, teeth. Like Elias. Like the wolves in the forest when they tore into a deer carcass. Their muzzles bloody, meat dangling from their mouths. Blood.

He knew what he wanted to do, what his body demanded he do. Caderyn licked his lips and his tongue nicked an elongated tooth. His own blood melted decadently over his tongue. A flood of senses erupted. Never had he tasted anything this wonderful. His mouth zinged with flavor. The blood coated his throat. He’d been dying of thirst his whole life but hadn’t known it. Warmth spread through his body.

His hands shook as he brought them to Sarah’s arm. Grasping her wrist and forearm he leaned toward the blood. Inch by inch. He was a magnet and her arm was the polar opposite.

Her inaudible yelp of fright permeated through the rushing noise in his ears. He tore his eyes away and met her wide-eyed startled ones.

Stop.

Fear was an acrid, burning stench in his nostrils. Her thoughts a chaotic jumble weaving through his mind. She tried to move her lethargic limbs. Tried to escape. To break free.

He flexed his hands, squeezing her arm as his gaze trailed from the vein in her neck to the one in her wrist right below the cut. The blood slowed and the edges of the wound begun to dry. The tangy, copper scent of the fresh liquid underneath her skin reached his nose. Caderyn listened to it pass through her veins. Faster and faster.

Ignoring his wife’s futile attempts to escape, he leaned closer and inhaled. A growl erupted from his throat. He bent. Licked the wound. Groaned. His cock hardened.

Sarah, panicked now, tried to yank her arm free. It was the most she’d moved in days. Growling, like a dog with his bone, he held down her upper arm and her squirming hand. Pushed it back until her forearm bowed, and the cut extended to him like a present.

Caderyn. Please. I beg you.

He was hurting her arm. Scaring her. She was begging.

Flicking his tongue over her wrist, he caught another drop of the thick liquid gold. Then another and another. It wasn’t enough. He bared his teeth, striking fast to sink them deep into her wrist. She gave a weak jerk. Caderyn drew her blood into his mouth with long pulls. His cock jerked and warmth spread inside his breeches. There was no stopping. Her struggles to escape were an annoying insect buzzing around the room. The pleas to stop were shouts in his head. Both were easy to ignore. Sarah ceased to struggle.

He was killing her.

He couldn’t stop.

And didn’t stop until she was dead

Here are the places you can find R. B. Austin on the web:

 

Website: http://rbaustin.com

Facebook: https://facebook.com/authorrbaustin

Twitter: https://twitter.com/authorrbaustin

Goodreads: https://goodreads.com/rbaustin

To buy: http://amzn.com/B00E49OQ12

Romance Weekly

"Do you like to read romance novels? Wouldn't you like to know more about your favorite authors? Well you came to the right place! Join the writers of Romance Weekly as we go behind the scenes of our books and tell all... About our writing of course! Every week we'll answer questions and after you've enjoyed the blog on this site we'll direct you to another. So come back often for a thrilling ride! Tell your friends and feel free to ask questions in the comment box."

. . .

Welcome to my wee slice of Romance Weekly. Here are my responses to this week's jackpot questions:

What is the weirdest question you have been asked about writing?

This one. LOL. No, seriously, I’ve not been asked anything particularly odd, though I’m still awaiting the release of my first book, so I imagine I’ll get some humdingers by and by. I get asked questions I can’t answer more than I’d like, such as what kind of music I listen to when writing (none, I like it quiet) and what kind of snacks I keep handy (does Scotch count?)—just kidding. Being gluten-free, I don’t snack much (though you’d never know it to look at me). Everyday, I break for lunch between 11:30 and 12:30 and make myself a sandwich on gluten-free bread, have a side of potato chips, and drink a Dr. Pepper, if my daughter hasn’t finished them off already.

What was the most exciting thing about your writing career so far?

There have been a few, not all of which have panned out. The first was getting an agent, though some of the gold wore off when she couldn’t sell my book and had no interest in my subsequent manuscripts. Another was getting a call from an editor at a mainstream romance publisher who liked my work, but thought it too esoteric for general readers. We went several rounds with series ideas before she finally passed on my ideas. Third, I’d have to say was last year’s RWA national conference. It was my first writer’s conference ever and it was an incredible experience. Fourth, of course, was finally getting contract offers on my books. After a six-year drought, I will publish three for sure and possibly four this year.

Do you get your story ideas from real life or real people? If not, where do they come from?

I do not get ideas from real life or real people. My ideas tend to bubble up from my subconscious (usually more slowly than I’d like) around a very rough idea. Things tend to occur in layers rather than all at once, though I do develop character profiles and motivations and plot outlines before I actually begin to write. Lots of ideas come from mythology and historical research. I’m a fiend for accuracy and research every tiny detail. If I say in the story there’s a Starbucks on a particular corner in London, you can bet there really is one there

Thanks for visiting. Now, on to the lovely and popular Katie O'Connor's blog to see what she has to say about all this:  http://katieoh.blogspot.com

Cover Reveal: Promised to the Highlander

PROMISED TO THE HIGHLANDER, the much anticipated follow-up to Kate Robbins' besteselling BOUND TO THE HIGHLANDER, is on the launchpad at Tirgearr Publishing. To whet your appetite, here's the stunning new cover for Book Two in the Highland Chiefs series.

Hungry for a wee bit more? Here are a few more tasty appetizers:

Blurb:

Nessia Stephenson's world was safe until a threat from a neighbouring clan forces her to accept a betrothal to a man whose family can offer her the protection she needs. The real threat lies in her intense attraction to the man who arranged the match—the clan's chief and her intended’s brother, Fergus MacKay.

When powerful warlord Fergus MacKay arranges a marriage for his younger brother, William, he has no idea the price will be his own heart. Fergus is captivated by the wildly beautiful Nessia, a woman he can never have.

 When the feud between the MacKay and Sutherland clans escalates, Nessia, William, and Fergus all must make sacrifices for their future. Longing and loss, honour and duty. How can love triumph under such desperate circumstances?

Excerpt:

“For a man who isn’t eager to meet his future wife, you’ve got quite a set of nerves there lad,” Fergus said to William.

William straightened his linen shirt and smoothed his tunic as he glared at Fergus. Yet, the comment was absorbed and William ceased his pacing to sit on a chair near the fire. Fergus watched his brother adjust his belt again. The young man wore his usual dress but had taken greater pains today to perfect his appearance. Fergus glanced down at his linen shirt and sleeveless leather tunic. William’s long hair was tied at his nape while Fergus’s was left hanging loose. He recalled having to take extra pains upon his betrothal. Thankfully those days had passed and he needn’t worry overly anymore. A young lass would surely find William’s neat, respectable appearance appealing. He hoped so, but before he could dwell on it further, a servant entered and announced the arrival of Thomas Stephenson, his daughter Nessia and several of their clansmen.

William sprang to his feet and crossed the floor in a few quick strides to greet them. He continued to fidget as Fergus sauntered up from behind.

 “Thomas! Welcome. We thought we’d have to send out a search party soon,” Fergus said as the stout man turned the corner leading into the great hall.

“Aye, the road was a bit rough with a wagon in tow,” Thomas said. The man’s brow was streaked with sweat and he looked weary from his travels.

“We’ve had a lot of rains this harvest there’s no doubting that,” Fergus said. In truth he would have gone searching himself had another hour passed. Earlier that day he’d heard more rumours about Ronan Sutherland. Apparently, the lad had agreed to his father’s suggestion and would commence his campaign in the coming days. Fergus sensed William stiffen beside him as Thomas began the introductions.

“Fergus, William, this is my brother Neville and these three are my sons, Colin, Robert, and Camden my youngest. And this is my daughter, Nessia.”

Fergus acknowledged each man in turn. When the introduction came to the girl and his gaze fell on her, his breath caught in his throat. With black hair and bright blue eyes she stood proud before him with her chin lifted and all the regal confidence of a noblewoman. She displayed no fear or reservation at all, something which was unusual in most men he met, but more so in a woman. The gentler sex usually cowered before him—not this lass.

Fergus stared at the girl, his heart drumming. His guts clenched as if he’d been punched. He had to force himself from moving toward her to touch her hair which looked like spun silk, for surely it could not be real. Fergus remembered his brother then and tore his gaze from her to find William eyes wide and his jaw slacked. An unexpected pang ran through him.

When he turned back it was to find her still staring at him, seemingly unabashed for staring openly at a man. A bold one, then. Fergus’s drew his brows together. What did she want?

Kate Robbins, Bio

Kate Robbins

Kate Robbins writes historical romance novels out of pure escapism and a love for all things Scottish, not to mention a life-long enjoyment of reading romance. Her journey into storytelling began with a short screenplay she wrote, directed, and produced which was screened at the 2003 Nickel Film Festival in St. John’s, Newfoundland. She has also written and directed several stage plays for youth.

Kate loves the research process and delving into secondary sources in order to give readers the most authentic historical romance possible. She has travelled to Scotland and has visited the sites described in her Highland Chiefs series.

Promised to the Highlander is the second of three books set during the early fifteenth century during the reign of James Stewart, first of his name.

Kate is the pen name of Debbie Robbins who lives in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Canada with her hubby, the man-beast, and her two awesome boys, the man-cubs.

You can find Kate online at the following:

Into the Highland Mist

Twitter

Facebook

Goodreads

 

Thursday Threads: Jessica Jefferson

This week, the Thursday Threads spotlight shines on Jessica Jefferson, the author of COMPROMISING MISS TISDALE, a sensual historical romance set in the Regency Era.

Here's the blurb:

Ambrosia Tisdale is the very picture of propriety and the epitome of what a respectable young lady should be.  Haunted by a memory and compelled by her family, she pursues perfection to a fault.

The Earl of Bristol, Duncan Maddox, has returned to London after years of familial imposed exile.  As the second son, he has led a life filled with frivolity, leisure, and a healthy dose of debauchery.  Now his older brother has died, leaving the family’s flailing legacy in Duncan’s unwilling arms.

At the behest of his uncle, Duncan is advised to do the one thing that could provide instant fortune and respectability—he must marry.  But there is only one prospect who meets the unique requirements to solve all the Earl’s problems—the lovely Miss Ambrosia Tisdale.  But securing the prudent daughter of a Viscount’s hand proves to be more challenging than this scandal-ridden second son of an Earl has bargained for.

With scandal, extortion, treachery, and even love itself threatening to keep him from his goal, will Duncan succeed or find himself compromised by Miss Tisdale?

Here's a wee excerpt:
 

She had stumbled upon the library.  A fire in the hearth threw a faint glow over leather lined volumes that filled floor to ceiling book shelves.   Lavishly upholstered plush arm chairs sat upon Aubusson rugs scattered throughout the room.  A settee was positioned across from a giant stone faced fireplace where a shirtless man sat warming his hands.

Shirtless man?

Ambrosia blinked.

 Certainly, her eyes were playing tricks on her. 

Then the shirtless man turned his head, his eyes meeting hers.  

It wasn’t a hallucination-he was real.   She hadn’t been expecting to find a partially dressed man, and he obviously wasn’t expecting to be found.   It was but a moment before the man’s expression began to soften and a wicked smile slowly crept across his lips. 

 A smile that stole the breath right from out of her. 

 Every gently bred fiber in her body screamed to turn around and run straight out the door.  Hundreds of years of proper English rearing had produced a base instinct to flee when in the presence of an unknown male (especially one with so little clothing).  But then he stood up, cautiously, the way one does as if not to startle a deer.  Standing, he was clad in nothing but buckskin breeches, the dim light from the flames playing over the sculpted muscles and sinew of his shoulders and chest. 

Breeding be damned, her feet simply refused to budge.

 

Here are Jessica's bio and links:

Jessica Jefferson makes her home in northern Indiana, or as she likes to think of it – almost Chicago. Jess is heavily inspired by classic sweeping, historical romance novels, but aims to take those key emotional elements and inject a fresh blend of quick dialogue and comedy.  She invites you to visit her at jessicajefferson.com and read more of her random romance musings. 

Fall in love with romance again . . .

Author website

Introducing Romance Weekly

 

 . . .

"Do you like to read romance novels? Wouldn't you like to know more about your favorite authors? Well you came to the right place! Join the writers of Romance Weekly as we go behind the scenes of our books and tell all... About our writing of course! Every week we'll answer questions and after you've enjoyed the blog on this site we'll direct you to another. So come back often for a thrilling ride! Tell your friends and feel free to ask questions in the comment box."

. . .

Here are my answers to this week's questions:

1. What made you start writing romance as opposed to any other genre of literature? 

There's a fine line between paranormal romance and urban fantasy and I believe my books toe that line. I've always been partial to love stories, but didn't start to read genre romance until after I realized that might be what I was writing. Since that dawning moment, I've attended two romance writer conferences, read dozens of books in multiple romance sub-genres, and signed contracts for two PNRs, at least one of which will launch a series.

2. Why do you think romance continues to be a market leading genre?

What can I say in reply that won't sound misandrical? Suffice it to say that as long as men are men and women are women, romance novels will satisfy a hungry market.

3. In what way do you see romance today reflecting the way women's roles in society have changed? 

I believe it reflects how, despite our changing roles, we still like a good love story. Romance novels are an escape, more than anything else, and fantasies aren't necessarily unfulfilled wishes. I, for example, really enjoyed FIFTY SHADES OF GREY, but I would never want a man in real life as controlling and screwed up as Christian Grey. Still, the book opened doors for both writers and readers, by expanding and mainstreaming the subgenres of erotica and erotic romance.  

Thanks for listening. Now, to see how my friend and fellow author Jo Richardson answered the same questions, click here to proceed to the next stop in the circle. 

 

Calling All Book Bloggers

If you're a book blogger and would like to sign up for my Book Launch Blog Tour for The Queen of Swords, please fill out and submit the form below. I will get back to you with date confirmations and requested materials in a couple of weeks.