To encourage voting during the 6th week of the 2016 RONE nominations, I'm having a celebratory giveaway.
The week of May 23rd – May 29th, please head on over and vote, then return here to enter my giveaway for a $10 Amazon gift card.
(registration required, but it's free)
- Current Mood: excited
Welcome to the home of fantasy historical romances for Canadian Author Shereen Vedam. I'm your host for this stop in the tour.
This is your post for the ACOA Scavenger Hunt and I am pleased to be hosting the talented AMALIE CANTOR. In her post you will find a number, not in written text, but as a numerical number. Write it down and collect them all as you visit every post along the way. Good Luck!
Free will is a funny (and fickle) thing. We live in a world in which the choices we make define our character and affect our future, but in which bad things still happen to good people. Choices made with the best of intentions can still lead to devastation, while choices made in selfishness can bring good to everyone. What, in such a mixed up world, makes a choice the “right” choice?
In my debut novel, Choosing Her Chains, a young outcast by the name of Alisandra must navigate questions of free will and consent. Abandoned by her mother as a toddler, Alisandra finds refuge in ReObsol's conditional welcome. When its priests discover her magical handicap, they curse the child as she'obfus. Yet buried within herself she finds gifts that neither the high priests nor Alisandra herself could ever imagine. Those gifts could lead to ReObsol's destruction--or its salvation.
Now a young woman, Alisandra lives and works in ReObsol’s shadows under the tutelage of the widowed weaver, Amalra. In exchange for Amalra’s protection, Alisandra begrudgingly bears the shackles of outcast. Everything changes when Ryshel–Alisandra’s secret paramour–ends their liaison to accept a sacred handfasting to Sylvin, the tribe’s heir apparent. For the first time, the heartbroken Alisandra must decide how to direct her own path. To do so she must question everything she thinks she knows about ReObsol’s tribe, its past, and her own place within it.
Excerpt, Chapter 6, Choosing Her Chains
Alisandra had always known she lacked the brilliance of the colored souls that filled ReObsol. The Test had given disappointing finality to what her heart had always known.
The colors in the weepings shifted. Both now waning moons spilled through and draped beams over her form. Her eyes narrowed to slits as another stray ray of light fell upon the lake’s center, illuminating the tip of the obelisk just below its surface.
Alisandra. The word echoed not in her ears, but in the very center of her chest, where a ball of glowing warmth took root. The not unpleasant sensation grew and expanded, until its heat filled her from toe to fingertip, her skin tingling from the intense sensation.
“What would you have me do?” she whispered into the darkness.
The heat in her chest grew warmer, the voice more insistent. Swim, Alisandra. Fear not for your life; there are far more important things to be lost.
Without conscious decision, Alisandra stood. The wind sped to whip through her disheveled curls as she carefully placed one step in front of the other. She paused for only a moment at the water’s edge before taking her first cautious step into the eerily still water.
Almost at once the heat within her chest fought against the instinct to run, to withdraw, to escape the bitter chill of the water. Within seconds the cold had frozen her feet. Her skin nearly blistered and broke open in icy pain, yet Alisandra could not stop. One step. Five. Ten. The water rose to cover her torso, and Alisandra could walk no further. She gingerly lifted her feet and kicked toward the lake’s center. With each stroke she grew heavier, more exhausted. She knew not why she swam, though her rhythm never faltered.
Less than a meter from the center of the lake, where the obelisk sat submerged, the spell shattered. The comforting fire that had settled in Alisandra’s chest fizzled out. The warmth abandoned her to the mercy of the water. Her limbs froze and refused to move, and the depths gradually drew her deeper, until her lungs could no longer find oxygen. Alisandra smiled and let go, surrendering to Kieran’s darkness. As her lungs encountered the first blast of water, her spirit awoke.
“Life always means more than death, Alisandra. Death may accomplish great and wonderful things, but with it all possibility for change is extinguished. Life brings infinite opportunities for change, if you will fight for it.”
The words of wisdom, first spoken in the hours after the emotional devastation of the Test, now cut through the haze of Alisandra’s mind. She chose to fight. Her muscles screamed in protest as she attempted to kick toward the surface, but the icy waters stabbed at her skin like hot pokers. The determination of Alisandra’s mind could not overcome the weakness of her body. With a spark of panic, Alisandra realized that she was surely drowning. Her lungs struggled in spasms of pain and hunger as her already poor vision dimmed. The haze descended once again over her thoughts as her body sank further and further from the surface.
A firm grip coiled around her wrists, and a surge of hot lightning ran through her veins.
Do you wish to live? an unfamiliar voice whispered into the darkness.
Her mind answered without her consent: Yes.
Then make it so. Reach out, and take what is yours.
ABOUT Author Amalie Cantor
She is the author of the Daughter of Kieran fantasy series, identifies first and foremost as a Writer-In-Progress. She currently lives in Norman, Oklahoma with her wife Katherine and their feline familiars, Sadie and Salem. She writes poetry, prose, and fiction focusing on the intersection of sexual/gender identity and spirituality. She also blogs about whatever shiny object has captured her attention for the moment at DaughterofKieran.com. She's a frequent author and instructor on Writing.Com and spends far too much time working on her social media presence when she could be writing. Her debut novel, Choosing Her Chains, is currently available through Amazon.com. (Link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0186D
Scavenger Hunt Hint:
The number for your clue will not be written in text, but it will be numeral. Tally all the numbers you find during the hunt and tally them together. This final number will be an entry in the Rafflecopter on the ENTER HERE page on the official website - http://acoascavengerhunt.weebly.com/ente
If you get stuck along the way because of a broken link, please visit the
AUTHORS LINK page http://acoascavengerhunt.weebly.com/auth
- Current Mood: excited
Read an Excerpt:
A SHHH! FROM THE opposite aisle a few rows back drew Christopher’s attention and then a vision in curls captured his attention. “Ev, who is that golden-haired beauty?”
“Viscount Locke’s gel,” Ev said, “Honoria Gilbert. Her mama attempted to marry her off last Season but failed.”
His outlook on tonight’s ball immediately improved. Miss Gilbert’s well-endowed figure was encased in a high-necked gown that constricted his breathing the longer he stared. Were all the men in Town blind? Locke had deep pockets, so a lack of dowry could not be the issue.
“Is she bookish?” he asked, but that hardly diminished her allure. He liked his women to be widely read on more matters than the latest fashion.
“Particular,” Ev whispered back.
“That is an impediment?”
Since she judges every fellow she meets as undeserving, yes.” Nick sounded piqued.
If Nick had tried to win this diamond’s favor and been rebuffed, Christopher understood his eldest brother’s peevishness. It was a rare occurrence. But that lack of success shot the lady higher in his estimation. Christopher took another look.
Her eyes were closed, as were everyone else’s, for prayers were underway. Her fist clenched beside her luscious bosom, she appeared to genuinely entreat the Almighty on an important matter. Then her gaze snapped open and swung to clash with his.
- Current Mood: happy
In November, I'll be over at Angela's Thankful Author blog. Come on over and check out what I'm especially grateful for, and perhaps share how you were blessed this year.
In fact, during all of November, 60 amazing authors will be there sharing what they're thankful for this year. Come check them out and their books. Perhaps you'll find your next favorite author...
- Current Mood: thankful
Terrified, I clambered up the man’s sleeve and huddled in the crook of his neck, inhaling his musky smoky scent and praying that I would be safe there. You see, people don’t like black cats, not even little ones like me.
Read on and comment on the blog for a chance to win an ecopy of A Scorching Dilemma.
Please share this post with your family and friends who might also be cat lovers...
- Current Mood: grateful
I speak a little bit about the difficulty of doing a remake of Sleeping Beauty - which inspired my Regency paranormal romance novel, A Devilish Slumber, published by Imajinn Books, an imprint of Belle Books.
"The trick with writing a re-make of such a classic story, however, is how to instill a fresh perspective on an age old tale."
- Current Mood: grateful
No matter how good the recreation, the experience of travelling on a tall ship would be slightly different today, than in the early 1800s.
Check out A Perfect Curse for a chance to imagine yourself aboard a packet ship -- The Magdalena -- on a journey from London to Cadiz.
there is the hint of a storm on the horizon,
so you may not make it to shore alive!
Here's a tiny excerpt from that sea journey in A Perfect Curse:
Her tight grip kept slipping on the slimy rope ladder. She hiked her skirts again until both her feet could find purchase on the steps. Still on the skiff, Mendal was reciting a gloomy biblical verse in rhythm to Nevara’s every slippery step.
At the top, Lord Terrance pulled her over the railing with a strong heave and a stout, “Well done, Miss Wood.” His mischievous grin and a glance down to his servants suggested he understood her misgivings. His beautiful wife, too, seemed to be hiding a smile.
Nevara was not amused. She had to share a cabin with Mendal during the upcoming voyage. She hoped the lady’s maid would desist from this worrisome praying. She had enough concerns to accompany her all the way to Cadiz.
Below deck, her cabin was no more than five feet wide and six feet in length. She and Mendal would have to share a sleeping pallet. The cot, a tiny table and two chairs were nailed to the floor, reinforcing her belief about the rocky nature of the upcoming journey.
Have you picked up your copy of A Perfect Curse yet?
Amazon (Kindle)B&N (NOOK)
Chapters Indigo (KOBO)
- Current Mood: thoughtful