Book Updates, Silverdawn

Silverdawn – Julie A. D’arcy #UrbanFantasy #romance #fantasy

Silverdawn350Silverdawn, daughter of Mikkasah, born to the magick.

Mikkasah, King of Rastehm is forced to send his only child into the unknown future of the 20th century Australia, where she grows to maturity and moves to London with her adopted parents. She has no knowledge of her origins nor that she holds the key to the safety or destruction of both her new world and her old, until one night, she is stalked by a lion and a griffin, and cast into an adventure that will change her life.

A dark knight becomes her saviour.

Faren Malaan, Knight of Paladia, is sent forward in time to track and retrieve the Crystal Pyramid. The king’s astronomers have learned that the pyramid, which shifts through the portals of time, is cracked. And, if not restored, the sorcerer, Isanti’s demons will escape.

Through sheer luck, Istani was not imprisoned by the Goddess, when she created the Pyramid to banish him and his demons.

Istani travels through time, taking over the bodies of innocents, then casting them aside.

But this time he is trapped in the sickly weak body of Peter Waymer. His only escape from the cancer eating away at him is to find the Pyramid, release his demons and have them in turn heal him. With one thought in mind after his escape, to wreak destruction upon mankind.

Celtic Mythology, Dark Urban Fantasy, Time Travel, Lust and Romance!  

The fate of two worlds rests in the hands of a banished Princess of Rastehm and a Knight of Paladia who is battling his own personal demons.

They must join forces with three friends they meet along their way to restore the Crystal Pyramid to Deharna, and battle the tormented mind of Iraj who will stop at nothing to gain his prize.

‘SILVERDAWN’

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EXCERPT

He was waiting. Leaning against the outside wall by the door, he loomed large, dark and dangerous. Still dressed in black, he had added a leather coat in the same shade that belted at the waist and fell below his knees to meet his ebony boots. All this Silverdawn noted at a glance before she passed him by.

It was late. She had not really expected him to be there. In fact, she had deliberately stayed late in order to avoid him. He straightened and fell into step beside her.

Silverdawn had not shared company with a male since high school. Those embarrassing attempts at fumbled passion by the captain of the hockey team, and his rumor spreading the next day, were enough to cure her of men for a very long time. She felt uncomfortable in their presence.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, descending the marble stairs.

“But I do,” he returned, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

“It’s cold, it’s late and I wouldn’t think any less of you if you were to leave now.”

“But I would.”

They crossed the road toward the darkened park in silence. Chills feathered up Silverdawn’s spine and prickled her scalp, but her gaze never left the darkness beyond the gates. The grounds seemed even blacker than the night before—more intimidating, as though whispering her name. She stepped up onto the curb and hesitated.

“Is there a problem?”

Silverdawn flinched at Faren’s words. Despite the cold, perspiration beading her forehead, small rivulets of sweat ran between her breasts. “No. No, of course not.”

He knew she was afraid, and he knew she knew. She could sense it. She didn’t understand what game he played, but it could not be all bad, since he had rescued her the night before. Hadn’t he?

She raised her chin, stepped through the gate, turned left as always, and screamed as something leaped at her from the bushes. A second piercing scream ripped from her throat as she fought off her attacker. Then she was in Faren’s arms, and he was laughing.

His chest rumbled against her cheek, and the warm deep sound sprinkled the night. With as much dignity as she could muster she pushed away from his arms.

In the light of the streetlamp, she could see that in one hand he held a trembling ball of fluff. A kitten—frightened and shivering. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply to control her shaking then smiled up at him hesitantly. “May I?”

Faren nodded and placed the tiny animal in her hands.

She stroked its small damp head with one finger, realizing as she did so that the kitten was shaking nearly as much as she was. Murmuring soft words of comfort, she attempted to tuck the kitten down the neck of her coat, but her hands were cold and stiff and the kitten refused to cooperate.

Faren, seeing her dilemma, moved to help.

Silverdawn glanced up, and their gazes met in the dim light. The clouds parted, and the moon shone down, revealing his solemn, handsome face. Their bodies were but a whisper apart. He lowered his head. She could detect the sparkle of his eyes. His aura wrapped itself around her body and cocooned her in the knowledge that this man was safe, dependable.

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips and had the distinct impression he was going to kiss her. It was strange; she had known him for no more than a day, yet she wanted his kiss more than she had wanted anything in a long time. She closed her eyes and waited. She yearned to lean into him, wrap herself around him, and just for a moment allow herself this one small measure of comfort. She felt his hands closing over hers, and her eyes sprang open.

“The kitten, ma belle. It is cold and frightened. Perhaps we should see to its comfort.” He guided the kitten into the lapel of her jacket. His large, warm hands closed over hers for a fraction more than necessary. Then he released her and stepped away.

‘SILVERDAWN’

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Book Updates, Elven Magick, The Tarlisian Sagas

ELVEN MAGICK – Julie A. D’Arcy #FantasyRomance #fantasy #romance

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It has been twenty-one years since the Dragon King defeated the Dark Priest Narokah and condemned him to the Fiery Abyss.

The legendary Sword of Niraz has been stolen!

The elf, Vellandril Ballindoch, sets forth on a quest to find the sword.  Along the way he must confront his painful past including the woman he betrayed, but still loves, and the son he never knew existed.

Her duty to the king!

After forsaking her past and gaining the title of First Knight to the Dragon King, Johden de Danann is forced to undertake a quest with a man she swore never to forgive, but never stopped loving.

Treachery, betrayal, adventure and action, a magickal world of elves and romance combine to bring forth the exciting conclusion to a tale that began with The Dragon and the Rose and finishes with happily ever after—for some.

 

“ELVEN MAGICK”

iHeart Book Publishing|Amazon|iTunes| Smashwords|Kobo

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EXCERPT

 

Clouds fashioned a misty veil around the branches of the Machoann trees, embracing the Elven village of Tarlis-Leah. A lone figure, hooded and robed in gray, to blend with moonlight and shadow, stole across the darkened bedchamber.

Guided by a stunted candle, flickering fitfully on a small bedside table, the thief knelt at the end of the bed, pulled a golden key from her pocket, and fitted it to a lock attached to a carved wooden chest.

The lock clicked ominously into the silence.

The thief tensed and a bead of perspiration trickled down her back.

The occupant of the bed slept on. The sleeping draught she had administered earlier had achieved its desired result.

She lifted the trunk’s heavy lid and again the silence broke.

The thief stilled.

Vellandril Ballindoch groaned, rolled over and mumbled several words, then settled. A sigh slipped between the thief’s lips, and she stroked the handle of the small poniard at her waist. She would not be thwarted in this plan. Revenge was such a sweet word. She could taste it on her lips.

Wrapped in a soft red cloth, buried deep among Vellandril’s clothes, she found that which she sought. Her hands trembled as she claimed her prize. The Sword of Niraz felt light, not at all what she expected from such a large weapon.

Now the elf would pay for all the suffering and lost summers, all the pain and humiliation. Gently, she closed the trunk and crept toward the window where an Elven rope, soft, thin and durable, dangled from a nearby branch. Rewrapping the sword deftly in a dark cloth, she strapped it to her back, stepped into a loop formed in the fine but tough Elven rope, and descended into the darkness of the forest.

 

 

“ELVEN MAGICK”

iHeart Book Publishing|Amazon|iTunes| Smashwords|Kobo

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Book Updates, The Shape of Destiny

THE SHAPE OF DESTINY – Julie A. D’Arcy #ParanormalRomance #Western #romance

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Cole, a Shape Shifter and descendant of the Apache, finds himself caught in a web of deceit. Hunted by a man named Granger for eight years, he wanders onto Shannon’s ranch and finds not only the home he’s never had…but forbidden love.
Shannon Davidson, owner of a cattle ranch in the middle of nowhere, can’t believe it when she finds a gorgeous but mysterious stranger sleeping in her barn. She encourages him to stay but realizes, like her grandmother, he harbors a secret.

Can Cole keep his identity a secret, win the heart of his lady, and defeat his nemesis? The Shape of Destiny is a tale of lust, revenge and love.

‘THE SHAPE OF DESTINY’

iHEART PUBLISHINGAMAZON

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EXCERPT

Cole awoke to the sound of a loud crack. His eyes fluttered open and stared into the barrel of a gun. He should have recognized the sound of a rifle being cocked. His first thought…Granger has finally found me.

This wasn’t a man’s voice at all, but a woman’s. “What are you doing here? Who are you?”

He climbed to his feet, knowing instinctively she wouldn’t shoot. He could read people and knew she wasn’t the type to take the life of another human being. An animal he wasn’t sure about. He laughed inwardly and glanced to where his sister had slept. Gone.  He frowned and forced himself not to look around for her. Mia knew to hide at the first sign of danger.

Cole had to get the woman out of the barn. “I was just passing through.” He bent to pick up his backpack. “I’ll leave now. I needed somewhere to crash for the night, that’s all.”

The rifle followed his movement as he bent to retrieve the shirt he’d used as a pillow. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why is that?”

He straightened and looked at her then, really looked at her. She was quite beautiful in an unusual sort of way. Dark eyes, almost black, her skin a shade darker than most, and high cheekbones. If it wasn’t for the long pale blonde hair he would have sworn she was Native American. Maybe she had some of their blood in her gene pool. And he wanted her; he’d been a long time without a woman. He ignored the lust in his gut and headed for the door.

Her voice quavered. “Stop or I’ll shoot. I swear I will.”

He stopped but didn’t turn. “I don’t think so.”

He sensed her falter as she lowered the rifle. A head shorter than him, she came to stand beside him.  “I just want to know what’s going on here.”

“Nothing is going on. I was hiking across country. I needed somewhere to sleep and spied the lights in the distance.” He shrugged. “Thought there was no harm in sleeping in your barn. I’d be gone before anyone found me. Guess I was wrong.”

‘THE SHAPE OF DESTINY’

iHEART PUBLISHINGAMAZON

Book Updates, Night's Eternal Vow

NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW – Julie A. D’Arcy #ParanormalRomance #romance #vampires

Nights Eternal Vow Full ebookcoverLord Vincent D’Armano, a young nobleman, on leaving his mistress’s house in London one rainy cold night in the 1700’s is set upon by a sensual cunning, vampiress, Epatha, who is searching for a mate.

Many years later, after travelling to America and killing a war chief’s son, Vincent is cursed by a Cheyenne Shaman and has the ability to feel emotion restored. He escapes Epatha’s deadly embrace, although she still tracks him, and re-emerges into society decades later only to meet with the very woman that could destroy him, in more ways than one.

Detective Elara Gale hates Vampires after her childhood boyfriend is murdered and she sees a black cloaked figure fleeing the scene.

So when she discovers the dark stranger she is already more than half in love with is no other than the Vampire she is hunting, her loyalties are torn between her desire for Vincent’s touch and her duty to the law.

Lust, Romance, Magic and Murder combine to make Night’s Eternal Promise fast-paced, mission-oriented and filled with life and death issues. Vincent and Alara after battling Epatha in the present are cast back in time by an unusual hypnotist and an arrest gone wrong, and faced with a struggle to stop the Vampiress from making Vincent a vampire, and to save his mortal soul.

‘NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW’

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EXCERPT

She ordered a margarita and settled back to observe the crowd. Twenties to thirties, they fit the profile of the usual night-clubber in their glitzy body hugging clothes.

All except him.

He was dressed totally in black. Boots, long leather coat, open and pushed back to reveal a black shirt and dark pants. Hair, raven black, and short, and she knew he was looking.

It was not conceit, or in any way related to the fact she thought herself attractive to men. If anything, she was too wiry and her chest too flat. It was the strange tingly feeling that persisted in the pit of her stomach.

She turned her gaze from him and pushed through the noisy crowd to fetch another drink.

“I’ve been watching you all night. Wanna dance?” A lanky well-oiled male in a bright blue shirt, hip hugging black pants and a multitude of gold chains, blocked her path. She winced as his body odor invaded her nose and throat.

“No thanks, I don’t dance.” She made to step to the side, but his hand clamped down on her arm. “I think you do.” His tone was terse. “I think you would dance real fine with a body like yours.”

“You heard the lady. She does not dance.”

He stood behind her assailant, his hand resting on his shoulder. Alara had never heard a voice like it, rich like caramel, deep as the ocean, and smooth. He was at least a head taller than Mr. Oily, and his eyes peered right into hers, seeking her soul, stroking chords, which had not been touched for a decade. With eyes almost as black as his hair, he made her feel like someone of worth, not just a piece of ass in a tight skirt.

But he was definitely not her type.

Oily man’s face darkened, his mouth opened and he swung to see who had him, but his words caught in his throat and he stumbled over them. “I’m…ah, I’m sorry, buddy. Didn’t realize she was yours.”

“I am certain the lady is her own person, but that gives you no excuse to accost her.”

“No. No, of course not. Sorry.” The man shifted his gaze, and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“It is not I to whom you should apologize.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled barely audible before making a hasty retreat into the crowd.

“I could have taken care of myself.” Alara raised her chin as her savior studied her. She came barely to his shoulder.

“I am sure you could.”

He turned in the direction of the table he had occupied, and her hand shot out.

“Wait.” She gripped his arm. Hard, muscular, beneath his coat sleeve.

What was she doing? He was not her type at all, but she knew she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet anyway.

“Yes?” He stopped, but didn’t look back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” She cringed. Did she sound desperate? She saw him stiffen. “In thanks for saving me.”

He turned, slowly and her hand fell away. What were those earlier thoughts? That he was not her sort of man. Was she insane? He was every woman’s sort of man. She could feel his body reaching out to her. She had heard of animal magnetism, but… Not even with Ice had she experienced this pull, and she had loved him. Dammit! This was almost palatable, powerful. She had to run. Put one foot in front of the other and turn away. Run now!

“One drink?” She forced a smile. “Just to say thank you.” How weak could one woman be?

His eyes were dark, brooding. Why didn’t he speak? What was he thinking?

“There is no need. I saw you were in trouble. I helped.”

“There is every need.” What was it about this man that kept her talking, saying things she would never say to another? She was forced to work in a male dominated profession, but always she stood on the outside, looking in, never getting close, never wanting to be close. She had loved one man. He had died. Left her — she would not be hurt like that again. She knew she should leave, but… “Please, I insist.”

He frowned and glanced away. She thought for a moment he’d refuse.

“Would you sit with me at my table?” He asked, looking back at her.

Alara swallowed hard, mesmerized by his voice. Deep, soft, yet strangely compelling, as were his eyes. Fathomless black eyes that seemed old beyond their years. Eyes that seemed to look into her and through her at the same time. As they were now.

“I’ll get the drinks,” she said too fast. “You do drink, don’t you? I noticed that there were no empty glasses on your table.” She blushed and glanced into the crowd. Blushed, her, a cop. She could feel the heat still suffusing her cheeks. She had never blushed in her life, and now he would know she had been watching him.

“A red wine will suffice. Do you need help?”

“No…I can manage.” Quickly, before he could change his mind, she pushed through the crowd toward the bar. What a fool he must think her.

Such a naive, inexperienced fool.

She reached the bar and after what seemed forever, finally placed her order. He was sitting in the shadows again. She caught a glimpse of him as she slowly maneuvered her way back through the room, and although the dance floor was packed she did not spill a drop. It was as if she was being lead safely along and no one could touch her. Like a fly to a spider, but the most irksome part of it was, she was walking into a web of her own making.goldlineleaf

‘NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW’

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Book Updates, Whisper of Yesterday

Whisper of Yesterday – Julie A. D’Arcy #ParanormalRomance #Fantasy #Romance

whisper of yesterday 300A cry for help, echoing through the ages, inspires a young nobleman to rewrite history – and rediscover a passion he had only dreamt of.

 Cole d’Morgan is contacted by a lawyer telling him he has been left a castle in Cornwall, but to inherit he must arrive at Castle Thornwood on  All-Hallows-Eve. As he pulls his car to a halt at the castle gates he sees a beautiful woman clutching at the bars in the rain. However, before he can climb from his car she vanishes into the night.

Arriving at the castle he learns that she is the ghost of Alyssa d’Morgan a woman who was tried as a witch in 1644.
He is related by the caretaker of the castle, a tragic tale of Aidan and Alyssa d’Morgan… A love story that spans three hundred years .

Alyssa d’Morgan burned as a witch for refusing to wed her dead husband’s father haunts the castle where she was put to death and takes revenge on the man responsible. She is sworn to haunt the castle until she is reunited with her husband and soul mate, Cai. But the rejected father, Gedrych d’Morgan being of superstitious nature, orders the druid stones outside the castle walls to be dragged into the courtyard to surround her pyre. Little does he realise that he has unleashed magic eons old that will enable Alyssa to appear as a real woman within the boundary of the stones.
Aidan d’Morgan, re-incarnated soul of Cai d’Morgan is reborn in the early 1900’s.  As a child he once heard a story of a great castle in Cornwall that once belonged to his family. Whilst visiting a gentleman’s club in London with his cousin, he overhears a young man making a wager, and wins back Castle Thornwood on the turn of a card.
On entering the castle he cannot shake the feeling that he is being watched, and soon learns that the castle is haunted not by a murdered Countess as he has been told, but by a beautiful red-haired woman who speaks to him in his dreams. However, these are not simply dreams, but a past life, which he is forced to revisit in order to find an answer to an age old curse.
What follows is an interwoven tale of chilling betrayal and haunting love story that traverses three centuries.

‘WHISPER OF YESTERDAY’ 

iHEART BOOK PUBLISHING|AMAZON|BARNS&NOBLE|SMASHWORDS|KOBO

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EXCERPT

Aidan sprang upright in bed. His body trembled. It had been a dream. He tossed aside the duvet, strode to the window, pushed open the shutters, and felt the cool breeze caress his face.

He stared down into the courtyard. All was darkness. Nothing moved. Not a night creature called. He swung to face into the room. It was lit by only the faintest of moonlight and a low-burning fire.

It had to have been a dream.

Naked; the breeze was cold, but sweat still trickled down his back. He stared down at his hands. They trembled. “It was a dream.” If he repeated the words emphatically enough, perhaps he would believe them.

He ran a hand through his hair. He had been in Cai de Morgan’s body. He had seen what he had seen, done what he had done, and thought what he had thought. It was as if he was a spectator in another time and all had been beyond his control. Yet as incredible as it was, he had been there. And who was Cai de Morgan? What was the man to him? And more so, who was the woman? Why did she remind him so much of the woman in the fire? Countess Llewellyn, the woman who was supposed to haunt this castle?

He strode to the dresser, lit a candle, and crossed to the large freestanding mirror in the corner. Critically, he viewed his features. Was it his imagination, or was there the slightest hint of another image superimposed over his own? Did the face look more angular, the jaw harder? He held the candle closer to the glass, and a chill prickled the back of his neck. The hair on the man in the mirror waved and curled past his shoulders, and there standing behind him was a woman. A woman with a riot of deep red hair, brilliant emerald eyes, full lips, and fine brows—a woman with the face of an angel—the woman in his dream. His hand tightened on the candlestick. It felt as if it were frozen; his fingers glued to it and could not be uncurled.

She no longer wore the yellow gown and headdress, but instead the white shift she had worn the first night he had seen her amidst the fire in the courtyard.

Their eyes met and held in the reflection.

He swallowed, trying to free up his throat, trying to force words that would not come. As he watched, she drifted closer, yet no step could he hear on the polished wooden floor.

“Who are you?” he managed at last, his words a strained whisper. He twisted around. She vanished. He swung back and stared into the mirror. She stood behind him with a look of accusation in her green eyes. It was as if he was a moth and she pinned him with her diamond bright gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to be certain.” He spoke quietly, afraid to raise his voice lest she disappear. “Will not you speak to me? Will not you tell me your name?”

She opened her mouth, and just a soft sound issued forth, almost a sigh, as if it was coming from a long distance. “Cai.”

Cai. Had she said Cai? The man in the dream had been Cai. The man whose body he had inhabited for a short time. Inhabited. The thought disturbed him, but he could think of no other word to describe the happening. Was he going crazy? But no crazier than seeing and talking to a ghost. Again he wondered what Cai de Morgan had to do with him. How Cai was connected to the murdered Countess.

“I have so many questions,” he said, holding her reflection in the mirror.

She moved closer, pressed her warm soft body to the length of his back, and encircled his waist.

His mouth went dry. He couldn’t swallow. He had always thought a ghost would be cold, but he had never felt such heat as that which now filled his body and hastened to pool in his loins at the soft caress of her silken hair and the touch of her hands on his sweat-damp skin.

She leaned her smooth cheek against his shoulder, and his body hardened with desire as she tilted her head to the side to watch him for several painful heartbeats through sooty lashes, her eyes dark, intense, wanting.

Suddenly he swung to seize her, but his hand passed through a draught of cold air. Goose bumps raced up his arm. She was gone, and he cursed himself for a fool. He should have known better than to try to capture something as elusive as an angel.

‘WHISPER OF YESTERDAY’

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#fantasy, A Whisper on the Wind, General Musings, Uncategorized, Writing News, Writing Tips

Publishing in the Dark Ages.

So it has been brought to my attention that I need to learn to blog and use social media. Apparently, these days blogging and social media are a big deal. Or so my daughter keeps telling me.

When I published my first book around twenty years ago blogging wasn’t all that popular and the height of social media was MySpace. The internet was still a baby then, and internet promotion was almost unheard of unless it was a mailing list.

Back then, you couldn’t just type up your manuscript and submit it Online. It was a process of printing up the pages and physically mailing them out to publishers. It cost a fortune in postage and computer paper and you were lucky to even receive a rejection letter. Most of the time you were just left hanging.

And finding publishers? I used to buy books and writing magazines, just to search for someone or somewhere to submit my book. It was a very different writing world back then.

The biggest help in the road to publishing was getting involved with writing organizations. The Romance Writers of Australia (RWA) was a huge help back in the early days for networking among authors and publishers. Also, I was grateful for our small writing group in Wangaratta Vic. where I live. Thankfully it still survives, although that too is now online.

And promotion, as I mentioned earlier. Online promotion especially wasn’t so huge. Yahoo Groups were very popular, along with MySpace, but Twitter was a sound a bird made and Pinterest sounded like a sewing term. Nowadays there are so many different avenues to pursue.  Facebook, Tik-Tok, and Instagram to name just a few.

So many to keep up with for someone like me. I’m a little behind on the times, but I’ve twisted my daughters arm and she has agreed to try and teach me.

Hopefully, this will be the beginning of many tweets… ah, I mean blogs.