COMING
SOON
‘Faelings Doom – Book Two’
The erotic, paranormal, fantasy series continues...
Wednesday, 30 December 2015
Saturday, 19 December 2015
Gift of the Blood God: The Seduction of Rogan - Yours for FREE for Christmas!
CHRISTMAS AND
HOLIDAY SEASON – FREE READ
e
Gift
of the Blood God – The Seduction of Rogan f
A Faelings Doom Interlude
Genre:- Erotic, Fantasy Romance with a dash of Paranormal,
Sizzling sexiness, and
lashings of magic (18+)
Available
from the following vendors
“Enjoy”
Sydney Whyte
Friday, 18 December 2015
Gift of the Blood God - Drawn - Available NOW from further Vendors
If you've been following my recently finished 'Blog Tour' you will have a greater understanding of the world I have created and the people that populate it.
Now the first installment in this amazing series is available from a further three outlets
The world of Abod le A’nor stood waiting…
From the near new city of the civilised Oremen, to
the wild untamed clans of the warrior nations of the Ancients, to the primitive
quiet villages of a long lived and isolated people; their Dreamers dreamed and sensed
the streams of time eddying and calling.
The Gift was coming, and all eyes turned to the rugged climes of the
southlands.
Two women struggled through the new day, through
vast tracts of dark and ominous wilderness.
Shocked and confused in the aftermath of what should have been a near
fatal accident, twins Lorrie and Melory found themselves stumbling into a fate
nothing in their previously sheltered lives had prepared them for. Nothing was familiar and even the comfort
they found in each other’s company could not keep the fear or panic at bay.
Where were they?
In a world imbued with strange powers and lingering
passions, the past machinations of the doomed Faeling will irrevocably change
forever the Neilson sisters’ future.
Thus begins the journey of the sisters’ awakening.
Please note: - this series contains swearing, sexual
content and adult themes – suitable for persons over the age of 18 years
Excerpt One
Déjà vu!
The eerie feeling of repetition, of having
seen or experienced before the deep body of water that lay before them, its
shores encased in clusters of tall, brown reeds, and sluggish, green algae, a
strong current forcing its way through the lakes centre, flowing like the
traffic down a frantic motor way dangled like memory and yet, as with all such
recollections, Melory was hard pressed to recall when or where she had
previously seen it. She stopped, staring
around the clearing, teeth erasing the remainder of her torn, previously lovely
fingernails. Melory dropped her hands
angrily, hiding her anxiety by thrusting them into her jeans, but she continued
to survey her surrounding, her mind a thudding, distracting scramble for the
elusive memory, for the threat secreted within the calm scene. Something…
The sound of her own swallowing echoed in her
head, the wind of her breath swishing loud as a gale above the thunder of her
heart. She waited; her teeth denied
nails chewing nervously on her lips. It
wasn’t that she had seen reed-infested riverbanks before; it was that she had
seen this exact one. Something…
The skin on her shoulders smouldered through
her clothes as the sun burned down.
Steam rose up, smothering her breath, collecting in fat drops to drip
like sea water from the end of her nose, her thirst a roiling nausea in her
stomach. Something, something…
“Lorrie!”
A dark, claustrophobic clutter of moss draped
trees parted along the path Lorrie had continued to follow unaware of Melory’s
unease. She turned at the sound of her
name, pale in the sunlight, a bright silhouette before the gloomy screen of
beckoning forest, a questioning frown on her brow. Yet the only thing Melory could think, like a
flashing light, a neon scream, warning clarity, one word insinuating itself on
her brain: “Ambush!”
Excerpt Two
Despite her thirst Lorrie found she was
unable to finish the beverage. She sat
with the cup clasped in her tied hands and leaned warily back against the
fallen trunk, her internal heat unrelieved.
She wanted water yet she was uncertain whether her stomach would be able
to handle even that. She felt strangely
queasy.
The food, stew and a hunk of dry bread came
steaming to her on a wooden trencher which she balanced on her lap. “Could you
untie me, please?” She queried uncertain how they expected her to eat anything
without spilling the entire dish on the ground.
The smell tugged at her nostrils with desire yet nauseated her at the
same time.
“Nay, tis not permissible. You do show yourself wilful and violent and
the Eagle, he does not trust you of a moment.”
The long haired stranger shrugged at her with a faint smile creasing his
face, two long dimples appearing in his cheeks.
Again he had backed away to let her struggle in peace.
Didn’t trust her! Who was this Eagle? She knew instantly it was the green-eyed
arsehole. Why, that conceited little bastard. “What the hell?” and the vessel
almost dropped immediately with her growing anger. She was the one captive here, why wouldn’t
she run, why would he expect her submission? She wanted to be free, should be
free… she was a decent person, capable of being reasoned with, this situation
was abominable…and that was it, there was nothing reasonable about it, and he
knew it.
“Eat.”
Long-hair encouraged and turned away.
“No, Please. Come back!“ she insisted to his
retreating back and tried to get up, the trencher tipping sideways anyway and
landing with a splat upside down at her feet.
“Damn! Come back; explain what
I’m doing…” Lorrie abruptly stopped; stumbled, her vision blurring with a
sudden nauseating sway. Pain sprang behind
her eyes and she sat back hard.
Long-hair returned quickly kneeling beside
her and holding her shoulder as she sagged with fatigue. “Are you well?”
She couldn’t raise her head; clear her
thoughts. “Yes, no…I mean.” And then she sank back against the body of the log,
head rolled back against its hard support and tried to focus on him. “Who are you, where am I? You speak
English. How do you know it?”
“I am Simeon, called Souls-ease,” he replied
quietly, hands coming to Lorrie’s cheeks, her forehead; his blue gaze full of
concern “I did learn of Melan’s tongue at the feet of Seer Manuel Quester of
the Haven, enough at least to speak with those of the Etherworld.
“Here you do burn up. You are not well.”
“The Etherworld,” she ignored him. Of course she wasn’t well! She was having a fucking nightmare, one that
never seemed to end and she needed to know what the hell was going on. “What’s
that? Who are you? Who are they? What have you done with Melory?”
“Melory? I know not this word.” Simeon
continued and she stared at him stupidly wondering why his visage slipped in
and out of focus all the time. “Look,
you are sore ill.”
“No, I’m fine.” Lorrie insisted and grabbed
his hand as if she feared he would leave her. She had to know. “Melory is my sister, the little woman with
the red hair…”
“Ah, yes,” he looked mildly uncomfortable,
“She is captive of the Watcher; the Duballe
of Mavishan, he did take her…”
The words held no meaning to Lorrie but very
little of anything now did. Lorrie
blinked, tried to wipe sweat from her face, to push the humid air from about
her nose. She just needed to breathe
something cold; she was overwhelmed by the heat that seemed to be radiating
from her core, found herself panting like a dog but nothing worked and panic
sped the pace of her heart. Lorrie felt
momentarily the cold clarity of the man’s hands on her as he gripped her in
alarm trying to hold her up. The world
was turning grey, the sound of waves roaring inside her head and then darkness
rolled before her eyes, taking the sight of the world from her.
Gift of the Blood God - Drawn is Book One of the 'Faelings Doom' series, and is recommended for readers who like their romances juxtaposed with a bit of paranormal mystery, fantasy, and tension.
...Before one is even a chapter into Gift of the Blood God, graphic sexual scenes and experiences are presented...
(The) audience will find the scenes of sex and swearing are not overdone, but add a compelling and realistic feel when presented in the wider context of very real characters facing the demands of the unknown...
But sex and swearing is by no means what Gift of the Blood God is all about; these are just devices within the greater saga of twins trapped in another world where romance and death, revenge and intimacy, and love and danger are too closely related for comfort.
Move a cast of well-drawn characters into this backdrop and the ultimate result is a story line that is satisfyingly unpredictable and set in a world that is well developed, with protagonists that include priestesses and gods struggling with the sexual ties that bind.
Midwest Reviews
...an enchanting story that pulled me in and has me searching for the next installment. It instantly became a guilty pleasure. It was surprisingly that good. What I appreciated most was the time the author seemed to put in developing her world and story.
Review - Rainthursdays.wordpress.com
Well written and totally engrossing read. Can't wait for the next installment.
Review - Amazon
At first it took a while to get into this book. The writing was something (I) needed to get use to; the way the characters spoke and interacted with one another. The jumps from past-future-etherworld-past, also took a fair bit of concentration...... BUT I stuck with it and by the end of the book was eager to read on and find (o)ut what happens to the HOT couples that appear to be melding!!!:D
Review - Goodreads
Gift of the Blood God: Drawn $USD0.99c
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Gift of the Blood God - The Seduction of Rogan
Available now…
e
Gift
of the Blood God – The Seduction of Rogan f
‘Faelings Doom – Interlude One’
There
was one thing Rogan had desired for most of his life. Not status or rank, or the esteem of his
peers. Not wealth or privilege, such
things were afforded him as acolyte to The
People’s priestess. No, the thing he
wanted above anything else was a woman - a special and intriguing
creature. His closest and dearest
friend; she was beautiful, an enigma, power-filled – and his elder by at least
a score of years. Not that it
mattered. Age was relative when one was
of The People, of the descendants of
the Ancients. Sometimes it felt their
lives went on for ever; forlorn and desolate, without the possibility of
fulfilment… He wanted Dana, the Weaver.
The wife of another. And not only
that, but the wife of his brother.
The
infamous events of her youth had marked Dana - wounds that ran deep and
painful. She knew her error. Foolishness dogged her every step and not
least that she had bonded herself to the wrong brother. But soon it would be over, the consequences
of a lapse of judgement. Five days, that
was all and she would be free. Hope
soared. No longer would she be shackled
to the man who had left home and village the very day after their bonding
ceremony, not to be seen again for nigh on seven years. And once free, then what? Could she do it? Risk all again, risk her greatest friendship
for something that promised everything and yet had the potential to leave her
with nothing.
***
Set
in the world of Abod le A’nor, this erotic fantasy interlude to the ‘Gift of
the Blood God’ series explores the effects of a restrictive and oppressive
culture on long-time friends who are trying to come to terms with the depth of
love and the physical desire they have for each other.
Meet
Rogan Farsight, a reluctant adherent to the teachings of the first
disciple. Forced to give up his beloved
craft – an artisan of wood – to submit to the townships incumbent priestess and
become her acolyte because more than any other his gift of the Mavishan farsight
is already greater.
Revisit
Dana, now known as the Weaver, an accomplished woman. She is the barer of many gifts and talents
revered by the Mavishan people – not least the ability to cast illusion by the
mere facility of ‘weaving’ the vision together with her mind, and her perfect
memory. Her youthful indiscretion still
haunts her, her foolish mistakes leading her astray and into continued infamy
in her home village.
How
will they fare when the annulment of her infamous marriage draws nigh – when
she is free and the possibility for their friendship can blossom into something
far deeper…?
[Warning:-
This book contains swearing and sexual content and adult themes – suitable for
persons over the age of 18yrs.]
“Rogan?”
His
head snapped up, his hands stilled in the mixing of the liquid honey and
tobacco with the soft call of his name.
Dana! What did she here? Few would dear to interrupt work they thought
part of their Holy Rites. Sans Thyne, Rogan’s body still hardened at
the sight of her, yet he rose from his chair in greeting sure the leather apron
across his lap offered sufficient decency.
Dana’s skin was soft beneath his lips as he kissed her cheek and
surreptitiously inhaled her sweet lavender scent.
“Is
aught wrong?”
“Nay,”
she smiled, her grey eyes sparkling as she lifted a cloth covered basket. “Naught but that your dam does think you eat
improperly, or not at all, and I did volunteer to bring her offering to you.”
“And
you came here?”
“Yes. I was curious. Never have I been past the sanctuary. Tis little imposing.” Glancing around the room critically, she sank
to the chair opposite and pushed the basket toward him. “Though what I
expected, I know not. Tis just a
kitchen. Somehow I expected… well,
more.”
“Such
opulence is saved for the public areas,” Rogan snorted and pushing the
preparation equipment aside flipped the cloth back on the basket to reveal a
number of fresh golden buns. The waft of
just baked bread tantalised his taste buds making his mouth water and reminding
him again of his failed intentions to eat.
Silently he thanked his mother.
Without
asking permission Dana dived into the basket before he had chance and snagged
one, “I do so love your dam’s cooking.
Ah, look, see always the surprise, has she not filled it with shred pork
and apple. Naught is better than the
delicious savoury and the sweet.”
They
ate for a moment in companionable silence, Rogan’s gaze never leaving her face,
hers never leaving his. Her eyes were
the most beautiful, expressive, volatile grey he had ever seen, the colour was
as storm clouds roiling and thunderous, changing hue with her mood, darkening
and lightening. Now they sparkled and
glowed with contentment as he reached boldly out to flick a piece of meat and
juice from the side of her lip into her mouth.
The tip of her tongue inadvertently touched him. Shards of awareness coursed through his body.
“What
do you here?” she asked offering him a cup of water to wash the sticky residue
down when they had finished. “Gods, is
that what I think?”
“What
do you think?”
“Be
that Thyne?” She picked up the bowl of crushed leaf and
fine shavings and sniffed curiously. “It
has little scent.” She frowned. “Did I
think somehow it would be more potent.”
Rogan’s
heart nearly stopped. “Leave it be!” he
scolded, fear, yearning nearly swamping him for the thought of what it would do
should she inhale it as it burned. Heat,
anticipation flushed from his groin to his head. “Tis but the basics of the preparation. Once mixed with these others here, and
breathed through water, fire and the pipe, will it do its work and not before.”
For
a moment an awkward silence filled the room.
Dana sat across the table her eyes alight, intent; lips pursing as if
she were undecided and on the verge of asking something. Raising his brows in question, Rogan tilted
his head. She took that as permission to
speak. “Have you… ever partaken?”
“How
can I?”
“Know
I that it is forbidden to you as unclaimed, but…” She reached out and gripped his wrist, “but
you are there, at the Ritual. You have
seen its effect, smelt its allure… surely…”
“Dana…?”
For
a moment confusion swirled as a grey whirlpool in her eyes, longing and
sadness. “I have seen… I would…
Never… Never once…”
His
breath hitched. Did she want this? Did she long for unfettered coupling, to have
passion run through her veins as fire?
This confession seemed on the verge of her tongue. His tension mounted. She would confess this to him! On life she did not need Thyne, and he would tell her so.
She had fervent desire in abundance.
He had borne it witness. Hers was
pure, unadulterated need spinning from her heart, her head, her body…
Her
eyes veiled suddenly beneath long dark-blond lashes as her gaze fell to her
hand on his arm. Awkwardly she lifted
it, offering him a quick pat. “Pay me no
mind. I do but ramble, and now beg
forgiveness. Tis not a subject
appropriate…”
At
a loss, Rogan could only stare but she did not immediately meet his gaze until
he said, “naught is there to forgive, Dana.”
Her
smile was watery. His heart bled.
“You
are the best of men, know you that, Rogan.”
Soft fingers caressed him and instinctively he turned palm upward,
capturing her hand.
“I
miss you.” She continued. “That you come
no more to the Collective. I did love to
smell the ghost of lacquer, the scent of fresh turned wood, and hint of ash
upon your hands…”
He
swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “Tis
still there.”
As
if this were an invitation, she pressed the tips of his fingers to her face,
and eyes closed, she breathed him in.
“Tis true. Faint. But there be a definite hint.”
“Dana…” He felt the soft brush of her lips as a
whisper across his pads, the flush and fullness of her cheek as she laid it
momentarily in his palm. The desire to
lean across the table and kiss her was overwhelming. To speak, to tell her his greatest secret
fired in his blood but the words would not come for within seconds as if she
remembered herself, her place, propriety, she released him with a faint
embarrassed smile.
“Buba came to me this day.” She changed the subject, quietly.
His heart sank.
*****
Available
‘FREE’ from the following vendors
Kobo
Nook
24Symbols
“Enjoy”
Sydney Whyte
Wednesday, 16 December 2015
Blog Tour - Stop Seven - And we say 'Farewell'... Thanks to Andrew Grey (Author) for hosting my final post December 16th
The Tour might be over... but that's not the end.
So
where to from here?
Follow the link for the lowdown on what's been and what's coming next...
here's a hint
See you soon
Sydney Whyte
Blog Tour - Blog Stop Six - Hah?
As you might have noticed 'Stop Six' is missing...
(Sad face)
But that's no reason to miss out on what I had to say so here it is... just for you
Build me a world and make me a people.
The Faelings Doom
Series is set in the world of Abod le A’nor.
It’s a fantasy world, it isn’t a science fiction one. No spaceship can take you from here to there. Only ‘magic’ can.
When building this
world, I took great inspiration from the cultural variety of our own and
realised that all peoples are the sum total of all that has gone before. We are shaped by our histories even though we
really may not recognise it (and apparently learn nothing from them either –
what’s that saying? History repeats itself!).
The things we do, say and think are all influenced by what has gone
before.
Case in point – ‘Going
off half cocked’ is a term still used in the English language. Of course we all know what it means – acting
before we should or without thinking, but in reality it is the influence of the
use of a weapon that often went off half-cocked, literally. The flintlock firearm was the source of
further sayings that we use without thought to their origin. ‘Lock, stock and barrel’ – meaning, including
everything completely; and ‘flash in the pan’ – something that happens only
once or is not repeatable. While the
sayings are still in use today, the gun that influenced them has been out of
favour since the mid-19th century.
The development of
language/dialect is just the same. With
the movement, integration and merging of peoples and cultures, new and
interesting variations of language occur.
English, for example, seems to me to be like a sponge, soaking up words
from various other languages and making them its own. This is an inevitable evolution. This has never stopped and in this day and
age of technology is now far more open and influenced by every part of the
globe.
So how then do I
make my world follow this same pattern of progression from ancient to ‘modern’?
The story of ‘Gift
of the Blood God’ starts in Ancient times with a priestess, her husband and the
secretive manipulations of a magical creature – a Fae – that has his own
agenda. What evolves from his schemes
will change the face of their world irrevocably, the echoes of which resonate
through their history until we find ourselves in the present where my two
unsuspecting sisters are inextricably caught by the web of his
machinations. These sisters are from our
world, taken by magic to a place that resembles nothing like our ‘advanced’
civilisation. No cars, phones, laptops,
no electricity… none of the normal luxuries of our modern existence that we
take for granted. They can’t even speak
the same language as the natives.
Everything they learn, at least at first, they learn visually.
To the reader,
however, I have been kinder than I have to them. The book is written from many points of view
and the reader is let into the secrets of this world well ahead of our two poor
heroines.
A device I have
used to help my readers understand the differences between Melory and
Lorraine’s modern thinking and those of Abod le’s was to alter the way the text
was written. The book, coming from many
POV’s strives to let the reader discern that difference with the alteration of
the language. If the scene is set in the
Etherworld (the name the inhabitants of Abod le have given to basically any
place outside their own world) then the language is colloquial, contemporary,
and even a little coarse. This goes for
the occasions when the POV is either of the two sisters’. If we are visiting a character from Abod le,
however, the language is more formal, perhaps even a little ‘flowery’ to allow
the flavour of their ‘otherness’ to shine through. The text is also spattered with examples of
their own language, and if the meaning is not immediate there is a glossary at
the end with the translations.
EXCERPT
(Please be aware, this excerpt contains
a few swear words)
“Leave him be, woman,” Simeon pulled her hurriedly aside with a warning
glare. She noted his use of the Mavishan
tongue. Did he think such speech would
make her heed him the more? She was not
full-blood, Mavishan principles were nothing to her… “The lad is young and unused to such wiles.”
Renee laughed and yanked her arm from his forbidding hold. What did he know of anything? Arrogant man! But then were not they all, those pure-blood
Mavishan, good for little but fucking, their seed potent and powerful. Oh, they all tried to pretend they did not,
preaching their morality, their abstinence, but she knew better… Simeon may
have been a good few years her elder, at least a score and ten, but that did
not make him wise, only rigid and, as pure descendant, full of hypocritical
dogmatism.
“Think you that I do mean to hurt him?”
Renee sneered. She had never
heard that fucking hurt any man should he want it enough, and she was confident
of her appeal. The Tishan youth would
want it; she had seen it in his eyes.
And Tishan had no such scruples; rampant coupling was an acceptable
trait of that particular community; did they not even have abodes exclusive for
such purpose? The Houses of… well some
ancient ancestor of the Tishan, a priest reputedly, who had turned from the
preaching of abstinence to the law of Tota
whatever that entailed. He had begun the tradition, an answer to the
failing magic of Tishan blood, their lives edging shorter and shorter…
And Simeon was well aware of this, he after all lived in their
midst. The lad was no virgin; he had
cast a look of speculation down the contour of her tunic-clad body, her curves
easily made out in the cling of her take on the Mavishan attire. Tishan dress for woman was utter foolishness
for such a life as hers but the simple shapes of Mavishan garments had not been
satisfactory either; the blending of the two had definitely given all who saw
her pause, and she smiled for the effect.
“You are foolish if you think such behaviour will be of harm. I am clean and he…” she cast a speculative
eye, a healer’s eye though she was no adept, but she saw easily more than skin,
intuited gratefully the vibration of health and vigour, “does look so too. Mayhap if you did throw off the binds of Mavishan
regulation and deign to give such a try yourself would you not then forward me
such impudent advice.”
Simeon’s blue eyes flared as his lips pressed in disapproval. “And what that he will expect to negotiate a
price?”
Shock spread Renee’s face at the implication. The urge to slap the Souls-ease surged
through her veins, though she managed to control it. “I am no whore, as you do well know…”
The glacial eyes flashed with justification, “You know not as much as
you think, Renee, Voden’s child. If you
do initiate such pastime then payment is his.
That is the way of Tota.”
Well now that was a startling piece of information. She cast the youth a further
speculation. To pay for what she wanted,
how did that thought take her? It was
not the way of Mavin’s people; they did share freely and without restraint, but
she was tired of those she knew, all familiar; fearful; her gift anathema… only
the brave, the very brave would let her touch them. Oh for the anonymity of a stranger. Renee had some coin if such were needed; and
if not then a talent enough to turn his head…
Yes, she decided, as a greed for the promise of strong arms and thighs
turned her lower regions to wobbly jelly.
It took her well enough.
Tuesday, 15 December 2015
Blog Tour - Stop Five - with Moon Beams over Atlanta
Weekends over - we're all rested, so here's the next stop
Fae, faeries, fairies…
So much to choose
from, so much lore to explore. From the
Roman household deities – penates, lares and even genii, to the simple Norse
and Teutonic traditions of Valkyries, elves and disir to the much more rounded
and vaunted Arthurian tales and Celtic legends, fairies abound in every way,
shape and form...
Fae encompasses so
many different notions, beliefs and traditions, that for my world and my
purpose I dared to strip them bare.
Follow the link below for my guest post and a sizzling (R18) excerpt
FAE
Sydney Whyte
Friday, 11 December 2015
Blog Tour - Stop Four - Guest Author for Dirk Greyson with some thoughts on the Dreaded Cliffhanger (10 December 2015)
From
the iconic
'Who shot JR?'
to
the all consuming question
'Is Jon Snow really dead!?'
we meet
"The Dreaded Cliffhanger"
Join me on this number four Blog Stop Tour for my book 'Gift of the Blood God - Drawn' with
Dirk Greyson (Author) and find out why 'the Cliffhangering' isn't such a bad
thing after all.
(haha, yes this is the link)
Cheers
Sydney
Whyte
Thursday, 10 December 2015
Blog Tour - Stop Three: J.P. Barnaby - Inspirations - (9 December 2015)
"When I was eighteen my family decided that for Christmas that year we would walk the Milford Track in Fiordland, New Zealand. It’s a beautiful, wild bit of the country..."
See how the thoughts and experiences of my trip influenced my world of Abod le A'nor in
The Gift of the Blood God - Drawn
And to what lengths I would (or would not) go to, to identify with my characters
(Follow the link below for the lowdown on this Guest Post, Book Description & Buy Links, and Author Bio...)
INSPIRATION
Cheers
Sydney Whyte
Wednesday, 9 December 2015
Blog Tour - Stop Two: Z.A. Maxfield - The Body Beautiful - (8 December 2015)
BLOG STOP TWO
A big thank you to ZA Maxfield for featuring my book - Gift of the Blood God - Drawn - on her blog this 8th December 2015
For this guest spot I have delved into the 'Body Beautiful'.
"It is a common perception, whether accurate or
in error, that women are not visually-based creatures sexually – that it is
exclusively the realm of men. For me and
I imagine a lot of woman, sexual stimulation does originate on the imagination
side of their eyeballs. The preference
is, and I can only go by my own experience, to read it rather than watch
it. But then on the other hand to see a
beautiful man is very exciting to women too..."
See the rest of my Guest Post and an Excerpt from my book by following the link below:-
ZAM
Z.A.Maxfield is a well known author of M/M erotica - check out her website and Facebook page for updates of her own amazing series'
Monday, 7 December 2015
Blog Tour - Gift of the Blood God - Drawn 7th - 16th December 2015
Starting today, I'm taking my book 'Gift of the Blood God - Drawn' on a whirlwind tour as guest author on a number of Blog Stops.
Join me as I delve beneath the surface of the story of Melory and Lorraine Neilson and all those that populate the fantasy world that is Abod le A'nor in this fantasy, paranormal, erotic fusion that is the the Faelings Doom Series
STOP ONE
7 December 2015
Dirty Discourse
Guest Post
"Simple ideas are where most things start... and then we complicate them"
Stayed tuned for STOP TWO...
Snowbound by Larissa Ione - Review
It was predictable fare. Nothing offensive, but nothing out of the ordinary... a sweet read. Of course you knew from the beginning who the arseholes (douches - if you're Amazon) were, that was a given, almost cliche-ick, and you knew both the protagonists were flawed, protecting themselves from hurt, from each other, but definitely likable. It fulfilled its purpose. When I bought it, it was sold to me as a holiday read, a lovely way to pass the time of day, and it was.
This is not a new offering, but has been out since I think 2007, and I must say previous covers have been much more appealing... see below and tell me what you think.
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Sydney Whyte
Rating Chart
«……………….A no goer
««……………Alright, but not a re-read
«««………..Liked it
««««…….Loved it
«««««…Amaze-balls – ticks all the boxes!!!
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