The Amuli Chronicles

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Featured Book of the Week: Week Five: Nefertiti's Heart by A.W. Exley

Each week authors can submit one book for a chance to be the featured book of the week, and each week one book/author will be selected at random. The winning book each week will be featured on http://www.malloryrock.com, multiple book blogs, and social media platforms from various sources.

Are you an author? Would you like your book to be the next Featured Book of the Week? Check out all the details and entry form here: http://www.malloryrock.com/promos.html.

WEEK OF MAY 5TH WINNER FEATURE

A.W. Exley

Author of the Steampunk Adventure, Nefertiti's Heart

Book synopsis/description:

Cara Devon has always suffered curiosity and impetuousness, but tangling with a serial killer might cure that. Permanently.

London, 1861. Impoverished noble Cara has a simple mission after the strange death of her father - sell off his damned collection of priceless artifacts. Her plan goes awry when aristocratic beauties start dying of broken hearts, an eight inch long brass key hammered through their chests. A killer hunts amongst the nobility, searching for a regal beauty and an ancient Egyptian relic rumored to hold the key to immortality.

Her Majesty's Enforcers are in pursuit of the murderer and they see a connection between the gruesome deaths and Cara. So does she, somewhere in London her father hid Nefertiti's Heart, a fist sized diamond with strange mechanical workings. Adding further complication to her life, notorious crime lord, Viscount Nathaniel Lyons is relentless in his desire to lay his hands on Cara and the priceless artifact. If only she could figure out his motive.

Self-preservation fuels Cara's search for the gem. In a society where everyone wears a mask to hide their true intent, she needs to figure out who to trust, before she makes a fatal mistake.

To purchase Nefertiti's Heart, please visit Amazon.com.

Short author bio:

Books and writing have always been an enormous part of Anita's life. She survived school by hiding out in the library, with several thousand fictional characters for company. At university, she overcame the boredom of studying accountancy by squeezing in Egyptology papers and learning to read hieroglyphics.

Today, Anita writes steampunk novels with a sexy edge and an Egyptian twist. She lives in rural New Zealand surrounded by an assortment of weird and wonderful equines, felines, canine and chickens.

You can visit Anita on her website or on Facebook.

Excerpt from Nefertiti's Heart

The blinds, drawn over the carriage windows, concealed the occupant. She stared at the open door, debating her course of action. This development wasn't unexpected; in fact, she invited it. But his timing was annoying. She had things to do and no desire to be in London any longer than necessary. Picking up the corner of her skirts, she stepped into the carriage and took the bench seat facing backward. The Villainous Viscount, known in society as Nathaniel Trent, Viscount Lyons, occupied the opposite side.

Cara guessed him to be approaching thirty, young for his position in the underworld, but he had spent ten years ruthlessly climbing to the top. He was reputed to be the head underworld figure in London and beyond. His family had no fortune to match their titles, so he set about acquiring one. With a formidable head for business, he established an airship cargo company. It generated a healthy income stream on its own, plus had the added benefit of providing an excellent front for his illegal activities, and extended his reach far beyond London. He simultaneously repulsed and attracted society. He was titled, rich, bad to know, and deadly to cross.

And he's handsome.

He was tall, his legs taking up an inordinate amount of room in the plush carriage. Her eyes ran up over highly polished, black boots and muscular thighs. Heading farther north, she took in his powerful torso in a formfitting, grey frock coat. He wore his black hair short and his sideburns narrow and long, emphasising his strong face and square jaw. A shiver ran down her spine as she met his steel-blue gaze.

"You shot my men."

At least he got straight to the point, no inane social niceties. She would never have to worry about inviting him over for tea, crumpets, and chitchat.

"They were trespassing in my house and tried to rob me." She undid the buttons on her jacket. The interior of the carriage constricted around her; the heat from his dominating presence caused the temperature to rise.

"I've killed men for doing less." His tone was well modulated, with no change in inflection nor any hint of anger; they could have been discussing the weather.

"So have I." She held his gaze. She could play his pissing contest all day if he wanted. He wasn't getting his hands on her father's notebook. Lord Devon sold her into slavery and nearly beat her to death when she escaped. Her father owed her a large debt, and with his notebook secure, she intended to collect a small portion of her due. She was going to enjoy breaking up his valuable collection of antiquities as much as she enjoyed smashing his stupid, precious clock.

"Keep your men out of my house, unless you want to lose them permanently." She shifted on the seat. Her jacket fell open to reveal the shoulder holster with the gun nestled close to her chest. A custom Smith and Wesson with a carved ivory handle, the delicacy of the bone co-ordinated with the cream silk lining of her jacket. She made her threat without blinking. Let him discover she was no blushing English rose. She had thorns.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Are you an author? Would you like your book to be the next Featured Book of the Week? Check out all the details and entry form here: http://www.malloryrock.com/promos.html.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

You Telling Me the Birds in Your World Don't Poo Little Pillow Cases?

I refuse to let this depression monster get me down, which is why, beginning tonight, I'm changing everything about my life. Well, almost everything. I'll still be living where I'm at, but I'm changing my daily routine during the week, because I refuse to be stuck inside all day, letting life pass me by.

I'll wake at seven o'clock every morning--no more sleeping until ten or eleven just because I have "nothing to do" (that's bullshit, I have TONS to do). After breakfast, I'll apply for as many jobs as I can, then head to the gym at ten o'clock and do my weight-lifting routine; that usually takes about an hour, so I'd be home around eleven for lunch. Huh. Notice how instantly I'll have accomplished more by eleven than I would just by sleeping in? Yeah. And I'm pretty sure this will also make me feel more accomplished, which usually helps in my case of depression. After lunch, I'll stroll over to a local brewery with my laptop, order up a brew or two, and work on Soulbound and other books of The Inrugian Chronicles. Sometime around three or four, I'll walk home, cook dinner, and enjoy time with my beau before we hit the gym for cardio.

This will be my new routine until I find a job, and I think it will help me a lot--not only to keep myself from being depressed, but to give myself focus and a purpose. Part of my depression--and this isn't true of everyone--stems from sitting at home trying to write all day. I crave structure, and I always have, even as a child. Without structure to my life, I fall apart, because in my mind, everything has no purpose, and where purpose lacks, so does the drive to do anything productive. I'd rather spend my time giving myself purpose than letting my life drift away. True, I have a lot of work to do before Soulbound is 100% ready, but it will never be complete if I don't give it my all.

I'm glad I made this decision, and to be honest, I hope I can implement it. I tend to get lazy in the mornings, but if I remind myself that doing this long enough will give me a sense of purpose, then I'll be able to get motivated enough to move forward and get my life in gear. =) And for that...I'm happy.

Featured Book of the Week: Week Four: The Coming Storm by Valerie Douglas

Are you an author? Would you like your book to be the next Featured Book of the Week? Check out all the details and entry form here: http://www.malloryrock.com/promos.html.

WEEK OF APRIL 28ST WINNER FEATURE

Valerie Douglas

Author of the Epic Fantasy, The Coming Storm

Book synopsis/description:

Elon of Aerilann, Elven advisor to the High King of Men, helped negotiate the treaty between Elves, Dwarves and men. He suddenly finds that fragile truce threatened from without by an unknown enemy and from within by old hatreds and prejudice. With the aid of his true-friend Colath, the wizard Jareth and the Elven archer Jalila, he goes in search of the source of the threat.

Ailith, the Heir to Riverford, fights her own silent battle. Her father has changed, but her quest to discover what changed him puts her life and very soul in danger and leaves her only one direction in which to turn. Elon.

To preserve the alliance, though, Elon will have to choose between his honor, his duty and everything for which he fought.

To purchase The Healer's Legacy, please visit Amazon.com.

Short author bio:

Valerie Douglas is a prolific writer and a genre-crosser, much to the delight of her fans. A fan of authors in almost every genre she writes classic fantasy, romance, suspense, and, as V.J. Devereaux, erotic romance.

Happily married, she's companion to two dogs, four cats and an African clawed frog named Hopper who delights in tormenting the cats from his tank.

You can visit Valerie on her website at www.valeriedouglasbooks.com.

Excerpt from The Coming Storm

Ailith glanced back once as she rode away, the Named sword and the bow bound in their wrappings once again.

Even in motion Dorovan wasted no energy, he moved smoothly and seemingly effortlessly. He’d taught her some of that as well, the meditations Elves used to keep themselves centered in the world. In many ways he was like the uncle she’d never had, or an older brother. It was that kind of a closeness. There were a thousand lessons he’d taught her that had little and everything to do with what he taught her about the sword and the bow. The Elven concepts of Honor, their language, patience, stillness, more. She couldn’t name them all.

He was gone through the trees in that long, steady lope he’d told her Elves could maintain for days. She’d never told him of mornings she’d spent in the gray light of dawn running through the hills to test her own legs to see if she could run as he did. There was a joy in it, in the feel of muscles moving, of setting a pace that took you over hills and through valleys. She didn’t do it often now, not any more.

With a pang, she wished she could call him back. She couldn’t. She’d been gone for some days now, visiting her grandmother. It was a long ride home, and she dreaded what she would find there.

The breeze cooled her face, drying the sweat.

It didn’t cool her fevered thoughts, which crowded back now she was alone.

High on a distant hill she caught a glimpse of some of the Woodsmen she thought, riding along the edge of a wood. She wondered if Gwillim were among them but she didn’t see his familiar head. He’d taken a group of Hunters up into the east highlands, as there had been many reports of things from the borderlands coming across up there. These, though, seemed to have no urgency to them, no air of alarm. Nothing for her to worry about, then, simply the usual patrol. Home.

She’d never thought that at any time in her life she would dread going there, but she did.

Now.

It was like wading along the familiar shore of the river only to find a sharp stone awaiting unseen beneath the murky water. One false step and there would be pain. Her mother, usually a cool, calming presence, had become a shadow. There was a puzzled worry in her eyes on the rare occasions Ailith did see her. Else she stayed in her rooms or wandered through the small library off the great room like a ghost. She wouldn’t speak of what worried her though Ailith had tried. Selah looked drained and tired, as if she didn’t sleep well these days.

Nor did Ailith often of late. Odd dreams troubled her sleep, some she could remember, some she couldn’t. Often it was of lying frozen in her bed, unable to move, while something terrible stood just outside the door listening to her breathe. She feared it, that unknown presence, feared the shadow that fell on the space beneath the door cast by the torch outside her room. Firmly, she thrust those thoughts behind her.

She should have told Dorovan, he would’ve known whether her fears were groundless or not. She could still tell her grandmother. Not today, it was too late to go back now. It would be some days before she could arrange another visit. She thought maybe her mother might have said something but there’d been no sign of it. Her grandmother Delae, that firm practical lady, would know whether she was being foolish or not. But she was her mother’s mother and it felt as if Ailith were betraying her parents by speaking of it.

Dorovan she could have told.

For all his friendship with her grandmother – she knew it was more than that but it was a good enough description – he wouldn’t betray her secrets unless he felt she should speak. In some ways for her, he was a neutral party.

It didn’t matter, that chance was lost until the next time he came. That could easily be months. Once it had been almost a year. A short time in the long lives of Elves.

Her horse clattered up the causeway. The gates were open as they often were during the day. The sun wasn’t too low on the horizon – it still cast a warm golden glow. A stable boy came up to take her horse, which she gave up gratefully and with a smile.

“Thank you, Gellin,” she said, softly.

“I’ll walk ’im a bit for you, miss,” Gellin said, ducking his head.

A bellow startled them both. “Get out!”

Stunned, horrified, her package cradled in her arms, Ailith spun as Gellin flinched.

She knew that voice. It was her father’s voice. But he never shouted.

There he was, though, standing between the entryway doors. His face was red, nearly purple. She’d thought her shock couldn’t be greater than when she’d heard him shout. She was wrong. This couldn’t be her father, this red-faced furious figure in the doorway. It couldn’t.

He couldn’t be shouting at Tanith. He couldn’t.

Tanith had been chatelaine at Riverford since before Ailith was born. In all her years Ailith had never seen her father like this, so angry. She hadn’t known him capable of it.

All around people stopped to stare, sharing her bewilderment.

Tanith backed away from the doors in the face of Geric’s fury, then finally she broke and fled, her skirts flying as she ran for the gates. Her hands were at her face, and Ailith could tell she was weeping.

Past shock, Ailith was sick at heart as her father reached out for the doors on either side and drew them shut with a bang.

“Gellin, take the horse into the stables and brush him down until he’s cool. Go quietly, lad.”

Somehow, she didn’t think the storm that was her father had passed. Rather than face that uncertain wrath herself she slipped into the castle through the kitchen entrance.

The cooks all stood frozen, their eyes on the door to the castle interior. They looked frightened. The head cook looked at Ailith with a shaken expression. Ailith shook her head at the unasked question. She didn’t know either.

Swiftly, she ran up the back stairs with her precious gifts cradled in her arms. When she reached her rooms, she thrust them beneath her bed where they would be safe. Why she felt they wouldn’t be safe in her own home didn’t occur to her. She only knew she had to hide them.

Relieved, she sat on her bed and then realized with fresh fear that someone stood outside the open door. Cold alarm washed through her.

It was her mother.

Arms clasped around herself, her eyes wide and staring, Selah stood at the top of the stairs and listened to the brooding, waiting silence below as Ailith did. She was more of a ghost than ever, dressed in a gauzy gray that matched her eyes, she was like a shadow.

A softly held breath slowly escaped her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Are you an author? Would you like your book to be the next Featured Book of the Week? Check out all the details and entry form here: http://www.malloryrock.com/promos.html.