In the Pureblood's Arms Release Day!

It's Release Day for In the Pureblood's Arms! Available everywhere now in e-book and print!

While technically Book 4 in The Magiste Chronicles, In the Pureblood's Arms is an origination story of the Magiste, a magical race of people who have inhabited the Earth with mere Mortals since the beginning of man. Think Harry Potter, though these nooks are much more ... adult. ;-)

Check out the smoking hot cover by Winter Bayne, featuring Micahel Foster as Henri Marchand:

This is the first book where I've combined my two favorite genres, historical and paranormal/fantasy. It was fun playing in reality with a fantasy twist – I love losing myself in the medieval era, and mixing it up with my love of the idea of wizards, witches and general magical people allowed me to twist not only history, but reality. Technically, writing fiction is already messing around with reality, but infusing paranormal and fantasy elements into historical settings seems to blend perfectly, at least from my point of view.

Here's the thing, I usually have at least two WIPs going at any given time, sometimes even three, just because I'll throw down a scene that's really poking at me. It's just the way I operate – and I am currently operating with two projects that are brand new for my other series. But with In the Pureblood's Arms, I wrote it exclusively from beginning to end. I had no other projects at all while I was caught up in this tale. The entire story came together from the start, clearly and concisely, pretty much with the very first words I wrote. I can't say why, but I do wish every other book I write would do the same!

Like the other books in The Magiste Chronicles, this story has been revised and cleaned up, and some of the more subtle elements grew stronger. One of the things I like best about reworking a story I already love is that I can adjust the story where my brain raced faster than my fingers could keep up. I think every writer has something in each of their books they would like to change, and going through this book again sparked a lot, including the start of the next book in this series, which dives deeper into the creation of the new Magiste nation.

And don't miss your change to get Book 2 in the series, In the Mage's Arms, for only .99! Hurry, this sale is only for a limited time. Here are the links for both books:

In the Pureblood's Arms:

Amazon US: http://ow.ly/Sp9Q30f4G6Y

Amazon UK: http://ow.ly/CtPB30f4Ggr

Apple/iBooks: http://ow.ly/vguo30f4Grg

B&N/Nook: http://ow.ly/TUsj30fxl77

Kobo: http://ow.ly/Xagv30f4FMn

Smashwords: http://ow.ly/HA1B30f48pe

CreateSpace (print): http://ow.ly/1RdF30fwKCo

In the Mage's Arms:

 

 Amazon US: http://ow.ly/KGBo305ZcDb

Amazon UK: http://ow.ly/Ywi0305ZcIW

Apple/iBooks: http://ow.ly/H8l8305Zdad

B&N/Nook: http://ow.ly/x1SR305ZdIk

Google Play: http://ow.ly/LdZG30b5pJs

Kobo: http://ow.ly/PYm9305ZdMn

Smashwords: http://ow.ly/G3MA305ZyF8

CreateSpace (print): http://ow.ly/Ri2D305ZzKA 

Here's an excerpt of In the Pureblood's Arms:

Henri sat before the hearth, staring absently into the flames. Between his fingers, he swirled a glass filled with Bordeaux flambé. Even after his third glass, the bite of the spices felt good, reminding him he lived.

Again, his thoughts drifted to the woman in the next room. In his bed. The manacles on the bedposts alarmed and confused her. Yet, he'd also seen a hint of curiosity. Or had he convinced himself because he wanted to believe her amenable to his…preferences?

He had no right to think of such things, but the inborn darkness of his magic forced its way through. The image of her secured in his cuffs by her wrists and ankles seared his brain and he closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the vision. He failed, his cock stirring insistently, protesting the last months of celibacy. Idly, the debate of whether Chantal would fight or submit arose. A half smile tugged his mouth. She would fight. No one with hair that shade of fire would be meek and subservient.

But he couldn't touch her, not yet. Once word spread her family had been killed, the Tribunal would demand she be turned over to them. They'd use her lands to make political alliances, use her bloodline to enhance their magical might. They had no intentions to truly protect Chantal, only themselves, and gain whatever they could at her expense. The very idea turned his stomach.

She'd mentioned cousins, but did they still live? He needed answers before he decided how best to protect her. And he needed those answers now.

He stood and paced, developing arguments that prevented her being sold off to the highest bidder. With the knowledge of cousins, Henri could hold the Tribunal at bay for a time. Should the cousins fail to be found, another choice could save her. For the first time since he'd learned of the ritual, he understood the reason for the spell's creation. That it addressed several of his own newly-recognized selfish reasons as well was simply a happy addition.

Henri did not want to see Chantal's future decided by the Magiste nobility's court games. He could claim her for his own. Use the Possede Puissant. Besides the advantages the spell gave him over Chantal, infuriating his parents might prove an entertaining aside. Claiming her was his best chance to stop the nonsense he should marry the Fontenot daughter. He wanted no part of that shrew.

Now, unexpectedly, he found all he wanted was big green eyes that shone in the lamplight. Fiery hair that slid like silk through his fingers and lips that melted under his. He squeezed the glass of spiced wine so hard, it shattered.

"Merde!" More annoyed at his carelessness than the sting of a shard slicing into his finger, he waved his other hand over the mess. It vanished from sight, then he turned to his cut finger.

"Helavoir." His stone warmed when he cast the healing spell, and the cut opening his skin slowly melded back together until the wound completely disappeared. He clenched his fingers and summoned another glass, which instantly appeared on the table beside him. Eying the decanter, his ring heated again. The bottle rose in the air, pouring a steady stream of liquor into the glass, stopping at his chosen portion. Lifting the glass between his fingers, Henri leaned back in the chair.

A knock came from the sleeping room. He'd wondered when she would find herself incapable of sleeping, despite her exhaustion. Most likely, her power ran wild through her body, making slumber elusive. With a twitch of his fingers, the door unlocked.

Now dressed in the clean nightdress, the soot and forest dirt washed away, she was truly lovely. The earlier attraction returned with a force that nearly stole his breath. She moved hesitantly toward him. He motioned to the chair beside his.

"Would you like some Bordeaux flambé?"

She shook her head and settled herself into the chair. "Merci, Non."

"It might help you sleep."

Another quick shake of her head. "I find I don't want to sleep after all."

He leaned over, any excuse to touch her, and caught her chin in his fingers, forcing her to look at him.

"What is it?'

She blinked, tears welling. "Every time I close my eyes, I see…."

He let her go, noting the way the stone in her pendant glowed. Did she realize she channeled her magic, or were her emotions so chaotic she was unaware of her gathering power? Powerless to stop himself, he reached for her hand, pressing his thumb against her inner wrist. The craft pulsing with her blood was fairly strong, though nowhere near his strength. Despite its potency, something about her power seemed immature. Untrained. The need to remedy that situation surprised him with its sudden manifestation.

Suddenly, her eyes sparked, the scent of anger rising around her. She jerked her hand away, jolting out of the chair to take several strides across the room. A moment later, she faced him again.

"You said you came to save us."

Her quiet statement unnerved him momentarily, though he couldn't say why. Perhaps because he expected more outrage. Or maybe because the contempt in her simple statement cut deeper than any hysterical screaming. He hesitated, searching for the answer that might prevent the hellfire he sensed lurking underneath her calm demeanor.

"I did. As soon as I knew —"

"You weren't in time."

Her fury was leashed only by the remorse he read in her eyes. He knew part of her anger was directed at herself, as much as was directed at him. Understanding took root. He shook his head, his own remorse at arriving too late leaving him unwilling to respond with words.

"Why?"

The sharper note in her simple question added to the welling uneasiness. He couldn't blame her growing anger; after what she'd endured tonight, her emotions remained raw, searching for a target to lash into.

"I honestly cannot say. I received the message …" He paused, searching for the right words he knew didn't exist. "I departed for your home the very moment I received word … but it came too late."

"Apparently."

The hurt and anger in her voice drew a sliver of remorse. Yet, it also roused a hint of annoyance. He'd done the best he could with the information he had at the time. While he comprehended her need to place blame for the attack, he was not at fault. His compassion didn't extend to allowing her to condemn him.

"I am sorry, Chantal. The attack was not of my doing."

Her green gaze pierced him. The desperate anger faded. She nodded. "I know. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

The moment her words drifted off, she slumped back into the chair, another sob breaking free, despite her obvious attempt to contain it.

"I know it's not your fault. I just… who would do this?"

Again, he resisted the urge to reach out to touch her. "Evil men, more evil than any of the darkest Magiste has ever known."

She didn't respond, and the silence was broken only by the crackling flames of the hearth.

"I wish…" her words trailed off.

"Maybe it will help if you can tell me who raided your home. Was there anyone you knew, or recognized?"

She remained silent for several moments, holding his gaze with her tear-filled stare. Her lower lip trembled and he fought the urge to lean over and steal another kiss. What was he thinking? He'd been sent to save her, yet once he had her in his home, all he could think about was getting her into his bed. Would she resist if he attempted seduction? He could subdue her easily enough, he supposed, but he'd rather she wanted him. She'd not refused his kiss, in fact, had responded to him, eagerly, but he recognized her fragile sentiments. While he'd never hesitated to use anyone else's weakness to his advantage in the past, the idea of compelling this woman to his desires somehow seemed inappropriate, at least for now.

A Medieval Christmas

The holiday season is upon us! For most of us, in some form or another, we are preparing to celebrate a significant holiday, and in the spirit of the season, I'll be giving away gifts throughout the month, ranging from books, swag, surprise goodies and even Amazon gift cards! To be eligible to win, there is a question you must answer at the end of each post. If you don't already know the answer, all of the answers can be found somewhere on the blog – you simply have to do a little search. Placing your answer in the comments automatically enters you for a chance to win! Winners will be selected randomly.

To kick off the celebration, here's some information I've picked up about various holiday traditions in medieval England.

It's no secret I have a particular affinity for the period in England's history that occurs during the reign of Edward I. He plays a significant role in Warrior's Possession. He was considered one of the greatest kings England ever had, or one of the most evil, depending on whom you're speaking to.

I've talked before about his adoration for his beloved Queen Eleanor, and the way he built crosses in her honor upon her death. I've mentioned how ruthless he could be. He called for the expulsion of all Jews from England, a ban which lasted until 1657. There are many accounts of his fits of rage, which could pop up with the slightest provocation. He was very tall – 6 foot 2 – and was an imposing presence. He was also a great strategist and warrior, by all accounts, and almost all of the time, whenever he set out to defeat his enemies, he did.

Overall, a many faceted man, with both faults and admirable traits. Not as despicable as some other leaders throughout history, or even today, and his legacy is evident in much of England's modern government.

Today, I'm going to talk a little about how Christmas was celebrated during Edward's time. While I do include a couple of feast scenes in Warrior's Possession, the celebration of Christmas rose to a whole different level.

Like all European royalty of the era, the Christmas feast celebrated by Edward and his court would have been extensively lavish. There are household records that still exist to this day and they reveal the day-to-day expenses of a royal household and how much went into serving a feast fit for a king. For such a special occasion as Christmas, which lasted for several days, the cost would have run into at least hundreds of thousands of dollars by today's standards.

The Christmas season began on November 11, St. Martin's Feast (the kickoff of the Forty Days of St. Martin, or what we now call Advent) and lasted through January 6, or the Feast of the Epiphany. Often the Epiphany was more raucously celebrated than Christmas Day. There would be music and entertainment by court jongleurs, minstrels and mummers. But it was the food that was often the main attraction, just like today.

Traditional dishes, such as goose and boar, were served, but in the king's household, there would also be venison and swan – and a lot of it. After all, the king's court and household consisted of hundreds of people. Hundreds of animals would have been slaughtered to feed them all in a manner befitting the season.

The swans in particular were quite a delicacy, and only a king could give permission for it to be served on another noble's table. The birds were prepared by roasting them after being covered with butter and saffron, and many times, they would be arranged with their feathers reattached and their long necks elegantly set as if they were still alive. I imagine they made quite a beautiful sight when carried in to be set before the king. 

Served with the venison is a dish called frumenty, a porridge made from cracked wheat, eggs and either a meat broth or almond milk. Some versions also included dried currants and fruits. There were also mince pies, a tradition even back then, though in those days they included shredded meat inside as well. If I remember correctly, the meat was removed from most common recipes in the Victorian age.

Just like today, there were many customs involved in the Christmas celebration. Many of our current traditions have their roots in the celebrations of the medieval era, though they came about in unexpected ways. And just like today, some of these traditions were whimsical, some more somber. The king's celebration would be no different, though was likely more lavish than those celebrated amongst the villagers they ruled.

One tradition was that of the Christmas Bishop. This consisted of the appointment of boy bishops, chosen by the local church elders, and often occurred on December 28th, the day of the Feast of Holy Innocents massacred by King Herod (more on that in a bit). The boy, likely from a lower class than the nobility or royalty, might be dressed in vestments and celebrate a mock mass and even include a sermon. After mass, he would then go out in a procession, and gifts of money and food would be bestowed upon him. In 1299, Edward I himself had one of the boy bishops say vespers before him. That would have been quite an honor, for both the boy and his family. Think about it - being noticed by the king or his nobles was the networking of the time, and since it was literally face-to-face rather than online social media, probably more impactful for those involved.

That tradition of Christmas Bishops, however, is much more benign than another one connected to the same day that is thankfully not celebrated anymore. There are a few names for this day, but the most common are "Holy Innocents Day" or "Childermass Day." As mentioned before, according to the Bible, December 28th is the day King Herod ordered the deaths of all male children under two years of age, in an effort to kill the Baby Jesus. If you weren't lucky enough to be selected as a boy bishop (or if you were a girl), you marked the day by being beaten, as a reminder of Herod's cruelty. For most people, the day was also considered to be bad luck, so chances are folks would have simply laid low until the day ended and not undertaken any significant action in their lives, be it getting married, building a home or making a monetary contract.

On a lighter note, caroling is another custom that, while still in practice today, was quite different in medieval England. In those days, "Carol" quite literally meant to sing and dance in a circle and when church-goers did exactly that, the bishops banned caroling and forced the singers to take the revelry to the streets. Made for quite some fun and gaiety amidst what the Church tried to keep a somber and sober remembrance. Personally, I think the people had it right – if you believe, then you should celebrate!

The final and most extravagant celebration came on Twelfth Night, or The Feast of the Epiphany, when the arrival of the Three Kings bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh made Jesus known to the world, according to Scripture. There have been many ways to interpret the meaning of these gifts, but basically, this telling of the birth of Jesus is what led to the gift-giving of today. Back in Edward's day, it was the nobles who did a lot of the giving - to their villagers and servants, or serfs who worked the lands. The gifts usually consisted of clay pots with a slit in the top, and contained money. These pots had to be broken to get to the money inside, and were called "piggies," the forerunners of today's piggy banks.

Clearly, the medieval Christmas celebration was quite extravagant, and encompassed all manner of celebrations, both serious and silly. And many of those traditions have evolved into the familiar traditions many of us celebrate today.

The first prize I'm giving away this season is a copy of one of the titles in my backlist, in either print or e-book format, along with some other fun goodies. Answer this question by putting your answer in the comments below:

Name one of the "Eleanor Crosses" built by Edward I that is still standing.