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.

New Cover Reveal - In the Pureblood's Arms

Fall is upon us, and it came up on us way too fast! I am a summer baby, literally born on the solstice, so I like the warm and balmy days, although I'll confess to a strong loathing of 90% humidity!

Though I am a little sad to see summer end, I am very happy to share some updates, specifically, the cover reveal for In the Pureblood's Arms, Book 4 in The Magiste Chronicles. I am very excited to relaunch this book – with some extensive rewrites and a fresh new title, it is now what I had imagined when these characters first started talking to me.

Chantal and Henri's story is more than simply the fourth book in the series, or the first of the Magiste Founders tales. This book holds a special place in my heart, because it’s the first to combine my two favorite genres – historical and paranormal. It's a tricky balance – while I can make up the paranormal aspects when I world-build, I can fudge with the historical facts only so much. Merging those pieces together while building a love story made this one of the books I had the most fun writing, and one of the very few I wrote straight through from end to end without another project running alongside it.

Another tricky aspect to this book is the villain, or should I say villains. For while there is one specific person who can be named as a villain, there is a broader scope to the bad guys in this book. The backdrop of the story is one of the Papal Inquisitions, specifically under the control and expansion by Louis IX, King of France. Louis was a very devout Catholic and is the only French king to be canonized for his efforts in working with the Church during his rule. Interestingly enough, he participated in the Eighth Crusade, alongside Edward I (merely a prince at the time), another of my favorite historical figures whom I've included in several other books.

In any case, basically the Catholic Church is the enemy lurking in the shadows in this book,  aided by traitorous Magiste seeking to enhance their own power and standing. Some things throughout history never change, eh? We never actually see the Pope, or the local bishops who oversaw all activities related to destroying heresy and achieving their additional goals of wealth and influence, but it is discussed often amongst the characters, and there is no question who is targeting the Magiste. These events send Henri Marchand and Chantal Belliveau on a desperate race for survival.

I've made some changes to the story, cleaned up and rearranged parts, and generally corrected any issues I'd had with the previous incarnation. In the Pureblood's Arms didn't need as many edits as the other three books, but enough that there are noticeable differences and definite clarifications. This book's historical aspects also brought some major changes to the overall arc of the Magiste Chronicles, and have put me on a path to explore some new historical times.

So this book really has a lot of different meanings for me, which is certainly a bit more complex than my other series. There are so many ways the rest of the series can go (I've got them all written down! lol), but now I have to find some new crisis to torment my characters with.

In the meantime, In the Pureblood's Arms will be available for pre-order in the coming days. And here it is, the beautiful new cover that perfectly captures Chantal and Henri, as created by Winter Bayne, my favorite multi-talented cover artist, and once again featuring Michael Foster, as Henri.

Here is the blurb and a small teaser from In the Pureblood's Arms. I think of this as "A Magically Kinky Twist on History!" Stay tuned for pre-order and buy links!

* He saved her from certain death, but is he more dangerous – to her heart? *

In 13th century France, attacked by those carrying out the Papal Inquisition, Magiste Enchantress Chantal Belliveau is thankful for rescue from certain torture and death. But she never expected her savior to be Henri Marchand, one of a powerful pureblooded line of ancient Magiste, the Zyndevines, known for their practice of dark magic. Henri holds the key to her survival, but the danger he poses to her heart and soul could be even more perilous.

Despite his dark lineage, Henri is part of Il Resistasse, a handful of powerful Magiste fighting the atrocities the Catholic Church inflicts on their race. Saving Chantal becomes more than a simple rescue - the innocent young woman with half-trained powers enchants him more than he has ever been before. That she enjoys the dark side of pleasure he inflicts makes him question his determination to never give another his heart.

Chantal is horrified when Henri invokes an ancient spell, the Possede Puissant. The incantation leaves her little more than his possession. While she finds herself enjoying his dark and wicked sensual delights, she determines to free herself. Yet, the security she finds with Henri encourages her to stay by his side, claiming spell or not.

Resentment from Henri's family convinces Chantal she must ultimately break free of Henri's possession. When the Inquisitors attack, Henri convinces Chantal to embark on a journey to a new land, a journey that may well mean the survival of the entire Magiste race but the loss of her freedom forever.

** Contains explicit Magically Kinky! love scenes of the paranormal kind, including magical sex toys, potions, bondage, spanking and more!

Here's that excerpt. Enjoy!

Near Toulouse, France 1255

Henri adjusted his cloak, striding quickly toward the stables, thumb turning the ring on his left hand in a nervous motion. The stone, set in nearly pure gold mined from the caves near Limoges, warmed. He took a deep breath, teeth grinding in anger. He had little time to reach his destination and waited impatiently while the groom finished saddling his horse. If he made it in time, he'd need the animal to help with the task that lay ahead.

Word had come that a family near Toulouse had been targeted by the Inquisitors. Each passing second seemed somehow a waste, spurring his impatience, the message arriving only minutes before. In his mad rush to reach the stables, he'd avoided his parents, knowing they would disapprove of his actions. While Edouard and Marie Marchand preferred dealing with the minions of the Church using dark arts, Henri feared such measures only served to increase the rabid urges of men who held power and hungered for more. While he appreciated the use of sinister magic to bring his enemies to their knees, the brutality of the Inquisitors far exceeded anything he'd witnessed from the Magiste.

Today's victims were a minor noble family of Magiste. They'd lived peacefully for centuries on their land, alongside their neighbors. What had changed to turn the evil eye of the Inquisition toward them? The question lingered and he finally accepted the reins of his horse from the stable-boy. Thunder rumbled overhead. Henri mounted. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fist, the ring near scalding.

"Portalus."

Beneath him, the horse pranced as the compression of the traveling spell took effect, sending Henri and the animal through distance and time. He hoped to use Mordred with the transport home. If all went well, there would be more people than Henri was capable of magically moving by himself. When the pressure of the spell eased, Henri found himself in the middle of a lush forest, damp with a recent rain. To his right, shouts sounded, and he wheeled the horse around. Beyond the tree line, fire illuminated the night. Henri's heart sank to see flames erupting from the windows of a large manor house. Even from this distance, he could hear the screams of those trapped inside. Merde! Too late!

Smoke quickly wafted toward the forests, the acrid stench burning his eyes. A flurry of movement in the brush nearby drew his attention. He dismounted and fastened the horse's reins to a tree. He held his hands above the animal's back.

"Cachevois."

His ring warmed and the horse vanished from view, concealed by the spell. No Mortals would find his mount. Henri stood motionless for a few moments, while the shouts of the Inquisitors echoed around him. He ignored them, concentrating on the immediate area.

The tingling awareness of someone else possessing magic grew stronger to his right. He turned, his ring warming further and leading him closer to the source of power. Another rustle of foliage, this time accompanied by a choked sob. The flash of movement almost eluded him, but he headed in the same direction. His ring grew hotter and hotter, nearly scorching his skin. There, up ahead. A woman ran, her long fiery hair catching on low-lying branches. He picked up his own pace, desperate to reach her before the Inquisitors. He just about came even with her when she stumbled and fell, more sobs and gasping breaths reaching his ears, even over the din of chaos at the edge of the forest.

Aware of two of the Inquisitors closing in, Henri hurried to the fallen woman as she struggled to rise. He held out a hand.

"Come with me!"

She froze, a shriek escaping before she scrambled away from him. Damn, she thought he was one of them.

"Come with me now! It's your only chance if you want to live!"

He used the Commandevois spell to enhance his words, the order in his voice clear and compelling. At the same time, he reached for her once more. He had to get her out of here now, no time to return to his horse. Finally, her small hand took his and he hauled her to her feet, pulling her close. He murmured the Portalus spell again, sucking in a breath as the squeezing sensation overtook him for the second time in less than five minutes. When it stopped, they stood in the courtyard of his manor house. He would send a groom to find Mordred later. The steed remained safe under the concealment spell.

He stepped away from the woman in his arms, studying her in the bright moonlight. Soot streaked her cheeks, her large green eyes peering up at him from under a thick blanket of lashes. The wild, deep auburn hair floating around her face gave her an ethereal look, almost like a siren sent down from above by the ancient gods. She wrapped slender arms about herself, her gaze locked with his.

"My family…" she finally whispered.

"I'm sorry. I was too late."

She cocked her head to the side, almost as if she didn't understand him. He should probably explain, but wanted to get her inside before his parents heard their voices and came to investigate. He reached for the woman, but she backed away.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Henri Marchand."