A Snippet from PRINCE OF AIR & DARKNESS

February 10, 2012 | Author Dame Jenna

spacer Today is my scheduled day to post on Deadline Dames. However, I find myself distracted by the Sekrit Project I just started working on this week. So distracted that I can’t seem to come up with the creative energy to come up with a good blog idea. (My creative energy is going into the Sekrit Project.) So I thought I’d take the easy way out and post a snippet from my most recent release, Prince of Air and Darkness (which, by the way, is on sale for $3.99 for the month of February).

My hero, Hunter Teague, is the son of the queen of the Unseelie Court, and he’s been sent to the mortal world on a mission to seduce Kiera Malone, who, unbeknownst to her, is the half-mortal daughter of the Seelie king. His pretext for getting close to her is that he’s a massage therapist in need of her website design services. He isn’t happy with his mission, but he has no choice but to obey the Queen of Air and Darkness.

***

Hunter’s nostrils flared the instant he stepped into his apartment. He recognized that stink, like poorly tanned leather. With a flick of his wrist, he unsheathed the knife he kept hidden up his sleeve. Cautiously, he moved farther into the apartment, his nose twitching as he followed the stench of goblin until he found the uninvited guest in the room that would one day be his massage studio. Already, the room sported a massage table, CD player, and a stack of CD’s with soothing, tuneless music on them.

Bane didn’t hear Hunter’s silent footsteps—he was too busy uncapping and sniffing the collection of massage oils and lotions Hunter had purchased. In fact, the goblin had no hint of his presence until the silver blade of Hunter’s knife was pressed into the flesh of his throat.

The goblin’s natural appearance was hidden behind a mortal glamour, and to top it off, he was disguised as a stinking, filth-encrusted street person. The stench made Hunter’s eyes water, and he hoped it wasn’t rubbing off on his own clothing.

“I don’t remember inviting you in,” Hunter growled in the goblin’s ear, increasing the pressure on the knife so that the blade broke through just the first layer of skin.

Bane didn’t move, but Hunter sensed no hint of fear from him: no tensing of his muscles, no quickening of his heartbeat. “Her Majesty would be displeased with you if you killed me,” he said calmly.

Hunter’s hand itched to draw the knife across the evil creature’s throat, but he didn’t want to imagine how the Queen would punish him for killing the most vicious of her courtiers. “It might almost be worth it.”

“You don’t have the balls for it, half-breed.”

With effort, Hunter reined in his temper. Bane had goaded him into more foolish acts in his lifetime than he could bear to admit. Just this once, he would refrain from taking the bait.

With a grunt of disgust, Hunter released the goblin and slid the knife back into its sheath. Bane put a little distance between them, then reached up to finger his throat. A thin line of blood beaded where Hunter’s knife had bitten. Bane examined the blood on his fingers, lips twisted into a snarl that showed a flash of fangs behind the glamour.

“If you were going to stick me, Prince, you should’ve done a better job than this.” He licked the blood from his fingers. “Barely enough to annoy me.”

“What do you want?”

Bane chuckled. “What do you think I want, Boy-o? I want to snap your bones, one by one, and hear you scream.”

Hunter met the goblin’s eyes. “Yes, well, I wanted to slit your throat, but I refrained.”

Bane’s chuckle turned into an all-out laugh. “The Queen will be highly pleased with both of us for our self-control.” He looked genuinely amused by their mutual desire to kill each other, and Hunter could do nothing but shake his head.

Neither a lifetime in the Unseelie Court, nor the Unseelie blood that ran through him, was enough to make him understand how these creatures could so greatly enjoy killing. It wasn’t that Hunter had never killed before. Most of the unfortunates he’d hunted for the Queen’s pleasure had been highly reluctant to be taken alive. Usually, he’d been able to subdue them, but there were times he’d “accidentally” killed his mother’s intended victim. There’d been a certain sense of satisfaction with those minor acts of rebellion—despite the inevitable consequences. But he’d never actually enjoyed the killing, not like these goblins did, not like his mother did. Of course, with Bane, he might be able to make an exception.

“Why are you here?” he asked with exaggerated patience.

“A little reminder from Mama,” Bane sneered. “Just because you’re on your own doesn’t mean she isn’t watching you. And she can always get to you if you displease her.”

Hunter had never doubted that for a moment, but he wasn’t particularly surprised she’d felt compelled to send him the message. Nor was he surprised she’d chosen Bane, whom he hated above all others—excepting his mother herself—as the messenger.

“Well, now that your message is delivered, you can get the hell out of my apartment. I’ll have to fumigate just to get the stench out.”

Bane gave him another of his toothy, vicious smiles. “Sorry for the . . . inconvenience. But, since I’ve already inconvenienced you, perhaps I should stain the carpet with your blood while I’m at it.”

“If you thought you could get away with it, you would have gone for my throat already. Now, are you planning to leave peacefully, or will I have to throw you out?”

“I wouldn’t want you to get your hands dirty, Prince,” Bane said, starting toward the door.

Hunter tried to step aside, knowing that Bane would shoulder him out of the way if he didn’t. But it seemed that only a handful of days in the mortal world had already dulled his instincts, for he didn’t read the intention in Bane’s eyes until too late.

As Bane brushed by, he made a fist and poked a lightning-quick jab at Hunter’s groin. The pain drove Hunter to his knees, and for a moment he could barely breathe as his body clenched in agony.

“That’s for the little nick you gave me. Unfortunately, I can’t hit you any harder or you might have trouble performing your stud duties. But if the Queen ever takes the muzzles off of us, I’ll show you what I really wanted to do.”

Hunter had to fight too hard for air to manage a comeback.

***

Buy Prince of Air & Darkness for Kindle.

Buy Prince of Air & Darkness for Nook.

Posted in excerpts, Jenna Black | 1 Comment »

Readers on Deadline (ROD #36)

February 9, 2012 | Author Rinda Elliott
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Dame Rinda

Readers on Deadline (ROD) is a monthly Deadline Dame feature where we post an intriguing image and invite readers to be inspired and share the results in up to 250 words right here in the comments. (We now have a Facebook page which mirrors our posts, so make sure to click through to our actual website to add your entries. )

There’s a two week deadline , so entries will have to be in by midnight, February 23rd.  The Dames will pick the entry which most intrigues us, post that entry in the next month’s ROD  along with a link to that writer/reader’s site-if there is one included.  And you get a prize!

My sincere apologies for the earlier announcement of a winner. I usually catch the entries that go past the 250 word count limit and this one slipped through. We originally went with Nita’s entry because it was a unique take on the image. We do like unique. Unfortunately, her entry was too long and we have always disqualified entries that pass 250 words. So, our runner up is now the winner. Congratulations to Caitlin F!! Email me at rindaelliott(at)gmail(dot)com for your copy of Dame Rachel’s Soul Screamers Omnibus. Because of the extended wait on this ROD, I’m throwing in a Kindle version of Dame Karen’s The Wood Queen!

spacer “Do you think they’ll hold?” she asked softly. “The wards, I mean. They’re strong, aren’t they?”

He trailed his fingertips down her spine. “That’s what’s on your mind? Faulty crafting?”

She leaned into his touch even as she kept her eyes fixed on the explosions of light beyond the window. “How am I supposed to know the signs? They’re yours, not mine.”

He leaned down to brush his lips against her neck. “I assure you they were crafted by the best. The only things that slip passed them are what I allow.”

She sighed, dropping her head against the sofa cushions. “So I have nothing to worry about then?”

He hummed noncommittally into her shoulder.

She had cause to be worried. Anyone with a drop of common sense did. He knew all about the massacres on the evening news, the bodies found off the bike paths in the State Parks, broken and savagely mangled. It was easy enough to pass them off as wild animal attacks. Reporters blamed it on mountain lions, coyotes. It was an easier thing for people to accept.

Only animals didn’t leave boot prints. They didn’t leave the lingering stench of malice and cheap cologne. Not that the police thought to look for those things. They never did. Why would they? They were idiots, all of them.

He scented her, vibrant youth laced with fear, sharp and distinct. He smiled and ghosted his teeth along her bared throat.

They were all looking for the wrong predator.

And here is the next image! (Please don’t copy-this is a purchased stock photo.)

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The prize is an ARC of Dame Jackie’s LOSS!!

spacer  Fifteen-year-old Billy Ballard is the kid that everyone picks on. But things change drastically when Death tells Billy he must stand in as Pestilence, the White Rider of the Apocalypse. Now armed with a Bow that allows him to strike with disease from a distance, Billy lashes out at his tormentors…and accidentally causes an outbreak of meningitis. Horrified by his actions, Billy begs Death to take back the Bow. For that to happen, says Death, Billy must track down the real White Rider, and stop him from unleashing something awful on humanity—something that could make the Black Plague look like a summer cold. Does one bullied teenager have the strength to stand his ground—and the courage to save the world?

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Posted in Readers On Deadline, Rinda Elliott | 2 Comments »

Crazy Monkeybrain Crack Dust, AKA, Writer’s Ideas

February 8, 2012 | Author Lilith

spacer Well, hello. It’s Wednesday again. First, two announcements!

Yes, this is espresso and Bailey’s in a mug that says “I am going to hex your face off.” After I Tweeted that picture, I was snowed-under with queries about where to buy said mug. I got mine in 2006 from a CafePress shop (the shop’s owner was “lalejandra2″) that has now gone under. At least, I can’t find it. Which led to me putting a version of the mug up in my own shop, with no markup. (Because I feel incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of a profit, however tiny, from it.) It goes without saying that if I find the original seller, I’ll change the links and direct everyone there. But I’ve dug and dug, and can’t find her.

Announcement #2 is kind of vague. Remember that zombie-hunting cowboy trunk novel I was working on? The one I was just delighted with, and was sure would never sell? Well…paint me lilac and call me Conrad, it sold. I can’t give any details, but I can say that I’m sort of…bowled over.

Now that’s taken care of, let’s talk about ideas. (WARNING: I am foulmouthed today. Read at your own risk.)

Read the rest of this entry »

Posted in Lilith Saintcrow, Writer's Life, writing tips | 6 Comments »

THE WOOD QUEEN Release Day!

February 7, 2012 | Author Devon Monk

Today’s New Release Tuesday is very exciting! Our very own Karen Mahoney takes center stage with the multi-country release of THE WOOD QUEEN, the second book in her Iron Witch series.

Here is the beautiful Australian cover: (in stores now!)

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And here is the stunning UK cover: (also in stores right now!)

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And this, my friends, is the fabulous US cover: (available tomorrow! In just a few hours, really!!)

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Karen has lots of goodies to give away to celebrate this awesome release.  For your chance to win, here’s where you’ll want to go:

The Book Smugglers

All Things Urban Fantasy

And just in case you need one more little teaser, here’s an excerpt from the back of the book:

THE WOOD QUEEN

To keep her best friend, Navin, from being killed at the hands of vicious wood elves, Donna Underwood stole the elixir of life. Now she’s facing an alchemist tribunal while her mother lies dying, succumbing to the elven curse that shattered her mind. In desperation, Donna seeks an audience with Aliette, the fierce and manipulative Wood Queen, who offers a deal: if Donna can use her strange and burgeoning powers to help the wood elves, Aliette will free her mother from the curse.

Along with Navin and Xan, the half-fey guy she’s falling for, Donna struggles to unlock the secrets of her iron tattoos in time to save her mother’s life. But some secrets are better left untold…

Happy release day, Dame Kaz!!

Posted in Book Release, Karen Mahoney, New Release Tuesday | 5 Comments »

What if I’m not as good as I think I am?

February 3, 2012 | Author Rachel Vincent

spacer Recently, the Dames got a question that spoke to me. That question was this:

Hello Dames, please may I ask a question?

Was there a point early on in your writing career when you had to face up to the fact that you’re not as good as you thought you were?

That sounds awful, but what I mean is…I’m doing a creative writing module for my Open University degree. I just got a short story back which I thought was pretty good, but I only got a B. I’ve been alone with my writing for so long and have convinced myself that I will be published one day. I know I’ll have to learn to accept and use criticism, but I’m still gutted. That B tells me I’m ok/good but not great. I want to be great spacer

Is this something lots of writers feel, or am I being a speshul snowflake? I really don’t want to be one of those! 

 Thanks for listening either way xxxx

The answer (to both of the questions above) is: yes.

Yes, there comes a point early in (I would venture to say) every writer’s career when we have to face up to the fact that we’re not as good as we thought we were. Not as good as we want to be.

The truth? That point, for me, at least, is every single day.

First, I must mention that I’ve never taken a creative writing class for a grade or school credit. I believe creative writing should be critiqued, not graded, because writing is such a subjective art.

(Need proof? Pick an author (heck, make it one of your favorite authors) and go read his/her reviews on Goodreads. Or Amazon. Or anywhere else. Even if most of the reviews are positive, there WILL be some negative reviews. And inevitably, the negative reviewers will dislike the book for some of the same reasons some of the positive reviewers loved it.)

Does that mean that your teacher’s opinion has no validity? No. S/he may be right, and even if s/he isn’t, you’re certainly going to have to learn to take some criticism if you want to make it in publishing.

But the truth about writing (this little jewel came from my mentor, years ago) is that you’re never as good as your best reviews make you sound, nor are you as bad as your worst reviews make you sound. And in your case, this grade is like a review. All you can do with that grade (and the critique that hopefully came along with it) is decide how much of it you believe to be valid criticism and fix what you think can be fixed.

Will that insecurity and/or disappointment with your own work ever go away? In my experience…no. Never. I’ve written fifteen novels. I’ve sold seventeen novels. And I’m still disappointed with myself and my writing every single day.

I’m not as good as I thought I was when I started writing. Hell, I’m not as good as I thought I was last month. And I’m certainly not as good as I intend to be. And just in case I ever forget that, there are reviewers all over the world just waiting to remind me, with varying degrees of tact and professionalism.

But here’s the thing that, if I were wiser (but I’m usually not), I would keep in mind: I already know that I’m not as good as I want to be. So there’s really nothing any critic, blogger, or creative writing teacher can tell me about my inadequacies that I don’t already know. I am my own worse critic. I’ve actually pointed out the flaws in my own work to perfect strangers thinking of reading my books, because I didn’t want them to have high expectations, then bed disappointed. Then I realized those potential readers may not be as critical of me as I am.

I also regularly find flaws, awkward phrasing, poor grammar, and unbelievable plots in traditionally published books, yet someone (lots of someones) obviously thought those were good enough to see the inside of a B&N. And often the bestsellers lists.

Subjective. This writing thing is subjective.

Knowing that, I’m confident in saying that there’s also nothing anyone in the world could do to make me stop trying to get better at this. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about how bad they think you are now. It’s about how good you’re gonna be someday, if you’re willing to work for it. It’s about how good you may already be, regardless of what one teacher thinks about your work.

And no matter how good you are, or how good you get, there’s always room for improvement. spacer

Posted in Ask a Question, Rachel Vincent | Tags: Questions, Rachel Vincent, writing | 5 Comments »
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