Tour and Guest Blog: Seventh Son by Angelina J. Windsor

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seventh son coverSeventh Son
Dragonstone Wolves Series
Book One
Angelina J. Windsor

Genre: Gothic Paranormal Historical Erotica

Publisher: Ellora’s Cave Publishing

Date of Publication: August 2015

ISBN: 9781419994401

Number of pages: 73

Word Count: 23,000

Book Description:

An ancient curse. A darkly handsome lord. A desperate woman.

Hungry and homeless, Isobelle refuses to sell her only possession, her body. When she is finally driven to end her suffering, Lord Bram Snowdon rescues her.

Bram lives under a curse, one that’s driven him to become a creature in hiding, knowing every full moon will turn him into a monster.

Bram and Isobelle both have demons to fight, and their struggles soon turn to lust…and love. But destiny awaits them: they are fated to help the Dragonstone clan reclaim its birthright. This mission puts Isobelle’s life in peril and worse, puts Bram’s trust in her at risk.

Morganas, daughter of the Merlin, mage of Dragonstone and Avalon, offers to be a source of the purest help to Isobelle but also becomes her darkest temptation.

An adult historical romance from Ellora’s Cave

Inside Scoop: This story contains a scorching-hot f/f scene.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

Excerpt:
Chapter One

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the Earth,
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.
John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IV

A sound. A shadow. The breath stilled in my lungs. I froze mid-stride, icy tentacles of fear twisted around my desperate heart. I waited with every fiber of my body alert to my surroundings. This close to my goal I could not, nay, would not, be denied. A board creaked. The certainty I was not alone slithered through my mind. Evil surely awaited in the rising mist of the gloaming. It crept silently in over the water and beclouded the bottom of the river below. I had to hurry. I willed my body to move and lurched to the dark wooden railing, grasping it with stiffened fingers. Looking down, I could see the mist rising thicker and settling on the cold rushing water. I shuddered. I fancied the swirling mist forming itself into the searching fingers of death. A macabre welcome surely awaited me with absolution for my sins, an end to the agony that my life had become. I felt no hesitation in my mission.

A creak. Someone was on the bridge with me. I panicked and looked back towards the muffled footfalls and barely discernible creaks that echoed loudly in my head. The mist felt a living entity as it pursued me over the wide wooden planks and obscured my view. Wait. The deep voice pierced my head a split second before I threw a leg up over the wooden railing and hoisted myself upwards. No time to waste. Just a couple more seconds and my pain would be over forever. The devil would not win my soul.

Strong arms pulled me off balance and I tumbled off the railing against a hard body. I screeched with anger and agony, fighting the interference tooth and nail with my clenched fists. Food and shelter cost too dearly. I wanted no part of any rescue.

“Let me go! I want to die!”

“Hush, no one wants to die,” a low throaty voice soothed.

His body radiated heat and calmed my tormented mind. I found I wanted to stay within the confines of his arms and be warmed. What had happened to my death wish? Was a warm man enough to turn me away from a choice that had seemed inevitable and well-chosen only moments ago? That I had promised myself this very night. I couldn’t go back. No one could make me. I would not, could not let that happen, but still I did not struggle. I let myself be embraced by the stranger while my mind raced.

He held me for an indeterminable amount of time ’til my thoughts finally quieted. I could hear the water as it rushed over the rocks fifty feet below. I breathed in his fresh woodsy odor of pine and wood smoke and I began to recover. I become aware that he was far taller than I for my head was tucked in well below his chin. As he held me thoughts came into my mind, thoughts of not being hungry and not having been reduced to consider begging for a single hard crust of bread in exchange for sexual favors. Thoughts instead of what it felt like to have a full belly and lie in a warm bed. Luxuries I had not had thought existed for me anymore. The man’s arms were indeed magical if they could offer such comfort, fleeting though it might be.

“Are ye feeling better, lass?”

His lilting accent further soothed me as I recognized a fellow countryman.

“Aye,” I answered simply, surprised that I was. I should have pulled away but I found I could not. I wanted to stay in his embrace. My arms crept around him of their own volition and I hugged him closer. His breathing slowed while his lower body pressed hard into mine. I felt his manhood firm against my stomach and it sent the first real excitement I had ever felt for a man coursing through my body. I was alive. Life was still possible. My body wanted to celebrate its victory.

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Guest Blog:

Hi! Thanks so much for having me visit with you today. I hope to make some new friends and share our mutual love of reading and writing! Please feel free to contact me at any of the links I’ve provided below.

Blog: The 99 to 1 Rule for Writers:

One of my favorite Einstein quotes explains the ratio of inspiration (1%) to perspiration (99%) in creating anything.

I teach my students that if you want the good stuff to happen you have to be there ready for it to happen. That means the hard work needs to be done of applying yourself to a task, be it writing or tinkering with the universe like Einstein (well, maybe we try to do that too!) and then when the inspiration hits as it will, you’re there for it!  Conversely, there will be lovely days when the inspiration hits first and you just have to follow your muse and hang on for the ride. But then there will probably be lots of clean up to do and once more 99 percent of your time will be spent perspiring.

Nothing works like hard work. Most people don’t want to hear this. Some authors think it will all magically appear. Yes, of course, some of it will, but the art of writing is in the rewriting until you have crafted exactly what you want to communicate and that takes the sober light of day.

Okay, I’m sure there are a few geniuses out there that have never needed to change a word to make their writing have more clarity and structure. Like Mozart and his musical genius. But for us mere mortals, it will take work to make it the best it can be. Enjoy that part of the process because it does mean you don’t have to leave your beloved story characters just yet. You get to spend a few more precious weeks letting them shine to the best of their ability. Now, I like that!

Happy reading, Angelina J. Windsor J

Sugar & Spice & Everything…Naughty

Connect with me:

http://www.angelinajwindsor.com/

https://twitter.com/AngelinaWindsor

https://www.facebook.com/angelina.windsor.7

Angelina.j.windsor@gmail.com

About the Author:

Angelina J. Windsor, Sugar & Spice and Everything…Naughty, hails from Canada. Married to the love of her life, she has combined her love of romance and the paranormal with her interest in exploring highly charged erotica in a historical setting in her newest book, Seventh Son, first book in the Dragonstone Wolves Series.

A love of reading and writing sent her on her life’s quest to connect with others over the written word, “for having our voices heard is akin to sharing our souls”. She hopes her characters will touch your heart and help you escape the bonds of this Earth as she surrounds you with an otherworldly experience where werewolves and goddesses roam freely and break all the rules. She loves to be approached about the journey of writing.

Tour giveawayphoto of wolves to use in tour 2015

1 Limited edition art prints of wolves

2 ebook copies Seventh Son

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One thought on “Tour and Guest Blog: Seventh Son by Angelina J. Windsor

  1. gemiinii90 says:

    Looking forward to reading this book

    Like

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