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Tag: A Medieval Romance Book 2

Sexy Witch Romance!

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Chapter 1

 

Let’s see what this baby can do. Jace revved the custom engine of his new ATV and grinned. The desert whirled by at 100 mph, he caught some air, and flew.

“Fuck yeah!” What a rush. Better than winning at the tables last night.

Back teeth chomped together when all four wheels landed. He turned the wheel in the opposite direction, rotated his wrists, and his ride sped forward. Sweeeeet. Ahead lay nothing but blue sky, a couple cactus, and a lot of empty miles.

Above him a falcon circled, then swooped low. He only took his eyes off the terrain for a moment, but when he looked back, his vehicle rocketed, full speed towards a woman’s small form. With only a couple feet to spare, he cranked the wheel and held his breath.

Shit. Where the hell had she come from?

With each turn of the deathly merry-go-round, a huge boulder grew closer. Time stood still. Impact imminent. As he spun out, he swore a fissure ripped through the surface of the desert and the mammoth rock sank halfway into the riverbed.

What the fuck?

Another turn.

The blob disappeared.

His right front wheel hit something solid, and he flipped, and rolled. A sickening crunch, followed by an odd silence except for the spinning of tires.

With some effort, he unclenched his jaw and took a deep breath. The sharp edges of the harness dug into his neck and the sky stood where the ground should be. But he was alive.

Upside down, a woman, no, the woman who’d just caused this disaster, peered down, or rather up, and said, “Are you okay?”

“Hell, no. I’m not okay, lady. Look at my ATV.” What a stupid question. Adrenaline raced through his veins, needing an outlet.

Her face-load of attitude and army-surplus attire was covered in dust. “Listen to me, asshole. I don’t give a shit about your vehicle. Were you hurt?”

He wiggled his toes. Good.

Fingers. Good.

Hanging like a bat, he wedged his legs and released his harness. The world righted itself when he jumped onto all fours and crawled out of the wreckage onto the still cool sand of the morning.

“What the hell were you doing out there? I could’ve killed you.” His hand came back bloody when he rubbed above his right eye.

“Me?” Her dirty brows furrowed. Blue eyes glared, white teeth showed, and no doubt, sharp claws hid inside the oversized jacket. “Didn’t you see the no trespassing signs?”

“There weren’t any signs,” he growled, rolling his shoulders. A wave of nausea washed over him and his vision went foggy. He gripped the side of the ATV to keep from tumbling forward.

She rolled her eyes. “You are hurt. Follow me.”

A sweet little ass turned and walked towards a nearby hill.

Before following, he tried to clear his thoughts and recall the sequence of events.

Woman. Bolder. And…earthquake? Sure enough. He hadn’t imagined the two foot gash that zig-zagged across the river bed. What were the odds?

Slim to none.

Suspicious, he followed her up a steep hill, and through the glassed in front wall of some kind of cave dwelling. Figures. The badger had a burrow.

“You live in a cave?”

“Earthship. Entirely eco-friendly.” She pointed to a ladder-back chair and threw him a roll of paper towels. “Sit and try not to bleed on anything. Give me a sec’ to clean up.”

While water ran from behind the bathroom door, he pulled off a wad of paper towels, and pressed it to one eye. With the other, he made a quick assessment of her space. Cheap, but sparkling appliances lined one wall.  On the other side of the island that divided the open space, a lumpy couch faced a fourteen-inch screen.

Above, a wood railing circled a loft with a low bed.

He jumped when an orange tabby landed on the large antique table in front of the glass wall. It padded around a short wave radio, and a laptop, making a dreadful meowing sound. It sat down next to a pile of rough, blue stones.

Jace picked one up and whistled through his teeth.

Turquoise. Beautifully veined. And not from a mine he recognized. Probably worth a small fortune.

Wet-faced, she dashed out of the bathroom with a towel around her neck. “Put that down.”

The gem fell from his hand and his mouth dropped open. Holy hell.

Her newly scrubbed face revealed a pert nose and wide kissable lips, framed by long dark-blonde hair. But it was the damp, white t-shirt, worn without a bra, leaving little to the imagination that had his cock standing at attention.

When she caught him staring, she turned bright red, and grabbed a sweatshirt off a chair. It was too late. His dick knew what it saw–and it wanted it.

Bustling across the room, she struggled with her zipper while trying to balance a first aid kit under her arm.

“I said not to touch anything.” She picked up the stone and put it back in the pile.

“Sorry.” Arms raised, he stepped away, but couldn’t hide the widening smirk.

“Sit down and I’ll clean your cut.” Small palms pushed at his chest, ineffectively, but remained, as if glued. She stared, stunned.

The energy pulsing into him made his knees weak.

No. No. No. Hell, no. He’d only felt that once before in his life and he wasn’t about to do that again.

When he jumped back, she beat him to the punch line. “That is so not going to happen. Understood?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Sit, before you fall down.” Her hands trembled as she snapped open the old metal first aid kit and searched the bins.

Sitting, in one of two chairs, he noticed that there was two of everything. “So, you married?”

“None of your business. Close your eyes. This is going to sting.” She pressed an antiseptic pad against the cut on his forehead.

“Owe. Damn. Stop that.”

Without thinking, he grabbed her hand and bam. There it was again. No denying it. She was a witch, and a powerful one at that. She’d probably be a perfect match for him, if he was looking for a mate. Which he damn well was not.

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Sneak Peak at ‘How To Seduce a Queen’

Prolog

Year of our Lord 1283

The castle at No-Man’s-Land, just north of Carlisle

With arrow buried deep in his shoulder, Nicholas Bruce raced between the thick black pillars of his brother-in-law’s keep while colorful pennants flapped overhead in the parapets. Cold wind off the Scottish moors chilled him to the bone and the loss of blood made him lightheaded.

Pain blinded him as he all but fell off his charger, stumbled into the main hall, and collapsed onto his side. His pool of blood widened, staining the rush mats. All he could do is pant and stare, unbelieving. She tried to kill him? After all they’d gone through?

The devil grinned, waiting at the gates of hell, until a hard palm smacked Nicholas’ cheek, bringing him back to earth.

“Christ’s blood! Just what’ve you gotten yourself into this time?” Thomas D’Agostine, his Norman features laced with concern, cut away the sodden tunic. His shouts echoed in the great room, “Anon. Awake all. We need more torches! Merry, to me.”

Still in her nightclothes, Nicholas’ twin sister fell to her knees and put a cool hand to his cheek. Merry’s voice shook as she turned to a young maid. “Wake Lady Ann and have her bring medicines and flesh needles.”

Sleepy gawkers arose from their pallets and lit torches, candles, and lamps. Nicholas moaned, shut his eyes once more, and hoped for heavenly clouds instead of the fires of hell.

His face stung once again when Merry smacked a mite too hard. “Don’t you dare die. Not on Christmastide. I won’t have it.”

His heavy eyelids refused to open and to his surprise, angels, instead of the devil, greeted him. He prayed that his grin would stick to his face, long after he was gone. It would prove to the Lady Fay that a merciful God existed and had forgiven his many sins.

 

Chapter One

Three months prior

“I won’t kidnap her. Even if deposed, Lady Fay’s still royalty.” Nicholas clenched his fists and counted to twelve as he paced the upstairs chambers. Hell’s balls, how he hated Castle Carlisle.

As usual, any time he, his father, and grandsire gathered, Nicholas was the one that paid a heavy price. All shared the same hair, same hazel eyes, and same perfected glower, but only he was bastard-born. To distance himself from the others, Nicholas tied his red hair back, shaved often, and favored a simple brown tunic.

The other two wore red striped with green, as did the wall pennants, and a rug in front of the hearth. Even the bed, hanging by iron chains from the rafters, was covered in Bruce plaid.

Nicholas snorted. What arrogance. His grandsire, the fifth Earl in Annandale, was in fact, a mere steward. The keep, the bed, and the lands, all belonged to King Edward, no matter what the colors.

Dear God, if you have any fondness for me, and for England, let the old man drop dead before he can cause more trouble. Taking a deep breath, Nicholas wandered toward a new hanging. In it, Edward battled the Welsh, surrounded by yellow lions and God’s holy light. His father, the future Earl of Annandale, battled with helm down while an angel guided his sword. What a farce. There was no holiness on that day, only the suffocating odors of the dead and dying. He pressed his palms to his eyes and shook his head.

The old Earl, his grandfather, continued, noticing nothing amiss. “If it disturbs your chivalrous nature, woo her as you see fit. What’s so difficult? An overthrown queen’s no queen a ’tall. Steal her away and put your seed in her.”

Using the perfected Bruce scowl, and knowing how much it would infuriate the other two, Nicholas approached the warm hearth. “Just what are you two plotting?”

An old knurled finger shot forth, poking Nicholas in the chest repeatedly. “You should be gladdened by my offer. In the Isle of Man, they don’t care so much about low-born bastards.”

“God’s—umph.” Nicholas inhaled, then exhaled out a thanks when his father elbowed his gut. Better a pain in the side than locked up in the dungeon again.

“We’ll not be discussing my son’s birthright. Not here. Not ever.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. That was new. His father seldom stood up to the great and almighty Earl of Annandale.

The two glowered, their jaws clenched, and cheeks reddened until they matched the room’s decor.  Good for them. Hoping to escape the shouting no doubt to ensue, Nicholas slipped toward the door. He cracked it open, peered down the empty hallway, and took a step toward freedom. Then, the oak slammed in his face and his ever-vigilant grandsire tugged him back by his tunic.

“You will obey.”

Wool tightened around Nicholas’ neck, reminding him of a noose. Damnation. Even the dogs in Annandale’s Castle, got better treatment.

He tried to reason with the old man one last time. “King Alexander intends for Lady Fay to marry a Scot, nay an English.”

With his palms raised to heaven, the old maggot smiled as if saying mass for God Almighty. “We’re all but pawns in the game of kings.”

Nicholas scoffed. Even the fishwife knew that his grandfather plotted only for himself.

There was no way he should even considering this, but the idea of seducing a queen held some appeal to his basest nature. “Let’s say I were to agree. ’Tis well known that Lady Fay, the former queen, shot arrows into her last two suitors. ‘Twould be easier to bed a rabid boar.”

“I thought you loved a quest.” Old eyes reflected red from the wall’s hearth fire and thin lips exposed yellowed teeth. His grandfather knew he was winning the war and grinned.

The devil walked over Nicholas’ grave and he shuddered, despite the warmth. Instead of riding straight back to Scarborough, as he should’ve, he said, “Heed me. She lives on an island, surrounded by loyal guards. None of them will allow an English knight onto of the Isle of Man. I know. I met some of them last summer.”

The former queen was beautiful, and haughty, and he a low born bastard, not even knighted. His heart raced at the audacity. The penalties of such an accomplishment were unimaginable. The rewards, beyond his wildest dreams.

“If you’d married her last summer, as I’d asked, none of this would be necessary.” The old man chuckled. “If you’re worried you’re not man enough, I’ll send you with a dowry.”

God’s Blood, how he loathed the earl. So as not to land back behind iron bars, Nicholas chose his words with care. “Very well, but when I return, I expect to be knighted.”

His father laid a hand upon his shoulder and said softly, “Do this one more deed for Edward and for England, and I will see to it, son.”

A snort of disdain sounded from his grandfather.

Biting his tongue, Nicholas turned to gaze out the window where steel clanged against steel. To where holy knights practiced swordplay in the fields just beyond the walls of the keep. How many times had his grandfather promised, and then reneged? This would be the last time he whored for clan or country.

“I swear, should you not keep your word, I will search out Edward and we will all hang together.” He shook off his father’s fondness, turned on his heel, and headed for the tavern.

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A NEW INTERVIEW WITH MARCUS!

Check this out. It’s a #MUSTREAD!

sorry.. no time to chat… at work.

History Imagined!

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Chantel Seabrook’s Release Day and $25 Give-Away!

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HEY!!! CHANTEL”S GOT A NEW RELEASE AND A $25 Giveaway! Click below for a chance to win!

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Kiera

Kiera is the daughter of the notorious Richard Boyd, the man responsible for the death of hundreds of shifters. She’s also the most recent victim of her father’s experiments. Once human, Kiera was genetically altered with metamorph DNA. She barely survived the transformation, and now must learn how to control the animal within.

Alpha werelion, Jacob Oliver has always prided himself on being reliable, loyal, and practical. He’s the youngest ever, Director of Therian Affairs. When the first survivor of spontaneous morphing ends up in his care, Jacob finds himself struggling to maintain his composure.

There’s always been something wild and untamed within Kiera, but if she’s ever going to be able to rejoin society, she’ll need someone to teach her how to control her new animal nature. Jacob Oliver is just the man for the job, or at least he thinks he is.

What happens when you add fire to ice? Steam! Will Jacob extinguish the flame within her, or will Kiera finally melt Jacob’s icy exterior?

Chantel Seabrook’s Taming Kiera is a paranormal romance full of sexual tension, action and excitement.

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The TBR Pile! Recommended Read!

Check this out! Go Visit!

http://thetbrpile.weebly.com/reviews/giveaway-how-to-marry-your-wife-by-stella-marie-alden

TBR Reviewer: Amy

Rating: 4 Stars – Recommended Read!

Heat: 3/5 – Blush Worthy!

Six long years have passed without a word from Merry’s Knight. When Sir Thomas shows up he’s singing poetry one minute then denying their son the next. She is not the young woman he used to know. Merry is now a woman with a sharp tongue and knife, not afraid to use either or both on him.  She vows to never marry him. Sir Thomas cannot understand her attitude towards him. He had no choice to leave her six years ago. Will this tear them apart for good or will they discover the love they have for one another again?

The moment I finished the prologue of the story I knew I was in for a good time.

From the start it seems these two are cursed. Their first joining to the many years apart and miscommunication has set Merry and Thomas in opposite directions. It seems that Merry, once timid and shy is now more vocal. She’s not afraid to speak her mind. Although she has had to bare so much from a young age she is still a delightful person and I love her character.  Sir Thomas has me on an emotional roller caster. One minute I love him, then love becomes hate, then laughter, just when I thought all is lost with him he redeems himself. These two are great together and their dialogue is so good. I did enjoy that the story doesn’t only focus on their re-connection but of the plots and ploys that involve them. I really like Nicholas and I hope to read more about him in a future story.

​This was an excellent historical romance that kept me on the edge throughout the story!

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How to Co-Author a Best Seller

 

To enter the contest above, chose the home page.

What’s great about co-authoring?

Just about everything.

You get two fan bases, your books out sooner, and a writer buddy. Also, there are two minds to create a greater illusion. If you are as lucky as me, your buddy will an awesome writer, and you will get better as you work together.

How to we do it?

I can only speak from my own experience, writing with Chantel Seabrook.

For the first is the series, Dark Vortex, we joined together to work on a not-yet finished manuscript. It was a lot of fun bringing something dead back to life and it made the Amazon bestseller list.

Book two of the Mated by Magic Series, Dark Tremor, is much different. We needed to start from scratch.

She and I were both finishing other manuscripts when we paused to work out the plot. Our writing processes differ, yet pinging back and forth on instant message, in less than a day, Chantel and I created a wonderful story line.

First, we decided on our main characters. We chose the younger brother, of the hero in Dark Vortex and sent him out west.

Then, we had to find our heroine and gave her a unique magic power. We gave her a name, a look, and a background. Mind you, by now, Chantel are messaging each other back and forth in a frenzy. Bwa ha ha…..

What if her mother died? What if she is a recluse? What if he intrudes on her space. How do they meet? Do they like each other at first?

I’m not a great one to write an outline but I always have clear charts of goal, motivation, and conflict. And a dastardly nemesis.

She is an out-liner. Together, it was like, WOW.

Chapter by chapter, we ricocheted a document back and forth. Each time one appended onto the other’s imagination, trying to take it up a notch. We laughed and cried on instant messaging.

We needed what Alfred Hitchcock called ‘The McGuffin’. That’s the something that everyone in the story is after. We paused for a lunch break and I came with a ‘gem’ of an idea. A rare stone found only out west. You will need to read the story to find out more.

I lol’ed and researched on Google, while eating my salad.

Soon after, we had a mcGuffin, a bad guy, a love affair, and a conflict of epic proportions.

When we agreed upon the final chapter, after a lot of stuff blowing up and heated sex. we had to pause for a sanity break. Both of us had to finish our current projects.

This week, I was the first to finish as I sent my third Medieval romance to my editor. Chantel is finishing her a third shape-shifter.

I am writing like crazy, but only have a few hours a day. She’s a full time Mom, but is more productive. She will soon catch up and take over where I leave off. We’ll pass the document back and forth, pausing where it just feels right to pause.

I normally write my first draft in dialog, but because we are a team, I am taking the time to add in some scenery. That too, is new for me, and I am getting to be a better, faster, writer.

We will be done another book in half the time it would take us, writing alone.

And…well, it’s just very cool.

So, there you have it, in a nutshell. We don’t, as some critics thought, have one person write one chapter in one POV, and one in the other. We write as one seamless entity. I have no problem passing the ball to her for a few chapters, then taking it back.

That’s all there is.

Good Luck!

Hope you get as lucky as me.

 

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You Can’t Go Home Again

I wanna go home but it’s not there anymore.
The place I lived has been broken by the storm.
I dream in color, the beast at the front door.
I hold it shut, but he comes across the floor.
I can’t sleep, damn you.
I can’t eat, damn you.
And my nights go on forever.
I’ve wandered on and on, a stranger to myself.
And I should know by now
That I can’t go home again. No, I can’t go there again.

I wanna be whole, but am scattered by the wind
I should be strong by now but you have done me in.
My nights are laced with times that should’ve been.
My days go forth, I fight, but will I win?
I can’t work, damn you.
I can’t live, I hate you.
And my days go on forever.
I wander on and on, a stranger to myself.
And I should know by now
That you can’t be home again. No, I can’t be there again.

The cuts you made have healed a thousand times over.
The wounds still bleed perhaps now and forever.
But I still cry, damn you.
And you can’t die, damn you.
Because just one more time
I want you to want me
to come home again.

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Strong Heroines in Romances

 

“The greatest discovery of all time is that a person can change his future by merely changing his attitude.” ~Oprah Winfrey

 

“Each morning when I open my eyes I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy in it.” ~ Groucho Marx

 

“Man often becomes what he believes himself to be. If I keep on saying to myself that I cannot do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end by really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning.” ~ Mahatma Gandhi

 

And yet we make bestsellers out of romances where the heroine is weak, submissive, and dominated. We may spend seven hours a week, reading, and dreaming in this mindset. WHY?

If you re-read the quotes above and think about it, you might ask yourself, ‘How does this manifest itself into my daily life?’ Am I sabotaging myself?

I believe the answer is a resounding ‘YES!’

I write about alpha males, because, lord help me, I love them. They make great characters.

I write in sex, too, because, to me, sex is a natural part of a relationship. It is not evil or bad.

My heroine is just as strong as the hero, in her own way. She has to work at finding a healthy relationship.

That part of my fiction is like real life.

I had a lot of emotional baggage to deal with, from childhood and yet have been shown ways to overcome. Part of why I write is that I want to share that with you.

I want to give back.

When you finish one of my books, my heart’s desire, is for you to be overflowing with hope, and promise, and ready to work for the happily-ever-after you so truly deserve.

Sending love always,

Stella

 

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Win a Free Kindle Fire 7

Hi,

IN HONOR OF DARK VORTEX RELEASE DAY!!!

Here’s your chance to win a Kindle Fire 7!

or a $10 gift card

or a Signed/Magnet Card set

or a Signed Copy of ‘How To Train Your Knight’!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Dark Vortex. For Mature Audiences only.

BUY IT NOW!

WARNING: Post contains mature themes, steamy, sexual scenes and graphic language.

Power coiled through him. Roughly, he hauled her to the bed. Her back met the mattress and he positioned himself above her. He spread her thighs wider with his knees. She curled her hands over his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles clench and tighten under her palms.

He stilled above her. The thick head of his cock nudged the swollen folds.

Amidst the addictive hunger, there was something more. Something Zoe didn’t want to speculate on. For a moment, apprehension edged at her arousal.

“Say it, Zoe. Say you’re mine.”

It was a claiming.

He was claiming her.

And she desperately wanted to belong.

“I’m yours,” she whispered.

He thrust into her, working himself deeper, his gaze locked with hers. She gasped and gripped his shoulders tighter. He eased back, then pushed inside her again, slowly, deeply. He filled her perfectly.

“Mine,” he growled. “My mate.”

“Yes.” She was fighting to breathe. Fighting to make sense of the sensations tearing through her.

His hips jerked hard, burying himself inside of her.

“You need to say it back to me, angel.”

“My mate,” she whimpered, feeling a new surge of energy pulsating through her body. A brilliant array of color, pleasure, sensations vibrated through her. For a brief, intense moment, she felt as if her body and soul merged with his, and her senses exploded with the pleasure of it.

His cock throbbed inside her, thick and hard, stretching the sensitive tissue. Electric pulses began to race through her body. Jack’s jaw clenched, fighting for control. He pulled back, then slammed in, harder, deeper. Impaling her with swift, hard strokes.

She dug her nails into his shoulders and gasped. Her vision darkened as she cried out with her release. The pleasure broke her. Every neuron in her body seemed to explode in ecstasy.

The vortex burst sending violent waves of energy ricocheting off the walls. She heard Jack’s shout, felt the overpowering pleasure of his release pulsating inside her.

Closing her eyes, Zoe held onto him and knew nothing would ever be the same again.

She was lost to him.

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