My alter ego, Sultonna Nadine, has a new book coming out tomorrow. Whiskey Jug Genie is a humorous tale of a genie bound to a jug, an apothecary owner, and their efforts to free the genie from his jug.
Join in the fun! Sultonna has posted a trailer video. Go check it out.
Whiskey Jug Genie is now ready for pre-order and will be released November 30. So if you like a humorous tale involving magical beings in the human world, go on over and take a look!
The ebook will be available at most book retailers. The paperback from Barnes and Noble.
But don’t wait until the release date to go over and get in lin!
No, I haven’t abandoned all the folks on Gambler’s Folly. It has just been very busy around here lately.
But just to prove I’ve been doing something, here’s the first few paragraphs from Old Flame.
Old Flame
Chapter 1
Kort Behrens stepped out onto the front porch of his elegant home late in the afternoon. With its tall windows facing the setting sun, the house sat back into the mountains of the Sierra Nevada range in Northern California.
“All right, Ernie,” he told his estate manager. “I’ll be back in about a month, depending on how things shake out. You know how it is.”
“Indeed I do, sir,” the man of about forty-five told him. “Have a nice vacation.”
“Thanks, Ernie.”
Folding his six foot eight inch frame into the limo, Kort relaxed back to enjoy the drive.
Two hours later, his driver let him out at the Reno Hyatt and passed his luggage to the concierge. Though the limo was comfortable, a long drive always made him stiff. Maybe it was age creeping up on him. He’d turned fifty-five this year after all. Even doing his best to stay in shape, the stress of his life took its toll. Still, he looked good for his age, his light brown hair only now beginning to show some gray at the temples.
Sinking into the comfortable bed, he dozed until the soft chime on his com woke him at six-thirty. After a warm shower and change of clothes, he took the lift down to the third floor dining room. Raised voices caught his attention as he entered the room and breaking his contemplative mood.
A few tables away, a woman with shoulder length blond hair looked beaten under the verbal assault from the man who stood across the table. There was no reason for this sort of altercation in public, especially in a place like the Hyatt. Time to intervene.
And the story begins.
How does it end?
With a happily-ever-after, of course.
If you haven’t read the previous books in the Gambler’s Folly series, go on over and catch up! They’re onAmazon,Smashwords, and most other major book retailers.
So don’t despair. There are more books coming to the series.
The story continues for Viviane and Jareth, with more steamy nights, as well as those pesky Talents to tame.
And don’t forget Connell, Belfort’s new heir. He’s having a time getting a handle on his Talents as well. But he discovers he can communicate with his Aunt Viv, which helps a bit.
And that is a very good question. Where do authors and artists get their ideas?
And for me, it depends on which book we’re talking about. Some of mine have come from recurring dreams of a particular scene. Jareth, First Lord is a good example. I kept dreaming a particular scene over and over until a sat down and wrote the scene out. Of course I then had to figure out where in the story this particular bit occurred, but this was my starting point.
Some start with a “what if” sort of idea, such as Gambler’s Folly. I heard a particular song and wondered how this sort of thing could happen now or in the future. What if…?
But Master of the Fleet was a bit different. For several years I participated in a group called the SCA–Society for Creative Anachronism. The people in this group learned skills used during the middle ages and met to practice their particular skill. I was a musician. Mostly I played in a recorder consort, but sometimes I sang and composed little ditties about the places I’d been.
It was a lot of fun and I learned a lot about the various skills the people during that time used in their lives.
And I loved watching the fighters. Some fought with sword and shield, others with staffs. Some wore leather armour, others chain mail. Watching someone painstakingly make chain mail is an education in itself.
So one day as I was daydreaming about this and that, I came up with a scenario for entertainment at a high feast. A scene that would play out in the performance area in front of the high table, which should shock yet entertain those gathered there.
It began with an argument between a man and his lady over something silly, until tempers flared and blades were drawn. As the disagreement escalated, her blade was thrown clear before she was backed up to the baron’s table, sword tip at her throat, as the man demanded justice.
As these things go, it eventually ended up as a book, and while it is in the first chapter, it is only the beginning of the story. There were a lot of questions I had about this relationship.
Why were they at the feast?
Why were they arguing?
Why did they marry, and what about the blood oath which bound them together?
Do they ever find happiness?
What is a weather shaper? And where does magic fit into this picture?
Ready to find out?
How about a short excerpt?
MASTER OF THE FLEET
Richard was angrier than he had ever been. How had she used him for so long without him noticing the hints he should have seen? After a year of courting, he had asked her to marry him, but she’d begged for more time. He’d decided to ask her again, here at the festival. He was so certain of her acceptance, he had bought a ring for their betrothal.
She had never intended to marry him. She had simply used her charms to get what she wanted. When the source dried up, she would have left him for greener fields. Use him would she? He would show her what it was to be used, and he had half a lifetime to make his point. As soon as the priest got here, she would be bound to him, not only by her oath to him and the blood oath, but by her vow to heaven as well.
And to International Coffee Day! Grab a cuppa and sit with me for a few to celebrate!
What’s your favorite coffee? Do you have a favorite brand or a favorite recipe? And do you drink it hot or cold? I know, in summertime people drink the frappacino type drinks, but i still like mine hot and black. Our daughter likes the caramel macchiato, stirred please, with an extra shot.
October is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month. As a survivor, I wrote a short book about my experiences with the disease, from diagnosis through recovery. TitledCancer and the Warrior’s Way, it goes through how my martial arts training helped me get through chemo and all the side effects of it and radiation therapy.
When I originally wrote the book, it was in paperback and in audio. When I released it as an ebook, I changed the author name slightly. So if you’d rather have the paperback or audio books, follow this link.
Have a wonderful month of October. At least our weather has gotten cooler and a little drier. I think my tomatoes are suffering from too much rain, but they’re hanging in there.
“She never promised marriage. She never intended to marry, after what life had shown her. Men were animals, who could be amusing or entertaining. On the other hand, they could be violent and perverse, especially when drunk. As long as they were pursuing her, they were on their best behavior. Once they’d captured the prize, it would be a different story. Why take the chance?
“It became a game. How much could I get before it was time to move on?”
“You’re a greedy little whore, aren’t you?”
“That’s not fair! Once I left the travelers, I never slept with anyone again, until last night with you. After being forced to bed anything that came along, I have no interest in sex.”
“So you held out hope and took them for everything they had.”
“Yes. And I made a good living at it, as well as the sewing.”
“What happened this time?”
“You did. You had enough money to take me home, so I could gloat. I wanted to look down my nose at the people who’d said I could never leave and know they were wrong.
“But after a little too much wine, and a bit too much excitement, things got out of hand. You sounded too much like those I’d run away from years ago and I snapped.”
“What do we do now?” Richard asked. “Will you share my bed willingly as my wife? Or will you simply tolerate my advances and send your mind roaming?”
“We’re bound by oath, marriage, and blood oath, Richard. I must stay with you. As your wife, I must share your bed. Will I ever enjoy it? I doubt it.””