Showing posts with label IRON. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IRON. Show all posts

2018-09-07

Birthday Bash!

No, it's not my birthday, but BookRhythm is certainly celebrating this month with a HUGE giveaway event from September 10th through the 24th. Almost 40 authors and two solid weeks of fun and prizes. I'll be giving away signed, print copies of Iron and Oak.



I think the covers turned out beautifully, by the way. I hope their winner(s) think so, too.

Anyway, to join in on all the fun, check out BookRhythm's event page on FB, where the fun will be happening:




AND don't forget to check out their website where you can enter daily for your chance to win all sorts of fun prizes!


Good luck! Have fun! And Happy Birthday BookRhythm!

2018-08-20

Celtic Déjà Vu



I just released two books! This is very exciting for me even though neither of the books are new. Well...the covers are new, and one of the books has a new name, and I’ve done  little editing, but for the most part, Iron and Oak are still exactly what they’ve always been:  paranormal, erotic fantasy romances set in nineteenth century Ireland.

Is that a subgenre?  It is now!

These are two of the Books of my Heart, stories that, for one reason or another, demanded to be written.

Iron, which holds the distinction of being the only one of my books that has ever finalled in a contest, is the result of a random question posed by a reader during an online chat. “What’s the most unlikely romantic pairing you can imagine?” 

Now, I can imagine a lot, but in that moment it occurred to me that there wasn't much that was more unlikely than a fae (for whom iron is an anathema) and a blacksmith, someone who works with the stuff daily, whose life and livelihood depend on it.  The idea took hold and wouldn’t let go. Add to that the fact that my grandfather had worked as a blacksmith when he was a young man living in Ireland, quite some time ago—and the book had its setting.

I’m sure my grandparents would both be utterly appalled to think that they’d been the inspiration—in any way, however tangential—for an erotic romance, but I dedicated the book to them anyway.

“Nineteenth century Ireland. Blacksmith Gavin O'Malley is a bitter man, with a heart as hard as the iron he forges. He wants his life back--the one that was stolen from him the day his wife died in childbirth--taking their firstborn son with her. 

When Aislinn Deirbhile, an immortal, shape-shifting fae, arrives on his doorstep, he knows he's in luck. For Aislinn can give Gavin everything he's been missing: A devoted-seeming wife in the image of his beloved Mairead, and children who are sure to outlive their father. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her--without losing his immortal soul in the process. 

But Aislinn has an agenda of her own. On the run from a vengeful fae lord who's vowed to either make her his or end her existence, she knows the iron that allows Gavin to take her captive will also keep her pursuers at bay. In order to put herself permanently beyond her enemy's reach, however, Aislinn will need something more. She'll need to win Gavin's heart and convince him to willingly part with a piece of the very soul he's trying to save.”


Available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Kobo 

At one point, there was an editor who wanted to turn Iron into a sword and sorcery story with a kick-ass, warrior heroine, but that’s not what this book is about. Not that Aislinn can't or doesn't kick ass, just not on the scale she wanted. 

Iron is Gavin’s story.  The fae are immortal, and yes, Aislinn goes through some changes in the course of the tale, but it’s Gavin’s life that’s completely turned upside down. I have to admit that a few people have questioned the ending, to which I can only quote GK Chesterton: “The great Gaels of Ireland are the men that God made mad,  for all their wars are merry, and all their songs are sad.”

Iron is a very IRISH book, so it was going to have an element of sadness to it, that’s just the way of it—but I swear it’s still a HAPPY ending. I know Gavin and Aislinn would agree.


Oak, which was originally titled The Oak King,  is my re-framing of the Oak King and Holly King legend. I’ve made them tree spirits, and estranged lovers who fall for the same mortal woman.
I blame my mother for this one. Yes, the daughter of the grandparents who inspired Iron. 

My mom’s the one who taught me to love trees. When my parents were getting ready to build the house in which they raised their family, it was my mother who insisted that as few trees as possible were to be cut down. As a result, I grew up in a house whose backyard that was a beautiful shady grove of mostly oak trees. 

Seriously. How could I not write this story?

“This title was previously published as The Oak King.

Twice each year, Aine Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life? 

From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal" life as her husband, if only for half a year? 

Holly King Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold?”


Available at Amazon , Barnes & Noble, and Kobo 

And, yes, in case you're wondering, there’s a bittersweet element to Oak's ending...and to its beginning, for that matter. But, how else are you going to get wounded heroes if there were never any tragedies in their pasts? And, really, it all works out in a very satisfactory, now and forever kind of way.

At its heart, Oak is absolutely Fionn’s story. Hence the reason for the original title. The name change was necessary to bring it into line with the other books in the series—because, yes, there are two more in the works.

Selkie, which I'm working on currently, is the story of a wounded seal-shifter who is rescued by a fisherman. Flight is a bird-shifter menage involving two men who grew up together and have always loved each other, and the mysterious woman who almost comes between them.

I am super excited to be working on these books. I'm also excited about the covers, which can be seen on my website: http://www.pgforte.com/CelticLegends.htm

These four books are all stand alone stories that don't depend at all on one another. They can be read in any order you like. 

Click on this link HERE for a sneak peek at Selkie.

2010-10-27

IRON is an EPIC Finalist!



Well, I'm in shock. I just got word last night that Iron is a finalist for the EPIC 2011 Award for Paranormal Erotic Romance. Must be the luck of the Irish or something, because I've never been a finalist for anything before!

A blacksmith with a tragic past, a faery princess with an uncertain future and a love that burns like iron.

When an immortal, shape-shifting fae arrives on his doorstep seeking shelter, Gavin O’Malley knows he’s in luck. For Aislinn can give him everything his life’s been missing. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her—without losing his soul in the process.

Excerpt:


Something was different.
As the soft, gray light of a winter’s morning crept through his bedroom window Gavin stirred; but even before he’d come completely awake, he felt it. He could not tell whether the ‘it’ in question was something within the room itself, in the wide world outside it, or even an indefinable change that had occurred only within the recesses of his own heart and mind, but something, this morning, was definitely different.
But, whatever the cause, the result was a lightening in his mood such as he’d not felt in many a year and, remembering that today was Christmas Eve, why, it was almost enough to make him believe, once again, in the magic of the season. Perhaps it was an aftereffect of the strange dreams he’d had? Though they’d already begun to fade away, as dreams will do, enough stray wisps still clung to his mind to bring a smile to his face. Such sweet, sweet dreams. He stretched, and felt the pleasant ache of muscles that had no earthly reason for being sore. Odd, that. Then something shifted beside him in the bed. And he knew.
No, surely such things are not possible? His heart pounded fiercely as the thought that he’d not been dreaming, that his wife might actually have returned to him—in the flesh, so to speak—took hold. It was...well, he didn’t quite know what it was. Disturbing, he supposed, to say the very least.
Not knowing what to expect, how he should feel, nor even what he might say to her, he steeled himself, sent up a silent prayer for guidance, then turned round to face her. The reality was far worse than anything he’d imagined.
“Oh, bloody hell.” Bolting upright, Gavin stared in horror at the woman lying asleep in his bed, at riotous gold curls fanned out across his pillow and a sweet flower-like face that was not his wife’s. “What’s this now?”
Gold-tipped lashes fluttered and slumberous gray eyes opened. “And a very pleasant good morning to ye as well,” the fae replied, lips curling up in a sensuous smile as she reached a hand toward his face. “But, tell me, must ye always scowl so?” Cool fingers stroked his cheek. “Methinks ye’d be much more attractive an ye smiled.”
“Explain yourself, Fae,” Gavin snarled, jerking his head back, away from her touch. “What is it you think you’re doing here?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Well, I thought I was sleeping...’til some fool woke me with his blathering. What is it that ails ye this time?”
“You’re what ails me!” Gavin fisted his hands in his hair to keep them from her throat. “You’re a bloody, fekkin’ pox upon my life.”
“Nonsense. From what I’ve seen of your life so far, I’m sure I could only bring improvement to it.” Yawning, she sat up in bed, and pouted at him. “Can ye really not think of anything nicer to say to me than that of a morning?” But Gavin barely heard her for as she came erect the bedcovers slipped to her waist and his mouth went dry at the sight of all that lush, naked, female flesh so close at hand.
He scrambled off the bed, hoping to put some distance between them before the temptation to touch her became too much to deny. “For the love of God, woman, clothe yourself.”
That brought a lazy smile back to her lips. “Well, and I would, to be sure, had my gown not met with such a tragic mishap last night. But ’twas quite torn from my trembling flesh, as I recall it, and so roughly, too. And, even if I knew, now, where the remnants of it had been flung, I’m sure ’tis un-wearable and altogether beyond repair.”
Gavin groaned, remembering all too vividly the event to which she referred. “I’d thought ’twas but a dream.”
She shook her head. “Nay. Though I’ll warrant it was as pleasant for you as any dream might be, ‘twas all quite real. But, speaking of such, will you not come back to bed? For, as I look upon you standing there it occurs to me that we might yet have some business we could attend to, you and I.”
“I will not,” he replied scowling at her. “And there is no business we have with one another. I want nothing whatsoever to do with ye.”
“A lovely speech, but I think there be some parts of you as would disagree.” Her eyes grew dark as her gaze traveled the length of him. “One part, for a certainty. And a very substantial part it is, too, I must say.”
Looking down at himself, Gavin was appalled to discover that all his buttons were undone and his cock, hard as a post, was jutting outward; head bobbing as it strained toward her, as eager as a dog for a stroke. “’Tis of no matter what some parts of me may appear to want,” he replied stiffly. “For ‘tis not those parts as rules my actions.” And, so saying, he stuffed his turgid flesh back where it belonged and buttoned his underclothes back up. “And I’ll thank ye to be putting your eyes back in your head now,” he told her, blushing as her sigh of regret caused his cock to give another eager leap; a movement she could not miss seeing with her eyes still fastened on his bulging member. “And leave off looking at me as though I’m a Christmas goose and you’re behind for dinner. Have ye no shame at all?”
“Shame?” She repeated the word doubtfully, glancing up at him with thoughtful eyes. “Oh, a very little I’m sure, from time to time, an the situation warrants it. But none that pertains to matters of the flesh. And...” she purred, smiling again as she tossed off the covers and stood, pirouetting before him in all her naked glory, “As pertains to my own flesh, certainly not. For I canna see anything there for to give me shame. Can you?”
“Nay, that I cannot,” he admitted grudgingly, quite unable to tear his eyes away from her, and quite unable to move as she advanced upon him.
She slid her arms around his neck. “Very well then. But, if you truly will not be persuaded to come back to bed and fuck me once again, would you not at least satisfy another of my hungers? Will ye not make breakfast for me? For I find that I’m feeling quite famished this morning, having eaten only a very light supper, and all this talk of geese and dinner is not helping matters at all.”
Gavin closed his eyes but, even so, he had to swallow hard before he could speak. “Why are you here? You were supposed to be gone ere daybreak. We had a bargain.”
“Aye,” she whispered softly. “That we did. And are ye sure ye will not let me show you how very grateful I am to you for your kind reprieve?”
Gavin caught his breath in a ragged sigh when she ran her tongue along the rim of his ear. “Stop your teasing, woman. To what reprieve would you be referring? I never did any such thing.”
“Sure and you did. For did ye not give me your promise, last night, that I might stay the winter? And right glad am I that you did for, otherwise, I’d have been forced to leave your pleasant company and make my own way in the cold, cruel world.”
“’Twas not to you that promise was given,” he growled. “And well you know it.”
“Not to me?” Aislinn leaned in closer, chuckling softly as she trailed kisses all along his jaw. “Oh, aye, mo chroí, it was indeed.”
Mo chroí. My heart. He ground his teeth, seething at her use of any such endearment for him. Taking her by the shoulders, he held her away from him. “You tricked me with your foul, faery magic. I thought you were my wife.”
Aislinn nodded. “I may have used a wee bit of glamour to alter your perception and my own appearance, but I only did what was necessary and I’d hardly call it foul. Certainly you didn’t seem to find it so last night?”
“I care not for what you think about it, witch. You should not have done it. And you cannot hold me to promises I did not intend to make.”
“Oh, but indeed, I can.” She gazed at him with deadly calm. “And indeed I will.”

Read another excerpt or buy book HERE.