It's Six Sentence Sunday time again!  I'm sharing a clip from my forthcoming book, Doomed to Torment, the sixth in the Inherited Damnation series.  It releases October 17th!

Anguish broke him. With an unsteady hand he touched Camille’s pretty face. She’d loved Thomas so
much. Loved them both to fathomless limits. And while Angus had overcome grief, he was denying his
son the tangible evidence of the love he had once cherished, all opportunity of ever knowing his mother. Camille wouldn’t want Thomas to forget any more than Angus wanted him to remember.

“I don’t know what to do, Cami,” he whispered as a fine sheen of moisture blurred his vision.


Doomed to Torment
Inherited Damnation, Book VI



~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: demons , Doomed to Torment , Inherited Damnation , Novella , Paranormal Romance , SundaySix

Hi everyone!  Please welcome J.R. Hobeck, a fellow midwesterner, who I'm very excited to bring to the blog today.  He has a brand new book out, Smokestack, which sounds really fascinating!

Smokestack
Fantasy / Sci-Fi




       




 I asked J.R. to put together a guest post on himself and how Smokestack came to be.  Grab your coffee, and sit back and enjoy!  

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. “Smokestack” is no exception. Except, in a way it is. The novel began as a short story. And, although the entirety of that short story is contained in the novel, it has taken on a much different context. The beginning of the short story is no the beginning of the novel. And, the end of the short story is no much closer to the beginning of the novel than to the end. When I started with is far from what I ended with. The finished product would have surprised me when I started.

That pretty much sums up what this whole experience of, first writing the novel, then actually getting it published, to trying to promote it, has been. When I first gave in to my wife, and began to change the short story to a novel, I didn’t really have any idea where it would end.

I have read quite a few ‘how I write’ articles from many different authors. Many of them say they begin with an outline. Some go as far as to say that a novel cannot be written without an outline, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar. (OK, maybe the wording is not that strong, but there does seem to be a subset of writers who must first know before they can see.) The other group of writers, the group to which I belong, is the ‘pantsers’. We write by the seat of our pants, without a plan and just write the words as they come and clean it up later.

That was the thing I found most fascinating in the writing process of this novel. I honestly had places in the writing when I did not know what was going to happen next. It was not till I actually wrote the sentence that gave the reveal, that I actually knew the answer to the mystery. I do sometimes wonder if this is an odd form of split personality, but since it doesn’t manifest anywhere else in my life, I am not worried.

Now that the book is actually published, I am finding myself in a whole new place of not knowing what is going to happen. I do know that I had and indescribable feeling of amazement when I personally saw a stranger buy a copy of my book. I know that feeling will probably fade as I sell (hopefully) many more books. I just hope the memory of the feeling does not. But, for now I have no idea how this is going to end, but I look forward to the ride.

Let's take a peek shall we?


~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Fantasy , fantasy friday , JR Hobeck , sci-fi

It's here, everyone!  Immortal Surrender's RELEASE DAY!!

I hope you'll help me celebrate by running over to your favorite book-buying place and pick this up.  If that's not in your budget, please spread the word that today Farran's story is available.

Need to catch up on Tuesday Teasers?

Immortal Surrender, Prologue
Immortal Surrender, Chapter One
Immortal Surrender, Chapter Two, Part 1
Immortal Surrender, Chapter Two, Part 2
Immortal Surrender, Chapter Two, Part 3
Immortal Surrender, Chapter Three, Part 1

Let's get back to Farran and the injured Noelle!

Immortal Surrender
The Curse of the Templars, Book II
OUT TODAY!

A rush of fiery rage surged through his blood. A seraph! Gabriel sent him to guard a seraph and failed to include that important bit of information.


God’s teeth, ’twas a wonder the demon had not killed her.

He slammed a fist into the snow and ground his teeth together until his jaw hurt. He did not want this responsibility. ’Twas bad enough she was a woman. A seraph, the promised salvation for the weakened Templar knights, would mean trouble tenfold. Anne’s arrival had proved that. And yet he could not escape this duty. Not as long as they remained away from the temple. Once he returned her there, however, he would gladly pass her safekeeping to Lucan.

Scowling, he tossed his coat over her body. As his gaze fell to her face, something deep inside him rolled around like a ball of lead. He had failed her. As well as his brothers. The most sacred gift to the Templar, and he had neglected to even consider Gabriel might have cause to keep her safe.

He tucked a strand of her wet hair behind her ear and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I will get you someplace safe,” he murmured.

Headlights flashed across the snow, accompanied by the squeal of tires. Farran snapped his head up, instincts on alert. Too late, he remembered he had left his sword in the upside-down vehicle.

Looking to the road, his gaze settled on a silver SUV. He expelled a long breath, and fitted his hands beneath Noelle’s shoulders as Lucan jumped out.

“I was not far away,” Lucan supplied. “How does she fare?”

“I do not know.” Farran glanced down at her delicate face, his frown deepening. “Help me get her into the back. I shall take her to Louise’s adytum. ’Tis nearby, is it not?”

“Aye, brother. Within a half hour from here.”

Lucan reached for Noelle’s feet, but before he could touch her ankle, Farran scooped her into his arms. “I will attend her. Fetch the things from the truck.”

Though he tried to be careful, he stumbled as he rose. The jostle brought another faint groan from her lips. Farran grimaced. Saints’ blood, he should have allowed Lucan to carry her. Lucan possessed more grace, a gentler nature. He would not have aggravated her wounds. As Farran made his way through the snow to the running vehicle, he glanced down at Noelle’s pretty face.

Without her glasses to cover her eyes, he noticed tiny freckles adorned her high cheekbones. Faint sun marks placed there to make her appear more youthful. A smile tugged at his mouth, but he squelched it before it could transform. ’Twas naught to smile about. He had contributed to her injuries, and lest he managed to keep the archangels uninformed, ’twould be hell to pay.

Under his perusal, her lashes fluttered. Farran paused, less than a yard away from the SUV’s rear door. He drew in a sharp breath, held it whilst he waited. They stirred again, dusting the tops of her cheeks like butterflies wings. She opened her eyes. Closed them. Then with an airy exhale, she tried a third time. Those fawn- brown eyes lifted to his, and for a moment, his heart stopped.

“Farran,” she whispered.

The hand she kept in her lap lifted. Her fingers curled into his shirt as if she clung to a safety rope. Ever so slightly, she shifted, bringing her cheek closer to his chest. Somewhere deep inside him, buried in some forgotten portion of his soul, something did a long, slow roll.

“Aye,” he murmured as he cradled her closer.

“I’m so cold.”

Protective instincts he had thought long dead rose like a fierce tide. He fought them back with clenched teeth. Yet ’twas futile. They stormed through him, awakening every particle of his body to the woman in his arms. He swallowed with effort and trained his gaze to the open hatch door. Too many years had passed since he had held a woman this way. Too many centuries. Once he had believed ’twas his purpose to protect the fairer sex. Once he would have died to uphold that fabled notion. Brighid changed all that. Changed everything. He could not allow himself to forget, no matter how helpless a woman might appear, beneath the surface they were as deadly as any man.

Choosing silence, Farran eased Noelle into the truck. He leaned against the wheel well, his legs stretched before him. Still she clung to him, her shivers now strong tremors. They vibrated into him, making it impossible to hold on to his resolve. With a defeated sigh, he wound his arms around her more tightly and pressed her body flush with his.

Lucan shut the door, extinguishing the light. In the darkness, the fall of Noelle’s breath against Farran’s neck taunted his senses. Heat rushed through his blood. Against his thigh, he felt the stirring of his shaft. On a silent mutter, he shifted.

“When I was little,” she said on a soft chuckle, “I used to dream of being rescued.”

Wincing, Farran tried to ignore the sensations her words stirred. He had not rescued her, he reminded himself. He had, in fact, injured her. What ever misplaced thoughts she entertained, they were naught more than a product of the injury to her head. “You should rest, damsel.”

To Farran’s relief, Lucan climbed inside. He flipped on the overhead light and looked back at Farran. “Do you not think we should take her to the hospital?”

“Nay, ’tis unnecessary.”

“Farran, she is but a woman. She may bleed inside. Uriel is far from here.”

Farran answered with a shake of his head. “To Louise’s, Lucan.”

Noelle’s hold on his shirt lessened, and he glanced down to find her once again at rest. He lifted his gaze to Lucan once more and lowered his voice. “She is a seraph. She will heal when her mate is found.”

Lucan’s eyes widened like saucers. In the rearview mirror, his gaze dropped to Noelle, and then he turned around. “Does she know?”

“I do not think so. Let us go to Louise’s. Lady Anne has catalogued the marks of our men. I shall contact her and ask for the list.”

With a slow dip of his chin, Lucan faced forward and dropped the SUV into gear. “How did you learn of this?”

“She wears the serpents.”

Farran leaned his head against the window and allowed the discovery to settle in. A second seraph. Gabriel foretold of their coming, as much as the prophecy did. It made sense now—Whence comes the teacher, she who is blind will follow.

Anne had been the teacher. Noelle’s sight marked her as the next.

Would she belong to Lucan? Mayhap Caradoc? Mayhap someone else all together. Whilst Lady Anne’s journal documented all the Templar in America, it only catalogued the few knights who had visited from Eu rope. Noelle could belong to one of them. Or another much farther away.

The Sudarium leapt to life within his mind, and he jerked his head up. “What trouble did you encounter at the airport?”

Lucan’s low chuckle preempted the amused shake of his head. “ ’Twas one demon. A young one at that. He took no care to conceal himself and ’twas over before it began.”

“And the cloth?”

Extending his arm above the seats, Lucan held up the small bag Noelle had given him earlier. “’Tis here.”

“My sword?”

“Open your eyes, brother. You nearly sat on your belongings.”

Farran frowned at Lucan’s good humor. Looking down at the collection of things from the wrecked vehicle, he inventoried what he remembered—her purse, her glasses, his sword, the tube of lipstick.

“She is pretty,” Lucan remarked.

“Aye.” As lovely as an English field.

“Mayhap she is mine.”

“Mayhap,” Farran murmured. Though the thought tightened his gut so fiercely, he could scarce breathe. She was too pretty to belong to Lucan. Too delicate for Caradoc. Too quiet for Declan.

Damnation, what was the matter with him? He did not want a seraph. He much preferred the inevitable death that loomed ahead. For feeling naught would be a greater freedom than learning to feel again.


~~~~~

Thanks everyone, for participating!  We go on a blog tour today, and I hope you'll watch that, as well as this blog, as there are some exciting things happening this month!




~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: angels , Claire Ashgrove , demons , Immortal Surrender , Knights Templar , Paranormal Romance , The Curse of the Templar , Tor Romance , Tuesday Teaser , urban fantasy

One of my very favorite scenes...and very favorite kisses.

The tang of salt blended with the softness of her lips and provoked a gut-deep sigh. Heaven. Her kiss was the closest he would come to a glimpse of that promised salvation. And her hesitant response unlocked the vise around his throat. “I lied,” he exhaled. “’Tis you I want. This.”

Coming, September 25th!

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Claire Ashgrove , Immortal Surrender , Knights Templar , Paranormal Romance , SundaySix , The Curse of the Templar , urban fantasy

Happy Saturday!

I've been sitting on this for a while now, and it occured to me, Oh my the release date is right around the corner!

So, I'm popping in real quick, before Immortal Surrender takes over everything, to reveal the next book in the Inherited Damnation series.

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Ancient Celts , Claire Ashgrove , demons , Doomed to Torment , Inherited Damnation , Novella , Paranormal Romance

I love fantasy fridays!  I love the covers, the new worlds, and the awesome authors who craft them.  And we're back this week with Joshua K. Johnson, and his new book, The Cererbrus Rebellion.

The Cerberus Rebellion
Fantasy


Now, your host has to confess to a moment of embarrassment.  I fired off my interview all pleased with knowing we were going to learn all the ins and outs... and then realized, do'h, that's a romance interview.  So, faithful readers, give Joshua a HUGE hand for taking it in stride and making this sound intelligent :)  And if he wants to come back and talk some more about The Cerberus Rebellion, on a topic that he's passionate about, I heartily welcome him!   Joshua, Briefly take us on the journey with you – when did you start writing, did you start in the genre you’re published in now, what hurdles did you have to overcome, etc.
Joshua: I started when I was about 13. My family moved out to what I considered the middle of nowhere, so I needed something to keep me busy. I started with Sci-Fi and only occasionally dabbled in fantasy. The only hurdles I've had to overcome were finding the time to write and finding a path to publishing.

Obviously you write in the fantasy genre. Is that your favorite genre to read? Do you write in any other genres, or under any other pen names you’d like to share?

Joshua: Fantasy is one of two genres that I would consider my favorites and that I read and write in, though I don't have anything out for Sci-Fi yet.

Of the books you have published, do you have a favorite? If so, which one and why?

Joshua: The Cerberus Rebellion is my favorite published piece.

What are your published titles and please tell us about anything coming down the pipe next.

Joshua: I have short stories set on the same world as The Cerberus Rebellion: The Sithean Betrayal, The Red Dragon's Gold and The Gathering Storm. I'm working on the sequel to Cerberus, The Hydra Offensive, and I have 4 more novels (and dozens of short stories and novellas) planned to follow them.

(Perhaps he'd like to return and highlight some of the short stories!)
Okay so -- The Cerberus Rebellion -- Tell me about your plot development? How did the idea spur, did you have to do much research, any interesting tidbits that we should know?

Joshua: The idea for this story came from a piece of flash fiction that I wrote one day on my phone. (You write on your phone?  Claire is seriously impressed!) I called it “Griffin Steampunk” and the world was originally much different than it is now (I have the original posted on my blog). I did a fair amount of research into mid-19th century America including firearms, travel and other technologies.

Modified off Steampunk... yep, I want to read it even more now!
Let’s talk heroes – What’s one thing about your hero that we wouldn’t necessarily learn in the book? A secret dream, an embarrassing habit, an episode from childhood.

Joshua: I don't think I really ever go into it, but my “main” character (Raedan) wanted to grow up to be his brother's representative at court. As a child, he liked the intrigue of politics, especially because his father was a masterful politician.

All heroes are unforgettable in one way or another. What’s one thing about your hero that makes your heart go pitter-pat?

Joshua:  I wouldn't say “pitter-pat” but Raedan's ability to ride griffins is unique in this universe; that's definitely unique.

(See look at that -- what a champ!  Thanks, Joshua :) )
Riding griffins sounds like a wonderful twist to riding dragons, and highly creative.  I can't think of too many fantasy novels I've read where griffins are introduced with much depth.  Nice!

If your hero doesn’t have a pet in your novel, what kind of pet would best suit his personality?

Joshua: Probably a wolf or an eagle of some kind.

Okay, back to you -- In your opinion, what is the hardest part of writing a novel? Why?

Joshua: The hardest part for me is avoiding the info-dump. Conveying enough information to flesh out the world without overwhelming the reader. I think this is difficult, for me, because I know that the worlds I'm writing about have so much to offer and I want to show that to my readers. Give them a world that is full and engaging.

I think that's difficult with any author who really likes to world build.  I struggle with it sometimes also.

Many writers describe themselves as "character" or "plot" writers. Which are you?

Joshua:  Definitely “Plot”. You could put a variety of characters into my story and it would work.

If you write in multiple genres, Do you find it challenging to shift? Or is it a natural process?

Joshua:  Both of the genres that I write in are very creatively open (Sci-Fi Space Opera and Fantasy) so it's a relatively natural shift from one to the other for me.

Let's take a peek!  Please note how rich this is.  

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Fantasy , fantasy friday , Goddessfish Promotions

Good morning, everyone!  Please welcome author Linda Andrews who's talking about her new book, Brianna!

Brianna
Paranormal Romance



Linda sat down for my interview, and I'm excited to share her responses today.  So sit back, get comfy, and meet a very interesting woman!

Briefly take us on the journey with you – when did you start writing, did you start in the genre you’re published in now, what hurdles did you have to overcome, etc.

Linda: I started writing in 1997 and it was a contemporary romance with an empathic heroine. So it was kind of a paranormal, but not quite. After being rejected by pretty much everyone, I wrote another book called the Christmas Village, which had a little bit of magic (all Christmas related). My second book was, oddly enough, published after the third novel I wrote, a ghostly romance entitled Ghost of a Chance. I think I was rejected multiple times by everyone and even had one agent reject me on paper than call to reject me again. Ouch! Now, I'm published with 4 small presses for my romances and indie published in my horror.

Obviously you write in the paranormal genre. Is that your favorite genre to read? Do you write in any other genres, or under any other pen names you’d like to share?

Linda: I love to read romances (any and every kind), but I also read pretty much anything else I can get on my ipad. I do have scifi, fantasy and apocalyptic/horror novels published. I don't use a pen name because I have a hard enough time trying to remember who I am, I didn't want to confuse myself by answering to any other names:).

Of the books you have published, do you have a favorite? If so, which one and why?

Linda: I think my favorite is Dancing in the Kitchen. It is my anti-romance. The hero is a wizard who has to appear average and uninteresting but he's competing for the affections of a woman who is the main squeeze of an Indian Jones kinda of character.

What are your published titles and please tell us about anything coming down the pipe next.

Linda: The Christmas Village and Some Enchanted Autumn are holiday themed novels.

Dancing in the Kitchen, A Knights Wish and a Hint of Magic are fantasy romances.

Ghost of a Chance, Gillian, Fiona and Brianna are my Victorian paranormal romances

Hiding Space and Animosity are SciFi Romances

The Syn-En Solution and Culture Clash are SciFi with romantic elements

Blue Maneuver is an Urban Scifi

Redaction: Extinction Level Event and Redaction: The Meltdown are my apocalyptic novels.

Short stories are: 2012: Winter Harvest (free), The Love Lottery (free) and Love on Cloud Nine. Last is Intelligent Design which is a scifi horror.

Brianna is my latest then I have a Valentine's Day book coming next year and the third Redaction book in December.

Very nice!  If you'd like to come back here for a Fantasy Friday and talk about any of those, drop me a line, Linda!

Let's move into Brianna.

Tell me about your plot development? How did the idea spur, did you have to do much research, any interesting tidbits that we should know?

Linda: Brianna is the last book of the series and her story came was inspired by my grandfather. My grandfather contracted Tuberculosis and went to see to cure himself. While Brianna's story takes place in the 1890s, the treatments and ideology hadn't changed much. But that got me to thinking, how would you live your life if you were granted a reprieve after spending most of it dying? Brianna is determined to make the most of her life, even if it goes against the hoity-toity society in which she lives.

Let’s talk heroes – What’s one thing about your hero that we wouldn’t necessarily learn in the book?

Linda: Duncan loves the closeness Brianna has with her family and how open they are despite the fact that her father is a spy.

All heroes are unforgettable in one way or another. What’s one thing about your hero that makes your heart go pitter-pat? His sense of humor. Despite having to rescue Brianna over and over again, he can always find the humor in the situation.

Linda: If your hero doesn’t have a pet in your novel, what kind of pet would best suit his personality? Um, I should mention that before the book started, Duncan ran over the heroine's cat then buried her. Given that the cat is immortal (she's the reincarnation of an Egyptian Goddess) this irritates her to no end and the two share some interesting scenes as a result. At the end, Duncan becomes a cat owner.

Moving on to heroines – Everybody has flaws. Sometimes they are endearing, other times they are annoying. What is your heroine’s greatest fault?

Linda: Brianna spent so much time having to live inside her head that she becomes quite vexed when things don't play out like she thinks they should in real life.

Without giving away details that might spoil the story for those who have not read it, could you tell us the one strength your heroine provides to your hero?

Linda: Being born on the wrong side of the blanket, Duncan is very determined to live by society's rules. Brianna has to teach him which ones really matter and which ones really don't.

If your heroine was your daughter – what advice would you give her upon meeting your hero?

Linda: When you meet a man that causes your heart to override your head, fight dirty to win him.

If we peek in on your hero and heroine’s lives ten years from now, can you give us a glimpse of what we’d see?

Linda: Duncan and Brianna are spending their time working to solve mysteries for the elite by tagging along their children. Brianna is still taking risks and getting results. Duncan has a full head of white hair but can finally shoot as well as his wife.

What’s been the greatest contributing factor to achieving the goals you’ve accomplished?

Linda: My husband's belief in me and my talents. He's pretty sure there isn't anything I can't do if I put myself to it. That's very powerful and kept me going despite the rejections.

As a writer, what is your greatest strength?

Linda: Story telling is my greatest strength. Everything goes smoothly as long as I don't ever get the idea that I'm in charge of my stories.

What has surprised you the most about being a published author?

Linda:  That people are surprised that I respond to their emails or answer their questions on twitter or facebook or on the phone. I like to hear from people who were touched by my stories. My mom says it's because writers and artists are supposed to be out there with their muses. My muse tells me to put my butt in a chair because she has something to tell me and I need to shut up and type. Besides, it's good to talk to people other than ones inside my head. (It makes the doctors think I'm getting better :) ).


Well, let's take a peek at these two!  After all that, I can't wait to see them.


“Brianna, can ye hear me?” Panic fed the primal rage bucking through Duncan. He bound the fury. A treasury agent had nerves of tempered steel, control of iron. A white lock rested on her pale cheek. Peppermint-scented breath slipped past pink lips. She was fine. She had fainted, nothing more. Nothing more.


Yet she had not wakened.

“I had thought she would be accustomed to violence, especially after the tales she told of Arizona.” Miss Phillips’s whine sliced through his musings.

A man had been murdered, poisoned in front of a roomful of wealthy, influential witnesses. August would have been the likely suspect—it was his valet, after all. Except, he couldn’t have known his servant would be in the room, let alone would drink from the glass. So who was the intended victim?

He laid Brianna on the plush carpet and knelt beside her. He brushed her bangs out of her eye, sweeping aside the feather headdress.

And who was the poisoner?

He might have spied something if he hadn’t dallied over his evening dress, and what had his delay accomplished? Not a bluidy thing. His hair still stuck up a little in front. As for the noose around his neck, he could feel the ends brushing his jaw.

“Damn it, Brianna, wake up!”

“Señor Stuart?” Esmé pried apart the Van Sargents. Worry pinched her features, increased the pitch of her voice. Two men in ship’s uniform squeezed through behind her, parting the assembled crowd. An elderly man in a somber suit appeared and set a black bag on the table.

Ignoring the newcomers, Duncan leaned close to Esmé’s ear. “Has Brianna eaten anything tonight?”

Shock flashed in her brown eyes. Her gaze flicked to the corpse before meeting his.

“No, señor. The dinner, it has not been served.”

He nodded. Relief flooded him.

“I believe she has fainted.”

“There are smelling salts in our room.”

“Get them.”

“Are you a doctor, sir?” Curry and garlic permeated the air as the elderly man who’d arrived with the ship’s crew creaked to a stop beside Duncan. He leaned over Brianna with his ear near her mouth. “Peppermint,” he whispered, straightened then peeled the glove off her left hand. His index finger settled comfortably against the inside of her wrist. “An admirable heartbeat.”

“I’m nae a doctor.”

“Hmm, yet your prognosis is undoubtedly correct.” The man peered at Duncan over the gold rims of his spectacles. “The ladies do like to lace tightly, don’t they?” His Adam’s apple bobbed in the wattles of his throat. “Smelling salts should set Miss to rights. You’ve sent the companion to fetch them, hmm? ”

“That won’t be necessary.” Sir Reginald stepped forward. “Mrs. Van Sargent, the salts, if you please.”

Duncan grabbed the small glass bottle—he didn’t trust the missionary any more than he did the others. Glass scraped glass as he plucked the stopper free. Ammonia invaded his nose, stripped the moisture from the back of his throat. Definitely smelling salts. He shoved them under Brianna’s nose.

She winced, turned her head and coughed. Her eyes flickered open.

“Duncan. Wh-what happened?”

“You fainted.”

“You are very much mistaken.” She shoved herself into a sitting position, tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and straightened her bodice. “A Grey does not faint.”

“It’s alright, dear.” Mrs. Van Sargent tucked the bottle back in her purse. “I daresay, if Mr. Stuart hadn’t caught you you would have crashed right into the table.”

Movement caught his eye. At the doctor’s nod, the burly crewmen lifted the body. Duncan shifted his weight to block Brianna’s view. Her lips parted; her eyes grew round. He had acted too late. She had seen the corpse.

“That man.” She pointed to the blanket-draped body with her bare hand. “He...”

“He’s dead, dear.”

“Choked to death,” Van Sargent added with relish.

“Such a terrible tragedy,” said Miss Phillips, dabbing her dry eyes.

“Sir Reginald doesn’t think it will prolong our stay aboard the Osiris.”

Duncan’s skin crawled as Mrs. Van Sargent beamed down at them like a goddess spreading her benevolence.

“But he—“ Brianna’s nails dug into Duncan’s arm.

”Choked to death.” He kept his voice firm, his tone final. Brianna had been around death most of her life, was intimately acquainted with most of its faces. He wouldn’t allow her knowledge to get her killed.

 
Thanks, Linda!  I hope you'll drop back in on us another time with another book -- they all sound fascinating!

A Sizzling PR Virtual Book Tour

~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: New Voices , Paranormal Romance , Sizzling Hot Book Promos

Morning bloggers!  We're winding down now into the home stretch.  Just another couple of weeks before Immortal Surrender is on the shelves!

Meanwhile, you can indulge here a little.  If you need to catch up on the Teasers:

Immortal Surrender Prologue
Immortal Surrender Chapter One
Immortal Surrender Chapter Two, Part 1
Immortal Surrender Chapter Two, Part 2
Immortal Surrender Chapter Two, Part 3

Today, we're moving on into Chapter Three.

Immortal Surrender
The Curse of the Templars, Book II
September 25, 2012

~~~~~


The throbbing in Farran’s head became angry drums that pounded against his skull. Faint lights flashed behind his eyes with each pulse of his blood. Groaning, he squeezed his temple. Pain arced down his arm, and he struggled to make sense of the cold.


It seeped into his bones, intensifying the ache in his body. Wetness blanketed his back, plastered his jeans to his thighs. He cracked one eye open and stared up at a cloud-covered moon. Outside. What was he doing out . . .

Memories slammed into him. The Camaro, the impact, the rolling vehicle. They had been run off the road. How long had they been here?

Noelle.

He sat up, ignoring his body’s protests. What ever injuries he had received were insignifi cant. They did not come from a Templar blade, nor had Azazel’s demon inflicted them directly. He was immortal—he would heal.

Not so Noelle.

Rising to his feet, he searched their surroundings. The SUV lay on its roof in the ditch, four black tires barely discernible in the dark. No lights marked nearby houses, and the closest streetlamp failed to shine.

A shiver rolled through him. He pulled his twisted coat down to cover his dampened clothes. Where was she? Had the demon taken her?

Stumbling, he approached the wrecked vehicle.

Thoughts sifted into firm place, despite the blaring noise inside his head. Other than aches, he felt no significant pain. Nothing broken. Nothing damaged. He felt the truck, the cold frame telling him they’d been here quite some time. An hour, maybe two, gauging from the moon’s height.

“Noelle!” His voice rasped through the night.

Silence answered.

His legs gained strength with each step, and he quickened his pace. Trudging through banks of plowed snow, he rounded the vehicle. Bits of glass speckled the ground, glinting against the intermittent light of the moon. Twisted at a grotesque angle, the passenger’s door stood open. His heart skipped a panicked beat when he stuck his head inside and found the seat empty. Only her purse remained. Dangling by one handle, it hung motionless on the jagged corner of the door. The other strap stirred in the faint breeze, tap-tapping against a dull brown stain.

Farran whipped around, his gaze scanning over the expansive field. Wherever she was, she bled. If she was here at all.

His breath caught as a swathe of reddish brown caught his eye just beyond the SUV’s rear end. “Noelle!”

He choked back bitter unease and rushed to her side.

For a handful of heartbeats, he could do no more than look down on her. She lay on her stomach, her lower body in a wide indentation in the snow where the SUV had hit. Arms stretched above her head, her hair covered her face. The tattered remnants of her coat clung to her right arm. Beneath her left, the snow soaked up her blood. Fresh blood.

She was alive.

Farran dropped to his knees and gently pushed the hair away from her face. Through lips the color of violets, she breathed shallowly. “Can you hear me, damsel?”

Shucking his coat, he covered her with haste. Then he stumbled back to the vehicle. Amidst a barrage of vile oaths, he searched for his cell phone to no avail. He found his sword, the map Gabriel left behind, a tube of lipstick that escaped Noelle’s purse, her glasses. A glance over his shoulder told him Noelle had not moved, and he resumed his search once more.

Faint but persistent ringing stilled his hands. He cocked his head, listening. The notes came not from the SUV. Instead, they drifted from where he had lain.

He raced around the vehicle and the tune stopped. Farran lifted his eyes to the heavens, and in a moment of rare faith, begged the Almighty to make it ring again.

For the first time in more years than he could remember, his prayers did not go ignored. The chiming began anew. Snow flew as he dug for the sound. His fingers touched the cold plastic, and relief surged through Farran’s veins. He snapped the phone open. “I need help.”

“Where are you?” Lucan’s voice filled with urgency.

“On the south side of town.” He turned a circle, looking for a street sign, a marker of any type that would identify their position. Damnation, why had he not paid attention to where Noelle instructed him to turn?

“You come here oft,” he snapped at Lucan. “Tell me where I am.”

“Are houses nearby?”

“Nay.” And no passing cars, much to his frustration.

“We turned off about two miles from her apartment. Ask Gabriel.”

“Gabriel left once we were out of sight.”

Farran ground his teeth together. ’Twould figure that the archangel would vanish. God’s messenger did naught but create headaches.

Rustling on the other end of the line indicated Lucan used his map. Farran returned to Noelle. He pressed his fingers to her delicate throat. When he found her pulse intact, he breathed deep.

“I am not certain, Farran. There are so many places . . .”

“For the love of the saints, phone Merrick,” Farran barked. “Have him locate the vehicle. My ward is injured. Get here.” He snapped the phone shut and jammed it into his pocket.

He must get Noelle warm. And yet he feared moving her. If she had injured her neck, he could damage her further. Still, he could not risk she bled someplace he could not see.

With the gentleness he would give an infant, he removed his coat from her body and slid his hands beneath her. Taking care to keep her head from bouncing too greatly, he eased her onto her back. A faint moan tumbled free, a noise so soft and anguished, Farran’s heart twisted.

“Noelle, can you hear me?”

When she did not do so much as twitch, he moved to her feet. Sliding his hands along her legs, he checked the alignment of her bones. Pressure on her left hip provoked another throaty protest. The sound gained strength as he examined her ribs.

Frowning, he moved to her exposed shoulder where the blood ran in a thin stream. She lay still as he pressed her collarbone. He pushed aside her sweater’s shredded sleeve, following the trail of blood, and froze.

In the moonlight, the torc glinted with subtle color. A decoration he could not hope to ignore, no matter how he might wish to.

“Jesu,” he swore softly.

~~~~~

Come back next week, on release day, to see the conclusion of Chapter Three.




~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: angels , Claire Ashgrove , demons , Immortal Surrender , Knights Templar , Paranormal Romance , The Curse of the Templar , Tor Romance , Tuesday Teaser , urban fantasy

And the plot thickens...

Allow yourself to feel.


Caradoc’s suggestion bellowed like a horn, and Farran swallowed hard. He released the vise of logic. Cast it aside to embrace the heady pleasure of Noelle’s soft body molding against his. He wound his arms around her waist and held her close as he nuzzled the side of her neck. “What have you found that has kept you from joining me for supper?”



~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Claire Ashgrove , Immortal Surrender , Knights Templar , Paranormal Romance , SundaySix , The Curse of the Templar , urban fantasy



Contest!







One of the things that makes romance so enjoyable for me is the growth arc that characters take from the opening pages to the end of the book.  Christy is going to give us her take on how Pierce and Gabrielle grow, and just how their growth impacts their relationship.  She's got some really insightful and complex things to reveal.   Welcome, Christy!  
Good morning, Claire. Thanks so much for having me today.

(You're most welcome, glad to have you!)







~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: Contemporary Romance , Goddessfish Promotions , New Voices

Good morning, everyone!  Time for another Teaser with Immortal Surrender!

Need to catch up on what's happened?

Immortal Surrender Prologue
Immortal Surrender Chapter One
Immortal Surrender Chapter Two, Part 1
Immortal Surrender Chapter Two, Part 2

Meanwhile, let's see just why Farran wasn't scowling afterall!

Immortal Surrender
The Curse of the Templar, Book II
September 25, 2012

~~~~~


All the air in Farran’s lungs lodged in his throat as he turned around to acknowledge his tardy little ward. Hair, more rich and thick than he had imagined, draped around her shoulders. The damp waves tumbled to her waist, long and free, reminding him of the thick vines that covered the grotto where he played as a boy. Her glasses were not cumbersome. If anything, they enhanced the saucy upturn to her nose.


They tempted too. Called to his fingers and begged them to pull those wire frames away from those fawnlike eyes. And the mouth he had believed was plain, smiled with such innocent hesitation, he could not help but wonder if it had ever known a man’s lustful touch. Full and lush, her lips would be soft. Mayhap as silky as her hair. He curled his fingers into a fist and turned away. Saints’ blood, he would have to pay a visit to Leah upon his return. Clearly, he had spent too long away from her willing arms if this scrap of a woman could warm his blood.

“Are you ready?” Noelle asked.

“Aye.”

She picked up her purse, crossed to the door, and pulled it open. “It’s rush hour. Seth said we should probably go south out of town and then head west on the outskirts.”

“You will guide me. I have not been to D.C. in quite some time.”

Again, her smile graced her face, and his stomach balled into a hard knot. He ground his teeth against the uncomfortable twist. A few hours more, and he would be free of her. She would fade into memory, no more significant than any other woman he had encountered throughout time.

Farran entered the hall, waited for her to lock up her house, then followed to the stairs. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the cat. “Someone will tend your pet?”

“Scat?” she let out a soft chuckle. “Yes. Seth said he would stop by over the weekend.”

The fist around his innards clamped harder. This Seth, did he enjoy the softness of Noelle’s mouth? He could not silence his curiosity. “Seth is?”

“My assistant at the lab.”

Invisible fingers released their hold, and Farran breathed deeply. He had no cause to feel relieved, yet ’twas no mistaking he did. More reason for him to satisfy his oath to Gabriel and return to the temple.

Outside, the sun sank into the horizon, and long shadows emerged atop the piled banks of snow. He opened Noelle’s door, then jogged around to his. But as the doors thumped shut, the silence he had treasured became oppressive. Enveloped by the sweet fragrance of her jasmine perfume, Farran became aware of the woman beside him. The rustle of her coat when she moved scraped against his nerves. Her bright smile rose within his mind to torment, and his thoughts steered down a treacherous course. A path that led to visions of those long lengths of hair secluding them away whilst he explored the softness of those damning lips.

He gripped the wheel in both hands, silently cursing his fate.

“So this is what you do? Security?” Noelle’s voice vibrated with a touch of nervousness.

Security—’twas an interesting way to describe his duty. Somehow he doubted she would care to hear the truth, or that she would believe if he explained. He settled for the easier response. “Aye.”

She twisted in her seat to look at him more fully. “Are you from here? From America, I mean? Your speech—you have an accent and distinct dialect, but I can’t place it.”

“Aye.” He glanced at her, gauging how much to reveal.

“I was born outside of Clare, in England.” The only son of a long-dead lord and one who left his family in shame. Lost to time like the rest of the world Farran understood.

“That’s in Sussex isn’t it? I went there once in college. We were doing research at Sutton Hoo.”

“Aye.”

“Turn here.” She tapped on the window, indicating the approaching narrow road.

Dutifully, Farran slowed for the turn. As he rounded the corner, he chanced a glance at her. Posture relaxed, expression full of animation, she looked at ease. Naught like the uncomfortable woman who tried to hide in the seat on their first journey together. Her gaze slid to his, surprising him with the same hesitant smile. A touch of pink rose in her cheeks, and she hastily cast her eyes to her lap.

Beneath the rising lavender of twilight, they left the hustle-bustle of D.C. proper and emerged into a remote stretch of fields. The houses spaced farther apart. Fields rose between them. Trees even peppered the landscape. Great hulking trees with twisting branches that rose like skeleton arms to embrace a winter’s sky.

“Do you miss it?” Noelle asked. “England. Home.”

A more conflicting answer he could not imagine. Aye, he missed En gland, but not the one she knew. He missed the fields of green, the days spent on horse back, the harder, yet simpler life he had known so long ago. At the same time, the thought of home filled him with such loathing he could not stand to think upon it. Farran settled for, “Sometimes.”

“It’s so pretty over there. Everything has character. And oh . . .” She let out a wistful sigh. “There are so many old things there. I get glimpses when artifacts come into the lab. But seeing everything under the microscope just doesn’t compare. I can’t imagine leaving, if I’d been born there.”

He had once felt the same. Now, with Azazel’s darkness running in his blood, En gland only spurned fury. Anxious for a change in subject, he asked, “You were born where?”

“A little farm in Iowa. My folks raised pigs.” She pulled down the visor to fiddle with her hair. “Hey, that looks like Seth’s car behind us. I guess I won’t have to worry about finding him at the airport.”

Farran glanced in the rearview mirror. Several yards away, a yellow Chevy Camaro rapidly approached. Despite the rolled- up windows, he caught the stench. The revolting scent of rot. A smell so foul, it still made his stomach roll even after hundreds of years of combating it.

Evil.

Mayhap her Seth followed, but somewhere near, Azazel’s minions lurked.

He gripped the wheel tight and stepped on the gas. Jaw clenched, his gaze riveted on the mirror. The Camaro’s grille bore down on them, its headlights mere feet away from their bumper.

Not somewhere near, he rationalized. Right behind them.

“Hold on,” he barked. Stomping on the accelerator, Farran gave the wheel a fierce jerk and skidded through a sharp right-hand curve.

From the corner of his eye, he caught Noelle’s furrowed brow. She opened her mouth to speak, then quickly snapped it shut. She grabbed for the overhead handhold and shrank into the seat.

Farran’s pulse bounded to life. His chest tightened, and his heart hammered into his ribs as he tried to outmaneuver the creature behind the wheel. But already exceeding eighty, he dared not attempt more speed. Not with a mortal sitting at his side. Too great was the risk he would lose control on this slick highway.

In his side mirror, the sports car gained. It surged around his rear fender, barreled down the oncoming lane. Farran glanced out his window, catching a brief glimpse of a man behind the wheel before it sped past. The foul odor filled the car and tightened his throat. Beside him, Noelle gagged.

When the taillights evened with their front bumper, Farran expelled the breath he had been holding. Azazel’s minion wanted the Sudarium, not the woman at his side.

Best to alert Lucan. He reached between the seats for his cell phone.

As he flipped it open, Noelle let out a shriek.

Metal ground against metal in a sickening scream. Somewhere glass shattered. His hands slipped from the wheel as his body lurched to the left. Where pavement had stretched out before them, brown grass and clods of dirt flew by.

In the next heartbeat, everything went black.


~~~~~

Come back next week for Chapter Three!









~Claire
www.claireashgrove.com
www.toristclaire.com

Labels: angels , Claire Ashgrove , demons , Knights Templar , Paranormal Romance , The Curse of the Templar , Tor Romance , Tuesday Teaser , urban fantasy