The Moon Is About To Set For Lunar Rising 🌙

Jan 25, 2023 4:01 pm

So today I'm supposed to talk about the Lunar Rising anthology one last time, since it'll be coming down from all the retailers on January 31st.

Buuuuuuut it's far more intriguing to remind you that I'm propelling myself toward creative insanity as I furiously finish Gift of Stone. Been doing my best to crank out 1 chapter per day, and my emotions are reeling from Zehra's tough situation(s). I'm fully aware that with actual trauma, recovery & healing don't come overnight (unlike in some novels where the heroine starts out fighting inner demons & then wins within 1 week. Nope. Not realistic. 🤷‍♀️)

Is it weird that I'd rather portray the disabling darkness of past trauma in my books, alongside the magic? That I'd rather delve into the minds of damaged heroines determined to succeed despite fate working against them?

Is it weird that I like writing about witches who can actually . . . DIE? Or live with chronic illness or PTSD? Or struggle with infertility and societal expectations?

Yep.

I know.

It's weird.

-facepalm-

If you're more of a "sunshine & rainbows fantasy romance where everyone's immortal" reader, I'm honestly not sure why you're still hanging out on my newsletter. 🤔 But you do you! And I'll keep writing about messed up Teuton witches and the males (and females!) who adore them.

Remember Ilsa & Horst? The airy forest witch and her fiery husband who grapples with a war injury? Their novella is the prequel to my Elemental Bloodlines series, and you can find it in Lunar Rising for one more week.

Lunar Rising On Its Way Out

If you'd like to read Ilsa's love story with Horst, along with 14 other "normal" 😉paranormal romances featuring dragons, werewolves, vampires, witches, and demons, don't forget to grab your copy of Lunar Rising before it's gone.

My husband read the anthology back in December. He picked out three riveting stories alongside my novella about Ilsa and Horst.

If you'd like to join a hellhound and her two demon underlings in an earthbound exile, check out From Hell With Love, by G.R. Loreweaver. If a Red Riding Hood retelling where the werewolves are the good guys is more your speed, start with JC Brown's The Scarlet Order. And if you're into swoon-worthy tales of dragons and fated mates, my husband suggests Ice Dragon's Mate by Kaylin Peyerk.

Find all of the stories in Lunar Rising for just one more week!

✨ Get it NOW! ✨

Gift of Stone Snippet

Time for another sneak peek at Gift of Stone! 😍 Last week, I shared an excerpt describing Zehra's first experience in the spiritual realm. She rode atop a Mercedes for a quick jaunt along an Autobahn! How's that for an adventure?

As you might remember from last week's snippet, Zehra's trying to figure out how to rescue her mother from human traffickers. But she's also dealing with a destiny she didn't exactly want—becoming the Leitalra, or Teuton Lady, of her hometown. That means she has a fated mate now—the Keyholder.

Her alluring romance with Henning waits for YOU at your favorite retailer right now! Don't forget, you can grab it at a discount during the pre-order period. The eBook is currently $2.99, but it'll go up to $4.99 after release week. 👍

Before Lenz left that night, he wrote down Henning’s address, suggesting I visit him in person so we could talk through our misunderstandings. I appreciated his counsel, but I feared to confront my Keyholder in his territory after tossing a stone through his chest. Especially not in my physical body.

As a spirit? That was a different story.

Henning lived with his parents in a two-story house that backed up to the larger set of railroad tracks I crossed every time I walked to the grocery store. Their home was a half kilometer from my property, just a street away from Pritzl. Once I pinpointed its location from high above on Friday afternoon, the gray robe of my spirit melding perfectly with the low-hanging rain clouds, I understood why Lenz had thrown us together at the pub, why we first met at the nearby market.

His family had lived here since Henning was a little boy, according to Lenz. The two of us passed our teen years within a quick bike ride from each other, never imagining Erlanga’s soul would unite our dissimilar destinies.

I studied the house from above for a few minutes, the dampness in the cloud around me giving my spirit a sensation of weightiness. My Keyholder had followed the rules of propriety when he visited me; he had remained on the grounds, not intruding into the house. But yesterday it was not raining. And my spirit detected a luring vibe thrumming from inside Henning’s home, something that summoned me to scrutinize its source.

My stone magic sensed no Teutons in the house below or anywhere else in the vicinity. Either this neighborhood leaned mundane, or everyone was at work. There was no point in hanging around outside, even though I knew Teutons should not invade others’ privacy while in spirit form. I wanted to know more about this fiery young priest who held the keys of Erlangen, without accidentally sticking my foot in my mouth in the process. Now was the perfect time to do it.

So I descended into the small yard behind the house, taking quick note of a detached shed, raised beds of herbs and vegetables, and a sad-looking trampoline. That last was doubtless a relic from Henning’s childhood. I wondered if he hoped to have children of his own one day and dance with them upon the trampoline.

I ground my spiritual teeth at the thought, ordering my mind not to go there. Instead, I passed through the back door into a utility room, then pulled my silvery eyelids over my eyes as I sent my spirit up to the second floor, seeking out that odd enchantment whispering to my heart.

Finding myself in what had to be Henning’s bedroom, I paused in the center of the room to look around at its contents. It was not a particularly large chamber, much smaller than my own quarters in Philipp’s mansion. It seemed that Henning had learned to put every space to good use. His window faced the street out front, blue and violet tulips blooming in the flower box. Thick navy blue curtains framed his window, inviting the rainy day’s glimmer to brighten the room.

Posters covered every centimeter of his walls. Some depicted Hollywood movies—like The Matrix and Lord of the Rings—while others appeared to portray metal bands, judging by the harsh fonts. Somehow that seemed fitting, considering Henning’s long hair. A CD tower stood in one corner and I frowned, thinking I may need to expand my tastes in music. Philipp had preferred music from the ’60s and ’70s. Black Sabbath was the only metal band I knew.

A bureau with a mirror stood beside the door to the hallway, a cobalt blue trash can set next to it. A bookshelf decorated with crystals took up the entire wall to the left of the window, a properly-made single bed pushed against the room’s right wall. The pillows sat at the end closest to the hallway, implying that Henning might gaze out the window when lying in his bed instead of watching for unwanted company. Interesting. His parents must respect his privacy.

Suddenly I realized an all-black cat lay wrapped in a hole at the center of my Keyholder’s bed, its golden eyes staring straight at my face. Well, hi kitty, I said to its mind. Its round eyes must be able to see my spirit, even though normal human vision could not. Its ears perked up when I spoke, its nostrils quivering.

I grinned and drifted toward the cat, stretching my fingers cautiously out. Sorry I probably don’t smell like much right now. Do you see Teuton spirits a lot? Do your humans pet you while they’re spirits? I had some kitty friends when I was a little girl.

The cat sniffed at my fingertips, then yawned and settled back into its hole. Taking that as an invitation, I stroked its head, avoiding its whiskers in the process. You’re a beautiful kitty. Is Henning your favorite human? I’m trying to figure out just who he is, and I haven’t given him a good impression yet.

I sighed and straightened, turning my attention from the snoozing cat to the Keyholder’s desk. Positioned before the window, it hosted even more crystals than his bookcase, many of them glistening in the low outside light. Floating closer, I saw an extensive pencil collection, along with a sketchbook and folder stuffed with drawings. Intrigued, I flipped the folder open, wondering whether Henning had artistic talent or if he drew simply to pass the time.

To my surprise, the first sketch I encountered portrayed me clad in the airy blouse I had worn at our last meeting—yesterday. The sketch did not seem finished, my eyes snapping in anger even drawn with pencil. My full lips curved downward, my eyebrows crimped in frustration, my braid peeking around the back of my neck. On the top right corner of the page lay a plea in sprawling handwriting. How can I convince you to trust me?

“Are you here to answer my question?”

Henning’s deep voice tore my attention from his drawing. A shocked cry burst from my mind as I whirled my spirit around, gaping at the young man who stood in the doorway. How had I not sensed him coming? My Keyholder favored me with a repentant expression, his basic polo and trousers indicating he had come straight from work. What was his occupation? Plumber, right, he was a plumber. So was his father, Robin Glossner.

A dingy baseball cap sat atop his head, his long hair tied back in a ponytail. A band name in a font I could not read decorated the front of his cap.

He eyed me in silence for what seemed like forever, while I stared back, no answer arising in my mind. At length he shrugged and said, “You know it’s kind of illegal for you to be here without permission.”

You came onto my property without permission yesterday. The retort fell from my brain before I could stop it. Henning had visited the yard, which was entirely acceptable. But here I was, creeping through his bedroom, looking at his private drawings.

“Touché. I guess we’ll call it even? You’re welcome to stop by anytime, as long as Lumpi approves.” He turned his gaze to the black cat on his bed, who had reached one paw out to stretch and display its claws. Lumpi blinked at Henning, whose countenance softened in respect.

Some of my uncertainty evaporated as I witnessed his obvious affection for his cat. When he stepped forward to stroke its head, I turned my attention to the plain blue polo hiding his chest from my sight. Are you okay . . . from the stone I threw? I shouldn’t have done that.

My Keyholder glanced over his left shoulder to smirk at me, from where he crouched to pet Lumpi. “There’s a giant hole in my chest now, thanks to you. Of course I’m okay. It’s not that easy to harm a Teuton spirit.”

My lips quivered, fighting a smile, and I eased my spirit away from his desk. Sorry I looked at your drawing. It’s pretty lifelike.

“Couldn’t get your face out of my mind, after what happened yesterday. It’s true, by the way. What I wrote on that page. I want you to be able to trust me.”

Henning got to his feet and turned toward me, brushing his hands off on his gray trousers in the process. Remorse radiated in waves from his fiery spirit, while shame welled up in mine. I’d like that, too. It’s hard for me to trust someone I don’t know, especially when he . . . .

My thoughts trailed off and I looked down at my hands, knowing that I had to at least try to explain my relationship with Philipp Liebig. That would clear the air for sure, assuming my Leitaeri was open to the truth. I sneaked a glance at him through translucent eyelashes, our heads almost on the same level since I hovered a handbreadth above the hardwood floor.

“I misjudged you yesterday. I know I did. Can you help me understand?” Henning’s tone reflected the yearning in his essence. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and met my gaze, cerulean fire glinting in his irises.

Lenz warned me people would assume the worst about my Truhtein and me, I began, deciding to be as honest as I could be while holding my darkest secrets close. Philipp Liebig saved me from a horrible situation. He helped me see that I’m worth something, despite . . . .

I had been about to say, despite the fact that I have breasts now, but I cut that thought off. Straight men liked breasts. Only beastly males raped children. My earlier worries resurfaced as I reminded myself of what Philipp taught me. After a pause, I said, The first time we met, when we were in the fruit section, you said I seemed familiar. Can you tell me why?

A blush appeared on Henning’s cheeks, but he held my gaze. “I think it must have been Erlanga’s spirit nudging my heart. I’d never seen you before, but when I looked into your eyes and sensed the strength of your stone, I knew. And I got all tongue-tied. Couldn’t think of how to explain.”

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Fun Photo

Since you got to meet Henning's black cat, Lumpi, in the snippet above, it's time to feast your eyes on the top cat in my household, Nightfall.

He was much younger in that photo than he is today. But even in his old age, he enjoys sleeping in a hole. All three of my panthers enjoy that. Pretty sure it's because they know they're stealing our gravity, like a black hole in space.

Do YOU have a panther of your own? If so, send me some pics! Black cats with gorgeous gold eyes are my favorite. 🖤

💕 Love At First Spell 💕

Looking for some magical romances to keep you occupied while you wait for Gift of Stone's release on February 10th? My fellow indies at FaRoFeb have got you covered. I see some pretty good reads hanging out in this book fair, including Winter Wonders—which will be vanishing on January 31st just like Lunar Rising. My husband likes Lisa Blackwood's Ishtar's Blade, if you haven't read that yet.

✨ Check It Out! ✨