A Matter of Trust - Review, Guest Post and Giveaway

 

I am pleased to welcdome fellow 'space opera' SF writer Greta van der Rol to my blog today.

I've just read her book 'A Matter of  Trust'  and before we get to my review, here's the 'Blurb':

Will the Demon Admiral protect her from her family? Princess Amira is ready to start a new life after the death of her husband, but that doesn’t include marrying the man her father picks out for her. Pursued by his agents, she races across the galaxy in a desperate search for a safe haven.

Amid simmering tensions at the edge of the Empire, Amira renews her acquaintance with Imperial Admiral Ul-Mellor. Although his detractors call him the Demon Admiral, Amira finds him intelligent, articulate, and very attractive.

But Ul-Mellor is not human and Amira is a princess – far above Ul-Mellor’s status on his home world. He and Amira will have to overcome a gulf of cultural and class differences if they’re to turn their mutual attraction into a relationship. And what will Ul-Mellor do when faced with a choice – Amira or his hard-won commission?
 

 Buy Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Payhip

BIO

Greta van der Rol loves writing action-packed adventures with a side salad of romance. Most of her work is space opera, but she has written paranormal and historical fiction. She lives not far from the coast in Queensland, Australia and enjoys photography and cooking when she isn’t bent over the computer. She has a degree in history and a background in building information systems, both of which go a long way toward helping her in her writing endeavours.

 Greta’s Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | Google+ | Pinterest

REVIEW 

A thoroughly engaging short read.  Princess Amira is a self confident and likeable character, with no illusions about her inherited status and who is completely devoid of the airs and graces which might be expected of a Princess. Indeed, much to the annoyance of her father, she wears peasant clothes and does what she can to help the indigenous inhabitants of her planet, the Tuchaska, who form the labor force for the prince's estates and are now afflicted by a mysterious illness.

When her father arranges to marry her off to a man she detests, for socio-economic reasons, she flees from her home planet seeking refuge with the parents of her late husband.  However she is to learn that not everything is as it seems and she finds it more and more difficult to know where her true safety lies,  and who, if any,  she can really trust. 

The 'Demon Admiral ' is a compelling and unsuual hero.  A non-human species, he nevertheless shares Amira's interests and is honourable and brave - as well as extremely attractive. Despite the differences of species, race and social status, he has much in common with her and he mutual attraction is undeniable.

Greta Van Der Rohl  manages to combine enough  suspense, romance and political intrigue into ninety four pages to fill a full length novel. There are some hot, sexy love scenes and a satisfying conclusion.

and here's what Greta herself has to say:

Hi and thanks for having me. 

The heroine of my space opera novella, A Matter of Trust, is Princess Amira Hezkurin. You may want to ask if she's based on any of the other ladies in my space opera novels – Jess in Starheart, Allysha in the Iron Admiral books, or Morgan Selwood. I think I can pretty confidently say no. Jess is a slightly shady freighter captain not averse to some smuggling on the side, Allysha is a brilliant information systems engineer, and Morgan is a cyborg who is all woman.

Unlike all these women, Amira is a member of the ruling classes. She's well-educated, with a degree in xeno-archaeology (that's alien archaeology) which she earned at a university on the Empire's capital planet. While there, she mixed with the several sentient, technology-savvy alien species in that Galaxy. She also met her husband, Christoph, the very suitable son of a minor nobleman, who was also an officer in the Imperial Fleet.

But Amira's no shy violet. She learned a little martial arts, and she's not afraid to get her hands dirty. When we first meet her, living on her home planet after the death of husband, she's just come back from helping the local aliens, the Tuchaska, who are suffering from a mysterious illness. Here's an excerpt...

Amira strode across the ornate polished stone floor of her father's private sitting room and into his study. "You wanted to see me, Father?"

Prince Fedor Hezkurin looked up from the paperwork on his desk and scowled, his gaze flicking over her. "Amira, my dear, I wish you wouldn't wear those peasant clothes. They don't become you."

"They're very practical for my work with the Tuchaska." She pulled off the clasp that tied back her ponytail and shook her head, sending her hair dancing around her shoulders.

Hezkurin sighed. "That doesn't become you either. You should not be wasting your time with aliens."

Amira pulled over a chair and sat facing him. Yes, she probably did need a shower, and a change of clothes, too. Her boots had probably left a trail over her father's floor. But she wasn't going to apologize. "It was their planet before we took it over."

Who is your favourite SF heroine?

A Matter of Trust is available at all the usual outlets.

Amazon http://myBook.to/AMoT_GvdR

Barnes and Noble http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-matter-of-trust-greta-van-der-rol/1119191050?ean=2940149518135&itm=1&usri=2940149518135

iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id861044048

Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/a-matter-of-trust-23

Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/428266

Omnilit http://www.omnilit.com/product-amatteroftrust-1477914-153.html

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Wrath Of The Highlander, Guest Post and Giveaway

Thank you so much for welcoming me back to your beautiful blog, Lyn! It’s always such a pleasure to be here. Today I’m celebrating the release of Wrath of the Highlander, book three of five in my MacLomain Next Generation series. An ongoing saga that takes place during wartime, this particular series pairs women from the twenty-first century with men from medieval Scotland. As such I thought it might be fun to share some dialogue between various characters that remind the reader how our way of speaking can be confusing to those from the distant past…

 

A scene from when Cadence first arrives in medieval Scotland.

“Why are you here to save me?”

“I dinnae think I am,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“‘Tis likely we will die.”

“Tell me how you really feel,” she muttered to herself.

“I did, lass.” Malcolm frowned at her. “Are your ears full of water?”

Cadence rolled her eyes. “No, sorry, it’s an expression.”

His brows lowered.

“A bit of sarcasm. Again, sorry.” She nodded toward the ocean. “I’m thankful you saved me from that. I just didn’t expect it to be you.”

A scene when a wolf is being named.

In response, the wolf raised his head and perked his ears.

“I think he likes that,” Cadence said, still smiling.

“Mayhap, if he proves himself, I’ll give him a warrior’s name in time.”

“No way. Kynan’s a good, strong name.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Besides, it’s not cool to rename an animal. It only confuses them.”

“Cool? ‘Tis a wolf, lass. Made for this weather. I dinnae think the temperature—”

“It’s a twenty-first century expression,” she cut him off, “It means great.” She chuckled. “Let’s tackle this later. I’ll teach you some of my words and you can teach me some Gaelic. Deal?”

A scene in which they’re chatting about the wolf’s origins.

“I know there’s a feel of Fionn Mac Cumhail about him.” He stared into the forest. “A gift from a god but not a god at all.”

Cadence looked between Malcolm and Adlin. “What do you mean?”

The arch wizard cocked a brow and only offered a crooked grin. “‘Tis not for me to say.”

“But you did just say it,” Leslie remarked. “And now opened a can of worms.”

“He doesnae speak of worms, lass,” Bradon enlightened. “But of a wolf.”

Sheila chuckled.

Leslie shook her head, smirking at Bradon. “Let me rephrase. He brought up a subject that won’t be put to rest until he reveals the rest of what he knows.”

Wrath of the Highlander

The MacLomain Series

Next Generation

Book 3

Sky Purington

Genre:  Time Travel Fantasy Romance

Date of Publication:   July 9, 2014

ASIN:  B00LNU0PLK

Number of pages:  254

Word Count:  76,500

Cover Artist:  Tamra Westberry

Book Description:

Bookstore owner and ghostwriter, Cadence wants nothing more than to be part of the unending draw between her Broun heritage and the medieval MacLomain clan. When an unexpected Claddagh ring appears on her finger, the distant past soon becomes her future. Though sure she was brought back in time for another man, the laird’s cousin soon draws her eye, then her every thought.

Recently widowed by a traitorous wife, Malcolm MacLomain has no use for love. Merciless, he swears revenge on his enemies and embarks for war. When courageous and persevering, Cadence becomes part of his endeavor his broken heart starts to mend. Caught in an unexpected journey of forgiveness and discovery, two worlds collide and heal despite the, Wrath of the Highlander.

Available Now- Mark of the Highlander (Book 1), Vow of the Highlander (Book 2) and Wrath of the Highlander (Book 3). Coming Soon- Faith of the Highlander (Book 4) and the final in the series, Plight of the Highlander (Book 5).

Available at Amazon  BN  Kobo

 

EXCERPT

“Have you found your mystery man yet, lass?” he said, so low she would feel the rumble of his inquisition through the thin material of her silky, smooth dress.

Her lips trembled, eyes wide, but she gave no answer.

Oh, but to close his lips over hers.

“No,” Cadence finally murmured, her eyes still locked on his. “But I will find him.”

When she licked her lips, his eyes drifted down. Wide and full, they were created for pure sin. He could only imagine them running down his body. Damnation, he needed her closer.

Though he wouldn’t kiss her, he’d sure as hell dance with her.

Ignoring her assurance that she was meant for another man, Malcolm pulled her into the dancing crowd. It didn’t matter if the music was merry. He wasn’t in the mood for speed. Besides, he was viciously aroused. She’d feel his need while she tried to keep focus on the man she so eagerly sought. 

“Goddess above, what are you doing to me,” she whispered, voice strangled.

Arms wrapped around her lower back, he brought his mouth against her ear. “‘Twill be no goddess giving you answers, only me.” He tightened his hold. “Do you feel me then, lass?”

“How could I not?” she gasped. Hands clamped on his upper arms, she turned her face into his chest and mumbled, “You show ill respect to a man you have not met.”

“I dinnae respect a man until he earns it.” Malcolm closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of her hair.

As each individual note trilled from the bagpipe, she melted against him more thoroughly than the icy snowflakes speckling his heated skin. Fire and drink might warm the crowd but where they stood his breath hit the air in foggy puffs. Always a fan of the cold, but an even bigger fan of a bonnie wee lass against him, he cupped one hand around the back of her neck.

Her heart thundered against his.

Her body shuddered.

“Easy, lass,” he whispered. “I willnae take what you’re unwilling to give.”

“Yet you hold me prisoner,” she murmured.

“Nay, we but dance.”

“If only.”

Her words were so soft he barely heard them.

Jaw grinding, he held her securely while pressing tighter against her.

“No,” she whispered. Then she pulled back, her voice stronger as her eyes met his. “No.”

“Aye, lass.” But he loosened his hold and gave her one more word before he let her go. “Soon.”

About the Author:

Sky Purington is the best-selling author of eleven novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.

Sky loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington.com

Interested in keeping up with Sky's latest news and releases? Visit Sky's website, http://www.skypurington.com to download her free App on iTunes and Android or sign up for her quarterly newsletter.

Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.

Website:   www.skypurington.com

Blog:   www.skypurington.blogspot.com

Twitter:   www.twitter.com/skypurington

Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sky-Purington/260484263999780

Pinterest:   www.pinterest.com/skypurington

Tour giveaway

1 $25 Amazon or Barnes & Noble gift card (winner’s choice)

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Normal service will be resumed next week!

Apologies for there not being a 'Welsh legend' post again this week.  I'm still grieving for my little dog and trying to catch up with everything.  I thought you might like to see a picture of the bridleway in Wales where I used to ride before I moved to England. (It runs left past the gorse bush).This is a recent photo -the landscape hasn't changed at all, and was one of my favourite rides, miles and miles of unspoilt countryside and not a car in sight!

Please pop in tomorrow when I'll be reviewing  a SF romance 'A Matter Of Trust' by  
Greta van der Rol

To Tempt An Angel, super book blast and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Patricia will be awarding a free eBook from Lachesis Publishing to a randomly drawn winner via the rafflecopter at the end of this post during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

NOTE: this book is FREE everywhere!  Buy links are at the end of this post -- why not download your own copy today?

Angelica Douglas has no idea that she’s the Countess of Melrose. What she does know is that she needs to support her family as a card shark, while finding a way to seek revenge on the men who ruined her father and sent her family spiralling down into poverty.

Robert Campbell, Marquess of Argyll, heir to the Duke of Inverary, has no idea who Angelica truly is. He just wants to watch over her and make her his mistress.

Angelica thinks Robert is simply a dashing rogue who is far too dangerous for her peace of mind. Robert thinks Angelica is an angel except when she’s being a pain in the behind.

When Robert finds out that his own father may have been one of the men who ruined Angelica’s family, he vows to keep a careful eye on her. When Angelica finds out that Robert’s father may have been one of the men responsible, she vows to stay as far away from Robert as possible. But when danger threatens, both Robert and Angelica must face the truth and let fate take the upper hand.

Enjoy an excerpt:

London, 1812

He knew she was cheating.

Angelica read the suspicion in the man's alcohol-glazed eyes. She was confident of her talent, so being caught didn't worry her, but drunks almost always proved dangerous. With the exception of her own father, of course.

Eighteen-year-old Angelica Douglas wet her lips, gone dry from nervousness, and felt a droplet of perspiration roll slowly down the valley between her breasts. Reaching up, she brushed a wisp of golden hair away from her face and adjusted the wreath of fresh-cut flowers she wore like a crown on her head.

Angelica gave her intended victim a sunny smile and flicked a glance at the group of fairgoers gathered in front of her table. Seated on a stool, she began moving the thimbles around and around on the makeshift table that consisted of a board resting on top of a trestle.

“Stop,” the man growled.

Angelica looked at him expectantly.

He pointed at the middle thimble. Angelica lifted it to reveal nothing and laughed with delight.

“Yer cheatin',” he accused her, his foul breath making her stomach queasy.

Seemingly unruffled, Angelica looked him straight in the eye. “Sir, you are a poor loser,” she told him in an affronted tone. “Would you care to throw dice instead?”

“I ain’t throwin’ dice with no girl,” the man snapped, and turned to go.

“Afraid?” Angelica challenged him, making her audience laugh with approval. When the man kept walking, she shifted her blue-eyed gaze to those watching and asked, “Would anyone care to throw dice with me?”

“I would love to throw with you,” answered a voice in a tone suggesting intimacy.

The crowd parted for the handsomest man Angelica had ever seen. Older than she by ten years at least, the black-haired and dark-eyed English Adonis carried his tall, well-built frame with athletic grace. Though commonly dressed in black breeches and white shirt, the man had the bearing of an aristocrat.

Sacred sevens, Angelica thought, his devilishly good looks startling her. She felt as if Old Clootie, in all his sinful perfection, had stepped out of the crowd to lead her astray.

I'm a dog person. Who lives with 10 cats. Get the picture?

My first brush with the romance genre happened in my high school junior year. I discovered Gone With the Wind and hid it behind my American history book to read during class. (The Civil War is American history.) The ambiguous ending left me dissatisfied, though. Rhett and Scarlet needed a happily-ever-after. Believing in happily-ever-afters positively screams romantic-at-heart.

On the other hand, I love murder and mayhem as much as happily-ever-after. My usual television fare is fiction and nonfiction crime shows, not love stories. Which accounts for the mysteries I sneaked into my historical romances. Now I'm trying my hand at writing a humorous mystery, sans historical and sans emphasis on the love interest. I even prepared for my mystery-in-progress by attending the local NRA's Pistol School. Shooting pistols is great fun. I adore the .22 semiautomatics.

After graduating from high school without distinction, I earned both Bachelor and Master degrees at a state college. Again, without distinction. I held several part-time jobs during my college days: file clerk in an insurance company, long-distance telephone operator, kimono-wearing waitress in a Japanese restaurant.

And then I began my teaching career, eighteen years in the eighth grade and thirteen years at the high school. Weary with the same old routine, I decided I needed a creative outlet. So I decided to write a romance novel but only managed to talk about writing one. After five years of listening to me, a friend said to stop talking and start writing.

So I did.

I made every mistake known to man. Blunder would be a more appropriate word, but I did learn using the trial and error method. As well as studying the works of authors I admired.

After five years of writing for nothing but love, I sold my first novel. Since then, I've sold eighteen novels and won several awards--- National Readers' Choice Award New England Readers' Choice Award, Romantic Times Reviewers' Choice and KISS Awards, B. Dalton and Bookrak Awards for best-selling author. My novels have been translated into fifteen languages and sold in twenty countries.

If I had my life over, would I become a writer? Nope. I would enjoy being a Victoria Secret model. Perhaps in my next incarnation I won't be too old, too short, or too unphotogenic.

www.patriciagrasso.com

https://www.facebook.com/patricia.grasso.902

BN http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/to-tempt-an-angel-patricia-grasso/1005102935?ean=9781927555071

Kindle http://www.amazon.com/To-Tempt-Angel-Book-Douglas-ebook/dp/B00A2WZ1IC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401151486&sr=8-1&keywords=to+tempt+an+angel

Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/to-tempt-an-angel-2

iBooks https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/to-tempt-angel-book-1-douglas/id576045599?mt=11

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Tribute to Bouncer

Bouncer at the shelter, before we adopted him

Instead of my 'Welsh Legend Monday' I'm devoting today to my beloved little 'rescue', Jack Russell, Bouncer.

Tragically we had to have him put to sleep last Thursday. He had several brain tumours and had slowed down over the last few months, although he was still happy and mischievous, and very, very 'knowing'.  On Wednesday night he started having convulsions and on Thursday we had to make the terribly sad decision to make sure he did not suffer any more.

Bouncer first came into our lives in September 2007.  I had emailed an animal shelter in Wales and they sent me his picture. There were other dogs available for rehoming, but how could I possibly refuse that little face and the silent plea in those dark eyes?  I knew he was meant to be ours.

From the minute he stepped through the door it was as if he'd always been part of the family.  I put the blanket we'd bought for him which he'd been lying on, on the way home, in his bed and he climbed straight into it and curled up, quite at home.  Among his new toys was a red, plush dragon which he 'loved' to death. After a few weeks it was as flat as a pancake, and missing its eyes and horns, but he slept with it every night of his life with us.



He'd been badly treated in the past, and his hip had been broken and allowed to heal without a vet, so it healed a bit crooked and he walked with a bit of a swagger, with his feet pointing to a quarter to three, like a little penguin, as he 'sashayed' along.




He was such an inquisitive little dog and soon found a small hole in the garden fence where he could spy on next door's cat.

I think he believed if he slept on a growbag, he might turn into a Great Dane and not have to stand on flowerpots.

He loved going down  to the horses with us, and would investigate every nook and cranny of the feedroom, where he could probably smell the resident mice and our 'feral' stable cats. 

His favourite thing in the world was his 'treatball' and as soon as he finished his morning and evening meals he would sit and ask for it to be filled with treats and chase it around, batting it with his nose or his paw to get the treats out with a dexterity and expertise that would have made David Beckham green with envy!

About two years ago he started to lose his sight and gradually went completely blind, but he didn't allow it to interfere with his enjoyment of life and still managed to get around and play with his treatball and enjoy his daily 'walkie'. In November last year he had what the vet at first thought was a 'mini stroke' but scans revealed to be inoperable brain tumours. We were devastated.  How could our clever, happy little dog have this inflicted on him on top of everything else?  For a while we thought we were going to lose him, but he was such a little fighter and after a week or so on new medication, bounced back, true to his name, and it was hard to believe there was anything wrong with him, he certainly didn't lose any of his zest for life, or knowing ways, and was still as bright as a button.

We went 'home' to Wales for a few days last week and while we were there he began to have convulsions and we knew it was time to say goodbye to our beloved little friend and companion. He is buried, his paw resting on his red dragon,  in a lovely, peaceful spot on my sister's land, with her two dogs. It seems fitting that he should be laid to rest in Wales, where he came from.  He will be sorely missed by us and everyone who knew him, and will never ever be forgotten.  Rest In Peace little Bouncer, and wait for us at the Rainbow Bridge.