This fortnight, please welcome the wonderful Cathleen Ross, with A Bite Of... Her Demon Prince.
Can you in less than five words, describe your book?
Erotic reincarnation story of love.
What inspired you to write it?
My
extended family is going through a fractured time and I'm powerless to heal
something that happened before I was born. This was at the base of my writing
this book. It took me four years to write and it helped me come to terms and
move on from my extended family upheaval and also to find forgiveness. My Demon
Prince Agrat is half brother to an angel. Although Agrat loves his younger
brother, a treacherous event occurs and the blame falls on Agrat resulting in the
two brothers warring against each other. By learning to love my heroine princess
who has incarnated into a modern woman, Agrat learns to find peace with his
brother too.
And without further ado, here is the excerpt!
“I wish you’d
focus on carving more angels for clients, especially like this gorgeous male
angel you’ve just finished. I can’t stand that demonic sculpture you’re
obsessed with restoring,” said Phoebe Larson’s agent and best friend, Rachael
Ryan.
“I don’t see him as a demon.
Anyway, look who’s talking about obsession. Running your hands over that
angel’s body won’t bring him to life, you know.” Phoebe laughed at Rachael who
was staring up at the sculpture’s face with abject fascination as she tenderly
caressed his wings.
“He’s perfect in
every detail. He looks like he might spread his wings and take flight,” Rachael
said, her voice full of awe. “I don’t know how you get that lightness yet that
intensity in your sculptures.”
“I see them that way.”
The Prince, his
face full of fury mingled with despair, faced off the angel as the angel’s wing
enclosed her. The repetitive snapshot that haunted Phoebe's dreams and she
didn’t know why.
Phoebe studied
her agent, appreciating the faith she had in her work. Rachael was a curious
mix of Irish and Jewish heritage. From her father she gained her wild red hair
and fair skin, which burned easily and turned to freckles. From her Jewish
mother, she had business acumen, an arresting rather than beautiful face with
cut-glass cheekbones and a sharp nose. From both she'd inherited her fey
instincts, superstitious nature, and passion for art.
It was past ten
pm and the studio in New York’s Meatpacking District was filled with a mix of
light from the full moon and various lamps, which gave the room an ethereal
glow. Phoebe pushed her hair from her face and continued polishing the marble
torso of the sculpture, easing any stains from the intricate carving on the
breastplate on the chest, her fingers caressing the lines and planes of the
mythical warrior she dreamed so much about that he seemed real to her.
“I think this is
my best work, even if he took me a year.”
Rachael walked from the angel
sculpture and came to stand by Phoebe.
She put out her hand but didn’t touch the marble, instead letting it
hover over the stone.
“Old pieces
carry energy and that marble holds blackness. Evil. I can feel it in my bones.
I don’t know how you can touch it.”
“It’s stone, Rach.” Phoebe gave
the torso a pat and Rachael winced. Phoebe knew her agent expected her to take
her psychic feelings seriously, and to be fair to Rachael, her friend of twenty
years, all of her predictions had come true, even when they had seemed
unlikely.
“It’s more than that.” Rachael
waved her hand over it again, concentrating on the torso and frowned. Her eyes
widened and she stepped back. “I’m afraid to open my senses when I’m close to
this statue. I haven’t dealt with this before but it feels like an ancient
evil. Something horrible happened here. Something unjust.”
“I’m not being
disrespectful about your gift because I’ve seen your predictions come true, but
I don’t get how you can obsess about a bit of antique rock.” Whatever Rachael
said, nothing would deter Phoebe from her compulsion to restore the piece she’d
felt compelled to buy from an antiquities dealer. It was the only way to
prevent the emptiness inside her so that it didn’t open like a bottomless well
in her chest.
Slowly, through
the cool fall months and the icy winter, she’d carved a face, arms and legs. In
spring, she’d meticulously inserted rods into the neck, shoulders and thighs of
the marble torso and in summer as the studio grew hot and her New Yorker
friends had left for vacation, she joined the pieces so that he was finally
whole. She was proud of her statue, whose face haunted her dreams. His hair was
shoulder length, his brow furrowed and his gaze piercing over his sharp nose
and sensuous mouth.
The torso of marble
she’d bought had wide shoulders and the warrior wore a robe over his back, a
breastplate and a tunic underneath. On his feet, she had carved marble sandals.
It had been tricky to get the dimensions of his head, arms and legs right so
that all the pieces fitted together.
“When I look at
him, I get that tight feeling in the pit of my stomach like something bad is
going to happen.” Rachael clutched her stomach.
Phoebe bit her
lip in irritation. Rachael could be so dramatic sometimes.
“It’s getting worse by the minute. The evil. I
can’t bear it. I wish I hadn’t opened myself up to it. It’s coming at me like a
roar.” Rachael ran over to Phoebe’s workbench, pulled off her bracelet made of
black angular rocks and reached for a pair of scissors. Snipping the elastic
string, she pulled ten rocks off the bracelet, raced back over and placed them
at even intervals around the statue.
The hairs on the
back of Phoebe’s arms stood up when she saw the intense look on Rachael’s face.
“What are you doing?”
“Protection. You
need it. I’ll sacrifice my bracelet of Moses rocks. They come from around
Moses’ tomb on my last trip to the Middle East. They’re inscribed with
protective talismans. Don’t move them.”
“Rachael, stop. You’re scaring me.”
“You have to get rid of this
statue.” Dressed in her trademark black T-shirt and jeans, with her wild, rusty
curls, pallid face and slim body, Rachael seemed other worldly. It didn’t help
that a beam from the full moon was spotlighting her face. A deep moan left
Rachael’s lips and she started to sway. Her eyes had widened as her hand raised
and she pointed at the sculpture.
“Oh shit!” Phoebe had the
impression of the studio’s walls closing in on her. She’d seen this before.
Last time when Rachael had had a vision this intense, a friend had died.
“Stay away. Don’t take her.”
Tears streamed down Rachel’s face as she stared up at the statue.
Phoebe looked at her sculpture.
Did the eyelids just flicker? She blinked and looked again. They blinked. Fear
exploded up Phoebe’s spine. She raced over and grabbed her friend. “Rachael,
what’s going on?”
Rachael’s whole
body jerked at her touch and she stared wildly at Phoebe. “Destroy it!”
Rachael's face had blanched, so that the freckles on her nose and cheeks stood
out. Even her lips had lost their luster.
“I can’t. I love
the piece. It isn’t evil. I know it isn’t.”
Tears poured
down Rachael’s cheeks and she clutched Phoebe by the shoulders. “You don’t
understand Phoebe, it’s Halloween! The time when the plane between life and
death is thin. Anything can come in. This statue carries death energy.”
Grabbing a hammer from Phoebe’s workbench, she pushed passed Phoebe and strode toward
the statue. Bang! Down went the hammer right into the side of the torso so that
it left a raw gash and bits of marble scattered across the concrete floor.
Jesus, Rachael
had lost it. All her work ruined. Phoebe lunged after her just as she raised
the hammer again and grabbed the tool from her hand. “Rachael. No!”
Eyes wild, Rachael turned. “I
have to destroy it before it comes to life.”
Surely she’d imagined the eyelid
flicker before? “Are you nuts? He’s stone just like the others,” Phoebe said,
waving her hand at the gallery of carved figures of biblical princesses,
demons, a hideous monkey-faced sculpture, and a beautiful, proud-faced angel.
Rachael shuddered. “I don’t know
what he is. I’ve never experienced this energy before.”
Oh hell, Rachael had been right
so many times before. Gripping the hammer, Phoebe realized the temperature had
plummeted in the room. “Before, in your vision, you said, ‘don’t take her.’
Who’s he going to take?”
“You!”
A sickening, twisting sensation
gripped her stomach. “It’s stone, damn it.” Phoebe slapped her hand on the
torso where the hammer had hit to reassure herself that the marble was nothing
more than a cold piece of rock. Something wet and clammy made her draw back her
hand and look at her palm. Blood!
“Phoebe. Get out of here. He’s
coming to life,” Rachael screamed.
But she couldn’t
move. The hammer dropped from her hand. Sheer, sharp disbelief clouded her
thinking. Looking back at the statue, it seemed to be changing color in front
of her eyes. The face, arms and legs had darkened and taken on a swarthy skin
color. Thick, dark blood oozed from the hole Rachael had made.
A gleam of light
from the moon hit the face of the sculpture and the Moses rocks burst into
flames. The statue shuddered, heaved a sigh and his eyes scanned the room,
coming to rest on her. “Princess.”
“No!” Phoebe
said, backing away.
He jumped off
his plinth, his sandals making a clacking noise as he hit the boards, but when
he strode toward her and reached the Moses rocks, his body shuddered as if he
had slammed against an invisible wall. “Princess, move the rocks.”
“Phoebe, run.
When the rocks burn out, the protection stops,” Rachael cried.
The man’s dark
eyes fixed on her. “Princess, it is I, Agrat, I have come for you.”
If you liked the sound of this, you can by Her Demon Prince at Amazon.
...And if you want to find out what else Cathleen is up to you can find her at the links below;
Harbinger by Peta Crake
Archangel of Mercy by Christina Aschroft
The Last Runaway by Tracy Chevalier. This is an exquisitely detailed historical. Like
all of Tracy Chevalier's books it's beautifully written and a little bit
different from the run of the mill. Fabulous characters, a great story and
quilts. What more could you wish for.
I've fallen in love with Cecilia Grant's beautiful historical - A Lady Awakened. If you want to read a very fine historical with all the real bells and whistles without any modernisations - this is the book for you. The language, the setting, the romance was superb and totally unhurried. I can't wait to read her other books.
"Phillips is off and running with this daring, romantic & erotic tale... Myth and reality combine in this unforgettable tale to create a captivating whole. Not only does Phillips tell a lovely story, but she also doesn’t hesitate to throw more than a few kinks into this story. More than once she had me completely shocked with the turn that the story took, however it always fit... There was a bit of a comedy of errors going on for a while that turned into a sweet, perfect ending. She also stays completely in the realm of history while telling a love story that transcends time."
Nothing says magic quite like fairies! Lord of the Hunt is the second in my Annwyn series which centers around the failing magic of Annwyn and its effects on the mortal world.
Claire Boston's contemporary romance, What Goes on Tour, has been bought by Momentum Moonlight. It will be released on 11th February, 2014."Phillips’ ability to spark utterly irresistible tension between her characters is showcased in full force in her fourth Forbidden novel. In this taut enemies-to-lovers story, the chemistry is blazing from the first scene and, as their secrets and hidden scars are slowly revealed, the depth of emotion that develops make this story a well-rounded success. Rife with historical detail and a pinch of ancient mysticism, this will surely delight Phillips’ fans and new readers in equal measure."
"Her Savage Scot is the first book I have read by Christina Phillips and certainly will not be the last. With powerfully written characters that the reader cannot help but fall in love with, this historical erotic romance is one that will keep you turning the pages right to the end."
Thanks to random.org, the winner of Eleni's SNOOP is:
The Rocky Road after Publication 
One of the highlights for me was visiting Tewkesbury Abbey,
the site where the Lancastrian forces were routed in 1471. While Alison and her
historians gave wonderful lectures on the bus about the battle, I closed my
eyes and focused on what they were saying. As we drove towards the abbey I had
a vision of hundreds and hundreds of crosses. Although this wasn't the site of
the battle, which was on a field in front of Tewkesbury Abbey, when I did my
research later, I realized we were crossing the site where hundreds of Lancastrians
were hunted and cut down while trying to flee the battle. When the Lancastrians
were routed, nobles and knights fled into the abbey hoping for sanctuary, but
they didn't get it. 
