The Summoning is a book, like many others, about good versus evil. It’s not a romance alone. The story evolves around this central theme—the misguided Shaman against the hero and the heroine, who is a witch but is unaware of that fact until she summons Eryael from his dimension. I wonder if another dimension is a fantasy element, don’t you? I’ve touched on that question in another post on my tour. In the excerpt, from Eryael’s point of view, he hears Heather calling him across and responds.
I am sitting in my office at 4:30 AM writing this short post. I hope you enjoy the excerpt and are intrigued by what you read. The language in the book is a bit stilted but that’s the way Eyrael speaks. I’d be interested in your comments on this.
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I published The Summoning myself because my editor at The Wild Rose Press currently had another of my books to review, and I didn’t want to wait for her to work through at least one other book while this one languished in my computer. I don’t know the meaning of patience. So, here is The Summoning.
Heather Morique is a witch. The problem is she doesn’t know it. Her husband Jahill was a refugee from an obscure branch of the Arawak Indians. After his death, mysterious whispers lure her to his homeland of Jamaica. Soon, she finds herself in a web of secrets, lies and illusions.
Jahill’s people worship Eyrael, the God of Wind and Sea, and his brother Sofiel, the God of Fire and Earth. The new Shaman has pitted brother against brother, and these two powerful spirits from an alternate universe fight to become the tribe’s ruling deity. Will light or darkness reign?
When Heather unwittingly summons Eyrael, these two unlikely soul mates face a dangerous fate. The chemistry between them is more disturbing than the long-buried secrets.
His name vibrated through his entire being. The intensity of the call shocked him. A sudden, unreasonable fear chilled him despite the warmth of the surrounding air. As he collected himself to respond, again another being’s panic seized him. Impossible but he was falling!
He was shrinking, compressing. It was a pleasant feeling, not painful, not frightening but interesting—a hugging together of his nebulous self. Disorientation should have alerted him that he was growing small enough to pass through, but it had been so long he’d forgotten.
This side of the curtain, time had no meaning. He remembered nothing of the other dimension—except that it existed in some vague, prickly memory.
Sofiel was with him, riding high on the crystal winds. His dark brother shot him a puzzled frown. He, too, felt the pull of the Summons. Chants echoed through his being, distant drums beating a seductive rhythm. A high-pitched scream—that of a woman—pierced him. Vague recollections of this tearing apart surfaced. The Summons was not for Sofiel. It was for Eyrael alone. Darkness blinded him, and he imploded.
Eyrael’s next awareness was the caress of a warm liquid holding and supporting him as the air had done moments ago. Not only the water, but he was changing shape, forming, drawing tighter together. He tried to expand, met solid resistance. He found himself inside a grid work of bone and flesh. A flash of light sizzled from the sky to the sea, thunder booming in its wake. Every detail of his previous visits to this place manifested at once. Strange the way that happened. It was always the same. One minute, he recalled nothing; the next, he knew everything. Memories waltzed before his eyes, beckoning him deeper into the mortal fold, the place where the People lived.
Their drums resonated in his blood, chants welding him to their realm. They had named him God of Wind and Sea, but commanded him to their will.
He concentrated on the shape of the People, flexing his arms, stretching his legs. Both too long, he had to adjust. The beach seemed far away, those gathered around the ceremonial fire stick figures. He blew out a breath, and the wind howled. He rethought his height. Finally, he achieved the Eyrael they expected to answer their Summons.
The sea played with his shoulders and his hair. Eryael smiled his Pleasure.
A scream gurgled in the waves ahead. A head split the churning ocean. One of the People. I must rescue. He shook the mane of hair back from his face and considered that, perhaps, he had too much hair. The tiny being reappeared frantically battling itself, spouting water from its mouth. Its cries stabbed him like splinters of darkness, and the pain, as much as any sense of duty, tugged him toward the drowning creature.
“Eyrael!” His name split the night sky, reverberating off the pinpoint stars.
He hated the mortal engaged in a hopeless skirmish with the water. Eyrael was irritated that its despair had somehow torn the curtain between the worlds and brought him over merely to sustain its brief flicker of life.
Silence. She no longer cried. Facedown, the waves washed a slender body toward the shore. A thrill shivered over his entire body. A woman, giver of the utmost Pleasure.
On the beach, dark shapes formed a half-circle around a blazing beacon fire. As one, they dropped to their knees and bent from the waist, their foreheads on the sand. A lone figure remained standing. The primal rainbow of feathers in the Shaman’s headdress danced in the wind of Eryael’s passage. Taino, young and virile, wiseman, witch doctor, a powerful magic user. The Indian sorcerer pinned Eyrael with eyes cold and hard as onyx.
Ah, the woman is a sacrifice. But not to me.
Web Site: http://www.lindanightingale.com – Visit and look around. There’s a free continuing vampire story.
Blog: https://lindanightingale.wordpress.com/ – Lots of interesting guests & prizes
Giveaway: Linda will be giving away a $15 Gift Card through Rafflecopter! Winner will be announced 8/30. Follow her on tour for more fun and chances to win!
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For the months of July and August if you purchase one of the novels in the Unexpected Changes series (My Mistletoe Master, Not His Type, The Perfect Fix, or Somewhere to Belong) directly from the publisher (EXtasy Books) and send me proof of purchase, I’ll send you a FREE copy of Neptune’s Passion.
- Purchase either My Mistletoe Master, Not His Type, The Perfect Fix, or Somewhere to Belong directly from EXtasy Books.
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Hot Greek male looking for roommate for tropical vacation. Must be female. Must be sexy brunette, with a passion for reading. Must be Natalie Donovan.
When Griff asked her whether, to cut costs, she’d like to room with him at their friends’ wedding, Natalie should have said no. But now as they sip margaritas on a white sand beach, Natalie finds flirting with her long time crush a little too easy. And finds sleeping next to him, night after night, to be too much temptation.
A few chapters further, Natalie got interrupted when water was dripped onto her legs. Frowning she glanced up and found Griff looming over her. With his Greek ancestry, dark features, and sharp blue gaze he resembled the Roman God Neptune. In the fading daylight, water glistened on his body. The only missing pieces: the big beard, and the trident.
“If you want to keep your book safe I recommend you put it away.”
Confused she asked, “Why?”
She shrieked, when without warning Griff squatted down, placed one hand under her bent legs, the other behind her back, and lifted her into his arms. Natalie struggled to get away from his cold, wet body. “Put me down.”
In the pool, their friends laughed and cheered him on.
“You’re going in the water. You can do it alone or with the book.”
“Fine.” She huffed. “Put me down, though.”
He did as she asked, but suggested, “You might want to lose the cover-up too.”
Natalie growled her displeasure over that, but set her book on the chair and dropped her white beach cover-up over top of it. She went a step further and put her glasses on the table. If she was reading the situation correctly, it would be safer if she left them behind. She stared up at a now slightly fuzzy Griff. “Better?”
His gaze ate her up, and with deep male appreciation he replied, “Much.”
Feeling playful, Natalie crossed her arms under her breasts. “I’m not going in the pool.”
He grinned. “Oh, yes you are.”
Deciding she wouldn’t make it easy, Natalie ducked around him and darted away. She wasn’t nearly fast enough. She hadn’t even made it passed the end of the pool before he caught her around the waist. Hoisting her up once more, Griff stood at the deep end of the pool. “In you go.”
She squealed in protest as he stepped off the ledge, dropping them both into the water.
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors, where writers share an 8 to 10 sentence snippet of their writing on Sunday. Be sure to visit other participants at http://www.wewriwa.com/ and read and comment on their #8sunday posts.
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Welcome to the world of horse racing! For the next few weeks we’ll be featuring excerpts from Detour Ahead, Book Four in our Rider’s Up Series. Each book can be read as a stand-alone, and all four books are always available FREE at KU.
Time to hear something from the new “detour” in Traci’s future.
“You handled that real well, McCord—real smooth. The woman must think you’re a Neanderthal idiot.” Scott McCord berated himself as he broke a bale of hay apart to divide among his horses. No doubt the woman was Traci Steele. She fit Cassie Travers’s description, hair as black as night falling below her shoulders, and tall.
She might only be a few inches shorter than him, and he was six-one even. And there weren’t a lot of single women in and out of Live Oak. It was a nice enough resort, but it wasn’t Club Med.
The Chicagoan was a looker, all right, very nicely proportioned. Yep, Traci Steele looked as attractive as Cassie had bragged her up to be.
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Available in print and e-book
Hot-shot Chicago prosecuting attorney Traci Steele works tirelessly keeping rapists off the street to prevent other women from suffering the hell she’s endured, so she resists her friends’ insistence that she take a two month R&R in their California Live Oak condo—until they persuade her to help their rancher friend as a private investigator.
Though he runs the stables at Live Oak, well-muscled mustached wrangler Scott McCord much prefers working with the race horses he trains at his ranch, and he can’t believe his old friends have sent a greenhorn female to help him with horse troubles.
The improbable dance between this mismatched pair barely fits in around the escalating suspense of whoever’s after Scott’s horses. Traci is as tenacious in her sleuthing as she is terrified about her inability to ever love a man. Can Scott succeed in gentling her – like he does his horses – before she flees in panic?
Night Owl Reviews Top Pick This is a story about letting go of your past so you can move on to your future…Add into this touching story of recovery a mystery that will keep you guessing to the very end, and you’ve got a story you won’t be able to put down. Angi
You Gotta Read Reviews Rich in romance and suspense, this book had me mesmerized from the first page…a sensational job of combining just the right amount of suspense with a sauciness that leaves you longing for more. Val
Amazon Riveting mystery and love story in one great book Donna H. A Great story that shows that love can heal anything!” Amy B.
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Be sure to stop by the rest of the Weekend Writing Warriors for some great excerpts!