Cover Reveal - 'A Summer Bewitchment' now to be in print!

My medieval historical romance, 'A Summer Bewitchment', sequel to 'The Snow Bride,' is now to appear in print as well as ebook. Here is the cover, below.

Lindsay Townsend

At Bookstrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/Lindsay-Townsend

Which is which? The Medieval Succubus and Incubus. Lindsay Townsend

The beliefs surrounding incubi and succubi in the middle ages were complex. Both were held to be supernatural beings but of which sex? It seems these demons, who sought to tempt mankind by seducing women and men into having sex with them, could be male or female at will.

As a female sexual demon, a succubus, the creature would beguile a man into intercourse and so obtain the man's seed. (The word succubus derives from the Latin 'to lie under'.)

Then, appearing as a handsome male spirit, an incubus, the demon would make love to a woman and spread the seed in her. (The word incubus comes from the Latin verb 'to lie upon'.) In medieval times, the wizard Merlin was believed to have been born as a result of a demon-woman mating.

Taking these ideas, I made the incubus in my Dark Maiden deliberately androgynous - eerily beautiful but possibly of either gender.

)

Here's a brief excerpt:

Somewhere during their kissing her anger vanished.

      From inside the hut she heard a broken sobbing. Father William, she hoped, finally poleaxed with remorse.The rowans shook with a sudden wind and the rooks cawed. She kissed Geraint again. Sensing the chill air trembling around them, she turned.

      A sour-faced, beautiful being, neither male nor female, appeared immediately in front of them in the clearing beside the priest’s house.

      “I cannot stand against you both.” With this complaint, the incubus scowled and pouted, like a young virgin of either sex. The winter light shimmered on the demon’s flawless skin, lit hair that at times looked golden, at times black and revealed a lissome body clothed in a white robe. Or was the long, sweeping tunic red?

More details of 'Dark Maiden' here.

Can be ordered from Ellora's Cave here.
Can be ordered from Amazon US here and Amazon UK here.
Can be ordered from Barnes and Noble here

Ellora's Cave (forthcoming, June 13 2013)

Read Chapter One

(The picture of Lilith is from a painting by John Collier.)



Lindsay Townsend

'A Summer Bewitchment' available to pre-order

My medieval historical romance 'A Summer Bewitchment' is now available to pre-order from Bookstrand.  
This novel is a sequel to 'The Snow Bride' and features Elfrida and Magnus again as my heroine and hero.

Here is an excerpt from the opening chapter:


England, summer, 1132

“I am the troll king of this land and you owe me a forfeit.”

Elfrida glanced behind the shadowed figure who barred her way. He was alone, but then so was she.

Do I turn and run along the track? Should I flee into the woods or back to the river? He is close, less than the distance of the cast of a spear. Can I make it hard for him to catch me? Yes.

But catch her he would.

Play for time.

“Indeed?” she asked, using one of her husband’s favorite expressions, then sharpened her tone. “Why must I pay anything?”

“You have trespassed in these woods. In my woods.”

The nagging ache in her shoulders and hands vanished in a tingling rush of anticipation. Elfrida dropped her basket of washed, dried clothes onto the dusty pathway, the better to fight. “King Henry is lord of England.”

“I am king here.”

A point to him. “I kept to the path, and then the river.”

“That may be so, but I claim a kiss.”

He had not moved yet, nor shown his face. The summer evening made his shadow huge, bloody. Her heart beating harder as she anticipated their final, delicious encounter, Elfrida asked, “Are you so bold? My husband is a mighty warrior, the greatest in all Christendom.”

“That is a large claim.” He sounded amused. “All Christendom? He must be a splendid fellow. The harpers should sing of him.”

Elfrida raised her chin, determined to have her say. “I am proud of my lord. He is a crusader. He has seen Jerusalem and he has learning. He can whistle any tune. He defends all those weaker than himself.” Should I say what I next want to say? Tease him as he has teased me? Why not? Are we are not playing? “Go back to your woods, troll king.”

She heard the crack of a pine cone as he shifted. In a haze of motion the troll king was out of the tree shade and into the bright sunset, dominating the path in front of her. Taller than a spear, broad as a door, he had a face as stark as granite, of weathered, broken stone. Heavily scarred—many would say grooved—he had the terrible beauty of a victor, a winner wounded but unbowed.

A ribbon of heat, like hot breath, flickered across her breasts. He was so magnificent , so handsome. She both loved and hated defying him, even in jest. Striving for calm, she said, “You will come no closer.”

“Or what, little laundress?”

That tease irked her. “The clothes and bedding do not wash themselves. Not even for you, troll king.”

He smiled, a daunting unfurling of that scarred, sword-cut face. The churning heat in her belly swept up into her cheeks and down to her loins.

“I am a witch, besides,” she added, though not as coolly as she would have liked. She saw the gleam in his large brown eyes pool into molten bronze.

“You would put a spell on me, elfling?” he challenged.

“Perhaps I already have.” Her tone and mouth were as dry as the summer. How much farther can we stretch this sweet foolishness?

He raised thick black eyebrows, while a breeze flicked and flirted with his shoulder-length curls. “Is that Christian?”

She wanted to cross her arms before herself, to shield her body from his bold stare. At the same time she longed to strip herself naked for him, unlace his tunic and caress him. Unsure how he might react, she armed herself with words instead. “I am a good witch, Magnus.”

“Indeed.” Again he looked her up and down, glanced at her buckets, basket, and clothes. “Should you not have an escort, wife?”

Do I tell him I sent Piers off to help? Are we still playing now or is he truly angry?

Looming over her, he was close enough for her to touch him. To caress his strong body will be like stroking sun-warmed stone. Distracted, she shook her head. “There is the sheep shearing…”

“Done.” He tossed a stack of rolled, lanolin-scented fleeces at her feet. “I did my share and more and, as I have said already, I claim a reward.”

He winked at her and she found herself smiling in return. “Forfeit and reward, too, sire? Is that not greedy?”

“Are we in Lent, that I should fast?” He raised his hand, cupping her face with supple fingers. “But you are too dainty to linger alone, witch or no.”

He traced the curve of her lips with his thumb and, as she trembled, he gathered her firmly into his arms. “Any man will try to spirit you away.”

“Hush!” She made a sign against the evil eye and wood elves, but he shook his head at her caution.

“I have faith in your magic craft, Elfrida. But a passing knave or outlaw? He is quite another matter. He would see you as a tempting piece, my wife, my lovely.”

“I am not helpless,” she protested, but her heart soared at his loving words. His mouth, as crooked and scarred as the rest of his face, stole a kiss from hers.

He smelled of lanolin, salt, and summer green-stuff, and tasted of apples and himself. Elfrida closed her eyes under his tender onslaught, her thighs trembling.

“Troll King?” she murmured, when they broke apart slightly. “Is that how you wish me to address you in the future, husband?”

“‘Sire’ will do, or ‘greatest knight in Christendom.’ Those will do very well.” He kissed her again.

“You rob me, sire,” she murmured, a breathless space later.

“Of kisses?” He sounded delighted at the idea, the beast, and grinned when she pinched him.

“Even one-handed I can do that better than you.”

He demonstrated, squeezing and lightly slapping her bottom, chuckling as she thrust her hips back against his fondling fingers. A shred of modesty remained as her wits dissolved into a sweet blaze of need. “Magnus, what if someone comes?”

Lindsay Townsend

A MUTUAL INTEREST IN NUMBERS is here!

A Mutual Interest in Numbers, Book 2 in my Love and the Library series is now available!

Love and the Library--A celebration of the beginnings of love wherein four Regency gentlemen meet their matches over a copy of Pride and Prejudice at the library.

A Mutual Interest in Numbers
BLURB:
Love and the Library Book 2: Ellen and Laurence

Lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice. Does it?

Regency gentleman Mr. Laurence Coffey doesn’t care for libraries and novels. His interests run to steam engines and mathematics. But his friend found the lady of his dreams at the library over a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Laurence yearns for a lady of his own, one of wit and cleverness as well as beauty. And while he doesn’t expect his friend’s luck, visiting the library can’t hurt.

Miss Ellen Palmer enjoys mathematics, but, unfortunately, many men frown on bluestockings. She loves the library and its mathematics books as well as its novels, especially her favorite, Pride and Prejudice. How she would like to find her own Mr. Darcy. Perhaps someday, somewhere, she can discover a man who wants an intelligent woman.

At the library, they both reach for a copy of Pride and Prejudice at the same time. Can their mutual interest in numbers--and this particular novel--make their dreams come true?

A sweet, traditional Regency romance. With a duck. Quack.

EXCERPT:
Laurence pushed aside a copy of Byron’s The Corsair and then curled his lip at a volume of sermons. Gads, sermons on Sunday were enough for anyone.

He set the sermons aside to reveal the book beneath. Pride and Prejudice. The novel that had brought his friend his lady.

Could this book somehow help a man find his love? He extended his hand toward the tome...

A gloved feminine hand, also reaching for the novel, bumped into his. “Oh, I beg your pardon.” The voice was soft and musical.

He jerked upright. “No, I beg your pardon.” The same extraordinary blue eyes that had almost knocked him flat a moment ago threatened to do so again. And he wouldn’t even care.

As if he were under the effect of Mr. Mesmer’s animal magnetism, he waved in the general direction of the book. “Please, be my guest.” Take the book. Take me.

A Mutual Interest in Numbers at Amazon, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble

And if you want to start with A Similar Taste in Books, Part 1 of Love and the Library, the blurb, excerpt and buy links are here.

Thank you all,
Linda
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!
http://www.lindabanche.com
http://lindabanche.blogspot.com

http://www.facebook.com/LindaBanche

 

The Romance of a Painting

Recently, the art critic Andrew Graham-Dixon explained in a series on Dutch art that one famous painting was a kind of romantic calling card. The so-called 'Laughing Cavalier' by Frans Hals shows a richly dressed young man with a slight smile - almost the male version of the Mona Lisa. The reason for his careful dress, lace and arranged hair and moustache is because he is sitting for a courtship portrait. He wishes to impress someone. I think this is why he is smiling very slightly - he wishes to hint at his character and good humour.

I wonder if the lady who received the picture was taken with it and accepted his suit?

The romance of a picture! There must be a story in there.

Have you ever sent a picture or photograph of yourself to someone? Or, if you are a writer, have you ever had one of your characters do this? Please let us know in the comments section below.

Lindsay Townsend

Medieval romance ebooks for under $3.00

My medieval historical romances 'The Snow Bride', 'A Knight's Captive' and 'A Knight's Enchantment' are all under $3 on Amazon.



The Snow Bride




A Knight's Captive




A Knight's Enchantment




A Knight's Vow is now $2.99 at Barnes and Noble.


Enjoy!

Best wishes, Lindsay Townsend

Meet Erin O'Quinn, speaking about the romance of Ireland.

Up Close and Personal: 

Erin O’Quinn

My pen name is Erin O’Quinn. I have been contracted by Amber Quill Press for several months, and when my latest novel Heart to Hart debuts May 26, I will have written eleven historical novels (four of them as YA fantasies under my real name).

So I thought it was time to introduce you a little more “up close and personal” to Erin.

I was born and raised in Nevada, in the high desert. My father, a self-sustaining miner, actually supported my mom and us three girls through his one-man mining ventures. Until I was forced to go to school fifty miles away, we lived on the side of a mountain in a wooden cabin with no electricity or running water. Those were the days! My wild upbringing at the treeline of a high peak shaped me in ways I am still discovering. (I found out, in writing Fire & Silk, that my roots hid a wellspring of emotions and images, more than enough to fill a novel.)

After high school, I attended the University of Southern California on a scholarship, earning a BA in English and then an MA degree Comparative Literature. Such a culture shock—from a town of less than five thousand to a city complex of over seven million!

After college, I pursued the “academic” life for awhile, becoming a college teacher, then a marketing/promotion manager for a large newspaper. But for some reason, I began to shun the ivory tower kind of life. I became a car salesperson, then a pallet-hauler for a big-box store garden center. I found myself more comfortable on the back docks talking to truck drivers than in the classroom talking to students.

One day three years ago, my husband brought an iMac into the house. I sat down at the keyboard, and my whole life changed. I began to write—first with Bil under our real names, and then under a pen name.

I actually have three different “personas.” One part of me writes young adult historical fantasy with my husband. One part turns out steamy M/F historical novels, set in the time of St. Patrick in fifth-century Ireland. The third persona tosses out the “F” and concentrates on male pairs of characters, both historical and contemporary.

I chose the very Irish name to reflect my deep interest in the history, language, mythology and culture of Ireland. For my series of Ireland romances, I was so taken by the subject that I actually studied Irish Gaelic to get a feel for the cadence and lilt of the spoken language. So when readers close one of those books, they’re able to say everything from “I love you” to “kiss my bum”  in Gaelic.

The subject matter was compelling enough to me that I started a blog, called “The Gaelic Spirit,” which is dedicated to a wide-ranging spectrum of subjects. Here is an example of my archive:

Did the Irish Invent the Kilt?
Who is Danny Boy?
St. Patrick and the Tradition of Cursing
Who Were the Picts? And What About Those Tattoos?
Celtic  Cowboys: Riding the Range in Ancient Ireland

Siren Bookstrand published two MM historicals, a series called “The Iron Warrior,” which are also set in St. Patrick’s Ireland of ca. 432 AD. And now I have written a new historical novel about two gay men. But the difference between it and the others is pretty stark.

Heart to Hart takes place in a fantasy Ireland city in 1923. Its two main characters are a horny, roustabout Irishman named Michael McCree and an almost surly, fastidious man named Simon Hart.

Michael’s interest in Simon is instant and continuous. He vows to bed him, become his roomer, and worm his way into becoming his business partner too. But Simon, whose former partner in his private investigation  business has been murdered, is in no mood to put up with Michael’s shenanigans.

If you can’t tell by the description, this book is a comedy, a romance, and a mystery too. The setting is the cusp of the steampunk era when steam and gaslight were  giving way to electricity and motorcars.

But true to my nature, both men have a not-funny side, a part of their past they are not talking about. The more serious threads ravel out every so often, and the reader gets a glimpse of real people under the silly escapades.

Because this is an “excerpts” blog, I’ll reprint a very small part of the upcoming novel.

Michael was awakened by an insistent rapping on the outside apartment door. Knowing it could not be Simon, he almost bellowed, “Go away!”

“Mr. McCree. ‘Tis Mrs. Gallagher. The landlady. Ye must open, or I come in.”

“Then ye wish to gaze on a naked man? For shame, missus.” He grinned at the open bedroom door, deliberately left ajar by Simon Hart. He had slept in his baggy trousers, and now he slid out of bed, reluctant to wake fully.

He padded barefoot through the Victorian sitting room and opened the door with a suddenness that clearly startled the prim elderly woman standing on the threshold. “Here ye see me, lovely lass. Now what can ye need wi’me?”

The woman’s sallow cheeks suffused with color, and her pale green eyes suddenly became trapped by fluttering lashes. Michael’s grin widened, and so did the door.

“Ye wish to enter me private rooms. Will the neighbors not talk?”

I’d like to leave you with my sig line. From this, you’ll be able to find everything about my Erin O’Quinn writing life—from my blogs to my books to my FB Erotica group, dedicated to the more intellectual (rather than promotional) side of the writerly life.

Thanks for letting me bend your ear, um, steal your eyes for a while. See you next time!

~Erin O’Quinn

Erin’s Blogs:  Gaelic Spirit  The Man in Romance 
Erin’s Historical Romances: SirenBookstrand
Erin’s Contemporary MM Romances: 

Noble, Nevada on Amazon
Noble, Nevada on Amber Allure
The Chase on Amazon
The Chase on Amber Allure

about me: all works  about me:  MM novels 
Facebook   Twitter   Amazon Author Page
FB  Erotica Writers & Readers group founder. You’re invited to apply.