Today we have author Lucille Moncrief visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* Lucille Moncrief, authoress of The Keystone Curse and the dark erotic paranormal romance series Nefarious, was clearly a stodgy old librarian in a past life. She loves poring over history books and binge-watching PBS’s Secrets Of series. With an avaricious penchant for all things steampunk, Lucille’s breakthrough series, Nefarious, is custom-illustrated with exploding dirigible airships. And unnecessary gears abound.
* When Ms. Moncrief is not yelling at the kids to get off her lawn, you can find her staring out her window pretending to be pensive. She’s usually in a good mood and readily accepts follows and friend requests to her Facebook page.
A look into…
~ Blurb ~
The Dirigible Airship Disaster (Nefarious IV)
* Tired of written dreck and sparkly vampires? Sink your teeth into the Nefarious series and get a bigger bite out of fiction.
* Described as “captivating,” and “hauntingly beautiful,” the Nefarious series is a sophisticated, enthralling, and well-written tale of intrigue and devious desires. Set in a lurid, southern gothic world, follow the undead Talcott Henderson as he engages in a battle of wits with his intended, Elyse Delafayette.
* But wait, what’s this? Half-ling dhamphyrs armed with hawthorn stakes, a blood-witch coven torn apart by infighting, and a corpse-like, ancient vampire king with an agenda of his own?
* Enhanced with custom illustrations, this fast-paced steampunk series will leave you on the edge of your seat and hungry for more. If you are sick and tired of wimpy vampires and the flood of terrible books on the romance market, grab your copy today of the Nefarious series and relearn what a true escape into fiction is all about.
~ Excerpt ~
Chapter III ~ Present Time ~ Talcott Henderson
* Her eyes shone in the darkness with fresh tears as she recounted such a horrific tale. I longed to lick them from her lashes. The scent of such pungent, lingering sorrow coursing throughout her veins had my talons stinging like hornets, and I painfully itched to suck her dry until she came-to on the other side of death in my cold arms, where nothing ever hurt but the insatiable bloodlust. As she wiped at her face with her sleeve, I readjusted the pillows, stood, and approached her.
* “What became of the estate?” I asked.
* She shook her head. “I never returned.”
* Interesting. My mouth watered and burned.
* “It sits there? Unoccupied?”
* Sniffling like a dainty fool, she gave a small nod. Now I knew from whence we would reign, my tender bride and I.
* With Lucius dead and The Quartermaine alone the sole focus of her hatred, I was free to do with her as I wished. I could leave her be, but no fun would be had by either party. I could drain her dry right then and there, but then she would be a perishable good. No, no—I would turn her like I’d initially planned. But I would remain as her sire, her king, her master. I threatened to cry blood-stained tears of joy.
* The heat, the life rolled off her in delectable waves as I outstretched my arms. I expected her to recoil at my gesture, but surprise of all surprises, she fell against me like seismically shaken, crumbling bricks. She shook against my chest as her sorrowful tears soaked into my shirt. The perfume of it was like the sharp rays of the darkening moon—silvery, faintly sweet like almond milk. I carried her to the bed as my gums itched, my talons growing beneath the backs of her knees and entwining into her soft, fragrant hair.
* I placed her onto the bed. She looked up at me, her eyes wide, beautifully sad. I felt myself harden, electrifying into a ravenous fiend. The vein in her neck pulsated as I loomed over her, transmogrifying into my full, devilish form. I traced the outline of that precious vein with the sharp edge of my talon, and again to my surprise and delight, her eyelids fluttered closed, she sighed, and by tilting her head, she exposed herself to me in such exquisite submission.
* My fangs burst forth into sharp rapiers, and as she lay beneath me, prone and softly open, tear-stained, resigned, I merely stood still and drank in the draught of her; like tangy meringue, or a moist devil’s food cake, and leaned down to her carotid. I blew upon the sensitive flesh with ice-cold exhalation, tasting her shiver in the air, and my fingertips shook at this tender prey. I was the shark in the water, the hawk as it circled the terrified field mouse, the lone wolf as he prowled the edge of darkness, growling like the flames of hell. The points of my fangs touched the edge of her unbroken skin, but with the beat of her heart, I was at once repelled.
* My stomach lurched in a somersault as worry tugged at me, and I leaned down again to take a bite of her. Another strong thump, and a pulsating forcefield hit me in the gut, pushing me away like I was the wrong end of a magnet. The back of my legs hit the hard edge of the window seat, and at their meeting, like a tuning fork hitting a dissonant bell, my worry turned to complete and utter panic.
~ Buy ~
Thank you for joining us here today, Lucille Moncrief! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
Today we have author D. Lieber visiting. Welcome!
What would you like to tell readers about yourself?
* D. writes stories she wants to read. Her love of the worlds of fiction led her to earn a Bachelor’s in English from Wright State University.
* When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s probably hiking, crafting, watching anime, Korean television, Bollywood, or old movies. She may also be getting her geek on while planning her next steampunk cosplay with friends.
* She lives in Wisconsin with her husband (John), retired guide dog (Samwise), and cat (Yin).
Today D. Lieber will be talking about the best writing advice she’s ever received.
* The best writing advice I’ve ever received was actually directed to an entire audience at a convention (C2E2 2014 to be exact). One of the authors on the All Things Fantastic panel made an off-handed comment that she writes stories she wants to read that haven’t been written yet. This statement made a huge impact on me in a few ways. On one hand, it encouraged me to take the leap into novel writing; I had previously stuck to poetry and short stories. On the other hand, it emphasized that authors should write for themselves before anyone else. This advice has gotten me through all of the stages of self-doubt, which accompany any form of artistic pursuit.
A look into…
~ Blurb ~
* Exiled from Faerie when her father dies, half-Fae Ember is surprised by how much the human realm has changed since she was there last. She takes a dangerous job on a merchant airship, hoping a life on the move will keep her well-hidden. Sure, she misses her brother, but years of apathy have numbed her emotions.
* When the optimistic and naïve Reilley follows her, it’s annoying to say the least. But when she starts feeling responsible for him, long-stifled emotions crack the ice around her heart.
* Faeries, pirates, and traveling players meet in this steampunk fantasy adventure as Ember tries to cope with feelings long forgotten and a past that pursues her.
~ Excerpt ~
* Clutching my new tambourine, I walked to a clearing to have more room to dance. Reilley grabbed the drum and started a beat. Like before, I moved to the rhythm. This time, my red skirt danced with me, and I shook my tambourine appropriately. We discovered that as long as I let Reilley choose the pace, we could improvise an entertaining performance.
* We fed on each other’s energy and ended at a natural breaking point, exchanging smiles as the last beat echoed off the trees.
* “You’re enchanting,” Reilley complimented smoothly.
* “I’m only expressing your music and following your lead.”
* He flushed with pleasure at the high praise.
* “Could you do me a favor?” I asked him.
* He nodded.
* “Would you unplait my hair? It should be dry by now.”
* His eyes gleamed like I’d given him a gift, and I turned my back to him. With long, deft fingers, he gently unbraided my hair. Undone, he ran his hands through the soft waves to separate them. I shivered.
* “Thank you,” I whispered.
* As his hands gently stroked the dark locks, I became aware that we were very alone. We’d been alone before, but this time was different. An air of anticipation settled between us. His hands stilled. Neither of us knew what should happen next, and the pressure quickly became uncomfortable.
Thank you for joining us here today, D. Lieber! It was a pleasure getting to know you and your story.
ANNOUNCEMENT! D. Lieber will be awarding a fancy homemade bookmark (US ONLY) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour! So be sure to leave a comment AND use this RAFFLECOPTER LINK to enter the drawing. Also, visit the other tour stops for a greater chance of winning!