Blessed Imbolc!
Today marks on the modern Catholic calendar, St. Brigid's Day, the patroness of Ireland. While the modern calendar says winter and in some places snow is on the ground, on the old calendar it is an approximate date for Imbolc, the first day of Spring. It translates from Old Irish as "in the belly" and is said marked the pregnancy of the ewes. It is one of the fire festivals, or major festivals, on the Druid calendar. With Beltane, it is one of the two that are goddess-centered days. There are several traditional ways to mark Imbolc/St Brigid's Day. Many of these carry whispers of pre-christian traditions.
This is a symbolic time for me. In November, just after Samhain (the Celtic New Year) I launched Three Worlds Press as a full-fledged publishing company. The early months have been exciting. As with the Spring, we are poised for the new, explosive growth of Spring. Everything smells new, green and earthy. Who cares if snow is in the forecast for today.
Pay attention...this is a double blog day as a cover reveal from Three Worlds Press follows shortly!
I want to share just a few links with you to explore and celebrate.
From the Irish Central website: http://www.irishcentral.com/roots/St-Brigids-Day-February-1-marks-start-of-Celtic-Spring-138470479.html
Wikipedia gives an acceptable overview here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imbolc
Imbolc is the date of the second event on my upcoming novel Dark Dealings. While Micaela does not realized it, the event marks the beginning of a new cycle of her life and the birth of her "true" self in a dangerous world of magic, vampires and shapeshifters .
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Tuesday Teaser: Within the Mist, a short sensual paranormal inspired by the Phantom of the Opera
Today we entice you with Denise Bridger's newest release...Within the Mist
The misty evening air of a Winter in Venice cloaks many things…. Some who are passionate lovers hoping for stolen moments….. others who are merely the cutthroats and thieves that plague any city filled with the wealth of visitors and citizens of palaces….. But what else lies hidden within the mist? The voice of an angel lures…. each perfect note beckons and promises untold pleasures…. until, finally, a broken heart succumbs to desire…. and Fate weaves a new thread into the tapestry that is the mystery of life itself….
Inspired by the music of Riccardo Foresi, the photography of Vincenzo Chiofalo, and the eternal lure of Gaston LeRoux’s The Phantom of the Opera… discover what waits Within The Mist…
Excerpt:
He continued to sing, the lyrical, lilting Italian words caressing her spirit and pulling her closer to him. When she finally stepped into the chamber where he was, she stared in wonder. The room was lit with what appeared to be a thousand candles, their soft glow reflecting off the polished wooden floor and throwing frenetic shadows everywhere. Seated at the piano was a slender man, dressed all in black. His hair was dark, and the hands that whispered over the keys of the instrument were long-fingered and elegant. Hands shaped for making love in any form he chose.
He played the last notes of the mesmerizing song and slowly turned to look at her. His dark eyes glittered, flames dancing wildly in their ebony depths, and he held out his hand to draw her forward. She went to him and dropped to her knees, head bowed, tears streaking her face as she let the hood of her cape fall to hide her shame.
“You came to end my life. Why?”
“I cannot bear the pain of not knowing you.”
“But you do know me. I am part of you.”
“You are madness!” She retorted with real anger surging into her being, giving her strength and making her look up at him. “You have taken everything!”
“I took nothing,” he admonished with gentle warmth. “I am part of you.”
“How can that be?”
He smiled. She felt the kiss of his indulgence touch her heart.
“You created me,” he murmured. “The night he died, you gave me life.”
She was confused, and the room was suddenly growing colder with each beat of her heart. “Why did you let me find you?”
He tilted his head to one side and considered her question. “Perhaps because it is time for me to return the gift of life to you, tesoro mio?”
“You can’t,” she whispered, the quiet words shaken and harsh. “There is no life for me now.”
“There is always life in death, amore,” he murmured as he leaned closer and pried the blade from her hand beneath the heavy cloak. “Let me show you forever.”
She gasped in fright and pain as he slashed the dagger’s edge across her palm and brought the bleeding hand to his mouth. When his tongue played over her flesh she felt the mists of the night invade her brain, and blackness reached out to pull her into a chasm that exploded into fire racing along her veins… As the world changed around her and within her, she heard his sweet voice whispering to her…
There is always life in death, amore mio… when I am death… come with me, share our journey…
“Yes…”
She heard the word, distant, torn from her soul purely by the power and depth of her need to know him, to know all of him, at whatever price he asked. The ache in her body pulled at her, made her feel light and heavy with conflicting desires.
The dagger flashed again, slowly, gently slicing through the tie that held her cape together at her throat. It slid away and he smiled with satisfaction when he saw the crimson silk she wore, a simple dress that wrapped around her like the arms of a lover… She had been wearing this pretty gown the night they’d first seen each other, choosing it had seem right somehow.
The gleaming stiletto blade moved once more, and candlelight flickered against the shining silver as he delicately cut the tie that held the dress up. He set the knife on the piano and with the backs of his hands barely touching her skin, he smoothed the shape of her collarbones, then retraced them with the sensitive pads of his fingertips. The calluses from hours spent playing the piano added another sensual layer to the rippling sensation that was fanning outward, running though her veins like blood.
Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on-going love affairs that shape much of what I write. In the past half dozen years, I’ve released books in all lengths and genres, and it’s something I hope to continue to do for many more years. A visit to my website will show the diversity of what is currently available, as well as all my social site links, etc.
You can find Denyse, her works, her blog, and social media at her WEBSITE
Want to read more of Within the Mist? Of course you do...then go to
ARe Romance Amazon Smashwords
The misty evening air of a Winter in Venice cloaks many things…. Some who are passionate lovers hoping for stolen moments….. others who are merely the cutthroats and thieves that plague any city filled with the wealth of visitors and citizens of palaces….. But what else lies hidden within the mist? The voice of an angel lures…. each perfect note beckons and promises untold pleasures…. until, finally, a broken heart succumbs to desire…. and Fate weaves a new thread into the tapestry that is the mystery of life itself….
Inspired by the music of Riccardo Foresi, the photography of Vincenzo Chiofalo, and the eternal lure of Gaston LeRoux’s The Phantom of the Opera… discover what waits Within The Mist…
Excerpt:
He continued to sing, the lyrical, lilting Italian words caressing her spirit and pulling her closer to him. When she finally stepped into the chamber where he was, she stared in wonder. The room was lit with what appeared to be a thousand candles, their soft glow reflecting off the polished wooden floor and throwing frenetic shadows everywhere. Seated at the piano was a slender man, dressed all in black. His hair was dark, and the hands that whispered over the keys of the instrument were long-fingered and elegant. Hands shaped for making love in any form he chose.
He played the last notes of the mesmerizing song and slowly turned to look at her. His dark eyes glittered, flames dancing wildly in their ebony depths, and he held out his hand to draw her forward. She went to him and dropped to her knees, head bowed, tears streaking her face as she let the hood of her cape fall to hide her shame.
“You came to end my life. Why?”
“I cannot bear the pain of not knowing you.”
“But you do know me. I am part of you.”
“You are madness!” She retorted with real anger surging into her being, giving her strength and making her look up at him. “You have taken everything!”
“I took nothing,” he admonished with gentle warmth. “I am part of you.”
He smiled. She felt the kiss of his indulgence touch her heart.
“You created me,” he murmured. “The night he died, you gave me life.”
She was confused, and the room was suddenly growing colder with each beat of her heart. “Why did you let me find you?”
He tilted his head to one side and considered her question. “Perhaps because it is time for me to return the gift of life to you, tesoro mio?”
“You can’t,” she whispered, the quiet words shaken and harsh. “There is no life for me now.”
“There is always life in death, amore,” he murmured as he leaned closer and pried the blade from her hand beneath the heavy cloak. “Let me show you forever.”
She gasped in fright and pain as he slashed the dagger’s edge across her palm and brought the bleeding hand to his mouth. When his tongue played over her flesh she felt the mists of the night invade her brain, and blackness reached out to pull her into a chasm that exploded into fire racing along her veins… As the world changed around her and within her, she heard his sweet voice whispering to her…
There is always life in death, amore mio… when I am death… come with me, share our journey…
“Yes…”
She heard the word, distant, torn from her soul purely by the power and depth of her need to know him, to know all of him, at whatever price he asked. The ache in her body pulled at her, made her feel light and heavy with conflicting desires.
The dagger flashed again, slowly, gently slicing through the tie that held her cape together at her throat. It slid away and he smiled with satisfaction when he saw the crimson silk she wore, a simple dress that wrapped around her like the arms of a lover… She had been wearing this pretty gown the night they’d first seen each other, choosing it had seem right somehow.
The gleaming stiletto blade moved once more, and candlelight flickered against the shining silver as he delicately cut the tie that held the dress up. He set the knife on the piano and with the backs of his hands barely touching her skin, he smoothed the shape of her collarbones, then retraced them with the sensitive pads of his fingertips. The calluses from hours spent playing the piano added another sensual layer to the rippling sensation that was fanning outward, running though her veins like blood.
You can find Denyse, her works, her blog, and social media at her WEBSITE
Want to read more of Within the Mist? Of course you do...then go to
ARe Romance Amazon Smashwords
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Tuesday Teaser: Lightson Dynasty by Rhiannon Wellman, a historical m/m romance
Jo has always been what
he is and never what he seems. Will his grandmother force him to live a life he
doesn't want, or can he figure a way out?
Jo's life had
never been simple. But since he moved in with his grandmother, things only
became worse. First, she assumes that Jo stood for Josephine not Joseph. Then
she believes all young women should be suitably married, especially her
granddaughter, Jo.
So now Jo's
expected to marry a man he's never met and whose own grandmother also wants the
match. But how can he when he must protect his secret?
Marcus would
rather spend time with his books and the gentlemen at his club than women, let
alone marry one.
With both their
grandmothers working against them, will they be able to find their way out of
this potentially scandalous situation? After spending time together, will they
want to?
Excerpt:
Jo couldn't help but laugh out
loud at that statement. "I will bet you any amount of money you care to
name that you will never meet a girl like me again." Jo moved well back
from the edge of the cliff and opened the basket to retrieve the blanket that
lay across the top of the food. Marcus helped Jo to set out the food, and they
sat down.
"How did your grandmother
convince you to come, if you do not mind me asking?" Jo asked.
"She did what every mother
and grandmother does when she wants a male of her acquaintance to do something
he might not want to do. She threatened me. She told me that if I did not
comply, then I would be cut off and disowned."
"That seems rather extreme."
"My grandmother wishes to
see me settled down before she dies. And my mother, well..." Marcus
paused, staring down at his food and avoiding eye contact.
"I know we just met, but I
promise you nothing you say to me will go any further than the two of us. My
grandmother, after all, is doing the exact same thing to me."
Marcus nodded. "I suppose we
are somewhat in the same boat, as it were. Very well, my mother is too
frightened of my grandmother to dare oppose her on anything. She is my father's
mother, and very used to getting her own way. She also has the type of mind
that once 'tis made up, there is no changing it."
Jo nodded. "Grandmother is
just the same, but I have no mother and father any longer whom I could turn to.
I shall have to put up with it. I must confess, I fully intended to make myself
as unpleasant as possible for the duration of your stay to insure that you
wouldn't even think of making me an offer."
Marcus laughed good naturedly.
"I planned to be as boorish as I could manage, so you wouldn't accept when
I did. Ye gads, we are a pair, aren’t we."
"What are we going to do
now? You have to ask, and I have to say yes."
Jo couldn't help but feel
downcast as this all became extremely overwhelming. He just did not know what
he could do now.
"I do not know. If they were
not such close friends, I would suggest we lie. You could say I never asked,
and I could say that you refused me."
Jo huffed a laugh. "A good
suggestion, but it would not work. I never expected to marry. My mother used to
tell me that one day, I would find someone I wished to spend my life with, and
she and my father would be happy for me no matter who the person was. But now
they are gone. All Grandmother cares about is that I marry someone
suitable."
"Why would you not marry?
You are a beautiful woman; gentlemen must have made you offers before,"
Marcus asked as if genuinely surprised that Jo thought so lowly of himself.
"We better get back to the
house. You'll want to settle in and get ready for dinner," Jo said,
getting up and artfully avoiding the question.
"Yes, you are quite right.
It would be most rude of me to delay you any further."
Jo couldn't help but smile.
"I doubt the staff expected me back in time for dinner tonight. That is
why they gave me the packed meal."
"Planning to avoid my
arrival?" Marcus asked with a wry smile.
WANT TO READ MORE?
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00RCAUPN8
About the Author:
Rhiannon has been
making up stories as long as she can remember, admittedly they had less sex in them
back then. She never goes anywhere without a pen and notebook, and has often
been known to
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Rhiannon's
approach to writing, and life, is best described by the following conversation
with her very understanding, and often bemused husband.
"You got bit
by the plot bunny again didn't you?"
"Um
maybe"
"Small bunny
or big one?"
"It was a
tiger in a cunning disguise."
When she's not
writing she has a full-time job and a family who she loves very much, she's
very grateful for all the wonderful things in her life and hopes to keep
writing for a long time. Working on her books is Rhiannon's escape, she can
lose herself in different worlds and situations, if for no other reason than
that she will write for as long as she is able to hold a pen and paper and type
on her ever present laptop.
As Rhiannon likes
to talk quite a lot she set up a page on face book where people can come and
get information as it happens. She will respond to all messages sent to her,
currently the page only has a little over 100 likes, but considering the short
time she has had the page Rhiannon is thrilled with the response she's gotten.
She also has a
blog, that’s updated as often as she can think of witty and interesting things
to say, which is never as often as she'd like.
Rhiannon also has
an account on Goodreads
Lightson Dynasty
is published by Three Worlds Press. For more information on this book or their
other works please visit: Three
Worlds Press.
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