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The giveaway contest linked to that guestpost is over and I'm here to announce the name of the winner, of course. But first, the prizes.Teresa suggested that the readers who entered the giveaway could choose which one of her books they wanted as a prize. Here are the 3 items offered (e-book version.
.1. Shadows in A Timeless Myth
The Lindsey Mountain Massacre was the stuff of legend—the spine chilling, wicked-cruel kind of story that evil-humored folk like to share on a dark and moonless night. It held all the makings of a fine and frightful tale, a blustering blizzard of a winter storm, a candlelit, backwoods mansion in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a Christmas Eve celebration in the year of nineteen and one, good folk killed by a vengeful haint... or a rabid bear—depending on who was doing the telling. Truth be told, no one ever really found out exactly what did happen or why, nor even realized just how far from the truth all their old stories fell...'til more than a century later, when folks 'round Lindsey started mysteriously disappearing and dying...and the ancient ones returned.
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The Lindsey Mountain Massacre was the stuff of legend—the spine chilling, wicked-cruel kind of story that evil-humored folk like to share on a dark and moonless night. It held all the makings of a fine and frightful tale, a blustering blizzard of a winter storm, a candlelit, backwoods mansion in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains, a Christmas Eve celebration in the year of nineteen and one, good folk killed by a vengeful haint... or a rabid bear—depending on who was doing the telling. Truth be told, no one ever really found out exactly what did happen or why, nor even realized just how far from the truth all their old stories fell...'til more than a century later, when folks 'round Lindsey started mysteriously disappearing and dying...and the ancient ones returned.
From the nevermore mists, lost among dark realms of nothingness and myriad points of twinkling light, in a place that had never really been before or since, the Fates appeared, and with caprice and whimsy created all that followed as unscripted players on a stage designed for no more mind or purpose than to lessen the burdens that neverending eons of time lay upon the creators themselves.
Vampiri, Sorceri, Faielri, Demorni...four distinct races, each imbued with a different bit of life and gnosis drawn from their creator's very souls—each with a Magick all their own. Each, in turn, allowed to play their own unique roles upon this wondrous stage and reign over all its beasts before fading away into an eternal life within the Paths of Mist. Each leaving the world, with their passing, a little less perfect, a little less Magick, a little dirtier, a little plainer...a little less desirable than before.
This is the tale of three who dared defy the Fates...and the humans who paid the price.
2. A Very Merry Chase
The highwayman was tall, so much so that he had to stoop to see his worthy opponent...even through the coach's open door. He wore a dark cloak topped off with a wide brimmed hat and a black mask, off-setting large gray eyes, which glittered like steel in the moonlight. A sardonic smile played over his generous, well formed lips and highlighted the strength of his jaw.
"Would I be correct in assuming you to be the famous—or shall we say, infamous—Lady Sabrina St. Clair? She, who dazzles the male population of the ton with her beauty only to break their hearts, and who causes the ladies to bristle with envy as dark and as green as her own lovely eyes?"
Her look of disgust elicited a deep laugh that only made her more beautifully angry. The devil took hold of him. He could not resist further goading her. "Before you so rudely interrupted me, My Lady, I do believe we were discussing recompense."
Sabrina grabbed up her reticule which she flung once more into his smirking face. "Take this and be done with it! Aye, and the jewels as well," she said, kicking the heavy case nearer to the door. "Take them all and be done with it. ‘tis a small enough price to pay to be rid of you."
"You offer your jewels most freely, my pet. Could it be that you do not cherish them overmuch—or could it be that you have other jewels upon which you set a higher value?"
“I am most certainly not your pet! And I am indeed most assuredly apologetic, sir, if you are disappointed in my meager supply of jewels." Her carefully articulated words slowly dripped with near deadly venom. "When next we meet, I will contrive to bring a better selection for your procurement."
"Ah, but you mistake my simple words, my p... my lovely Firebrand. Cold hard stones cannot hold a candle to the living, breathing prize I see before me. No...my love, I think I would prefer that which mere coin cannot purchase…a closer look at the emerald of your eyes, the warm luster of your pearly skin, and the touch of your ruby lips—that...that my dear lady would be prize plunder indeed."
He expected genteel fireworks; but received instead a heartfelt shock. His reward was neither ladylike blushes nor even a delicate swoon. Sabrina retaliated with a stinging slap and a veritable tirade of angry rants and furious imprecations.
When her angry diatribe finally wound to a breathless close, he laughed out loud before slowly, exaggeratedly applauding her most unladylike display of temper. "Well done. Well done, indeed, little Firebrand."
Insulted and outraged, she started to speak, but he stopped her with a finger to his well-formed lips and a shake of his head. "Seriously, my dear. Tsk. Tsk. And here I believed myself in the company of a fine lady—showing you all the courtesy due to one of your supposedly elevated station."
"Bloody hell, you did." she replied, attempting to land another stinging slap.
At this point, Lady Bethany, shocked absolutely to the core of her gentle soul, could take no more and swooned dead away.
He pointed this out with no little enjoyment. "Now, my fine lady, look what you've done. You should be ashamed?"
Sabrina, not in the least contrite, began to call down curses on not only the man himself; but on all of his ancestors past and his descendants yet to be born.
"My dear, that really is quite enough. If you persist in acting like a strumpet, then, I fear, as a strumpet you shall be treated."
She gasped aloud and jerked away; but he was lighting fast and inside the coach with one foot even before he finished speaking. He laughed as he swept her firmly into his arms and out into the moonlit night.
And thus begins the chase....
"Would I be correct in assuming you to be the famous—or shall we say, infamous—Lady Sabrina St. Clair? She, who dazzles the male population of the ton with her beauty only to break their hearts, and who causes the ladies to bristle with envy as dark and as green as her own lovely eyes?"
Her look of disgust elicited a deep laugh that only made her more beautifully angry. The devil took hold of him. He could not resist further goading her. "Before you so rudely interrupted me, My Lady, I do believe we were discussing recompense."
Sabrina grabbed up her reticule which she flung once more into his smirking face. "Take this and be done with it! Aye, and the jewels as well," she said, kicking the heavy case nearer to the door. "Take them all and be done with it. ‘tis a small enough price to pay to be rid of you."
"You offer your jewels most freely, my pet. Could it be that you do not cherish them overmuch—or could it be that you have other jewels upon which you set a higher value?"
“I am most certainly not your pet! And I am indeed most assuredly apologetic, sir, if you are disappointed in my meager supply of jewels." Her carefully articulated words slowly dripped with near deadly venom. "When next we meet, I will contrive to bring a better selection for your procurement."
"Ah, but you mistake my simple words, my p... my lovely Firebrand. Cold hard stones cannot hold a candle to the living, breathing prize I see before me. No...my love, I think I would prefer that which mere coin cannot purchase…a closer look at the emerald of your eyes, the warm luster of your pearly skin, and the touch of your ruby lips—that...that my dear lady would be prize plunder indeed."
He expected genteel fireworks; but received instead a heartfelt shock. His reward was neither ladylike blushes nor even a delicate swoon. Sabrina retaliated with a stinging slap and a veritable tirade of angry rants and furious imprecations.
When her angry diatribe finally wound to a breathless close, he laughed out loud before slowly, exaggeratedly applauding her most unladylike display of temper. "Well done. Well done, indeed, little Firebrand."
Insulted and outraged, she started to speak, but he stopped her with a finger to his well-formed lips and a shake of his head. "Seriously, my dear. Tsk. Tsk. And here I believed myself in the company of a fine lady—showing you all the courtesy due to one of your supposedly elevated station."
"Bloody hell, you did." she replied, attempting to land another stinging slap.
At this point, Lady Bethany, shocked absolutely to the core of her gentle soul, could take no more and swooned dead away.
He pointed this out with no little enjoyment. "Now, my fine lady, look what you've done. You should be ashamed?"
Sabrina, not in the least contrite, began to call down curses on not only the man himself; but on all of his ancestors past and his descendants yet to be born.
"My dear, that really is quite enough. If you persist in acting like a strumpet, then, I fear, as a strumpet you shall be treated."
She gasped aloud and jerked away; but he was lighting fast and inside the coach with one foot even before he finished speaking. He laughed as he swept her firmly into his arms and out into the moonlit night.
And thus begins the chase....
3. Jane Austen's The Widow's Tale
The Widow's Tale is one of the first stories written by Jane Austen. Generally considered a juvenile story it was actually written by Jane Austen during her teenage years and is dated as being completed on June 13, 1790.
The Widow's Tale is a parody of the romance novels of Miss Austen's day--a slyly humorous tale filled with outrageous coincidences and youthful follies, somewhat reluctantly related via a series of letters from the widowed, Laura, to the daughter of her oldest friend.
This version is fully illustrated with 27charmingly authentic, period drawings.
The Widow's Tale is a parody of the romance novels of Miss Austen's day--a slyly humorous tale filled with outrageous coincidences and youthful follies, somewhat reluctantly related via a series of letters from the widowed, Laura, to the daughter of her oldest friend.
This version is fully illustrated with 27charmingly authentic, period drawings.
Here we are at last! The name of the winner must be revealed. First of all, which one of the books did she choose? A Very Merry Chase, Teresa Bohannon's Regency novel. And her name, well nickname, is
oloore
Congratulations to the winner and many thanks to Teresa Bohannon for the interview and for the giveaway.
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