Book Updates, Silverdawn

Silverdawn – Julie A. D’arcy #UrbanFantasy #romance #fantasy

Silverdawn350Silverdawn, daughter of Mikkasah, born to the magick.

Mikkasah, King of Rastehm is forced to send his only child into the unknown future of the 20th century Australia, where she grows to maturity and moves to London with her adopted parents. She has no knowledge of her origins nor that she holds the key to the safety or destruction of both her new world and her old, until one night, she is stalked by a lion and a griffin, and cast into an adventure that will change her life.

A dark knight becomes her saviour.

Faren Malaan, Knight of Paladia, is sent forward in time to track and retrieve the Crystal Pyramid. The king’s astronomers have learned that the pyramid, which shifts through the portals of time, is cracked. And, if not restored, the sorcerer, Isanti’s demons will escape.

Through sheer luck, Istani was not imprisoned by the Goddess, when she created the Pyramid to banish him and his demons.

Istani travels through time, taking over the bodies of innocents, then casting them aside.

But this time he is trapped in the sickly weak body of Peter Waymer. His only escape from the cancer eating away at him is to find the Pyramid, release his demons and have them in turn heal him. With one thought in mind after his escape, to wreak destruction upon mankind.

Celtic Mythology, Dark Urban Fantasy, Time Travel, Lust and Romance!  

The fate of two worlds rests in the hands of a banished Princess of Rastehm and a Knight of Paladia who is battling his own personal demons.

They must join forces with three friends they meet along their way to restore the Crystal Pyramid to Deharna, and battle the tormented mind of Iraj who will stop at nothing to gain his prize.

‘SILVERDAWN’

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EXCERPT

He was waiting. Leaning against the outside wall by the door, he loomed large, dark and dangerous. Still dressed in black, he had added a leather coat in the same shade that belted at the waist and fell below his knees to meet his ebony boots. All this Silverdawn noted at a glance before she passed him by.

It was late. She had not really expected him to be there. In fact, she had deliberately stayed late in order to avoid him. He straightened and fell into step beside her.

Silverdawn had not shared company with a male since high school. Those embarrassing attempts at fumbled passion by the captain of the hockey team, and his rumor spreading the next day, were enough to cure her of men for a very long time. She felt uncomfortable in their presence.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, descending the marble stairs.

“But I do,” he returned, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

“It’s cold, it’s late and I wouldn’t think any less of you if you were to leave now.”

“But I would.”

They crossed the road toward the darkened park in silence. Chills feathered up Silverdawn’s spine and prickled her scalp, but her gaze never left the darkness beyond the gates. The grounds seemed even blacker than the night before—more intimidating, as though whispering her name. She stepped up onto the curb and hesitated.

“Is there a problem?”

Silverdawn flinched at Faren’s words. Despite the cold, perspiration beading her forehead, small rivulets of sweat ran between her breasts. “No. No, of course not.”

He knew she was afraid, and he knew she knew. She could sense it. She didn’t understand what game he played, but it could not be all bad, since he had rescued her the night before. Hadn’t he?

She raised her chin, stepped through the gate, turned left as always, and screamed as something leaped at her from the bushes. A second piercing scream ripped from her throat as she fought off her attacker. Then she was in Faren’s arms, and he was laughing.

His chest rumbled against her cheek, and the warm deep sound sprinkled the night. With as much dignity as she could muster she pushed away from his arms.

In the light of the streetlamp, she could see that in one hand he held a trembling ball of fluff. A kitten—frightened and shivering. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply to control her shaking then smiled up at him hesitantly. “May I?”

Faren nodded and placed the tiny animal in her hands.

She stroked its small damp head with one finger, realizing as she did so that the kitten was shaking nearly as much as she was. Murmuring soft words of comfort, she attempted to tuck the kitten down the neck of her coat, but her hands were cold and stiff and the kitten refused to cooperate.

Faren, seeing her dilemma, moved to help.

Silverdawn glanced up, and their gazes met in the dim light. The clouds parted, and the moon shone down, revealing his solemn, handsome face. Their bodies were but a whisper apart. He lowered his head. She could detect the sparkle of his eyes. His aura wrapped itself around her body and cocooned her in the knowledge that this man was safe, dependable.

She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips and had the distinct impression he was going to kiss her. It was strange; she had known him for no more than a day, yet she wanted his kiss more than she had wanted anything in a long time. She closed her eyes and waited. She yearned to lean into him, wrap herself around him, and just for a moment allow herself this one small measure of comfort. She felt his hands closing over hers, and her eyes sprang open.

“The kitten, ma belle. It is cold and frightened. Perhaps we should see to its comfort.” He guided the kitten into the lapel of her jacket. His large, warm hands closed over hers for a fraction more than necessary. Then he released her and stepped away.

‘SILVERDAWN’

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Book Updates, Elven Magick, The Tarlisian Sagas

ELVEN MAGICK – Julie A. D’Arcy #FantasyRomance #fantasy #romance

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It has been twenty-one years since the Dragon King defeated the Dark Priest Narokah and condemned him to the Fiery Abyss.

The legendary Sword of Niraz has been stolen!

The elf, Vellandril Ballindoch, sets forth on a quest to find the sword.  Along the way he must confront his painful past including the woman he betrayed, but still loves, and the son he never knew existed.

Her duty to the king!

After forsaking her past and gaining the title of First Knight to the Dragon King, Johden de Danann is forced to undertake a quest with a man she swore never to forgive, but never stopped loving.

Treachery, betrayal, adventure and action, a magickal world of elves and romance combine to bring forth the exciting conclusion to a tale that began with The Dragon and the Rose and finishes with happily ever after—for some.

 

“ELVEN MAGICK”

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EXCERPT

 

Clouds fashioned a misty veil around the branches of the Machoann trees, embracing the Elven village of Tarlis-Leah. A lone figure, hooded and robed in gray, to blend with moonlight and shadow, stole across the darkened bedchamber.

Guided by a stunted candle, flickering fitfully on a small bedside table, the thief knelt at the end of the bed, pulled a golden key from her pocket, and fitted it to a lock attached to a carved wooden chest.

The lock clicked ominously into the silence.

The thief tensed and a bead of perspiration trickled down her back.

The occupant of the bed slept on. The sleeping draught she had administered earlier had achieved its desired result.

She lifted the trunk’s heavy lid and again the silence broke.

The thief stilled.

Vellandril Ballindoch groaned, rolled over and mumbled several words, then settled. A sigh slipped between the thief’s lips, and she stroked the handle of the small poniard at her waist. She would not be thwarted in this plan. Revenge was such a sweet word. She could taste it on her lips.

Wrapped in a soft red cloth, buried deep among Vellandril’s clothes, she found that which she sought. Her hands trembled as she claimed her prize. The Sword of Niraz felt light, not at all what she expected from such a large weapon.

Now the elf would pay for all the suffering and lost summers, all the pain and humiliation. Gently, she closed the trunk and crept toward the window where an Elven rope, soft, thin and durable, dangled from a nearby branch. Rewrapping the sword deftly in a dark cloth, she strapped it to her back, stepped into a loop formed in the fine but tough Elven rope, and descended into the darkness of the forest.

 

 

“ELVEN MAGICK”

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Book Updates, Night's Eternal Vow

NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW – Julie A. D’Arcy #ParanormalRomance #romance #vampires

Nights Eternal Vow Full ebookcoverLord Vincent D’Armano, a young nobleman, on leaving his mistress’s house in London one rainy cold night in the 1700’s is set upon by a sensual cunning, vampiress, Epatha, who is searching for a mate.

Many years later, after travelling to America and killing a war chief’s son, Vincent is cursed by a Cheyenne Shaman and has the ability to feel emotion restored. He escapes Epatha’s deadly embrace, although she still tracks him, and re-emerges into society decades later only to meet with the very woman that could destroy him, in more ways than one.

Detective Elara Gale hates Vampires after her childhood boyfriend is murdered and she sees a black cloaked figure fleeing the scene.

So when she discovers the dark stranger she is already more than half in love with is no other than the Vampire she is hunting, her loyalties are torn between her desire for Vincent’s touch and her duty to the law.

Lust, Romance, Magic and Murder combine to make Night’s Eternal Promise fast-paced, mission-oriented and filled with life and death issues. Vincent and Alara after battling Epatha in the present are cast back in time by an unusual hypnotist and an arrest gone wrong, and faced with a struggle to stop the Vampiress from making Vincent a vampire, and to save his mortal soul.

‘NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW’

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EXCERPT

She ordered a margarita and settled back to observe the crowd. Twenties to thirties, they fit the profile of the usual night-clubber in their glitzy body hugging clothes.

All except him.

He was dressed totally in black. Boots, long leather coat, open and pushed back to reveal a black shirt and dark pants. Hair, raven black, and short, and she knew he was looking.

It was not conceit, or in any way related to the fact she thought herself attractive to men. If anything, she was too wiry and her chest too flat. It was the strange tingly feeling that persisted in the pit of her stomach.

She turned her gaze from him and pushed through the noisy crowd to fetch another drink.

“I’ve been watching you all night. Wanna dance?” A lanky well-oiled male in a bright blue shirt, hip hugging black pants and a multitude of gold chains, blocked her path. She winced as his body odor invaded her nose and throat.

“No thanks, I don’t dance.” She made to step to the side, but his hand clamped down on her arm. “I think you do.” His tone was terse. “I think you would dance real fine with a body like yours.”

“You heard the lady. She does not dance.”

He stood behind her assailant, his hand resting on his shoulder. Alara had never heard a voice like it, rich like caramel, deep as the ocean, and smooth. He was at least a head taller than Mr. Oily, and his eyes peered right into hers, seeking her soul, stroking chords, which had not been touched for a decade. With eyes almost as black as his hair, he made her feel like someone of worth, not just a piece of ass in a tight skirt.

But he was definitely not her type.

Oily man’s face darkened, his mouth opened and he swung to see who had him, but his words caught in his throat and he stumbled over them. “I’m…ah, I’m sorry, buddy. Didn’t realize she was yours.”

“I am certain the lady is her own person, but that gives you no excuse to accost her.”

“No. No, of course not. Sorry.” The man shifted his gaze, and ran a hand over the back of his neck.

“It is not I to whom you should apologize.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled barely audible before making a hasty retreat into the crowd.

“I could have taken care of myself.” Alara raised her chin as her savior studied her. She came barely to his shoulder.

“I am sure you could.”

He turned in the direction of the table he had occupied, and her hand shot out.

“Wait.” She gripped his arm. Hard, muscular, beneath his coat sleeve.

What was she doing? He was not her type at all, but she knew she didn’t want him to leave. Not yet anyway.

“Yes?” He stopped, but didn’t look back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” She cringed. Did she sound desperate? She saw him stiffen. “In thanks for saving me.”

He turned, slowly and her hand fell away. What were those earlier thoughts? That he was not her sort of man. Was she insane? He was every woman’s sort of man. She could feel his body reaching out to her. She had heard of animal magnetism, but… Not even with Ice had she experienced this pull, and she had loved him. Dammit! This was almost palatable, powerful. She had to run. Put one foot in front of the other and turn away. Run now!

“One drink?” She forced a smile. “Just to say thank you.” How weak could one woman be?

His eyes were dark, brooding. Why didn’t he speak? What was he thinking?

“There is no need. I saw you were in trouble. I helped.”

“There is every need.” What was it about this man that kept her talking, saying things she would never say to another? She was forced to work in a male dominated profession, but always she stood on the outside, looking in, never getting close, never wanting to be close. She had loved one man. He had died. Left her — she would not be hurt like that again. She knew she should leave, but… “Please, I insist.”

He frowned and glanced away. She thought for a moment he’d refuse.

“Would you sit with me at my table?” He asked, looking back at her.

Alara swallowed hard, mesmerized by his voice. Deep, soft, yet strangely compelling, as were his eyes. Fathomless black eyes that seemed old beyond their years. Eyes that seemed to look into her and through her at the same time. As they were now.

“I’ll get the drinks,” she said too fast. “You do drink, don’t you? I noticed that there were no empty glasses on your table.” She blushed and glanced into the crowd. Blushed, her, a cop. She could feel the heat still suffusing her cheeks. She had never blushed in her life, and now he would know she had been watching him.

“A red wine will suffice. Do you need help?”

“No…I can manage.” Quickly, before he could change his mind, she pushed through the crowd toward the bar. What a fool he must think her.

Such a naive, inexperienced fool.

She reached the bar and after what seemed forever, finally placed her order. He was sitting in the shadows again. She caught a glimpse of him as she slowly maneuvered her way back through the room, and although the dance floor was packed she did not spill a drop. It was as if she was being lead safely along and no one could touch her. Like a fly to a spider, but the most irksome part of it was, she was walking into a web of her own making.goldlineleaf

‘NIGHT’S ETERNAL VOW’

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Book Updates, Spellbound

Spellbound – Julie A. D’Arcy #UrbanFantasy #fantasy #romance

SPELLBOUND600Failing with his last victim, the Story Mage is desperate to fill his book of tragedy and woe, henceforth begins a tale of lust, revenge…and…love.

Isabella Barton, fleeing from an ex-fiancé after uncovering his ties with the Russian Mafia. After his willingness to bargain her body for business, she finds herself at the childhood home in Rhode Island.

Searching through the aged Victorian mansion, Isabella discovers an ancient book of witchcraft. With nothing to lose, she attempts the spell for “True Love” that insists on flipping open in front of her.

Zachariah, First Sorcerer to the King of Layleah, never expected to be hurtled into the future, ripped from the land of his birth and awaken on a strange beach with a beautiful red-haired, violet-eyed vixen. And, the only thing that can restore Zachariah to his other dimensional world is missing—his amulet.

How can Isabella tell the man she is falling in love with that her existence rests on him loving her in return and choosing to stay, when all he longs for is to find his amulet to return to his home?

Zachariah has a decision to make—stay or leave. He didn’t expect the woman had the ability to ignite a passion he had only ever dreamed of.

Love, lust, revenge, and betrayal follow these two lost souls on a sensual and dangerous journey to discover not just long ago secrets, but their own realities.

‘SPELLBOUND’

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EXCERPT

Isabella stretched lazily and opened one sleepy eye. Rolling onto her elbow, she watched Ivan in the dim light of the bedroom. He stood at the penthouse dresser, straightening his black silk tie. Although he must have heard her wake, he didn’t turn.

“Be ready at six.” His cultured voice broke harshly into the silence. “I’ll have the limo pick you up. We’re dining with Vladimir Chevtsov and his wife at the Tatiana Hotel.” He turned and trailed a knuckle from her throat to the tip of her breast, not even looking at her face, then swung away to scoop up his dove-gray jacket from the end of the queen-sized bed. Bending, he touched his lips in a hard, passionless kiss to hers and withdrew a slim black jewelry case from his inside jacket pocket. Snapping open the lid, he placed the case on the bedside table. A glittering necklace of diamonds lay displayed on royal blue velvet. Isabella had no doubt the stones were real. However, she viewed them dispassionately, their cold beauty another symbol reminding her she belonged to Ivan.

“Wear something sexy. Chevtsov has a passion for redheads and he is an important man.” Ivan threw her a hasty smile that didn’t quite light his steel-colored eyes and crossed the beige carpet. She heard the door close with a soft click and wondered with a sick feeling when it had happened. When had she exchanged her position as Ivan’s fiancée, the woman he loved, for his whore?

Isabella slid from silken sheets and moved to the same mirror, which had moments before held Ivan’s reflection. She was disgusted by what she saw. When had she grown so weak? When had her soul died, and who was this woman who peered back at her with lifeless eyes and the stink of sex on her too-thin body? What happened to the fresh-faced girl from Rhode Island? Ivan Sergeyev, that is what happened—handsome, educated, sweet-talking, and the right-hand man to the Russian Mafia boss in the U.S.

Ivan owned a chain of five star hotels, which he used as a front to launder money for some of the largest crime names in the country. Isabella sighed, running a hand through the dark red hair that spilled down around her face and shoulders, and turned for the en suite. When was enough enough? She wondered. When would she grow a backbone and take back control of her life?

She reached for the faucet. Steaming water hissed from the shower head, slapping at her breasts, stomach and thighs as she stepped into the enclosure. She could have sworn the shower spray rapped out the tattoo, “never, never, never.” Or was it only her tired mind? She clapped her hands to her ears and let her hot tears mingle with the water that spilled down her cheeks.

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 ‘SPELLBOUND’

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