#NewRelease! Rorik by @m_morganauthor #Medieval #Scotland #ClanoftheSutherlandWolves

I am thrilled to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press author, Mary Morgan to my blog today! She is a wonderful writer and has a new release to tell you about.

Hello, Jan! I’m delighted to be visiting your lovely blog today and talking about my new release, Rorik, The Wolves of Clan Sutherland, Book 2. Let me share a wee bit of my journey to Orkney and Scotland which helped to inspire this series.

During our trip, several years ago to Northern Scotland and the Orkney Islands, my husband and I were fortunate to have a personal guide escort us. David Ladd was exceptional in his knowledge—from referencing the names of flowers in the most obscure places to the wildlife and history, especially during our travels on Orkney. He took us on an amazing adventure, oftentimes off the well-worn path, revealing spectacular vistas. I shall always treasure our time with him and for allowing me to crawl into the Tomb of the Eagles in South Ronaldsay, Orkney. For a few hazarding moments, I worried David and my husband when I had trouble getting out of the small tomb. Was I worried? No.

Before I entered, rain and wind pelted us on our mile walk up the hill. Once I crawled inside the small tomb, I stood and encountered utter silence—no howling wind and no rain leaked through the crevices of stone. It was as if I entered another time and place—literally. Here were my immediate reactions within this cairn: Peace. Stillness. I am not alone.

Let me explain further about the Tomb of Eagles…

Located above the dramatic South Ronaldsay cliffs, the Isbister Chambered Cairn—better known today as the ‘Tomb of the Eagles’—is one of Orkney’s top archaeological sites. Discovered by a local farmer Ronnie Simison in the 1950s, the Stone Age tomb revealed an amazing collection of bones and artifacts, placed here some 5,000 years ago. Among the human bones, there were many talons and bones of the white-tailed eagle.

The Tomb of Eagles played an important part in the book. I took my experience and wove it into the story and through the first book, Magnar.

For Rorik’s story, I brought the Seer of the Orkneyjar Isles (Orkney) to Scotland. Not only was Ragna a seer, but also a Völva—a wise woman. Seers held high status in Viking society. They were treated with great respect when they came to help a household or settlement in distress. Even the God Odin consulted the seers.

In my story, Ragna converses with the Goddess and has the ability to connect with the birds and animals. With her magical powers, she can become one with them. Then I had to consider the landscape in Northern Scotland which was vastly different than the Orkneyjar Isles.  

Here are Ragna’s first impressions as she steps onto Scottish soil…

Her body trembled. How Ragna loathed traveling across the wide-open water. She glanced to her left at the towering cliffs of dark stone. The waves crashed behind her, and she resumed her progress slowly.

Bending down, she dug two fingers deep within the gritty shore. Coldness seeped into her skin as she tried to get a sense of this country. Others whispered to her from the land—ancient and unfamiliar. Wild and strange this Scotland. Never had Ragna considered leaving the Orkneyjar Isles.

Until recently.

To this day, I continue to process all my emotions and experiences from my travels to Northern Scotland and the Orkney Islands. The land continually calls me to return home.  


Blurb:
The Dark Seducer is known throughout Scotland as a man who charms many women into his bed. Pleasure is his motto as he obtains information for his king. Yet Rorik MacNeil harbors one secret buried beneath his heart of steel. An unfulfilled conquest plagues both man and his inner wolf, and Rorik would rather suffer death’s sharp blade than confront his greatest fear.
 
As the Seer for the Orkneyjar Isles, Ragna Maddadsson confronts an unknown destiny when she travels across the North Sea to Scotland. In her quest to deliver a message from a powerful vision, she fears the warrior will not listen. If Rorik ignores her warning, Ragna must find a way to forestall his impending death. If unsuccessful, she risks having her heart cleaved in two. 
 
To unravel their true fates, Rorik and Ragna must trust in the power of the wolf.  

Excerpt:
 
If he could, Rorik would remain on this boulder by the river for the duration of the evening and into night. His stomach growled in protest, and he realized he had little food this day. He reached for his aleskin and took a sip.
 
Even the thought of entertaining Hallgerd left a hollow ache within. “For all I ken you might have the face of a goat.”
 
Rorik sensed the intruder’s approach behind him before the first footstep sounded. He lifted his left hand and rested it on the hilt of his sword by his side.
 
“I happen to cherish the faces of my goats, though they are stubborn creatures.”
 
The ale soured in his gut. “Seer.” He released his hand from his sword and continued to stare outward.
 
When silence greeted him, he dared to glance over his shoulder. Wariness from her all-knowing eyes reflected at Rorik, not the bitter coldness she often imparted to him. “Why have you come?”
 
Ragna lifted her chin. “I have a message you must hear fully.”
 
Shrugging, Rorik resumed his gaze outward. “Then speak your words.”
 
Again, the woman remained silent. Rorik pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
 
“Do you not deem it best to put on your tunic?” she suggested, stepping closer and brushing the garment against his arm.
 
Slowly, Rorik lifted his head to look at her. Even her words sounded different. They were almost a plea, not filled with terse venom. A rosy stain had blossomed on her ivory cheeks, and her breathing appeared labored. He pondered two things—either his naked form disgusted her or perchance appealed to her. Surely, she despises me, nothing more.
 
The barb he wanted to fling out at her became trapped on his tongue. He guzzled deeply from the aleskin. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he dropped the empty skin next to his sword and swiftly got off the boulder.
 
Ragna gasped and clutched his tunic to her breasts. Yet she did not avert her eyes.
 
He dared to move toward her.
 
Her eyes widened and she stumbled back, dropping his tunic.
 
Rorik reached out and grabbed her hand, preventing her from falling. The contact of her skin against his sent a tremor of warmth up his arm. This time, his breathing became labored while he stared into her gray eyes. He found no hatred there—only beauty within their depths. His gaze traveled down to her full red lips, partially open and begging to be kissed.

Buy Links:
 
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B093Y2FG9K/
 
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Rorik-Wolves-Clan-Sutherland-Book-ebook/dp/B093Y2FG9K/
 
Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Rorik-Wolves-Clan-Sutherland-Book-ebook/dp/B093Y2FG9K/
 
Amazon: AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Rorik-Wolves-Clan-Sutherland-Book-ebook/dp/B093Y2FG9K/
 
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rorik-mary-morgan/1139405450
 
Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/rorik/id1566954806
 
 
Author, Mary Morgan

About Mary Morgan

Award-winning Celtic paranormal and fantasy romance author, Mary Morgan resides in Northern California with her own knight in shining armor. However, during her travels to Scotland, England, and Ireland, she left a part of her soul in one of these countries and vows to return.

 
Mary’s passion for books started at an early age along with an overactive imagination. Inspired by her love for history and ancient Celtic mythology, her tales are filled with powerful warriors, brave women, magic, and romance. It wasn’t until the closure of Borders Books where Mary worked that she found her true calling by writing romance. Now, the worlds she created in her mind are coming to life within her stories.

If you enjoy history, tortured heroes, and a wee bit of magic, then time-travel within the pages of her books.

Connect with Mary at these places:

Website/Blog:  https://www.marymorganauthor.com/

Amazon Author:  http://www.amazon.com/Mary-Morgan/e/B00KPE3NWI/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MaryMorganAuthor/

Twitter:  http://twitter.com/m_morganauthor

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8271002.Mary_Morgan

Pinterest:  www.pinterest.com/marymorgan50/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/marymorgan2/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/mary-morgan

Audible: https://www.audible.com/author/Mary-Morgan/B00KPE3NWI

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/mary-morgan-2634a77a/

Guest Post – Author, Tina Frisco

Meet my guest today, Author, Tina Frisco. tina-4a

She has a brand new book release and I am happy to share it here.

Thank you for inviting me to be a guest on your blog, Jan. I appreciate this opportunity to talk about my new book, Vampyrie: Origin of the Vampire.

Vampyrie is not your typical vampire novel. It’s based in science and brings the myth of the vampire into the realm of possibility. Although the book is not part of a series, two primary characters from my first novel, Plateau, play major roles.

One day during my morning walk, the word Valkyrie came to mind. As you may know, a valkyrie is one of a host of female helping spirits of the god Odin in Norse mythology. Depicted as both loving and bloodthirsty, valkyries decide who lives and who dies in battle. They also assist Odin in transporting his favorites among the slain to Valhalla, the hall where he houses the dead whom he deems worthy of dwelling with him. In my novel, Valkyrie becomes Vampyrie and Valhalla becomes the Haven.

I always have been fascinated by the myth of the vampire and often have wondered if the phenomenon actually could exist. My background in medicine led me to speculate about how this might have a basis in reality. If rooted in science, how might this myth come to life? The most likely answer would be as a physical disorder or disease.

As I began writing, the story began unfolding. What if vampires were not the undead, but rather the dying? What if there were two factions among vampires: the sustained and the unsustainable? And what if those factions were at war with one another over the life of a young woman who promised them a future?

vampyrie_cover_for_kindle

Vampyrie brings the myth of the vampire into the realm of possibility.

My protagonist, Phoebe Angelina Delaney, is a reluctant genius and a compassionate hothead. She loves deeply, agers quickly, often acts before she thinks, and curses with abandon.

She finds herself in a pitch-dark underground and doesn’t remember how she got there. Did she drink too much alcohol and wander off in a stupor, or was she kidnapped by a malicious element determined to make her life a living hell? Sir Michael Alan David is a vampire – an enigma, charismatic and mysterious, who weaves in and out of Phoebe’s life. Does he intend to use his title as a ruse to draw her closer to an unearthly fate, or is he a cloak-and-dagger knight in shining armor? Too many secrets have been kept for too long. Phoebe must unravel the mystery in order to survive.

EXCERPT:

“Where in the blazes am I?” Phoebe mumbled under her breath, afraid someone might be listening. “And how in the world did I get here?”

She crept along the cold stone wall, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. The last thing she remembered was saying goodnight to Lunah outside the club. Her head was splitting.  The pain dulled her normally sharp mind. Dazed and confused, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled in pitch-black darkness.

Shivering in the damp cold, she waved her hand in front of her eyes but couldn’t see a thing. She felt drugged, hung over, and everything in her wanted to lie down. Fear growled in her belly, threatening to explode into unbridled terror. But Phoebe wasn’t the type to cave in the face of danger. If she were ever again to see the light of day, she knew she had to pick up the pace.

“Get up, you fool!” she whispered emphatically. “You’ve no idea what might be lurking in this damned snake pit.”

She tried to ignore the throbbing in her head. She tried to shrug off feeling she was captive in the lair of some hungry beast. She forced herself to stand, despite feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Guiding herself with one hand pressed against the wall, she walked slowly and paid close attention to every step. She didn’t want to make a sound.

Just when she started to rebound, something damp prickled her fingers from between the stones.

“Damn!” Startled by the sound of her own voice, she cupped her hand over her mouth as she lurched backward. The jolt cleared her mind. She was in a cave or underground tunnel.

“I’ve got to find a way out of this hellhole!” she murmured, too frazzled to whisper. She couldn’t help giving voice to the menacing panic . . .

She forced herself to keep going, in a futile attempt to keep the phobia at bay. But it resolved to have her in its greedy clutches. Barely able to breathe, her mind flooded with profanities, and escalating terror insisted on having a voice.

“Dammit!” squeezed its way out as she panted and broke into a sweat.

She couldn’t help repeating the obscenity until it echoed down the corridor, eerily and with telltale foreboding . . .

Her head was pounding. She felt as if she were spinning round and round on some horrific amusement park ride. Yet she knew she hadn’t drunk enough alcohol to cause such nauseating vertigo. She lost her balance and fell back against the wall, gasping for air and fighting to stay conscious. Her body slid down until she sat with her hands braced flat on the ground. The feel of the cold stone against her skin helped her catch her breath.

“Snap out of it, Pheebs; you’re stronger than this,” she whispered, mindful the darkness might be concealing something deadly. She repeated the reproach until she finally heard herself.

When the panic lifted, she grasped the flashlight with her teeth, leaned back against the wall, and slowly pushed her body upward until she stood. Although trembling and lightheaded, she managed to maintain her balance.

She brushed her hands together to remove the grit, but instead of falling to the ground, it rolled across her wet palms and stuck to her fingers. Aiming the flashlight downward, she saw something red covering her hands. Frantic to get rid of the nasty stuff, she rubbed her palms across the wall until they were chafed. But the red slime seemed to penetrate her skin. When she realized what it was, a sickening horror struck and dared her to regain composure.

“Oh my god, it’s blood!”

Shrieking, the flashlight dropped from between her lips and broke as it hit the ground. But Phoebe was too spent and disoriented to notice.

EDITORIAL REVIEW

I was hooked from the first paragraph. Phoebe has an indomitable spirit. I was rooting for her throughout her quest and her ordeals. As the tension built, I found myself riveted to the page . . . and then the next page and the next. I read this book in two days. I could barely put it down when outside forces demanded my attention. There is also an underlying metaphysical angle to the narrative that only enhanced the pleasure I experienced while reading this wonderful, wonderful story. —Andrew Joyce, Author of Yellow Hair and Redemption: The Further Adventures of Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer

Pick up a copy of Vampyrie today!

Follow Tina: TWITTER             FACEBOOK            BLOG/WEBSITE