Bits 'n Bobs Author Blog
Feasts can do more than satisfy hunger... Indulge your senses in this feast from Ashley York's book, The Saxon Bride. Excerpt: John's breath against Rowena's neck sent a shiver down her spine. Knowing now how easily she could be distracted, she fought to keep her head. Those who'd been waiting for the new lord of the manor acknowledged him with some excitement when he entered, Rowena at his side. John accepted their respectful greetings as if he'd always been such a high ranking lord yet Joan had said he was only a knight. "My lord," a burly man with a ruddy complexion bowed overly long before them, causing his face to turn even redder. "Accept the greetings of a distant friend. I am Mort of Bedgrove near Aylesbury, at your service." "And what would that service be?" John paused beside the extravagantly dressed man. It was not a man Rowena had ever seen before. John's mouth twitched with humor as he seemed to take in all the fine silk, silver bells and feather adornments in one glance. The man bowed again before answering. "My lord…" Stepping closer, the man was a head shorter than John but he managed to look him directly in the face when he answered. "Whatever service that you might need." John's humor fled. Rowena sensed a sudden tension between the two men. Their eyes were locked as if sizing each other up. His arm finally relaxed where her fingers lay lightly atop it. Smiling, he tipped his head in acknowledgment and continued on. Finally reaching the far center wall, John and Rowena took their seats at the long table. It was covered with a clean cloth and adorned with small bunches of the last flowers from the garden. The scene was festive and Rowena's own spirits seemed to lift as well. It was a time to celebrate. The long awaited lord had finally returned. There would be time later to find out what that would mean to her. For her people, it was time for celebration. A time for peace. The meal was eaten with the new apple wine Rowena had chosen. The assortment of breads, meats and pies was plentiful. The mead and cider flowed without restraint. All seemed relaxed, happy even. At the tables grouped with eight and ten people each, there was an easy exchange as they talked amongst themselves and the noise level rose as the amount of drink increased. The Normans, however, sat off by themselves and spoke more quietly. They were soldiers after all. Rowena tried to squelch her uneasiness at this realization. Wondering if John noticed the subdued behavior of his men, she was startled to find his gaze running over her body. Her own breath quickened. It felt as if he were actually touching her. The memory of his touch had left a lasting impression. He wet his lips before taking his goblet to his mouth, opening it right before the cold metal touched his lips. The movement along his throat as he drank mesmerized her. She found herself wanting to put her lips there, to taste him. She looked away. She could never be so bold. Her response to his looks was quite disconcerting. She cleared her throat."How do you find your manor after your long absence, my lord?" John eyebrows shot up. She hadn't meant to find fault...or maybe she did. "I was taken aback to find you do not care for the stores and such. Is there a reason you refuse to act as is your right as my wife?" Her mouth opened slightly at the lie. "My lord, I have been given no such leave. Your king replaced me as chatelaine on his first visit here." John searched her face before correcting her. "Our king." BLURB: Rowena Godwinson, a Saxon princess, refuses to go willingly into a forced marriage to one of King William's most favored knights but her struggle against enemy occupation fades away in the pleasurable arms of her Norman husband. Will he bring her people to their knees in his attempt to please his liege lord? Or can she win him over to the Saxon's side even while one of her own plots to overthrow the bastard king? John of Normandy is a soldier made for battle, ingrained with chivalry and a deep sense of loyalty to his mentor and king. Serving his liege is reward enough. Neither a title nor a child bride will entice him to become an indolent lord. A chance encounter with an alluring beauty, however, releases all his pent up desires and unspoken needs. His young bride has become a passionate woman, tempting him beyond his endurance. Can he win her over before she learns the truth of her father's death? Available in paperback and ecopy: iTunes Amazon BarnesandNoble KOBO
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10/31/2016 0 Comments Medieval Monday with Ashley YorkThis week's spotlight is on Ashley York's novel, The Bruised Thistle. In this excerpt, Seamus rides hard, revenge in his heart. And meets Iseabail's murderer. Seumas kept a fast pace through the night, traveling as if the devil himself were after him. His thoughts were morose, tortured by the screams of people murdered in the dark of night, a young man threatened at sword point to reveal the location of his hidden gold, Giles bending over the young girl. Atrocities no one should ever have witnessed. Atrocities he could not overcome. By day, he rested. The memories made sleep impossible. He ate nothing and drove himself with only one thought in mind—revenge. Iseabail’s murder would be avenged. It was near midnight when he finally saw her home. She was a woman of great wealth, and Seumas understood now why her uncle would have been so relentless in trying to acquire his brother’s estate. The castle walls were well-maintained. He would never be able to gain access. Retreating into the darkness of the woods, he pulled his tartan around him and slid down against a tree, keeping watch. His memories pressed down on him, drowning him with heavy thoughts of his revenge. The man would die slowly, in as much agony as Seumas could inflict upon him. Time became just another element, like the wind and the rain. He had lost all sense of it. Daylight came and went. And he waited. The whinny of his horse woke him instantly. With eyes already adjusted to the dark, he scanned the road. A lone rider traveled toward him from the castle. A hiss escaped Seumas as he saw the way the man was dressed. His opulence was unmistakable. What type of fool travels the roads at night so ripe for robbery? Without a doubt, this pompous arse was Iseabail’s uncle. He stayed hidden beneath the trees as the rider approached. He had worried as he planned out his revenge that he would not recognize their uncle. He almost laughed at the audacity of this man. The whoreson believed he could kill his niece, steal his brother’s lands, and go about his life as if he were a king? Tonight he would find out he was wrong. Seumas stepped out onto the path and waited to be seen. “Hold.” Seumas held up his hand, demanding compliance. “What is the meaning of this?” the man blustered as his horse shifted and turned at Seumas’s sudden appearance. “How dare you travel my roads in the middle of the night?” Seumas bowed in mock respect. “M’lord, I beg yer pardon. Whose lands have I unknowingly trespassed on?” The man tilted his head and squinted. “These are my lands. I am the MacNaughton.” Seumas felt the air leave his lungs, to be replaced by rage. “John MacNaughton?” “No, I am his brother, Henry.” Seumas slowly stepped toward the man, taking the horse’s reins. Henry was clearly not expecting that. “What are you up to?” “I wish to speak to ye, sir, if ye would please dismount. I would have us speak as men.” “What business have I with you, sir?” Henry tried to pull the horse back, away from Seumas, who held tightly and moved closer. “Why would you travel these roads at this time of night?” “I would ask ye the same.” Seumas’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Will ye dismount?” “I will not. Unhand my horse this instant.” Seumas gave a sharp yank and the horse reared away, effectively unseating Henry, who fell to a heap on the ground. Seumas stepped in closer until he towered over him, using his size to intimidate. “Ye will.” He merely observed the man as he worked to right himself. The buffoon struggled with his cloak, mumbling and grunting as he tried to unwrap his large limbs. The horse skidded away from the bumbling oaf. The knife was a surprise. Henry pointed it at Seumas, the blade glistening even in the dark, all pretense of ineptness discarded. He sneered. “What do you want from me? Tell me quick and I may allow you to live.” “Are ye not the brave man?” His sneer slipped, revealing his confusion. “What are you talking about? Get off my land.” Seumas rounded on him, his brows arched high at the absurdity of the answer. “Yer land?” Henry tipped his head as if assessing the true meaning of his obtuse question. Seumas sensed his bravado crumbling. “I heard ye stole it from yer brother,” Seumas continued, standing with his arms akimbo. The man blanched. “Yea, I know quite a lot about ye.” “What do you want with me?” Henry’s voice broke with his fear and his blade shivered in the moonlight. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” “Ah, Henry…” Seumas spoke as if to a child. “Ye were already in a bad way and now ye have made it even worse.” “How so?” he said, his voice now quivering. “Tell me.” Seumas moved in closer. The man’s dagger still trembled in his hand. “Is that the dagger ye used to run yer niece through?” BUY LINKS: Kobo Amazon iTunes B&N Tisa's first glimpse of her new home is overshadowed by the weather. But what does her heart see? EXCERPT: The day Tisa arrived at her new home it was dark and stormy. They’d been keeping ahead of the impending rain the whole day. From the rise overlooking the sea, dark, angry clouds hugged the coastline, making it impossible to see the ocean. The sound of crashing waves pounding along the rocky shore made her stop. Her mount shifted beneath her as if wary as well. Darragh come up alongside and pointed out the little cluster of roundhouses nestled into the valley below. “That is yer new home,” he said. Several small buildings surrounded a larger longhouse in the center. It appeared quite peaceful despite the many barren trees no longer protecting it from the sea breezes. “It looks peaceful.” He snorted beside her. “Dunna be fooled. There is nothing about my father, including his clan, that is peaceful but ye’ve witnessed that yerself.” His father had been relentless in keeping track of their whereabouts. He’d continued to impose on them, making lewd suggestions when they separated from the group at night. Tisa would almost believe she had become dulled by his comments. Almost. “Darragh!” Aodh barked at his son. “See to the ships.” Her husband sighed. “Father, I will see my bride settled before leaving her alone.” Aodh laughed. A cruel laugh. The belittling laugh he often used with his son. “Afraid to leave her unprotected?” Darragh turned to face the man that had come up behind him. “Aye, I will have her well protected before I venture off to see to yer ships.” Aodh smiled at her. “But I’ve been so patient.” “Then be patient about yer ships!” Darragh took the reins of Tisa’s horse and led them both down the graceful hillside ahead of the others. Tisa dared not breathe at this blatant show of disobedience. Once out of earshot, she whispered to her husband. “Darragh, he is still not following.” “I’ve shocked him into immobility.” Blurb: Drogheda, Ireland 1075 The sixth son bears a curse as certain as the seventh son bears a blessing. When Tadhg MacNaughton’s betrothed is ripped from his arms and married to another, he believes the legend is true. Tisa O'Brien's life slams into a downward spiral at the news she is no longer betrothed to the love of her life but to the tanist of a warring, prideful clan with dangerous political aspirations, the Meic Lochlainn. She faces her destiny with all the strength and dignity of her Irish heritage despite dealing with a husband who resents her and meets his needs in the arms of others, fighting off the lustful advances of her father-in-law, Aodh, and longing for the husband of her heart. Tadhg MacNaughton makes a deal with the devil to ensure the survival of his clan as he is commanded to fight for Aodh who envisions himself the new High King of Eire. Up close and personal, Tadhg must witness his true love's marriage and remain silent even as it rips him apart. When a sinister plot to overthrow King William of England led by the exiled Leofrid Godwin and Clan Meic Lochlainn comes to light, Tadhg is faced with saving his clan or endangering his sister and her Norman husband. An Irish beauty and a warrior betrayed, doomed in love from the start or does fate have something else in store for them? Amazon Today we have an excerpt from Ashley York's newest novel, The Seventh Son. Will anyone save Tisa from her fate? Excerpt: What sounded like a bellow of rage brought immediate silence to all in the hall. “Never!” It was her father. She started toward the antechamber where the men had gone but Fergus held her fast. “Ye best not interfere.” The men who had appeared deeply inebriated suddenly sobered, drawing their weapons, clearly unsure of where the danger lay. Doors slammed in the distance. Loud voices came closer. It was the Meic Lochlainn, not her father. Fergus began to draw his sword but he was too late. The huge man closing in on her sank his dagger into the man’s chest without missing a step. The captain dropped to her feet. “We need to see this consummated.” Aodh Meic Lochlainn replaced the bloodied blade and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the stairs. Tisa looked behind her at Fergus, his blood spreading beneath him. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. Her father came out of the anteroom. Darragh stood beside him. “Father?” was all she could get out as she was dragged toward the stairs. The crowd of strange men followed behind. She strained to find her father in the sea of heads but he was lost behind her. “Nae. Stop. Where are ye taking me?” She pulled against the hurtful grip on her arm. Darragh appeared on the other side of her and faced his father. “I will see to this, Father.” “Are ye sure ye’re able to?” His words dripped with derision. Tisa didn’t understand this interplay. “Please,” she said. “My father.” They continued moving to the top of the stairs. “Release my wife!” Darragh’s commanding tone brought a look of surprise from his father. They paused to face each other. His expression of surprise changed to one of respect. Tipping his head, he released his hold and raised his hand, palm out. Tisa rubbed at her arm. “As ye will, my son. See to it then.” His jaw tightened, he moved in close, his eyes widened in warning. “Let. There. Be. No. Doubt!” “None.” BLURB: Drogheda, Ireland 1076 The sixth son bears a curse as certain as the seventh son bears a blessing. When Tadhg MacNaughton’s betrothed is ripped from his arms and married to another, he believes the legend is true. Tisa O'Brien's life slams into a downward spiral at the news she is no longer betrothed to the love of her life but to the tanist of a warring, prideful clan with dangerous political aspirations, the Meic Lochlainn. She faces her destiny with all the strength and dignity of her Irish heritage despite dealing with a husband who resents her, fighting off the lustful advances of her father-in-law, Aodh, and longing for the husband of her heart. Tadhg MacNaughton makes a deal with the devil to ensure the survival of his clan as he is commanded to fight for Aodh who envisions himself the new Brian Boru, High King of Eire. Up close and personal, Tadhg must witness his true love's marriage and remain silent even as it rips him apart. When a sinister plot to over throw King William of England led by the exiled Leofrid Godwin and Clan Meic Lochlainn comes to light, Tadhg is faced with saving his clan or endangering his sister and her Norman husband. An Irish beauty and a warrior betrayed, doomed in love from the start or does fate have something else in store for them? BUY LINK: Amazon This week's Medieval Monday post features the betrayal of family and loss of childhood dreams in Ashley York's newest book, The Seventh Son. Excerpt: "Tisa. Yer betrothal to the MacNaughton has been severed. Ye'll marry into the Meic Lochlainn clan of Inishowen. They'll be here in two days time." The pain in her chest intensified with every word he spoke, like nails hammering into her heart, but her brain refused to understand his meaning beyond his first statement. Your betrothal to the MacNaughton has been severed. Her betrothal to Tadhg? They'd been betrothed forever. They grew up knowing they would one day be wed. Tadhg was all she wanted in a husband. Her father's eyes never wavered from her face. Surely he measured her reaction as if he cared. "Ronan came here to make the agreement on their behalf. He has been a great help to our clan." The kind eyes seemed familiar but no. Those would have been the eyes of her father that loved her. A father that wanted her to be happy. A father that wanted her settled nearby. This? This was a man that cared nothing for her. A man that would rip away her future dreams of happiness. A man that would send her away from him. A man that would give her to strangers. Strangers that saw her as nothing more than...breeding stock. No. She was more than that. She would not stand here and be handed off to a stranger and not even a word of protest. "Why?" Damn her eyes. The tears swelled and her father became a blurry figure. "How?" He looked away. "The MacNaughton broke our agreement." Her jaw dropped. A slap to the face would have hurt less. "No!" "After Moira died, Padraig sent word he would not see his son married to an O'Brien." "And ye did not think to tell me this?" Her head reeled with the implications. "And Moira? Tadhg's mother is dead?" Her breath hitched. Moira had been like a mother to her. "When was she buried? I wish to pay my resp—" "Ye will not! Padraig would not allow us to come. None of us." Her father finally faced her. "We are no longer welcome on his land. He wants nothing to do with us." "Nothing to do with us? They are our kinsmen." "No longer." "Ye canna just let him cut us off like this." "I was given little choice in the matter." "Then go to him! Beg his forgiveness for whatever you have done!" "I have done nothing wrong! 'Twas Padraig's doing. He chose to give me no reason. I will abide by his decree." Tisa's mind struggled to make sense of what her father was saying. There must be something he was not saying. "Why would Padraig treat us like this?" He looked past her. "It matters not. What does matter is that the O'Neill threatens us to the west." "When will Seamus and Ian return?" Her only unwed brothers had been away going on two years now. Her father's eyes rounded in pain. "I dinna wish to upset ye but yer brothers will not be returning. They died in battle against the O'Neill." Tisa cried out. "When?" "We received the news spring last." "Again ye decide to keep this from me? Do ye think I am a child? If that is the way of it, 'tis because my own father kept me from the truths in life, shielding me as if I would break." "Ye brothers went against my wishes. My anger was at them, not ye." "Be angry then. Be sad. Be devastated! But dunna keep me from the truth." "A great loss." Her father closed his eyes against the pain. Her own heart cried out. They were much older than her as were her sisters. The MacNaughton's were closer in age and felt more like family. Brighit was like her own little sister. "I must make decisions that ye may not wish to abide by—but ye will. The O'Neill will not back down. We need an alliance with a strong clan. I need men I can count on, who will fight with me against them." "The MacNau—" "They will not fight for us now. 'Tis not their land that is threatened." He shouted the words, his nostrils flaring. "They have broken our agreement, daughter. We are defenseless. Ronan was good enough to make a new alliance for us." "At what cost to us?" Tisa knew the answer as soon as she asked the question. The way Ronan had looked at her, assessing her worth as a mate. "You will marry their tanist." "So I am to be exchanged for the promise of protection?" "Ye will have a place of prominence in their clan." "I do not care about prominence! I want the life I had always been promised. The life I was raised for." "That life is gone, Tisa. This is the life ye will have." "I do not accept this...betrayal." "Ye have no choice." * * * Available for pre-order with March 30th release only on Amazon BLURB: Drogheda, Ireland 1076 The sixth son bears a curse as certain as the seventh son bears a blessing. When Tadhg MacNaughton’s betrothed is ripped from his arms and married to another, he believes the legend is true. Tisa O'Brien's life slams into a downward spiral at the news she is no longer betrothed to the love of her life but married to the tanist of a warring, prideful clan with dangerous political aspirations—the Meic Lochlainn. She faces her destiny with all the strength and dignity of her Irish heritage despite dealing with a husband who resents her, fighting off the lustful advances of her father-in-law, Aodh, and longing for the husband of her heart. Tadhg MacNaughton makes a deal with the devil to ensure the survival of his clan as he is commanded to fight with Aodh who envisions himself the new Brian Boru, High King of Eire. Up close and personal, Tadhg must witness his true love's marriage and remain silent even as it rips him apart. When a sinister plot to over throw King William of England led by the exiled Leofrid Godwin and Clan Meic Lochlainn comes to light, Tadhg is faced with saving his clan or endangering his sister and her Norman husband. An Irish beauty and a warrior betrayed—doomed in love from the start or does fate have something else in store for them? |
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