Welcome, Cornelia Amiri and the Druid Bride

Cheers everyone, I’m passing (virtual) heather mead around, please grab a goblet and drink down the heady brew as I tell you about my latest release Druid Bride. It is my ninth Celtic/Romance as I love history and have an unquenchable passion for all things Celtic. I believe it began when I saw the Disney movie, The Sword and the Stone at age five. Speaking of movies, Druid Bride is set against the same historical backdrop of 1^st century AD Scotland as the new movie, Centurion. 

Here’s the Blurb for Druid Bride: She carried the seed of rebirth, so what had fallen would rise again. The ghost of her ancestor sent Druidess Tanwen from Britannia to the strange foreign tribe of the Caledonii to wed Brude, son of the chief. But Brude is not about to marry a druidess, even though she has the most beautiful body he’s ever seen. Never mind if his blood boils and he can’t stop thinking of her. He will not wed her. Yet the fate of Caledonia rests in the hands of the Warrior and the Druidess. Will they put their differences aside to fulfill their destiny?

I think the best way to describe a historical time period or events is to just bring the reader into it. Here are some tidbit excerpts and character quotes to take you to the wild world of the Pictish tribes in first century AD, Scotland.

Excerpt:

The tattoos covering his arms and legs were similar to the sacred images engraved on the long stones which stood all over Caledonia. The largest swirl began small and curved into a larger loop, with a little one for wings, and long, thin lines as legs. So his patron goddess was Corra—the crane goddess—which revealed his closeness to the otherworld and his gift of prophecy

2^nd Excerpt:

Together they gulped down the golden mead. Never, not once, did they tear their eyes away from each other.

“As the mead flows through you, let the spirit fill you.”Tanwen walked over to the cauldron and dipped her hand in the dark, gooey, blue dye.

Her finger slinked down his face, streaking both cheeks blue. The woad was warm, her touch hotter. His tinted checks burned. After dipping her hands into the dye again, her ring-bedecked fingers danced over the muscles rippling down his arms, tracing each of his tattoos, following the lines as she painted them blue. He quivered. The gods shielded him through these symbols. The first was a wolf, with an open mouth drawn as a curve. Then the boar with tusk made from a circle, with a line drawn though it and two knots on each end. His flesh tingled as she painted the lines of a swirling snake.

3^rd Excerpt:

There she was, standing on the hill, enveloped in a flowing, speckled, white cloak held with a gold brooch, and wearing gold clasps on her ears and a thick gold torque around her neck. Brude watched as the villagers took the nine sacred woods and built the great fire. He felt like he didn’t know her. He didn’t think of her as Tanwen while watching her there, but simply as a druidess, a human personification of a war goddess. A woman yes, but one who spoke for the gods, and therefore had more power than the mightiest chief of the land. Not the woman he longed for when the Smertae captured her in that botched cattle raid. Not the fiery lady he’d slept with, who filled his dreams.

4^th Excerpt:

Tanwen walked through the wheat field. Half willow tree, half fey was the only description that fit. Tall but lithe, her red hair waving in the wind, streaming down her slender body. Her skin was still pale blue from the woad, giving her the appearance of an enchantress, summoned from the other world to bless the crops. Everyone gazed at her as she walked forward and halted at a stalk. She plucked an ear of wheat and rolled the grain between her finger and thumb as Lossio had done. “It is plump and yielding.” She stared at Brude with an intense gaze that set his insides on fire. “Yes, it is time.”

A cheer went up from everyone, but Brude was captured by her gaze and couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. He wanted to step forward, scoop her up into his arms, and carry her off to his bed. By the gods, the druidess had enchanted him.

He did not say a word to Tanwen, nor she to him, but she turned her head and flipped her red hair across her back as she walked off.

That’s the final excerpt for the day but please enter the Blogging Contest today, just post a comment or question and I'll draw a winner. The prize is an autographed trade size paperback of Druid Bride. So post a question or comment and you could win.

The book trailer is at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWYm04F6_aU

My website is http://www.CelticRomanceQueen.com

My facebook is http://www.facebook.com/CelticRomanceQueen and my twitter is http://twitter.com/CelticRomanzqEn

Welcome, Cornelia Amiri

With Thanksgiving soon upon us, it’s the time to think of thankfulness. I am thankful for my publishers, who have given my books a wonderful home. I am thankful for being able to write my stories and give my heroes and heroines life. I am thankful for the reviewers and fans, who love and support my work, you make it all worth while.

My characters have a lot to be thankful for. In my latest book, Queen of Kings, Macha Mong Ruad is thankful for an elderly woman she meets along the road. The woman gives of the little she has to aid in Macha’s s scheme to stop Dithorba’s sons attempt to steel her crown. Here is an excerpt:

Macha formed a plan in her mind as she coursed past swaying trees, across the green, earthen beauty of Erinn. Yanking the reins, with a “tsk” and a “whoa,” she halted her mount in front of a round, roughly hewn thatched hut. As she eased off her saddle, a shriveled crone greeted her.

“My lady, welcome to my humble house. I have little to spare, yet I freely offer that to you, Queen Macha.” She bowed her gray head.

“My thanks, old mother.” Leaving her mare to graze, Macha followed the hag into the round house. “Do you have any rye dough to spare?”

“Dough? Why yes, I am kneading some to bake a loaf for my meal.”

The old crone took the dough from a kneading trough on a table the size and shape of a stump near the wall and handed her the lump.

“Have you naught else to eat?” She felt a tinge of warmth in her heart for this kind soul, alone and without.

“A bit of watered stew, you are welcome to it.”

“My thanks, old mother, but dough is all I need.” Macha rubbed it into her skin for a peeling effect. The layer of rye dough felt heavy on her face. It made her skin feel tight. As she ran her fingers down her face, the dough skin felt like thin parchment.

“My lady, you look like a leper now.”

“As I wish, I travel in disguise to take my foes by surprise.” Macha cocked her head. “Good crone, can you tell me where the sons of Dithorba are? It is said they camp nearby.”

“My lady, I have heard they are hiding in the woods, that way.” The withered woman pointed out the direction.

Macha hugged the hag. “One such as you, who has had so much toil, deserves an easier time as crone. I leave you this gift for your kindness to me.” She pointed to the black iron pot hanging above the center hearth, a small, shallow pit covered in ash and firewood.

“My cauldron?”

“Yes, I called on Morrigan to bless it, and so she has. Good woman, from this day forth it will never be bare. As soon as you eat from it, the pot shall refill with food again.”

“Bless the dark goddess.” She wrapped her arms around Macha’s neck in a tight hug.

Bidding farewell to the kind hag, she threw back the leather door flap and left the round house.


Later in the story, the elderly widow comes up again, as the hero Nath expresses thankfulness to Macha for helping the old woman. Here’s an excerpt:

“What say you? Nath, you barely know me.”

“I know someone who knows you well. A person who knows your heart.”

“Who do you speak of?”

“You are known far and wide for your beauty, your cunning, your great mind and your wise rule of Emain Macha. But my queen, you are secretive with your heart. However, I met a woman who benefited greatly from it.“

“Who would that be?”

“An old woman in Connacht. She has no one to care for her, yet she never goes hungry. It is what she told me about you that brought me here.”

A tear formed in her eye. “How did you know of her?”

“I rode by one day, near winter, and saw her roof needed thatching. I stopped to fix it. When she offered to share her fare with me, she told me of the magic cauldron—and the even more miraculous queen who gifted her with it.“

“Nath of Connacht, champion to King Nia Mor! You, who slay countless men in the king’s name, stopped and fixed an old woman’s roof before the snows came?”

“My king’s foes are my foes. I will kill an enemy before they kill me. But an old woman alone is no foe of mine.”

“So, you have a soft heart, too.”
“You must swear to tell no one.”

“I will keep your secret if you will keep mine.”

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I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. For more information on my books, please visit MySpace and
Eternal Press

Woo Hoo!

Tomorrow, while I take time off and cry all day because I'm turning 63 (sort of sticks in my throat to even type it), I'm throwing open the doors and welcoming some of my Eternal Press friends.

Since NaNoWriMo is going on, many are busy, trying to meet the required 50,000 words in a month, so I lucked out and snagged a few who aren't. Please come and help me welcome:

Jannine Corti Petska
Clare London
Carol Shenold
Cornelia Amiri
Rhonda Parrish
Rita Karnopp
Janet Elizabeth Jones

This is a wonderful chance to get to know some new authors, read some exciting excerpts, and console me. *lol* I'm only kidding. It's painful to have to admit to being this old, but I'm thankful for every day I can be here to share with you via my posts. Thank you, thank you, thank you to those who stick around and continue to read my blog and support my work. That's more than anyone could wish for on any birthday.