Posted by: Author | May 3, 2013

Friday Facts- May 3, 2013- Sirius

I listen to Sirius Radio on my car and on my television when I’m in the house. I love the 60s, 70s and 80s music and there’s a great variety of choices. My favorite DJ is Phlash Phelps. He’s a font of knowledge and as readers of this blog know, trivia and little factoids are my lifesblood. This guy is crackerjack – especially on geography and sports. I love listening to him and I’d love to base a fictional character on him someday.

This brings me to the “fact” of the day which may just be me making up stuff to satisfy myself- I challenge you to find out if this is really true. Sirius is the dog star and Sirius Radio uses a little dog as their logo. He has a star for an eye and of course, it’s satellite radio so I like to think that they did that on purpose and used that pup because of the dog star and orbit and all that jazz.

Sirius was also the name that JK Rowling used for the dog shifter, Sirius Black, in the Harry Potter novels. I’m quite sure she did that on purpose since she named a ton of characters for their Latin, mythological or astrological origins. Think about it- Luna Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Draco Malfoy and it goes on and on…

Posted by: Author | May 1, 2013

Wordless Wednesday

strawberries

Posted by: Author | April 30, 2013

Winner of Beastly Blog Hop

EDITED TO ADD: Been trying to email the winner and the email address comes back as an error. Katsrus- please email me at JillianChantal@gmail.com to get your prize

Congrats to katsrus for winning the copy of Venetian Masks– I used Random.org to select the winner.
I’ll be sending it on a copy of the story to the winner. I hope she enjoys the story. Thanks to everyone for playing along.

Posted by: Author | April 28, 2013

Time Travel/Back to the Future? In a Prius????

I’m guest blogging today with J. Morgan, a friend from Desert Breeze Publishing. The post is super fun because he is. Come by here for some time travel hijinks!

The blog hop for Kerrianne below is still going on so scroll down to check it out as well.

Posted by: Author | April 26, 2013

A Beastly Blog Hop

EDITED TO ADD: Been trying to email the winner and the email address comes back as an error. Katrus- please email me at JillianChantal@gmail.com to get your prize.

My friend Kerrianne Coombes had a cool idea to celebrate the one year birthday of her book with a cool blog hop and contest. All of the participants will have a picture in their post that entrants have to report back to her at Kerrianne@kcoombes.com with for a chance to win the big prize on her blog. Speaking of prizes, I’ll be giving away a copy of my book Venetian Masks to one commenter. Leave me a comment about a beauty or a beast in your own life for a chance to win.

The book we’re celebrating for Kerrianne is her Beauty and the Beast book. She asked us all to use Beauty or Beast or a combination thereof in our posts. My item you have to tell her is on my post is here: apple

My beastly offering for this celebration is my lesson I learned a bit over a year ago when I was completely snowed (and yeah, I know, I know, this isn’t Snow White’s story) by someone who I thought was a beauty. She seemed nice, she was friendly, and yeah, she was attractive. I think that the reason she was able to con me into believing that what I was seeing was the truth was because she was pretty and seemed to really share her thoughts and feelings as a true friend would. Sadly, I found out she was a beast on the inside. She was rigid, harsh and unforgiving. I really am glad her true side came out before I invested much more of my energy and friendship on her. Sadly, I envision a future for her where she will be all alone and wonder what happened to all the people who used to be around. She won’t get it at all that the beast in her lasts much longer than outer beauty does and that she’s pushed all the friends away herself. Makes me sad for her.

Here’s the cute blog banner to help you hop around for chances to win: image_1366230314784669

Posted by: Author | April 26, 2013

Friday Facts- April 25, 2013- Bas Bleu

This week I placed an order from one of my favorite catalogs. It’s called Bas Bleu which means blue stocking in French. So I thought I share with you all a bit of the history of the term.

Women who were tired of merely being decorative and doing embroidery and other feminine tasks were called bluestockings early on in history. In the 1500s, in France, women with literary aspirations were called this as they seemed to wear coarser stockings than the fine ladies in the salons.

By the 1700s, these kind of women in England had started meeting with men to discuss politics, literature, books, architecture and other daily news. They actually formed societies and called them bluestocking societies. The women dressed in their casual clothes as opposed to the clothes they wore when out at balls and dances. They wore dark blue worsted as opposed to silk stockings.

As time went on, the term’s connotation wasn’t positive and some men like Lord Byron weren’t impressed with these type women. I say a pox on him. I like to think I’d have been a bluestocking back then since I’ve always been enamored of learning of any kind.

Posted by: Author | April 25, 2013

Special Guest AND Warning!!!

JILLIAN: My friend Shay Lacy has a new release with Ellora’s Cave tomorrow and the cover is WAAAY too hot for words. Please, please don’t scroll down if you’re at work, have kids around or are offended by nice male glutes. I’m warning you, I mean it. I passed out when she sent it to me. She wanted me to set it here near the top but I made an executive decision to move it down further. She’s a good egg and I know she’ll forgive me. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s cardiac arrest (psst- you can click the pic to go to the buy link and a BIGGER cover). Take it away, Shay!

SHAY: When a Story Won’t Leave You Alone

A story idea captivated my imagination, so I captured it on paper. Then I filed it away in my filing cabinet with the rest of my short stories. That year, at my annual MVRWA brainstorming weekend, when it was long past midnight, I told the story to one of my friends.
The next year after midnight I told it to that friend plus one. This time I added character voices and acted out some of the story. The next year, I acted the story for everyone present, and it wasn’t even midnight when I shared the story.
It became one of our brainstorming rituals, and the next year my friend suggested I submit the story for publication. When Sacrificed to Ecstasy sold to Ellora’s Cave, the group celebrated. I performed the story for the final time at brainstorming right after it was contracted.

Blurb:

The gods have abandoned the world and their people. It is prophesied that only a virgin’s willing sacrifice can reawaken Vashon, the god of fertility, returning him and his blessings to a suffering world. Rayan, drawn to Vashon’s temple and saved by his priestess, is willing to fulfill the prophecy. Common-born and inexperienced, Rayan fears she won’t be enough to satisfy a god, let alone one whose marble likeness broadcasts virility for the world to see. Determined to save those who have saved her, Rayan is about to discover that an open heart and willing body will reap pleasures that transcend the boundaries between mortal and heavenly.

How about an excerpt:

“Are you alone, child?” There was a note of censure in the priestess voice.
“I was traveling with my betrothed.”
The priestess caught up to Rayan and walked by her side. “My name is Elida. What are you called?”
“Rayan.”
“Meaning dawn of the sun. Where are you from, child?”
“Elderhaven, near the plains. Raiders destroyed it six months ago. My family fled with the few other people who survived. We’ve traveled since then, trying to find a safe place to live.”
“A too familiar tale, unfortunately. If only there was someone to fulfill the gods’ prophecy that could save us.”
The brown lump in the distance distracted Rayan’s attention from asking about the prophecy. Her betrothed, Faram. She waited for a stab of grief, but felt only a faint sadness, mostly for the hopes that died with him, for a purpose to her life, for a home and a man who might love her some day. She’d run farther than she’d imagined. She hadn’t known she had such speed in her. It was amazing what a person could do when they had to.
She’d been desperate to reach the mountain to save her, and in a way it had.
When they reached Faram’s crumpled form she sank to her knees beside him. Death had twisted his facial features from plain to gruesome. Scarlet soaked the tunic on his chest around the ugly hole where he’d been stabbed. He’d tried to protect her, and to some extent had succeeded. At least she could say that about him.
“I’m sorry, child. I know there is little to ease your sorrow over his loss. But you have good memories of him.”
“I only met him three days ago, when he bought me from my family.” Rayan looked up at Elida. She didn’t want the priestess to misunderstand. “I’m not a slave. My family was starving. We had no home, no work, no food. I’m of age to marry and Faram’s wife had died. He needed someone to keep his home while he traveled. I offered myself as his wife for food for my family. It was an honorable trade.”
The priestess nodded. “Many such beginnings become strong marriages. It is a pity, though, that you did not have time to create children together. Although that hope might yet be realized. You had three days, after all.”
Rayan shook her head. “We were not yet married. Faram was taking me to his village temple to be married there. I asked him to wait until after the vows were spoken.”
Elida’s sharpened gaze pierced Rayan. “You are a virgin?”
“Of course.”
Elida shook her head. “There is no ‘of course’ in these violent times. How did you escape unscathed from your village?”
“My parents dressed my younger sister and me as boys. I begged Faram to allow me to continue the charade, but he said I was to be his wife and should dress like it.” She would not lay blame on his dead corpse.
“A virgin.” The priestess spoke in an awed tone. “Do you know Vashon’s prophecy?”
“No. We worshipped the other gods. I need to gather our belongings.”
“Yes. We should be gone from this place as quickly as possible,” the priestess agreed with startling alacrity. “We will take you with us.”
Rayan took a deep breath and dove her hands into the folds of Faram’s clothes. She wouldn’t keep what she found—she’d return it to his family. She owed it to them to report what had happened to him. She wouldn’t impose on them, but maybe they could help her find sanctuary somewhere.
The raiders had managed to steal his money belt before running her down. She’d have to ask the children if they’d found it when they searched the bodies.
She removed Faram’s ring and the few items he carried that the raiders hadn’t had time to steal—his merchant ledger, his metal fire starter, and his leather water bladder. Standing she looked around for her small bundle of clothes and the horse that carried the merchandise Faram peddled. She spotted the clothes a few feet away, but the horse wasn’t within sight in any direction. She remembered hearing it whinny in fright. It was probably halfway to the nearest village by now, if other raiders hadn’t caught it. Faram had been proud of the spirited brown beast. A more placid animal might not have wandered far or bolted. She must not speak ill of Faram now.
The children arrived as she reclaimed her bundle. With a calm moment to study them Rayan saw how poor and ill-fed they were. Their bones showed clearly under their skin. Their dingy gray clothing was stitched and patched to repair tears. She decided not to ask about Faram’s money belt. They needed it more than she did.
The children glanced from Faram’s body to Rayan to Elida. Elida shook her head. “This is Rayan’s betrothed. His belongings are hers.”
Rayan insisted, “It’s all right. Take anything you want. I have what I need.” She tucked Faram’s belongings into hers.
The children looked again to Elida for permission. “Do so, but hurry. We must start back to the village. These raiders might have been part of a larger group.”
As the children knelt beside Faram’s body, the priestess took a protective stance with her staff held ready. She nodded toward the children. “The boy is Barnd, the brown-haired girl Davina and the blonde is Sylvan. Their families thank you for your charity.”
“I hope they will consider it enough for food and lodging for one night.”
“Child, you can afford many years of lodging if you would fulfill Vashon’s prophecy.”
“I own nothing but clothing. Faram’s things are not mine to barter. I am a simple merchant’s daughter with no shop and no merchandise. I have nothing of value to any of the gods, especially the god of fertility. My betrothed is dead and I told you I never lay with him.”
“And that is what you have to offer that is priceless.”
sacrificedtoecstasy_9781419943799_msr

Posted by: Author | April 24, 2013

Wordless Wednesday

photo-25

Posted by: Author | April 23, 2013

Blog Visiting

I’m over at Kathleen Ball’s blog talking about my new release. She’s a great gal and shares two publishers with me. She’s the best. Here’s the link.

Posted by: Author | April 22, 2013

Book Trailer for THE GAMBLER’S DAUGHTER

I made a book trailer for my new release. I’m not sure they are effective as a marketing tool but I have fun making them. Hope you enjoy.

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