Claudia will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
His Master’s Bride
by Claudia Herring
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Fantasy
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TAGLINE:
A world of
mysterious powers and tumultuous intrigues comes to life in Regency England as
a djinni, burdened with a dark secret, is thrown into a love triangle fraught
with subterfuge.
BLURB:
A troubled djinni seduces his
master’s young wife, forcing her to make a fateful choice.
The djinni Yasir, imprisoned in an
urn by a jealous magician, searches the centuries for his lost love. He finds
Lavinia reborn in 1811 England, only to discover she’s his new master’s bride.
Desperate to have her, Yasir
spell-casts Lavinia’s husband to forget he is master and give her the urn. When
she opens the ancient vessel, Yasir emerges, terrifying in his magnificence yet
somehow familiar, but she fails to recognize him. She distrusts this djinni
even though his very presence enchants her.
Yasir’s spell is fading. Lavinia’s
husband has changed. Now he’s violent as he struggles with returning memories
of when he possessed the urn. Lavinia strives to keep the two from encountering
one another, while torn between fidelity for her husband and her increasing
attraction to the djinni.
Impatient to win Lavinia’s
confidence, Yasir must convince her of her true identity so they can reclaim
their life together. He dare not reveal a deeper reason: Only with Lavinia can
he regain his freedom and exact revenge on the magician who confined him to the
urn—
If she does not go mad from the
spell to awaken her memories.
If her husband does not escape the
djinni’s magic and discover her secret.
If the magician does not find them
first.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT:
Prologue:
I
am Djinn. I am abandoned.
Another
day of countless days. Waiting. A torture, but not the worst I have endured.
The
light of this place sets me on edge. I know not its origin. Where the
brightness falls illumines my carpets, colors rivaling my jewels, the finest
weave of silk from Persian masters, treasures on which to tread. But I would
gladly tread a floor of dirt strewn with rushes if I could be free.
I stretch my arms above my head. My kurta
shimmers around my body, the gossamer silk the hard work of thousands of
industrious and sacred lepidopteran larvae and their keepers. I see the gleam of
silver and gold, the glimmer of gems on my ivory tabletop reflecting the
rubies’ blood red, the emeralds’ echoing green and the ancient amber of the
topaz as if it were a soft, tranquil pond.
I
will be called. I know not when. My impending summons looms over me like the
sword Dionysius hung above Damocles. I pray my next master will be kind, for I
have had enough of cruelty. And if I could have wishes, if I could follow my
heart, I would search for my Thalia.
Meanwhile,
I am here, in Bramley House, for many years now. I sense I am in the East wing,
upstairs, in one of the older bedchambers. Of over a hundred rooms in this
centuries-old manor, this is one rarely used. In here are cast-offs of years
gone by.
Among
the clutter and jumble sits a marble bust of some long-forgotten statesman,
transported to these misty isles to adorn the august Roman villa of one of
England’s early conquerors. A magnificent, life-sized bronze stands by the
window—an Indian god with four arms, dancing, dancing, dancing, a Natraj,
Shiva, who keeps this world, where I am forced to exist, in motion. A few steps
away, above the mahogany escritoire, hangs a drawing, elaborately framed in
burnished gold leaf, the flowing black ink magically coalescing into my lady,
my Lavinia, my Thalia, fixing you in her grave gaze, her somber eyes conveying
the tragedy I made of her life.
And
on the mantel the etched brass urn, securely lidded, where I am prisoner—for
how long I do not know.
I
remember being in this great house, living in its rooms, a real person in a
real place. Happy. Reunited with my beloved, my heart, my Thalia. I remember
sunlight streaming at an angle through the wavy old glass, warming my black
velvet jacket, dust motes floating in the rays like stars within a galaxy. My
hair pulled back in a queue secured with a black velvet ribbon, the style of
the time. I took it all in, my treasures, my manor, my love, my life.
Even
I never realized how quickly it could change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Claudia Herring aspired to
be a baton twirler when she was five and an archaeologist at thirteen. When she
became a graphic designer and an author of fantasy, she decided she'd hit upon
the perfect compromise.
As a designer and
illustrator she formats the written word around visual art. As a writer she
weaves words into stories that form worlds. Her novel, "His Master's
Bride," a historical fantasy with romantic elements set in Regency
England, won first prize in the Houston Writer's Guild Novel Competition. "Ties
of Smoke," next in "The Djinn Chronicles" series, is in its
second draft.
When she's not delving into
the world of the Djinn, Claudia is practicing yoga to go to that hushed space
where she imagines and plots her next fantasy novel.
If you like Diana Gabaldon’s
Outlander series, or Carol Berg, you'll love His Master's Bride.
Links:
Website:
http://www.claudiaherring.com
Blog:
http://www.claudiaherring.com/blog
Twitter: @claudiakherring
Facebook:
http:www.facebook.com/claudia.herring.writer
Amazon author: http://www.amazon.com/author/claudiaherring
The Book is on sale for $0.99 during the
tour.
HIS MASTER’S BRIDE on
amazon: http://tinyurl.com/mg83vjj
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE
Claudia will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a
randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f1554
