Blog Tour: Midsummer Magick by Laura Navarre (Exclusive Excerpt + Giveaway)

In March, I had the wonderful pleasure of reading and reviewing Laura Navarre's Magick by Moonrise and I am very excited to welcome her to my blog as she tours for the second book of her The Magick Trilogy, Midsummer Magick.

LitConnect is doing something fun for this tour: Laura is revealing an exclusive excerpt that is part of a consecutive block from the book at each stop and I am stop #1!

Make sure to drop by Laura's other stops to get the full preview of this new book from an amazing series. To check out Laura's other stops, click here.

Laura is also giving away digital copies of Midsummer Magick via Rafflecopter. See below.

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About the book --

Genre: Tudor-set Historical Fantasy Romance
Heat: Hot
Publisher: Carina Press
Pub Date: Aug. 12, 2013
Format: Digital and Audio
Length: 99K words

Series: Book Two in the award-winning Magick Trilogy, but it stands alone -- don't need to have read Book One.



Blurb:

When the Angel of Death falls in love with life, will a Tudor princess pay the price?

Tudor England, 1559

The Virgin Queen’s Court whispers about shy scholar Lady Linnet Norwood, who spent a year and a day trapped in the Faerie realm and returned as a ruined woman. Linnet, however, is not yet free of magick. Otherworldly forces plot to use her to incite a bloody uprising that will twist the fates of mortal and Faerie realms alike.

Exiled angel Zamiel wavers on the edge of accepting an offer from his fallen father to become Prince of Hell. Lucifer knows Lady Linnet’s significance, and urges his son to pursue and protect her for sinister ends.

As Linnet flees those who would make her a pawn, Zamiel follows, tempting her trust and her passion. But the more he employs his killing rage on her behalf, the more he dreams of laying it aside in favor of peace.

If the two can find faith together, they might sunder the unholy alliance that threatens the dawn of the Golden Age of England.

Setup:

Lady Linnet Norwood is the whispered scandal of the Tudor court. A mysterious message has summoned her to an abandoned inn, where she hopes to learn the secret that will redeem her.

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With sickening certainty, Linnet realized none of this odd company had come here to aid her. They knew who she was, aye, but cared naught for her desperate quest—save to end it. She’d been a fool indeed.

A heavy footfall sent her spinning away, heart fluttering in panic, barely in time to elude the giant’s grasp.

“Stay away from me!” she cried, vainly scanning closed shutters and high walls. No escape, and no point pretending all was well. “Help!”

“No one will help you, little bird,” the fool sang softly. From his fluttering rags, he produced a hatchet and whirled it in a careless arc. “Come here, little Linnet, and sing your song for me.”

She broke and ran—away from the giant and the giggling fool, deeper into the courtyard, though the place was a deathtrap now. She cast about wildly for a weapon, anything she could use to defend herself.

A barnyard implement lay against the wagon, a rusted pitchfork with broken tines. With both hands, she snatched it up.

The rush of footsteps made her whirl, pitchfork slicing sideways through the air. Effortlessly the fool danced aside, hatchet whistling overhead. She was terrified he’d hurl it at her, frozen with the cold white terror she knew so well. A cloud of memory fogged her mind.

Crouching in the depths of the castle cellar or the spider-infested hayloft while Jasper’s singsong voice taunted her, raged at her, crooned promises that iced her blood ...

She thrust the hateful images aside. The giant came at her in a lurching run. Viciously she swung her pitchfork in a wide arc, holding both men at bay.

“Sweet Jesus, why are ye doing this? Is it my purse ye’re wanting? Or these bloody gold sleeves?” But she knew it wasn’t. She raised her voice to the uncaring heavens. “Someone help me!”

“No one will come, little bird,” the fool whispered.

Aye, she knew it. No one ever came. Nor would help come today, with the entire city following the twin lure of free wine and the spectacle of their fetching new Queen.

With a despairing cry she fled deeper into the trap, dragging heavy skirts and petticoats around her knees, the wire cage of her farthingale swaying as she scrambled into the slanting wagon. This vantage raised her above her attackers. The high sides offered some protection, forcing them to come at her from the low front.

Now the fool had fallen back, waving the giant forward. Clumsily the smith climbed over the traces and swung a meaty leg over the seat.

Trapped, just like old times. Next would come the fist smashing like a hammer of fire against her ear to stun her, because he never liked to mark her face. Then the hail of blows and kicks to subdue her when she clawed and fought him, the panting curses in her ear…the eager hands fumbling at her, crushing her tender breasts ...

Unexpectedly, a red tide of rage poured through her. Hunted again, trapped again, hurt again. Through blurred eyes she saw the man looming over her. Brother, blacksmith, butcher, their faces blurred together.

Screaming defiance, she gripped the pitchfork in both hands and swung it with all her strength.

The tines raked across his cavernous chest.

The giant bellowed, a wordless howl of agony, mouth gaping to reveal the red stub where his tongue had been torn out. Nearly mindless with terror, Linnet screamed too, watching crimson spread across his filthy shirt.

Still bellowing, the giant lurched toward her. Fired with the madness of the cornered animal that turns on its tormentors, teeth bared, she lunged forward and plunged her pitchfork into his massive thigh.

Now he, too, screamed like a stricken animal, making her stomach pitch. When she yanked the pitchfork free, two rusted tines snapped off and fell to the straw.

The lone tine that remained made a poor weapon, but she gripped the handle so hard her fingers throbbed. Surely none of this was real, no more real than the fevered fancies of a madwoman who thought herself kidnapped by Faeries, while in truth she wandered witless through the wild. Surely she must waken, just as she’d woken from that dream, her brain swimming with confusion, the nuns’ murmured prayers in her ear.

The giant’s leather breeches were slick with blood, gushing from the deep punctures, dripping into the straw. The high animal scream had died in his lungs, and she prayed never again to hear such a sound.

But somehow, as in a nightmare, her attacker was still coming.

Through teeth that chattered with cold and terror, she scrambled back into the wagon and gasped out the Lord’s Prayer.
A short cry from somewhere pierced her words. From her elevated position, her gaze swept the courtyard, seeking the fool and not finding him. But there, near the tunnel, lay the crone’s lifeless form, dark skirts spilled like ink around her.

Uncomprehending, Linnet searched the courtyard. Where was the fool?

But the figure who strode into view was no fool in motley. Someone else now commanded the courtyard—a lithe shadow clad in jet and glittering jewels. God love her, could this be rescue?

This was no ragged vagabond, not with a nobleman’s short cape slung fashionably over one shoulder and pinned with a starburst ruby the size of her fist, or the wicked rapier like a streak of silver fire that swung at his lean hip. A spill of raven hair poured around his shoulders beneath a dashing plumed hat as he stalked toward her, silent and graceful as a cat on the icy stone. Silhouetted against the swirling snow, his slender frame seemed almost to glow with a nimbus of pearly light.

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/15jdwQ7
Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1ae14oe

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About the author --

In her other life, Laura Navarre is a diplomat who’s lived in Russia and works on weapons of mass destruction issues. In the line of duty, she’s been trapped in an elevator in a nuclear power plant and stalks the corridors of facilities churning out nerve agent and other apocalyptic weapons. In this capacity, she meets many of the world’s most dangerous men.

Inspired by the sinister realities of her real life, Laura writes dark Tudor and Renaissance romance with fantasy elements. A member of Romance Writers of America, a Golden Heart finalist and winner of the 2012 Pacific Northwest Writers Association award for romance, she’s currently writing The Magick Trilogy, a series of dark Tudor romances with elements of Arthurian legend and fallen angel heroes, for Carina Press. Coming next in this award-winning series is Midsummer Magick in August 2013.

Living on an island in Puget Sound with her screenwriter husband and two Siberian cats, Laura divides her time between her writing career and other adventures for government clients.

Website/blog: http://lauranavarre.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/LauraNavarre
Facebook: http://facebook.com/LauraNavarreAuthor
Goodreads author page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4013449.Laura_Navarre

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Laura is also giving away digital copies of Midsummer Magick via Rafflecopter. To check out Laura's other stops, click here.

a Rafflecopter giveaway