GIVEAWAY CLOSED! LUCKY #26 HAS BEEN EMAILED.
This box of beauties just showed up in the mail (finally!!).
So … that means it must be time for a giveaway! Yes? YES!
To enter to win this autographed paperback of Catching Echoes (not including the bracelet and candle) all you need to do is comment below and let me know:
- your favourite quote from Catching Echoes, Reconstructionist 1 (not including the meme pictured above).
Haven’t had a moment to read Catching Echoes yet? No worries. You can download the sample chapter here.
Notes/Rules: OPEN INTERNATIONALLY. Each comment will be assigned an entry number. ONE winning entry will then be selected via random number generator. One entry per person. Comments without a quote WILL NOT be assigned an entry number. Please make sure to fill out a valid email address in the comment form. Email addresses are not collected for any purpose other than notifying the contest winner.
If you haven’t commented on the blog before, or you comment from a different IP address, the comments are moderated. So don’t worry if you don’t see your entry right away. I will approve it, then assign it an entry number.
No purchase necessary.
Contest closes THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2016 at 8 p.m. PST.
Don’t want to wait to see if you win? Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1) is available on
in paperback and ebook.
This pretty thing just showed up in the mail. So … you know what that means? Oh, yes. A Catching Echoes paperback giveaway is coming! Plus, err, the paperback will be available for purchase in the next couple of days. Ha.
In this first book of the Oracle fantasy series, a young woman ages out of a foster-care system only to learn she’s a being of great magical potential.
An orphan from birth, Rochelle Saintpaul has just turned 19. She’s now allowed to leave her Vancouver Residence home and follow her bliss in an RV. Her online business of selling charcoal drawings is successful, but her unknown psychotic disorder (plaguing her since she was 13) produces seizures and visions. The visions—featuring a tall man in a black suit and a blond woman wielding a sparkling green knife—become the subjects of her drawings. While saying goodbye to her social worker, Rochelle receives a jewelry box that belonged to her mother, who died in a car accident. Inside are a gold necklace and “an antique white rock.” Rochelle then buys her RV and heads for Washington state, just as a scraggly local named Hoyt tries once more to befriend her. No sooner does she find a roadside diner across the border than does someone ask her, “What are you?…A witch?” The buff, charismatic stranger, named Beau Jamison, notes her tattoo sleeves and alluring eyes. After buying her some pie, Beau wins Rochelle over and returns with her to the RV. Expanding the world of her Dowser series, Doidge (Catching Echoes, 2016, etc.) merges romance, carnality, and supernatural fantasy to lush effect. Her characterization of Rochelle as someone who’s earned her place in the world is encapsulated by the line “My entire life had been dictated by other people’s tragedies and shortcomings, but now I had a future that was just mine.” Later, Doidge hints at the bond forming between her protagonists when Beau “tucked my hair behind my ear…then caressed down my neck and across my collarbone,” only to moments later shove readers off an erotic cliff. The fantasy elements, including shape-shifters, sorcerers, and Rochelle’s connection to them all, proceed more gradually. The volume ends with a compromise—made for love—that promises dire consequences later in the series.
A gift to the author’s fans and a compelling introduction to her supernatural universe for new readers. – Kirkus Reviews
The ebook version of I See Me (Oracle 1) is FREE for a limited time.
Reconstructionist 1.5 will be available exclusively to readers who preorder Reconstructionist 2 in the Spring of 2017. Then available widely in the Fall of 2017.
The first book in the series, Catching Echoes, is now available.
Randomly on a Friday …
It’s been a tough week. I always have issues when writing first drafts – it often feels as if I’m forcing every word onto the page – but Reconstructionist 2 is heavily influenced by my personal history (though, obviously, a completely fictional, fantastical accounting) and I’m ending most of my writing stints in tears. So it’s been a slog. The second draft will be much smoother.
Yesterday, I took an hour off before dinner and made banana bread before the bananas were only good for compost, and I spotted an unopened bag of marshmallows in my baking drawer. We’d bought them to use for candied yams, then didn’t end up making any yams for Christmas dinner.
I immediately decided I desperately needed to make some marshmallow bar with this unexpected but welcomed bounty. And that, besides being tasty, the bars (and making of) would mollify my bruised soul, as chocolate always does.
According to my notes, I’d been working on this recipe in the Spring of 2015 but had yet to perfect it. I’m pleased to say my slight tweak last night made it perfectly sharable.
Chocolate Peanut Butter Marshmallow Bar
1/8 cup/28 grams of butter
1/2 cup/120 ml peanut butter*
1 – 250 gram/8 ounce (?) bag of mini marshmallows
170 grams/6 oz of dark chocolate**
Melt butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add chocolate and peanut butter, stirring until smooth. Remove from heat. Fold in marshmallows. Spread in a parchment paper lined 8- or 9-inch square pan. Chill until firm (at least 2 hours). Cut into squares, or rectangles, as preferred. Store in refrigerator.
The key with this simple recipe is to use the highest quality ingredients you can get your hands on. Butter, not margarine. Old-fashioned peanut butter (the type with no added ingredients that you need to stir the oil into), and, of course, quality dark chocolate.
*I might have heaped the peanut butter. 😀
**I used 72% cacao, single origin, Venezuela from Cacao Barry.
I find something joyful hidden in the texture of these simply decadent bars. And I believe I shall publish this post and eat another before dinner.
I settled on the dungeness crab risotto to start, and had just reached for the wine list to find a Pinot Noir to pair it with, when I realized that someone was sitting across from me.
Not just a someone. A vampire.
A white-blond, blue-eyed, exceedingly pale, tremendously powerful vampire who I’d thought was dead. Well, more dead. I had reconstructed the moment of his destruction myself. In London, three years before, I’d seen him stabbed through the heart with a magical blade. I’d seen him fall.
Kettil, the executioner of the Conclave, was swathed in expensive green cashmere so dark it was practically black, sporting what appeared to be a solid gold Apple Watch and lounging back in the seat across from me as if he’d been sitting there the entire time. His eyes were so light blue, they could practically have been called silver. He quirked his lips in a shallow, pleased smile.
I hadn’t seen him sit down. I hadn’t even seen him cross the room.
My server, who’d been approaching the table from the back kitchen area, flinched. Her human reactions were even more delayed than mine. Startled, she exhaled, pressing her hand to her chest.
“Wisteria Fairchild,” the vampire said. His exceedingly straight teeth were even paler than his face. I couldn’t see any hint of his fangs.
“Kettil.” He reached across the table.
I lifted my own hand from the linen tablecloth. Pleased that it wasn’t shaking, I grasped his outstretched hand as his gaze fell to my charm bracelet. He wasn’t as cold as I thought he’d be, but perhaps I was still chilled myself. His fingers closed completely over mine, firm but not crushing. Still, I could feel the terrible strength that lay just underneath his hold.
He could tear me limb from limb, slaughter every human in the restaurant, bathe in our blood, and I wouldn’t have been able to do a single thing about it.
I was panicking.
I never panicked.
But I could feel the adrenaline rushing through me as the vampire held my hand.
He lifted his gaze to mine, widening his grin. And without so much as a blink or a breath, he ensnared me. Idiotically, I’d been staring directly into his eyes.
He held his other hand up toward the server. She froze.
His presence flooded my mind in a warm, calming, and almost euphoric pulse.
“Steady,” he murmured.
My heart rate settled. I felt as though my arm was suspended, stretched across the table, lightly cradled in his hand … cushioned by the awesome presence of his mind.
I could have stayed there forever. At peace … protected … cherished …
I could have been his forever.
No Fairchild is weak enough to be ensnared by a vampire.
I wasn’t totally sure whether that was an original thought or a remembered edict of my mother’s, but it was enough to wake me up to the situation.
I gathered my mental shields, imagining a barrier of magic between the vampire and myself. Evoking layers upon layers of magic, similar to the sides of my oyster-shell cubes. I blinked my eyes, then shook my head slightly.
I lifted my hand away from Kettil’s.
He let me go.
Wisteria Fairchild narrates my newest novel, Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1) aka the first book in the Reconstructionist trilogy. But I first introduced Wisteria in Dowser 3, then again in Dowser 4.
From Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (Dowser 3)
Just before dawn, a knock at the suite door pulled me away from watching Mory sleep. I’d been worrying that she hadn’t woken yet, but was also fretting about waking her to feed her if she needed the sleep to heal.
I’d ordered food the second the kitchen had opened, so I thought the knock was room service. Instead, I opened the door to find a dark-blond woman around twenty-five standing in the hall. She was a couple of inches shorter than my five feet nine inches. Her hair was pulled back and up in a French twist that wouldn’t last an hour on me, and every well-tailored piece of clothing on her dripped money — all without my recognizing a single label, because there weren’t any.
“Jade Godfrey?” she asked politely, already knowing the answer. Her slight accent identified her as American.
I met her gaze and flinched. Her blue witch magic curled and coiled behind her eyes so tightly that I couldn’t distinguish their actual color.
She furrowed her brow at my flinch. I transferred my gaze to her hands where her magic also pooled, though not as intensely as behind her eyes.
“I know you,” I said, and I met her gaze without flinching a second time. Her magic was heavily doused in nutmeg — which wasn’t a scent I associated with witch magic — along with the sweet floral tones I would have expected. Sweet nutmeg was an odd combination.
“Yes,” she answered. “I’m Wisteria Fairchild. The reconstructionist.”
From Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic (Dowser 4):
I could see Wisteria settling into a table at the farthest corner of the cafe and ordering something from the server. A tea, I guessed. Oddly, the chairs closest to her had been lifted and flipped onto their tables as if the floor was about to be scrubbed.
Wisteria’s dark blond hair was pulled back into the perfectly smooth French twist she had worn the last time I saw her. Her cornflower-blue, pristinely pressed cotton dress was belted in white to create an empire waist. She looked as if she were about to attend a wedding, but this was everyday attire for the witch. The blue of the dress was a couple of shades lighter than the magic I could see pooled in the palms of her folded hands.
Kett was somewhere in the shadows of one of the storefront stoops just ahead of me. I could taste his magic rather than see him. “Why are you hunting the reconstructionist?” I whispered into the dark night.
“Why do you assume I’m hunting anyone?” Kett murmured back without revealing himself.
“Well, you aren’t working together. Are you? Or dating? Do vampires even date?”
“Your words indicate jealousy, warrior’s daughter.”
“But my tone sounds concerned.”
“Indeed.” Kett laughed. “I would not be hunting a Fairchild witch without permission.”
“Whose permission? And do you have it?”
Kett didn’t answer.
“Have you even met her?” I asked.
“And this isn’t any of my business.”
“Not even remotely.”
I sighed. I had my own reasons for being in Seattle, for meeting with the reconstructionist. I wasn’t here to police Kett or Wisteria, if she’d done something to get on the Conclave’s radar.
“She saw you die in London,” I said.
“Yes,” Kett answered. “Perhaps it is best left at that.”
Find out why Wisteria holds her magic so tightly and why Kett was in Seattle – or at least the beginning of their story – in Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1).
Now available on
Catching Echoes (Reconstructionist 1) has been available for one week today! Whoot! A number of lovely readers have taken the time to leave reviews, so I thought I would share a few screenshots to help celebrate the novel’s first week anniversary.
From Amazon USA:
From Amazon CANADA:
From Amazon UK:
From Barnes & Noble:
Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. Getting reviews is vitally important for a new release, especially in the first thirty days and especially when launching a new series.
Your time and thoughts are much, much appreciated.