Ahem, why yes, I wanted to have this all together for release day … but better late than never?? This is the exact box (only missing a couple of extra touches, not pictured below) that I would put together as a PR Box. I thought it might be fun for one of my readers to win it. 😁
Book Cover designed and hand-lettered by Alicia (aka @CheekyLettering) Scenery illustration by Kateryna Vitkovska Character Illustrations by Nicole Deal
Are you interested in winning an autographed paperback of Mirth, Part 1? A set of seven character/art postcards? A peaches and cream soy candle hand-poured by MCD? And a bookplate? [Plus one more adorable addition that I don’t have my hands on yet].
Yes!??
To enter, comment on this blog post with your favourite quote or moment from Mirth, Part One!
Notes/Rules: OPEN INTERNATIONALLY. One entry per person. One winner will be selected by random number generator. Only entries that follow the stated requirements will be valid (i.e. it must be an actual quote/fav scene, not just a copy/paste of the synopsis, etc). Email addresses are not collected for any purpose other than to contact the winner. No purchase necessary – all my books are available for free via your local library. The comments are moderated. I will approve your entry just as soon as I have a moment to do so.
Giveaway closes SUNDAY, AUGUST 18, 2024 at 8 pm PDT.
Rian Callaghan. Wolf shifter. Horse Trainer/Breeder. Character illustration by Nicole Deal (@nicole.deal.art).
Content Note: language.
He’s not rescuing me.
He’s protecting the horse still dancing and snorting in the ring. Protecting Perseus from me.
My energy is so volatile that a stranger thinks that I would harm —
Shifting his hands from my upper arms, he presses his forearm across my chest, leaning into me and finally switching to slightly accented English. “What the fuck were you thinking? Trying to ride him in the dark? Do you want to die? Do you want him to kill you? Do you want to be responsible for his death when he breaks a fucking leg?”
That’s too many questions to answer. Even if I had the answers.
“Look at him! The ears, the eyes!” the enraged figure spits madly. “He’s scared of whatever the fuck you’re trying to do in the middle of the fucking night.”
Realizing that my arms are free to move and that the ground is once again solid under my feet — as if my mind is still checked out, still expecting the death blow I saw coming and did nothing to thwart — I finally shove my hair out of my face.
I look at Perseus in the ring.
I look and see everything I’ve willfully ignored.
My rescuer eases back, slowly removing his arm from across my upper chest and muttering a disconcerted, “Fuck, fuck …” under his breath.
I stay pressed up against the side of the stable, knowing I’ve fucked up and not really wanting to face it. Cowardly, yes. Except …
I’m no longer coming out of my skin.
As stupid and reckless as my actions might be, I feel invigorated for the first time in months.
So I meet the stranger’s gaze.
He’s fucking gorgeous. In that way that only a pretty boy transitioning into a grown man can be.
Sharp jawed, wide green eyes, slashes of prominent cheekbones, medium-brown skin flushed with health. Full lips. Straight teeth. A shifter of some sort.
He’s holding his hands up now, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my left shoulder.
Because he can’t remember if it’s okay to look royalty in the eyes? Or because he’s noticed the purple hue to my gaze?
His palms face forward placatingly. No, pleadingly.
He’s just realized who I am.
Who he’s pinned up against the side of a stable.
Putting unwanted hands on me is technically punishable by death. As in, there’s an actual archaic law covering that, still logged in some ancient tome in my father’s study.
“Your Highness …” he murmurs, his tone gentle as if waiting for me to bite back. To lash out with whatever my purple eyes declare I can do.
I am, however, not my father’s child in essence. Not like Armin was.
“Have I …” He stammers as he continues, “I didn’t know … I would never hurt …”
A slow, wide grin spreads across my face. I’m all riled up, but invigorated rather than desperate now — and I’m not sure I’ve ever been so struck by someone in my life. Attraction is usually a slow sort of burn for me.
Confusion mars his perfect fucking brow, and he swallows hard.
Maybe he’ll be less pretty in the daylight. But as inappropriate as the impulse is, I’m moments away from asking him to press me against the side of the stable again. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere sexual, just being … dominated? No, that isn’t the right word, not the right feeling.
Just being out of control of my own body, my own choices, even for just a moment was … freeing? But not in a destructive way.
His hands and guidance are forceful, but not —
A soft smile finally overtakes his confusion, possibly because he’s noticed I’m still just staring at him and still smiling myself. As if I’m shocked dumb by his beauty, by our abrupt … introduction.
And maybe I am.
– Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One
[I just realized I hadn’t shared this illustration here, and I need it for the Extras and Freebies page 😁][it is also in the limited-edition eBook of Mirth, Part One].
Her Royal Higness Princesss Euphrosyne. Aka Mirth. Awry. Heir to the United European Nation. Character illustration by Nicole Deal (@nicole.deal.art).
CONTENT NOTE: language
The door to the suite opens. Anne hustles in. She’s wearing a light-gold full-length wrap-style silk dress. She pauses just inside the door, blinking at me, then taking in Sully, then Bolan.
“Oh,” she finally says. “Good. Sully. You’ll help Mirth get into her dress? Mimi and Tavi have been roped into service by the Mertons. Apparently, our lack of ability to house all the staff they would have preferred to bring is … irksome.”
No titles in private. No formalities.
Unless I impose them.
But only after I explicitly lift those protocols in the first place.
That was Sully’s point. About protocol.
“Yes, of course.” Sully grins widely and wickedly. “Why else would I be in Her Royal Highness’s suite?”
Anne huffs, playfully pleased. “I have your father waiting to escort you,” she says to me.
“Escort me?” I echo, abruptly displeased.
“We’ll go straight through to dinner,” Anne says, ignoring my tone. “The rest of the guests will start arriving around nine for the ball.”
“Of course,” I say. I did know that already, but apparently I’m still having issues with holding everything in my head all at once. As if new information is at constant war with the continual grief and the continual state of overwhelm.
Anne casts a look over all three of us again, then smirks. “Ten minutes. Or I’ll send in the twins.”
Sully raises his hands in surrender.
Anne steps back the way she came, snagging the door closed.
“Well, this is going to be a blast,” Bolan says sarcastically.
“It will be awful to do sober,” Sully says blithely over his shoulder.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Not today. But I do like it when you beg.”
I huff, spinning away from them both.
Sully attempts to follow me, but stops instantly at my snapped, “No!”
Bolan’s laughter follows me back through to my bedroom, then beyond the door that I slam in my wake.
I put on the decadently voluminous silk ballgown skirt and the beaded bustier. Then I carefully slip a diamond-crusted platinum coronet into my perfectly coiffed hair.
Because if they want a fucking princess, I’ll give them a fucking princess.
– Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One
Waterfell Castle from the Mirth duology. Scenery illustration by Kateryna Vitkovska.
The early morning is dark, cloud shrouded, though a half moon intermittently shimmers through thinner patches of that cloud. Tiny flakes of snow filter down from the otherwise starless sky. Not even a hint of the pending sunrise tinges the horizon as I slip out a side door. I immediately dart across the short yard to half-jog down the narrow stone stairway that twists down from the cliff on which the towering edifice of Waterfell Castle is perched. Kilometers away, deep in a valley nestled between neighboring peaks, I glimpse the faint, sporadic lights that emanate from the nearest town, before the path at the bottom of the stairway abruptly changes direction.
The few castle guards, both mages and shifters, patrolling the various ramparts and posted in the towers above ignore me. Not that I look back.
My breath comes out in chilled puffs.
Tiny mage lights trigger as I descend, situated at ankle height so as not to compromise my sight. If I were a null without the ability to actively wield essence, I’d be stumbling around in the dark.
Despite my light sensitivity, I’ve never been much of a fan of the dark. Though curling up on a winter’s eve next to a fire with a book, sipping a hot chocolate, and reading by candlelight is a hazy memory …
Or possibly an unrequited dream.
Before that stupid kiss. Before he shoved me away with pure pain etched across his face, as if I … as if my touch was … is …
I resolve to shred that stupid list of names the moment I get back to my rooms. I wasn’t thinking … in fact, I’m still not certain I moved the pen of my own volition. I never would have rationally chosen to put his name down.
He belongs to Armin more than me, anyway.
Belonged.
Past tense.
I can’t remember the last time I managed to maintain any level of rationality, not even for a full day. Was it the day before I felt my chest crack open and my soul sunder? While I attended some fucking charity event, commenting on the pretty fucking flowers and smiling at children, even as I wondered why my chest was hurting and my texts were going unanswered. Assuming the entire time that Armin had gone on a bender or was romancing someone new for the weekend instead of checking in with me. A rare but occasional occurrence when he needed … when he needed to run …
Just as I now practically ran, tripping down the path, through the snowy early morning.
Had I still been rational as I raced to the mountain township to identify my brother? Before I found him so … empty, and still. So silent.
Armin. Armin was even more trapped than I am.
Or rather, more trapped than I used to be. But never as trapped as I am now.
Because my father never would have forced Armin to choose bond mates only six months after my death. Armin would have been granted more time.
– Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One [excerpt from Chapter Two]
Genre: Paranormal Romance. Series (5 books) Complete (POV shifts).
A Conversation and a Hot Chocolate with Maria Vale: July 27, 2024 at 2pm PT. Join the guest list for the live zoom: https://forms.gle/4vEeH2TqLC2D8Upd6 (instructions and link will be emailed three days ahead)(also these lists don’t roll over, you must sign up every month, pretty please).
Giveaway (see paperback above): drop a question in the discord (there is a thread under July) or in the chat during the live zoom event to enter to win the autographed paperback and bookmark.
A Conversation and a Hot Chocolate with Hailey Edwards – video now available!
Follow me on YouTube if you don’t want to miss any other videos (though I will try to post here as well). This is an edited version of the live Zoom event, with fewer puppy interruptions, disarray, amusing tangents, and much less cackling.
June Giveaway: Kat won the autographed paperback of How To Live and Undead Life!
Other news (in brief):
By request, I just updated this post about ‘Vancouver according to the Adept Universe’ to include a bunch of my current favs (scroll down):
I’m awaiting the six character portraits from Nicole Deal for the limited edition eBook, but otherwise, the main book is all formatted and ready to go! The paperback will be available on release day as well (and the cover is sooo pretty!!). I’m implementing my social media blackout protocols and devoting next week to finishing the novelette that will be included in the limited edition eBook.
R&R Tours is handling the Release Day Blitz. If you’re an influencer or booksgrammer, please contact Shannon (and/or sign up to be a tour host). And just to avoid confusion, this isn’t about reviews (thank you in advance to all my lovely readers who take the time to leave them for me!!) it’s about having an active booksgram or tiktok, etc, that is focused on books/reading.
Okay … I’m sure there is more … there is always more … LOL … but I can’t think of anything else right now …
