Mid Week Tease: Empress of Storms #MidWeekTease #MWTease
*bangs head on keyboard* Empress of Storms is now through its second draft and is off to the betas. Now I can go to bed. The scene here takes place after Matthias and Danaë’s first argument as a married couple. Of course, when you argue with a mage, little things like unexpected thunderstorms tend to happen. Oops.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
When widower King Matthias IV of Ypres is called upon to fulfill a treaty with the neighboring country of Hellas and provide a royal consort for young Queen Danäe, the only Ypresian royal available for marriage is himself. Can he overcome his grief for his late wife and risk letting a blue-haired witch queen into his heart? And can Danäe, only half-trained as a water mage, root out a magical threat against Matthias before it kills the man she’s loved since childhood?
Matthias got to his feet as his wife came back in. The only way to describe her was bedraggled.
His irritation had settled during her absence. He had no idea that she’d been dealing with rumors that she’d killed King Cresus. Suggestions that Luna was his by-blow would be an additional and unnecessary humiliation.
And now, seeing Danaë damp and miserable like this, all he wanted to do was sweep her into his arms and get her warm and comfortable again.
“Shall I have Flavia fetch you dry clothes?” he offered.
She shook her head, damp curls swinging in front of her face. “I can do it,” she said quietly. “She’s tending to Luna. I don’t want to bother her right now.”
She went to her trunk, rooting through it for a night shift. Matthias turned his back to give her some privacy. “I can mull us some wine, if you like?”
“Yes, thank you.”
He went to the small brazier warming the tent, picking up the set of fire tongs hung on its side. He shoved them into the brightest part of the coals to heat, then busied himself pouring two goblets of wine. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. Making it look like you’re raising my illegitimate child would be humiliating to you. I won’t do that.”
He could hear the rustle of fabric behind him, but she didn’t reply. He pulled the tongs out of the brazier, eyeing the dull red of the metal, then plunged them into the goblets. The surface of the wine bubbled and hissed, sending up spiced steam.
Picking up the goblets he turned to her, then stopped. She stood there in her dry nightshift, towel in one hand, as silent tears rolled down her face. Dripping off her chin, they made dark spots on the bodice of her shift.
His heart ached. “Oh, little bird,” he murmured, crossing to her. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I was an ass.”
She shook her head, wiping at her tears. “No, you were right. I should have told you about the star chamber,” she said, gulping. “I’m sorry. I was terrified of how you would react.”
He put down the goblets and pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face against his chest, shuddering now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried, her voice muffled by his tunic.
“Shh,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “It’s all right, shh.”
Sometimes a storm had to be allowed to blow itself out. He waited until her sobs had subsided, then kissed her hair. “I’ll tell you what I told Darius,” he murmured. “I have complete faith in you. I know you loved your father and would never do anything to harm him. Whatever happened that day, it wasn’t your intention. And I sincerely doubt it was your fault in the first place.”
She hiccuped softly. “I wish I could believe that.”
His hand came up, cupping her head and stroking her wet hair. “Then I’ll believe it for you until you can.”
She choked out a laugh, pulling back far enough to look up into his face. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Matthias, I truly don’t.”
He smiled. “I wonder the exact same thing. Come, let’s get your hair dried, and then we’ll have our wine.”
He plucked the towel from her hand, using it first to wipe the tears from her face, then to soak up the rainwater from her hair. When he judged he’d gotten it as dry as possible, he tossed the towel onto a trunk and picked up one of the goblets, handing it to her. “I don’t think that chair is strong enough for you to sit in my lap,” he said, “so let’s sit on the bed where you can pull the covers over you. I don’t want you catching a chill.”
“A few minutes in the rain isn’t going to make me sick,” she said, but let him take her to the camp bed and tuck her in a sitting position under the warm blankets. He went to the other side, still holding his goblet and shucking down to his tunic before crawling in next to her.
“Not a drop spilled,” she said, giving him a shaky smile. “I’m impressed, my king. That takes talent.”
“A remnant of a dissolute youth. Then again, I have all kinds of talents that you haven’t seen yet,” he said, putting an arm around her and pulling her close before sipping his wine. The warmth and spiced sweetness filled his mouth. “For instance, did you know that I played the flute?”
She was in mid-sip of her own wine and choked slightly before swallowed. “No, I didn’t. May I hear you play sometime?”
“Not unless you long for deafness. I said I played it, not that I played well.”
That made her giggle. “Talents. Did I tell you that our chamberlain also taught us how to juggle?”
“Why in the world would a professional criminal be able to do that?”
“It can entertain a crowd and provide distraction while your partner is jimmying the back window.”
He thought. “I do believe the cook has some rolls left over from dinner. I can have them bring some in if you’d like to demonstrate.”
“I think another time might be better.” She relaxed against his side, her damp head resting on her shoulder. “We’re really married now. We’ve had our first argument.”
“I believe you’re right.” He squeezed. “I’m so sorry, little bird. I didn’t know the last year had been so bad for you.”
“I know. And I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Is there anything I can do to make things better for you? In Hellaspont?”
He felt one shoulder twitch. “I’ve done my best to be a good ruler, following in Father’s footsteps. The rumors are dying down, despite Pelas’s best efforts.”
“Is that the little toad of a grand magister? Your brother mentioned him.”
“Yes. Also my magecraft tutor. You can understand why I was more than happy to abandon it after Father’s death.” She took another sip of her wine. “Do you know what the worst part of all that was? The look on Mother’s face when she found out about the accusations. It was bad enough to have lost the love of her life, but to find out that her daughter was suspected of his murder? I’d thought she would be on my side like Darius was.” She let out a shuddering sigh. “But Pelas’s accusations found a foothold, even after I was cleared of all charges. From that point on until her death, she avoided me. She’d speak to me if I went to her rooms or if we had to appear in public together, but she never looked at me again. The last time I touched her was in her coffin.” She closed her eyes, eyelashes a sooty shadow against her cheeks. “I didn’t want to watch you turn away from me as well.”
He hugged her again, tighter this time. “I may argue with you, little bird, but I promise I’ll never turn away from you,” he said. “Rest easy in that. I wouldn’t be taking all this trouble to find Lukas if I didn’t want to hear his side of the story. I know it’s slender, but there is a chance he’s innocent in all this.”
She took a deep breath and let it out, relaxing. “You’re a good man, Matthias.”
“I do my best.” He put his own goblet on the side table, then plucked the goblet from her relaxing fingers and placed it next to its twin. “I think we should sleep now, don’t you?”
“Yes, please.”
He eased her down until she was lying flat, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She turned onto her side towards him, giving him one last sad smile before closing her eyes.
He watched her sleep, and wondered how he would be able to protect her with a mountain range in the way.
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Wicked Wednesday Reads: Releasing Rage
Whee, it’s Wednesday! Never fear, for today I’m here with Cynthia Sax and her smoking new SF erotic romance Releasing Rage, now available from online purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Cynthia!
Who here is participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month – a 30 day challenge to writers to crank out 50,000 words – http://nanowrimo.org)?
I am! And Releasing Rage, my most recent cyborg story, is a great example of one of my top tips for NaNoWriMo.
Write balls to the wall.
Get your mind out of the gutter. (grins) That saying refers to cannonballs, though I suppose it could apply to other kinds of balls also. What it means is to write that first draft all out, no filters, no thinking ‘will my agent, editor, reviewers, readers like this?’ or ‘is this sellable?’ Dump everything on the page—your words, your heart, your guts.
When I wrote the first draft of Releasing Rage, I was in a dark, angry mood and I poured all of that delicious emotion into the story. I didn’t think it would be published. VERY bad things happen to the heroine. I knew established publishers wouldn’t take a risk on those types of scenes (and I was right. They didn’t.). I was writing this story for me, for my eyes only.
Many of the scenes scared the stuffing out of me. They were raw and gritty and exposed a slice of my soul. I wrote them anyway. Often our scariest scenes are the most gripping. They reveal a truth about us, about people. That’s why they frighten us.
We should also write full out because it is much easier to dial emotion back then it is to add it. It is easier to water down scenes than it is to make them more raw.
I had the choice to do this with Releasing Rage. I could have taken out the gritty scenes, dialed back the darkness. That wouldn’t have been a ‘wrong’ choice. There are no wrong choices in writing. It would have merely been a different choice.
I chose to leave the darkness and self-publish Releasing Rage. It is a love it or hate it type of story. The people who love it REALLY love it. The people who hate it want to burn my house down. (laughs) But it is a story I’m extremely proud of.
Have you ever written a scene that scared you? Have you ever read a scene where you knew the writer left a piece of her or his soul on the page?
Half Man. Half Machine. All Hers.
Rage, the Humanoid Alliance’s most primitive cyborg, has two goals–kill all of the humans on his battle station and escape to the Homeland. The warrior has seen the darkness in others and in himself. He believes that’s all he’s been programmed to experience.
Until he meets Joan.
Joan, the battle station’s first female engineer, has one goal–survive long enough to help the big sexy cyborg plotting to kill her. Rage might not trust her but he wants her. She sees the passion in his eyes, the caring in his battle-worn hands, the gruff emotion in his voice.
When Joan survives the unthinkable, Rage’s priorities are tested. Is there enough room in this cyborg’s heart for both love and revenge?
Where to Buy
Amazon US
Amazon UK
All Romance eBooks
Barnes and Noble
About Cynthia Sax
USA Today bestselling author Cynthia Sax writes contemporary, SciFi and paranormal erotic romances. Her stories have been featured in Star Magazine, Real Time With Bill Maher, and numerous best of erotic romance top ten lists.
Sign up for her dirty-joke-filled release day newsletter and visit her on the web at www.CynthiaSax.com.
Where to find Cynthia Sax
83K Or Bust: Day Thirty-eight through Forty AND a Cover Reveal
So, this happened at 7:31 AM this morning:
Which means I finished my rough draft within six weeks. Now, obviously I need to edit, get it out to betas, incorporate their comments and corrections and do a final polish before I release it, and as you can tell from the date that’s not going to happen in one day (damn you, sinus infection. I’LL SEE YOU IN HELL). So I pushed the publication date out to November 8.
Now, I had promised that I was going to do a cover reveal once I’d finished the rough draft. So, courtesy of the amazing and talented Jay Aheer, allow me to present the cover for Empress of Storms.
It’s so pretty! You can understand why I was doing backflips when I got it.
And now, on to second draft editing so that I can get this puppy out to the betas on Monday. Editor powers, activate!
The last few day’s stats:
Started With: 76,291 words
Wrote: 6,775 words
Total word count: 83,066 words.
What else did you do today, Nicola: You don’t want to know
Writing Tips: Finish what you write. Even if you think it sucks, even if you know it’s never going to sell, finish it anyway. Why? Because it’s a good habit to get into, because you don’t know what an editor will like, and because you will feel like King Kong on steroids once it’s done. Writer’s high is a real thing, my friend, and I promise you will walk around with a ridiculous smile on your face for at least a day after finishing a project, especially a novel-length one.
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Mid Week Tease: Empress of Storms #MidWeekTease #MWTease
Almost finished with Empress of Storms, thank Cthulhu, so I can come out to play again on Wednesdays. Here’s a snippet from the royal trireme after a long and difficult day.
Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!
When widower King Matthias IV of Ypres is called upon to fulfill a treaty with the neighboring country of Hellas and provide a royal consort for young Queen Danäe, the only Ypresian royal available for marriage is himself. Can he overcome his grief for his late wife and risk letting a blue-haired witch queen into his heart? And can Danäe, only half-trained as a water mage, root out a magical threat against Matthias before it kills the man she’s loved since childhood?
Matthias kissed her temple as he rubbed her back through the thin fabric of the chemise. Her skin felt moist and warm. He wanted to strip away the cotton and run his hands over the delicate wings of her shoulder blades, down to her waist. He loved the way her hips flared out like an amphora, fitting the curve of his hands perfectly.
“If you’re tired we can simply sleep,” he offered. “The gods know it’s been a long day.” He had any number of questions about what had been in the report on her desk, not to mention what was going on between her brother and his cavalry officer, but he sensed they would be better asked tomorrow.
She looked up at him, blue eyes dark in the flickering light from the oil lamps. “I am tired. But I know our time together is limited, and I don’t want to waste any of it.”
“Time with you is never wasted,” he said, and found he meant it. “I’m happy to hold you in my arms and let you sleep.”
“Matthias.” Her voice was low and laced with something he recognized, a weariness that had nothing to do with the physical. Being a good ruler wasn’t all about wearing crowns and waving to the populace. It was a difficult and time-consuming job, juggling the well-being of a people with the attendant issues of finances, politics, the devising and passing of laws, the defense of the realm, and doing one’s best to make sure that one left an appropriate legacy for the next generation. He’d been doing it for over twenty years and couldn’t claim that he’d mastered the role. Danaë had had the responsibility dropped on her unexpectedly and had been at it for only a year. Her fatigue was palpable to him.
She needed the chance to relax, to hand over the responsibility of her position and simply be. He could do that for her.
He pulled her closer, feeling himself rouse at the warmth of her body. “Or you could give me a great gift,” he murmured. “Let go. For tonight, let me take the burden from you and make the decisions. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”
Her eyes grew even darker, pupils expanding and compressing the blue into thin rings. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a disagreement so much as a tremor in the elemental pull between them. He could sense her need to to yield to him, if only for one night. He knew what it took to give up control.
He bent down to kiss her, savoring the softness of her lips as they opened to admit his tongue. He could taste wine, salt, lemon, fish, and something underneath that was purely Danaë. She moaned softly into his mouth, clinging to him as if she would slip to the deck without his arms around her. He explored her, mapping every ridge and soft spot with care and precision.
When their kiss ended he could see the spots of high color along her cheekbones, and the pulse beating in her throat like a hummingbird’s wing. He caressed her face, stroking the flushed silk of her cheek. “Let me do this for you, little bird. Let me give you this ease.”
After a long moment, she nodded.
“Good.” His cock throbbed at the spiced honey scent of her desire, the ripeness of her breasts and hips. He wanted to pull her to him, ravish her against the bulkhead, mark her as his own. But this wasn’t about his desire. Tonight would be about her and what she needed.
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83K Or Bust: Day Thirty-seven
(Image borrowed from the inimitable Rachel Caine.)
Yeah, I got nothing. I’m at the point where I’m just trudging towards that light at the end of the tunnel.
Today’s stats:
Started With: 74,211 words
Wrote: 2,080 words
Total word count: 76,291 words.
What else did you do today, Nicola: Cat chores, broke up cat fights, went food shopping, did web support work for a client, mailed off jewelry sales.
Writing Tips: There is nothing wrong with promising yourself treats to meet a word count or deadline. Carrot and stick works very well for a sound psychological reason.
83K Or Bust: Day Thirty-six
(Image borrowed from the inimitable Rachel Caine.)
I have made an executive decision. November 1 was an arbitrary publication date for EMPRESS OF STORMS, mainly chosen because it was the beginning of the month. Due to the sinus infection I had during the past five weeks and other sources of stress, however, I lost well over a week’s worth of writing time.
So I am pushing the release date back to November 8. That gives me enough time to do a good, solid edit and polish, and means my beta readers won’t have me hanging over their shoulders saying, “Are you done yet? Are you done yet?” Seven weeks still ain’t bad for going from zero to “Oops, it’s on Amazon.”
Also, by doing this I’ll release EMPRESS OF STORMS on my late mother’s 75th birthday. When I told her about my first science fiction sale, she sighed and said, “I wish you wrote romance — that way I could show it to my friends.”
Be careful what you wish for, Mom. You just might get it.
Today’s stats:
Started With: 71,134 words
Wrote: 3,077 words
Total word count: 74,211 words. I am now officially less than 10K away from finishing and should have everything wrapped up on Wednesday. BOOYAH.
What else did you do today, Nicola: Cat chores, cleaned out the fifteen tons of dead leaves at the bottom of the pool, thank you weekend storm, did laundry, had dinner with a friend of Ramón’s, ran errands, and worked on jewelry.
Writing Tips: Missing a deadline is something to be avoided whenever possible. When it can’t be avoided, however, don’t beat yourself up and ask for an extension. Even a little extra time can mean the difference between a shittily edited manuscript and one that’s as clean and tight as you can make it. So suck it up, admit that you blew it, and ask for more time. Editors and publishers can be surprisingly understanding. They want your best product, after all.
83K Or Bust: Day Thirty-five
(Image borrowed from the inimitable Rachel Caine.)
I love my cats. I truly do. But if they don’t stop climbing into my lap while I’m trying to write and demanding cuddles, I will be wroth.
“But Nicola, cats are wonderful animals! Surely you can spare a few minutes to scritch a sweet little chin or stroke a furred back!” I hear you say.
Yeah. I have five cats. Multiply “a few minutes” by five, every hour on the hour. That is what I’m dealing with as I write. At this very moment Miss Grey, she of the Great White Shark coloring, has just jumped up and headbutted my arm in a meaningful manner. When I ignored her, she sloped off to the breakfast nook to moinge around the food bowls. Before her, it was Skitty Kitty, the world’s most nervous tabby, who makes a point of climbing on me whenever possible because I’ll keep her safe. Before that, it was her sister Brown Sugar, and before that it was The Big Orange Idiot, who weighs 18 pounds and very little of it is fat. My Bodyguard is the only one who’s content to sit on the chair arm and just watch me write. Everyone else jumps on my stomach, digging their claws in (I swear, if I ever die in mysterious circumstances someone needs to make sure that Ramón isn’t arrested on suspicion of battery because my stomach looks like I’ve been stabbed repeatedly with tiny little curved needles), shredding holes in my t-shirts and interrupting my flow.
Okay, Miss Grey is back, which means I now have to type one-handed because the other one is curled around her while she snuggles into it, purring like a motorboat and waiting for me to pet her. So I guess I’ll do that.
Today’s stats:
Started With: 67,987 words
Wrote: 3,147 words
Total word count: 71,134 words
What else did you do today, Nicola: Cat chores, went out briefly to get cat food and because I haven’t been out since Saturday, repeatedly turfed cats off me, cuddled Ramón and let him destress a bit, made a coffee date with my friend and beta reader Stretch.
Writing Tips: Find a room in which to write that is cat-free. Trust me, it’ll be much easier for you.
83K Or Bust: Day Thirty-one through Thirty-four
(Image borrowed from the inimitable Rachel Caine.)
I’m not giving up.
Let me just get that out of the way right off the bat. I’m not giving up. I know I’m seriously behind, but I will make my deadline one way or the other.
I’ve been having anxiety dreams. Partially about the book, partially about the financial situation (briefly, Ramón was laid off and his last day is October 30. We have enough money to get us through November, but after that things will get dicey. He’s searching for a new job and is stressing about it, and I’m brushing off my tech writing CV in case he can’t find anything). A few nights ago I dreamed that we had to give our house back to the credit union and take over this horrible little apartment that was falling apart at the seams. This is a recurring anxiety dream of mine, and I always stand there staring at rotting walls wondering how I’m going to make the place livable, much less bearable. A friend of mine went through this over a year ago when he was kicked out of his apartment because his landlord wanted to gentrify the property. He handled it with immense and astounding grace, turning it into an art project and giving away all of his things before setting off on the road to conduct another massive art project around the US and Canada. I just have anxiety dreams and eat more carbohydrates than are good for me.
Needless to say, I have not been waking up full of the creative spirit and raring to write. At this point, writing a novel is a marathon anyway, and the stress on top of it isn’t that conducive to writing prose. And I have also been spending a certain amount of time reassuring Ramón, copyediting his CV, listening to job descriptions and agreeing that yes, he could do that, and generally being a good and supportive wife. Because that’s what you do when you love someone and want to take some of the burden off them and help as much as possible. Especially since, bless him, he doesn’t want me to go back to an office job if I don’t have to. And I appreciate the hell out of that, but if it’s the only way to get income in the house, back to contract tech writing I go.
We’ll get through this, by the way–no need to do a GoFundMe or anything. It’s a crappy time of year to be laid off, but if we can struggle through to January we should be okay (we live in a tech corridor, lots of jobs going in the new year, etc.).
So, yeah, I’m behind. But I’m still planting my ass in the chair everyday and writing. I’m down to Act III and the last three chapters, then I do the world’s fastest rewrite and get it off to my betas and send them quality chocolate for the fastest beta review in the world. And on October 31st, we shall see what we shall see.
Today’s stats:
Started With: 61,322 words
Wrote: 6,665 words
Total word count: 67,987 words
What else did you do today, Nicola: Cat chores, laundry, did a humongous food shop that will feed us for weeks, made Italian wedding soup for dinner, edited a couple versions of Ramón’s CV, and wondered if anyone had ever done a crossover fic of Doctor Who and Outlander. Basically because I’d love to see Twelve wandering through Castle Leoch with Clara in tow saying, “Ooh, you think you can out-Scottish me, laddie! I’d like to see ye try!”
Writing Tips: Stress fucks with writing. It’s just a fact. It’s hard to write good prose when your stomach is tied up in knots and you’re wondering how you’re going to pay the bills/what the pathology report will say/etc. Or you’re the support system for someone who is going through a very stressful time and needs you to step up to the plate for them. If you can make yourself write during this time, congratulations. You have a will of adamantium and I salute you. If you can’t, that’s not surprising and for God’s sake don’t beat yourself up over it.
83K Or Bust: Day Twenty-seven through Thirty
Yeah, sorry about that. Our internet has been going up and down over the past few days like a porn star’s panties, and today it finally shit the bed, which did not make Ramón happy as it severely curtailed his work activities and required him to go into the office.
That being said, did you know that when everything goes spla you can contact Time Warner Cable help on Twitter? You can.
Long story short, apparently there is something goofy with our switch box and a tech will be sent out tomorrow to see what’s going on. I know that TWC has been upgrading its local infrastructure and network to the DOCSYS 3 protocol so maybe this’ll mean that our cable TV splitter box will finally work and we’ll be able to watch BBC America and Starz again. Would be nice, just sayin’.
On the downside, it also means that I have to clean my office, the living room, and maybe run a vacuum through the front rooms before the tech gets here because if anyone walks into my house right now I will bring shame on my family from the filth of it all. I’m going to clean once the book is done, I promise. But right now, the dust rhinos are running free in herds.
Also, I know I blew my first draft deadline. Will I still be publishing on November 1? You bet your bippy I will. In fact, I’m so confident of this that I’m hosting a release day party on FaceBook — details are here, and everyone is invited. The lovely and talented L.D. Blakeley will be cohosting with me, and there will be games, giveaways, and much tomfoolery, so make sure you come.
Today’s stats:
Started With: 52,699 words
Wrote: 8,623 words
Total word count: 61,322 words
What else did you do today, Nicola: Cat chores, cat chores at my friend’s house, mailed off jewelry sales, hit Walmart up for #0 padded envelopes, went out AGAIN in the middle of the night to get tuna for my eldest cat because it’s the only way I can get him to take gabapentin for his sore right front leg
Writing Tips: The internet is a wonderful thing. It gives us immediate access to information, lets us look at pictures of cute kittens, and provides a wealth of other activities that are useful in our daily life.
What else is it? A ginormous timesink, particularly the twin bogs of Twitter and Facebook. And I say this as someone who keeps promising myself, “Just a few more posts and I’ll go back to work.”
If there’s a way to shut off the internet so that you can work, do it. Go find a place that doesn’t have wifi — I’m sure there are some remote fields and caves that aren’t wired. Or shut off your computer’s wifi connection. Do whatever you can to make it difficult or time-consuming to “just hop online for a second.” You’ll be astounded at your productivity. And let’s be honest, the latest meme will still be there once you’re finished.
Nicola Cameron Writes 
