My Interview with Aurrora St James, followed by an excerpt of the book, then after that look for the Giveaway.
Me:
Tell us about yourself:
Aurroa: I am originally from Florida and now live in the Pacific
Northwest. I have an odd sense of humor, love romance, fairy tales, graveyards,
fierce thunderstorms, and night more than the day. All of that sort of mashes
together into a person who is much more suited to writing novels than something
like accounting.
Me:
Tell us about your new
book?
Aurrora: My new book is called Gavril of Aquina and will be the first in
a series. From the very start, I really loved Gavril. He’s a man who has seen
both the good life has to offer and the very worst. He inherited the crown of
Aquina, only to have it ripped away, and spent the next five years of his life
in captivity. When the story starts out, he is homeless, friendless, and
without magic in a kingdom where everyone has magic. His spirit is broken and
he has no hope that life will get better. But then he literally runs into
Shyla, the heroine, and though he knows he isn’t worthy of even standing in the
same room with her, he can’t stay away. For her part, Shyla is intrigued by
Gavril. Her only magical gift is to sense magic in others. And though Gavril
swears he has no magic, she can feel it in him, as if it’s locked away. Whether
he likes it or not, she’s determined to solve the mystery! Their journey to
restore him to the throne takes them beyond the city of Aquina and into the
path of a lot of interesting characters. There is action, adventure, sword
fights, magic, twists and turns, an evil vizier, and best of all… love.
Me: When you write, does your real life spill over
into your book at any time?
Aurrora: That’s
a great question. It does, in funny ways. Quirky things like my pet’s personality
or the time my dad broke my grandmother’s chandelier while twirling a
broomstick. (See my first book Set in Stone for that last example.) I don’t
want to base an entire character on someone I know, but if I can add flavor to
a character by providing real life examples, I think it makes them more human.
And if I ever write about a heroine who jinxes anything electronic she gets
near, you’ll know it’s based on me.
Me:
Do you think about a
book of yours, being made into a movie, or not when writing?
Aurrora: I don’t think of it being made into a movie while writing, but I
do see it as a movie in my head. I see the characters in action, and it’s as if
the computer screen fades into the background. Of course, I wouldn’t turn it
down if Hollywood wanted to make a movie out of one of my books… just sayin’!
Me:
When naming your
characters, do you give any thought to the actual meaning?
Aurrora: Yes I do. I like to look for names from the time period or
region where the character is from, as well as the name meaning. In Gavril of
Aquina, my fantasy kingdom could overlay Eastern Europe. Gavril is a Macedonian
name that means God is my Strength.
Me: What made you want to
write and also what made you want to write the genre you are writing?
Aurrora: I’ve been writing stories since I was a kid, hanging out with my
cousins during the summer. We created all sorts of silly stories. As I grew
older, the stories didn’t stop, but I stopped writing them down. I created
lavish fantasies about whatever my interest was at the time. Romance was always
part of those stories. It wasn’t until I was in my mid-twenties that I realized
that I liked those daydreams more than real life. I tried my hand at writing
them down and just didn’t stop. As for the genre, I’ve always loved romance so
that part was easy. I discovered while writing Gavril that the words just flew
from my fingers and that I truly loved the characters and the world I’d
created. There is something very magical about medieval time periods. Men were
more masculine. Honor and chivalry meant something. Not to mention hot guys
with swords! What’s not to like?
Me: If you had to choose, which writer would you
consider a mentor?
Aurrora: I’m
fortunate to consider the fabulous Cherry Adair a mentor. She’s written oodles
of what she calls “running, chasing, shooting, wild monkey sex” books and
shares her knowledge of what it takes to make it as a writer. I probably
wouldn’t have finished the damn book if it weren’t for her.
Me:
Do you have any tips
for our readers that might dream of writing?
Aurrora: Many people say, “Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do
something.” I say, “Don’t tell yourself that you can’t do something.” I
have never had a lot of self-confidence. No matter whether people are or are
not supportive of my chosen dream, I was and still am the person hardest on
myself. I came to the realization that only I could make this happen. So
regardless of your fears, press on. To quote Cherry Adair, “Finish the damn
book”. And when you have, finish another one. Each book you write will teach
you something new. Not all of us will be Nora Roberts or JR Ward. You don’t
have to be. They are already taken. Just be the best writer you can be and keep
improving.
Me: Tell us anything you
want?
Aurrora: First, thanks so much for having me on your blog. Second, Yay
giveaways! And finally, if you are interested in eye candy… er, that is, my
inspiration for my books, hop on over to my Pinterest boards. I have boards for
my books and boards just for beefy guys.
Review of Gavril of Aquina (Lords of Magic Book 1) ~ Aurrora St. James
This is a great book. I was hooked from the start. For a new
author she has done well with this book. It was action, magic, love rolled into
a wonderful book. She takes you into a world of magic and you feel like it is a
real place. Know the people and start to feel with every person she mentions.
Gavril is beaten down and magic bound. His ability to
believe in himself is so low and you want to jump into the pages and hep him
realize he is much better than he thinks. Shyla is wonderful in helping him
realize his potential. She is also learning more about herself with him. His
friends are just as powerful in helping him see past his low self a steam.
Though it does take some time for him to realize he is awesome.I would
recommend this book and like myself sit patiently waiting for the next book.
Chapter One
The Kingdom of Aquina, 1278
Heavy boots and painful death pounded
the ground, growing closer. Varic Gavril Khalon ducked under a tattered
yellow-and-red striped awning, leapt over a table piled with fruit, scattering
oranges to the ground, and ran. The sweet scent of citrus filled the humid air,
making his stomach growl, but he couldn’t stop. He darted through a side alley,
out into the next row of stalls, then back again to the original row, leading
the palace guards on a winding chase. If they caught him, they would take him
to the dungeons where the secret he’d guarded for seven years would be
discovered. Lorcan would finish what he’d started and the last of the Khalon
line, the greatest ruling family of Aquina, would die out. As well as any
flicker of hope he kept of helping his people.
Onlookers parted as he ran. Some
stumbled out of the way, dropping their goods in his path. He dodged the
debris, ducked low behind a large family having an animated discussion in the
street, and darted into an unattended culinary stall. Pots of all sizes
teetered in high stacks on the market table, blocking the soldiers’ view of his
hiding spot.
He knelt in the dirt and held his
breath, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. The proprietor
of the stall didn’t seem to be about, giving him a moment of relief. As he
waited, he caught his reflection in the silver polish of a pot. Sweat dripped
down his brow, trailing through the dirt caking his skin. He looked down at his
filthy, ripped tunic and breeches, despising what he’d become. But not willing
to die for it. Varic, the king he’d been, was dead. Only Gavril, a broken man
who worked on the streets to feed himself, remained.
Four burly men in dark green tunics
bearing the garish gold seal of Lorcan, king of Aquina, thundered by his hiding
place. At their head was Qadir, captain of the palace guard. The group paused
just steps away. Qadir looked to his left and right, searching the crowd, then
ran into the busiest part of the market. His men followed, dodging rolling
oranges as they ran.
Gavril drew a shaky, pain-filled
breath and held a hand to his ribs. After the space of a few heartbeats, he
stood and moved quickly in the opposite direction. A shout rose behind him and
he cast a glance over his shoulder to see the Guard back on his trail. He ran
as fast as he could, fear of being caught driving him hard. He wasn’t the thief
Qadir thought, but with the Captain, innocence didn’t seem to matter. If
captured, Gavril would be taken to the dungeons. His secret would be discovered,
and then Lorcan would finish the job he’d started seven years prior.
He turned a corner and tumbled into
an old man carrying a load of fabric, falling to his knees. Pastel silks in
pinks, blues, and greens fluttered around him. He shrugged them off and gained
his feet. The seconds lost were sure to close the distance with the soldiers.
Gavril could practically feel Qadir breathing down his neck.
Shouts of “He’s there!” and “This
way!” rang out behind him.
Gavril turned another corner and
ducked past a curtain into the dark interior of a shop. A feminine gasp sounded
as he collided with a woman. They went down in a tangle of limbs. He rolled and
landed with her sprawled across his chest as his head cracked against the
floor. Gavril gasped in a fragrant breath of peaches and cinnamon and blinked
away the spinning room. Shards of pain radiated from the back of his skull to
behind his eyes and down to his ribs. He groaned.
The woman’s breath came quick,
blowing warm across his skin like a caress. She pushed herself up and helped
him to his feet. Her hands were soft on his arm. For a moment, the unexpected
warmth of her skin on his flesh startled him and a shiver of delight ran
through his body at her silken touch. It had been entirely too long since a
woman touched him.
Outside, the shouts of the guards
grew louder and then passed right by the door he’d come through. The woman
looked their direction, then back at him.
“Are they looking for you?” she
asked.
Gavril nodded. Stars swam in his
vision with the slight movement. He touched the back of his head, fingers
skimming over a tender bump already forming. A deep, steady throb began behind
his eyes and in his temples.
She stepped closer, brushing his hand
aside. Her fingers gently stroked over the lump, then trailed down his chest to
trace his bloodied ribs. “You’re injured.”
He didn’t move. Just stared at the
woman and tried to gather his scattered wits.
She was lovely, with midnight hair
falling over her shoulders in waves and the plumpest pink lips he’d ever seen.
Her skin was fair, unusual for their warm climate, and looked so soft he ached
to touch it. A simple blue dress clung to her amazing curves from shoulders to
hips and then flared to her feet.
Something passed in her crystal-clear
green eyes as she looked him up and down. Those lips pressed into a brief line.
He cringed at the image he must make. Dirty, beat up, and shaggy. Not the kind
of man who would draw the eye of a woman like her unless it was filled with
scorn.
“Come with me.”
She took his arm and pulled him into
the back room of the shop and to a small closet. “Stay here and do not speak
until I come for you.”
Gavril opened his mouth to respond
when she pulled a curtain across the closet doorway and blocked him in
darkness. He listened to her footfalls as she left the room. Why had she hidden
him? Why not point him to the door? Or hold him for the guards? Perhaps that
was what she meant to do all along. Maybe she would lead the guards to him.
Could he trust her not to?
Suddenly weary, Gavril sank to his knees.
He didn’t know this woman. But in that last moment, he thought he’d seen
compassion in her eyes. He sent up a silent prayer to the goddesses that he was
not misguided and waited for Fate.
* * *
Shyla brushed the dirt and dust from
her dress and hurried through her atelier. Sketches of clothing designs covered
three of the walls. Rolls of cotton and wool, leather and muslin lay in folded
stacks on every table. One day, she promised herself as she hurried to the
front of the store. Soon she would have enough saved to expand her shop and
sell her own designs.
She gathered up the scarves she’d
dropped when her unexpected visitor plowed into her and moved to the counter to
finish displaying the finely crafted silks. He was filthy, smelled awful, and
his clothes were torn and grimy. But through that single touch, she felt his
anxiety, his honor, and the distant sparkle of his magic. It confused her.
She’d always felt magic in others, though that talent was considered small and
useless by everyone, including herself. How much use could it be when all of
the people of Aquina had at least a little magic?
Somehow, this man was different. His
magic wasn’t small or limited like most Aquinians’. More like far away, though
that didn’t make sense. She’d never felt its like.
The mystery of his magic, coupled
with the panic in his blue eyes and the shouts of the guards, made her heart
swell with sympathy for him. She’d seen what became of the poor at the hands of
the men who were supposed to protect the people. Sometimes they were hunted or
even bullied for nothing more than being unable to feed themselves.
Such was the state of the kingdom.
Ever since King Varic died without an heir and his throne went to the highest
member of the council, the people of Aquina had suffered. Year by year the
people became thinner, the streets dirtier and more dangerous.
Shyla fingered a magenta silk scarf,
her thoughts turning back to the man. He was striking, though she couldn’t
specifically say why. His dark blond hair and wild beard were far overdue for a
cut, and he bled freely from a scratch on his cheek and another that soaked
through his shirt. He looked like he’d been on the streets for some time. It
was a bit like looking at the future of all the people of Aquina if King Lorcan
continued on his current path.
She wrapped the last scarf around
the display pole as the bronze bells on the curtain across the front door rang
and a small contingent of palace guards stepped into the darkened interior of
her shop. She turned in surprise.
“Where is he? We know he came
through here,” the man in the back said. He stood half a head taller than the
rest of the men, with shoulder-length hair the deep brown of coffee and the
forest green tunic of the palace guard. His eyes were dark as molten chocolate
and a scar bisected his left eyebrow, making him look fierce.
Shyla opened her mouth to deny the
presence of the man she’d helped, but he cut her words off.
“Do not think to lie, lest you find
yourself in a similar position.”
She worked not to react to his
threat, though his words made her angry. According to Dianthe, the guards were
never so bold when King Varic still reigned. She lifted her hand, purposefully
making it shake, and pointed to the door across the room leading out to the
other street. “He... he went...”
The guard nodded to his men,
wordlessly telling them to follow. To her dismay, he stayed behind and turned
that savage gaze on her.
He smiled, eyes alight with interest.
“You are very beautiful. What is your name?”
Shyla’s heart began to pound. She
licked her lips and wondered how she could get him out of the shop without
drawing further interest in herself. “Shyla de Aven,” she said.
“Qadir, captain of the palace guard.
It is my duty to keep our people safe.” His gaze flicked over her form and
lingered on her breasts. “One I take very seriously. I have not seen you
before. Are you new to our kingdom?”
Shyla’s stomach churned at the way
he looked at her. She brushed a lock of hair over her shoulder and thought best
how to answer. Certainly not the truth. “I came with the trades and decided to
stay. I find the kingdom beautiful.”
Qadir smiled and leaned against the
counter, crowding her. “Not nearly so lovely as—”
“Captain, we’ve lost him,” a guard
panted from the doorway.
He growled a curse, then gave her a
sheepish look. “Sorry. I’ve spent too much time with my men. Perhaps another
time, Shyla.” He dipped his head in a brief bow and disappeared out the door
after his man.
Shyla put a hand over her pounding
heart and drew a shaky breath. A shadow drew her attention back to the door
Qadir had gone through and she caught a flash of green at the edge of the
curtain. Had he turned back to watch her reaction after he’d left?
She waited another full minute to
make sure they didn’t return before going to retrieve the fugitive she’d
stashed in her back room. All had been quiet since she’d tucked him into the
closet. There was no other way out of her small shop, so she knew he remained.
Had he hit his head too hard when they collided? Was he unconscious on the
floor? She parted the curtain to the closet to find him sitting on the ground,
knees drawn up, head resting on his arms. His shaggy blond hair fell around his
arms like a shield to block her view.
“They’re gone. You can come out
now,” she said, relieved that he looked well.
His head snapped up and he stared at
her.
When he didn’t move, she held her
hand out to help him up.
He looked at her hand, then her
face, and pushed himself to his feet.
She wrinkled her nose as he brushed
by her. The man needed a bath. She eyed his attire. He also needed clean
clothes, new shoes and undoubtedly a meal. She sighed. She couldn’t help the
entire kingdom. Not when so many of them suffered under Lorcan. Still, she did
what she could with discounts to the occasional citizen who didn’t earn much
coin or a donated warm meal where needed.
Perhaps she could at least offer to
clean the wound on his cheek and provide fresh clothes. She followed him out
into the store area. “What is your name?” When he didn’t answer, she asked,
“Why were they following you?”
His silence frustrated her. She
planted her hands on her hips and blocked his exit. “I kept them from finding
you. Can you not answer me?”
He scratched his whiskered jaw and
closed his eyes. “Gavril.”
She paused at the first sound of his
husky voice. It sounded familiar, though she couldn’t place it. Perhaps she’d
heard him in the market somewhere. “Gavril. My name is Shyla. Why were they
following you?”
He looked away and fidgeted a bit.
Was he nervous?
“Gavril?”
His eyes flashed fierce when he
finally faced her again. “I did not steal.”
“You didn’t steal?”
He shook his head.
“But they think you did? That is why
the guards were after you?”
He nodded once.
Talkative he was not. “What did they
think you stole?”
Just when she thought he wouldn’t
answer, his stomach responded for him with a loud growl. His tan cheeks flushed
under the dirt.
Shyla’s heart ached for him.
Whatever his gift was, it wasn’t strong enough to help him feed himself. “Why
is your magic suppressed?”
He frowned at her. Then he shook his
head and skirted around her toward the exit. “I have no magic.”
Shyla blinked at him, confused. She
ran to catch up with his longer strides and grasped his arm. “But I felt...”
He rounded on her so quickly she
almost collided with him a second time. “You are mistaken,” he growled.
She shivered as his gruff voice
rolled over her. Her heart suddenly pounded in her breast as she took in his
clenched fists. Perhaps she’d misunderstood what her magic whispered about him.
That he was different in some way. Now uncertain, she took a step back. Aquina
was a dangerous kingdom and she faced a stranger alone. Suddenly it didn’t seem
wise to have sent the guards away.
“Do you intend me harm, Gavril?”
The aqua blue of his eyes narrowed
further. He looked affronted by her question, which didn’t bode well since she
sensed she’d angered him by asking about his magic.
“No,” he bit out.
His gruff answer confirmed the honor
she felt when she touched him. Still, she reached out once more to be certain.
Her fingers trailed lightly over his elbow before he stepped away from her.
Shame and uncertainty radiated from him with an underlying course of magic. Her
inner knowing whispered of honor, not
malice. She chewed her lower lip, knowing she should send him on his way. Under
normal circumstances she would never consider what she was about to do. But in
her heart, she knew this man wouldn’t harm her, especially as he professed to
have no power. Gavril was special. Her magic said so.
Straightening her shoulders, she
decided his wellbeing was worth the risk to her safety. Besides, though she
rarely used her power, she trusted it. This man needed help. “Good. It is time
to close the shop, and I need to stop by the butcher and produce vendor on my
way home. Would you like to join me? I cook a good meal.” She turned to a shelf
of men’s clothing and removed a couple of tunics and breeches, drawers and a
pair of boots. She added a hat to cover his blond hair.
He licked his lips. “No. Thank you.”
Shyla frowned. The man was starving
enough to be accused of stealing, but turned down food. “I don’t intend you
harm either, Gavril.”
His lips twitched but he shook his
head.
Stubborn man. “It would be better
for you to remain hidden until the guards are drawn away to another assignment.
They will continue to look for you tonight. I offer a warm meal and a bath. You
are in need of both and I won’t allow you to refuse.” She could also puzzle out
the mystery his magic presented in the process, and why a man like him would
deny having any.
He huffed as if put upon.
Shyla scowled at him. Really, she’d
never met a man so disinclined toward small comforts.
Before she could argue further, he
grumbled, “I accept.”
* * *
Gavril kept to the growing shadows,
watching as Shyla purchased vegetables for their dinner. She’d told him to stay
out of sight while she purchased what they needed, just in case the guards
returned to this area of the market. He snorted as he adjusted the ridiculous
hat low over his brow. Not that they would look for him here, where the awnings
weren’t torn and coated in dirt and the stalls were mostly intact. The
wealthier citizens of Aquina paid to keep the guards close, which meant that
thieves kept their distance.
The poor sections of Aquina grew at
an alarming rate, thanks to Lorcan’s rule. The man ruined his kingdom as each
day passed. Gavril ground his teeth, wishing he were worthy of taking back his
throne and helping his people. That he couldn’t ate away at his very soul.
He clenched and unclenched his hands
as he watched Shyla, trying to decide if he should leave now or allow this
madness to continue. He glanced down at his torn and dirty clothing and broken
shoes. He wasn’t fit for her presence and her home. Or anyone’s really.
He’d just made the decision to leave
and appease his hunger with whatever scraps he could find when she turned and
smiled at him, a dimple appearing in her cheek. She gathered her purchases in a
burlap bag and walked toward him. With each of her steps, his desire to leave
faded. Why he tortured himself this way, he couldn’t say. But the closer she
came, the more he realized that he wanted the company of this lovely woman, if
even just for an hour. In some small way it would remind him of the man he’d
once been.
Shyla’s hips swayed as she walked
and his gaze dropped to their rounded fullness. The curves of her body were
amazing. The way her waving, dark hair brushed those hips had him itching to
reach for her. He clenched his fist, knowing he never could.
When she was within reach, he took
the burlap bag and stepped away. Her smile dimmed a bit, but she waved him to
join her as they walked through the market.
A balmy breeze blew away the
unpleasant smells of overheated bodies and carried in the tang of the Sea of
Aquina and a light peach scent. Heady images filled his head of their bodies
entwined. His body immediately responded to the sensual thoughts, and he
shifted his breeches to ease the discomfort. Seven years was too long for a man
to be without the comfort and pleasure of a woman’s body. Without her hands
sliding along his skin and arousing him. Beside him, Shyla kept darting little
glances his way, her bottom lip tugged between her teeth. When she released it,
the delicate skin plumped pink and glistened with moisture. Gavril swallowed
hard. He wanted to taste her. Trail his mouth over those lips and down her
neck.
He was so focused on his fantasy of
tasting her lips and skin that he hadn’t realized they’d arrived at her modest
home. He stopped himself just shy of running into her back and breathed deeply
of her. Peaches and cinnamon. Sweet and musky. He shuddered all the way to his
toes. Taking a step away, he forced himself to focus on anything else but the
woman.
He stood on a quiet street lined
with houses in a better part of Aquina. Before them lay a small, whitewashed
house with flowers lining the short walkway. Wrought iron oil lamps lit the
small yard, door, and garden, and a gate on the side twined with thick green
foliage. In the distance, he could just make out the glimmering blue sea.
Shyla opened the wooden door and
stepped within the dim chamber that made up her living area. He followed,
unsure of what to do. She turned up an oil lamp and set to lighting the wicks
of others. Her home was a myriad of bright colors. Deep red cushions woven with
gold welcomed the weary, and rugs of blue, green, gold, and red flowers covered
the floor, giving the room warmth. Plants filled tables and lamps spilled
golden circles of light. It was a home fit for a princess. She could surely be
one.
“You can set the bag there,” she
said and gestured to the counter.
Gavril did as she instructed, and
then reached in to remove the vegetables and wrapped lamb. He stopped his hand
over the leafy greens. Dirt coated his fingers, the palms of his hands, and his
forearms. Clenching his fist, he dropped his arm back to his side.
Shyla touched his shoulder, a smile
on her lush lips. “Thank you, Gavril. Would you like to clean up while I make
us dinner?”
He looked back at his filthy skin
and clothes and nodded his head. She led him through a curtained doorway into
her inner sanctum. A low bed covered with pillows the colors of gemstones sat
to the right in full view of the arched window, where fading sunlight spilled
in. To the left was a large brass tub.
She moved to the wall and turned the
handle on a spigot. Water flowed into the tub, steam starting to rise. She set
a pile of clothes on a low stool near the tub and took a bath sheet, scissors,
razor, and soap out of a cabinet.
“How do you have running water?” he
asked. She must be wealthier than most.
“It’s connected by pipes to a rain
barrel that heats in the sun. The water is kept warm through flames along the
pipes. I bartered items from my shop for the system with a man whose magic
gives him the ability to manipulate water through metal.”
He nodded, amazed at such a thing.
Shyla set the bath supplies down on
the stool and held the soap out to him. Their fingers brushed as he accepted
it, sending warmth flooding to his gut. She smiled and looked quickly away.
“Take your time,” she said and
slipped from the room, pulling the curtain closed.
Gavril breathed deep of the cinnamon
soap. If this was the source of the spicy cinnamon he smelled, were the peaches
her natural scent? He forced the thought from his mind, shed his clothes, and
stepped into the heaven of the first warm bath he’d had in seven years.
~~~~~Giveaway~~~~~~
$ 10 Amazon GC and a copy of Gavril of Aquina
(Lords of Magic Book 1)
TO WIN All you have to do is: Head on over to Aurrora's Pintrest page and check out her Eye Candy in the Gavril of Aquina folder. Let us know which you think is the best Eye Candy. Of course you can't post a pic, but below each pic is a note/name of each character. Let her know who you think is the best eye candy. 2 winner's will be chosen from the comments below on 8/31/14 at 12 pm PST.
Me: Tell us about yourself
Lara did not know if it had been weeks or months she had
spent in the bowels of the dungeon, for time did not exist within the darkness.
Like the walls of her cell, Lara felt she has been a prisoner her whole life.
Forced into a loveless marriage to create a union among the two neighboring clans
her new husband, Laird Dermot Moray wants more from her than just a docile
wife, he want to claim a treasure her clan secretly possesses. After several failed attempts to claim it,
Dermot found a way to rid his burden of his defiant bride by having her locked
away forever. Lara had almost given up hope until a nameless warrior whose
strength and strong-will gave her the courage she needed.
