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Breath of Life (Godstone Saga Book 2) by Jocelynn Drake: New Release Review

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Caelan wants his throne back.

The bargain has been struck, and it’s time to return home.

But the situation is worse in Erya than he previously suspected. Betrayal runs deep in the streets of Stormbreak, and finding people he can trust will be treacherous.

He has no choice, though. He’s fighting for his birthright, and maybe even a little revenge if he can get it.

Will the gods come between him and the crown?

Or worse, him and Drayce?

Breath of Life is the second book in the six-book Godstone Saga fantasy series and is not a standalone. The story contains explosions, gods with secret plans, hidden romance, a prince set on revenge, magic, and lots of delicious angst.

Amazon – Kindle Unlimited

You must read book 1. No way around it. So if you haven’t, stop here.

Ok, book 2 picks up right after book 1. The foursome of Prince (King) Caelan, Drayce, Rayne and Eno are headed back home with some reinforcements from Prince Shey and after Caelan went all God of Storms on the fleet of ships attacking.

Once they return home, they find unexpected allies and unexpected rivals. We also learn more about Eno and Rayne, their backgrounds and families.

War is ugly and this shows the complexities of it, adding in a monarchy or two and some gods and goddesses.

Again, this isn’t much of a romance, but it isn’t meant to be. I fully expect to get happily ever afters at series end, but for now those relationships are secondary at best.

I am quite enjoying this much more than I thought, thanks to the writing and world building of Jocelynn Drake. She is quickly becoming one of my top ten authors as I have really enjoyed everything of hers I have read so far.

And I can’t wait for book 3!

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Seducing the Sorcerer by Lee Welch: Exclusive Author Interview and Excerpt, Release Day Review and Giveaway

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Homeless and jobless, Fenn Todd has nearly run out of hope. All he has left is his longing for horses and the strength of his own two hands. But when he’s cheated into accepting a very ugly sackcloth horse, he’s catapulted into a world of magic, politics and desire.

Fenn’s invited to stay at the black tower, home of the most terrifying man in the realm: Morgrim, the court sorcerer. Morgrim has a reputation as a scheming villain, but he seems surprisingly charming—and sexy—and Fenn falls hard for him.

However, nothing is as it seems and everyone at the tower is lying about something. Beset by evil hexes, violent political intrigue and a horse that eats eiderdowns, Fenn must make the hardest choices of his life.

Can a plain man like Fenn ever find true love with a scheming sorcerer?

Release date: 23 September 2021

Length: 100,000 words

Genre: fantasy m/m romance

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Two Chicks Obsessed: At the end of Seducing the Sorcerer, I felt everything was primed for a book 2. When’s it going to happen?

Lee Welch: Never say never, but I wrote Seducing the Sorcerer as a standalone, so there’s nothing planned. But I love that you feel there could be a second book because I hope that means the characters are living on in your imagination, having more adventures and a future together. So, it makes me very happy you would ask that question!

TCO: Are there plans to expand the world or write another book in that world but with different main characters?

LW: I’m not sure, because I created the world specifically for the story I wanted to tell about Fenn and Morgrim. Everything about the world—from the history to the geography to the politics—serves the themes of their story.

For example, one of the themes of the book is hope: hope lost and found, false hopes and real ones. Therefore, at the beginning of the book, Fenn is weary, middle-aged and nearly out of hope. He’s homeless and jobless and in many ways he’s been done out of these things by magic, because that’s the recent history in this particular world. That bit of history heightens Fenn’s particular situation. And it means he has a jaded view of magicians, so when he stumbles across some magic himself and is catapulted into Morgrim the court sorcerer’s world of magic and power—that means the situation is particularly interesting for Fenn. Because of the history.

And Fenn’s particular history makes things tense for Morgrim too, because Fenn’s from a place Morgrim failed to defend years ago. So, there’s already tension between them.

I feel other stories and other characters might need different worlds?

Mind you, I have wondered about the magician who developed crystal magic. Because while that whole discipline is almost a side detail in Seducing the Sorcerer, there’s a strong hint that it’s not as safe and convenient as everyone thinks. And if there are side-effects, I suspect the magician who developed it might one day feel he has to redeem himself. And since I’m a romance author, I’d need to discover who could fall for a man who’s regretting his whole life’s work…so now you’ve got me thinking!

TCO: I’d love to know the story behind the worple horse. Was it a complete figment of your imagination, or something else? I ask because Worple was the name of an Australian thoroughbred racehorse so I’d be fascinated to know.

LW: OMG was there really a racehorse named Worple?! *laughs*

But no, there’s no connection. The worple horse in my book was a figment of my imagination, inspired by a very bad sketch of a horse as drawn by my daughter.

The name was inspired by our cat, whose name is Turple (itself a corruption of Turtle) and who is also sometimes called ‘Wurple’. He’s a very worple-ish kind of cat; always following you about, getting in your way, staring at you in the bath, having inconvenient ideas about things. He’s a bit of a derp, but we love him and he makes us laugh. So, when I was looking for a name for a ridiculous kind of horse, ‘worple’ sprang to mind. It feels right to me.

TCO: What dialect was Fenn’s accent based on? Because you’re a New Zealander, but I looked it up and I’d swear it was Northern Brit.

LW: Yes, I’m a New Zealander, but my mother and grandmother were from County Durham in the north of England, and my husband and his family are from North Yorkshire. I know people who talk a tiny bit like Fenn—saying ‘give over’ instead of ‘stop that’ for example, ‘grand’ to mean ‘good’, and ‘right’ as an intensifier (as in ‘it’s right cold today’). But don’t go to the north of England and expect to hear people talking like Fenn! Because I played around and mixed it up and added some Victorian era slang to his vocabulary because I love old-fashioned slang.

But that’s one of the joys of fantasy worlds for an author like me. I can play with language and nobody can tell me I’m wrong, because I can assure you that all working-class people from the Essurean Isle of Mandillo speak like Fenn. Although he’s got a particular gift for metaphor, I think.

Seducing the Sorcerer is out on 23 September.

The sorcerer gave his staff a vicious twirl and pointed it at Fenn’s chest, clearly ready to destroy an army. Fenn gritted his teeth against whatever hideous hex was about to kill him. How much would it hurt? How unnatural would it be? He ought to run, but he could barely move. He hunched, eyes closing of their own accord, and clutched the horse’s sacking mane as if the coarse twine could help him keep a grip on life.

At least he’d die astride a horse.

But nothing happened. The rain pattered cool on his head and hands. He opened one eye, then the other, and risked a glance at Morgrim. A shadow of doubt passed over the sorcerer’s narrow face. It was almost confusion, if a hunting hawk can ever be said to look confused.

“Well?” Morgrim said.

His tone said “and how dare you keep me waiting”. It was clear Fenn was expected to make the next move.

“Er, evening, sir. My lord.” Fenn ducked his head. “I’m right sorry for the intrusion.”

“You’re sorry?”

There was such vicious scorn in the sorcerer’s voice that Fenn flinched. Morgrim cocked his head to one side, raptorlike. He hadn’t lowered his staff. “Who are you?”

“Fenn Todd. Er…your grace. Sir.” Gods, what were you supposed to call a court sorcerer? “Um…your honour.”

“Fenn Todd.” Morgrim sounded as if he were sizing it up to put in a spell.

Fenn shivered. Should have given a false name. Why hadn’t he thought to give a false one? Now Morgrim would be able to find out that Fenn had a criminal record and all. Oh Gods, this was going to be bad.

“And what is your purpose here?” Morgrim snapped.

“There ain’t one, your worship. It was a mistake. The horse brought me. I didn’t mean to trespass. I’ll go, eh? Quick as you like.”

Morgrim frowned as if Fenn’s answer hadn’t made sense.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. Honest. I came by the horse sort of…accidental. Tried riding it, only it took off in the air and…well, then it came down here.” Fenn had never felt more stupid or incompetent in his life. The whole thing was a ludicrous humiliating nightmare. “But I don’t want no trouble. I’ll be off, eh? Sorry to disturb you…er…sir.”

“You came to the Unket Tower by accident? You expect me to believe that?”

The name made Fenn shiver. He’d heard of it, of course, because court sorcerers had lived here for over a thousand years. The name was synonymous with magic. The place was reputed to be haunted. It was a giant trap.

He glanced about the courtyard again. There were several doors but they were all closed fast. The stone walls were five yards high and slimy with wet that flickered red in the torchlight. And there was that young bloke with the sword to think of, let alone the angry sorcerer. If the horse wouldn’t fly there’d be no escape. Why in blazes had the creature brought him here?

“Aye, by accident. Gods’ truth,” Fenn said grimly.

“And what magic did you use?” Morgrim still hadn’t moved from the top step. The tower door stood open to the dark behind him.

“Magic?” Fenn shook his head. “No. No, no. I know what it looks like, but I ain’t a magician.”

“You’re lying. Worple horses can’t fly. Don’t antagonise me, Mr. Todd. You’ll regret it.” Morgrim’s glare intensified. “I repeat: What magic did you use?”

“A worple horse?” It was Fenn’s turn to frown. “Wait. Is that a thing? What is that?”

“I’m asking the questions.”

There was an edge to the sorcerer’s tone, like anger and yet not quite. Fenn found he’d raised his hand in a reassuring gesture.

“All right, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

“What. Magic. Did. You. Use?” Morgrim demanded.

“None. Honest. I know the horse has a rune on its chest but that weren’t me. That just appeared. I can’t do magic.”

“Liar.”

“You think I’d come here if I could?”

“You are trespassing in my courtyard in the middle of the night. Are you now also being insolent?” Morgrim sounded as if he couldn’t believe his ears, but he lowered his staff.

Some of the tension went out of Fenn. It seemed Morgrim wasn’t going to do anything unnatural to him just yet.

“No, sir. It was an honest question. If I could do magic, why would I come here? Wouldn’t I be lying on silk sheets somewhere with a glass of wine and a valet peeling me a grape?”

Morgrim gave him one of those quelling looks that folks who liked to be in charge often gave. Fenn had weathered plenty in his time, though never one from the most powerful sorcerer in living memory. It made his blood run cold, but he kept his face plain. It didn’t do to be too easily cowed. It could make these domineering types worse. No, Fenn must strike the right balance between deference and dignity, and never mind that he felt too rattled to be up to the task.

It wasn’t helping that it was still raining. Even though the moon was right there, clearly visible over the yard wall to the east. It was raining only on the tower. Fenn shivered.

That was right uncanny. It certainly looked as though Morgrim had stolen all the rain clouds like people said.

This whole situation was unimaginable. Perhaps Fenn was dead after all.

There was a change in the solid body of the horse beneath him. It was sinking, deflating like a pricked balloon. Its legs bowed and then slid outwards. Its body grew thin and its head nodded towards the ground. Fenn jumped off with a muttered curse and it sank into a sad pool of sacking on the wet cobbles at his feet.

Fenn scratched his beard. “Blame thing.”

There’d be no flying out of here on it now. Not that it had seemed inclined previously, but now he was definitely stuck. Perhaps that quelling look of Morgrim’s had been more than just a look. Perhaps it had been some sort of evil eye.

Fenn glanced up. “You do that? Sir.”

Morgrim made a scoffing noise that said, “of course I did, but your question is beneath me”. He was glaring at the horse with a sort of outraged curiosity. He looked like a bloke who did a lot of glaring. His eyebrows were two perfect curves, positively made for the job.

Fenn nudged the horse with the toe of his boot and it gave a plaintive whinny. So, it hadn’t gone lifeless. It just wasn’t standing up any more.

In a way, Fenn sympathised. His knees felt right shaky. But Morgrim didn’t seem about to strike him down with a bolt of lightning just yet. And if Fenn was flung in a dungeon for a few nights, well, it wouldn’t be pleasant, but it wouldn’t be the first time. Who knew what would happen to the horse, but he himself would at least be fed and watered. Probably. Regular prisons had to feed you these days, though it was quite possible that Morgrim was a law unto himself.

“Well. I know it’s an ugly great thing to have littering up your courtyard,” Fenn said, wiping a raindrop off the end of his nose. “And I’m right sorry to have bothered you, and I hope you’ll be a gentleman and forgive the nuisance. I’ll be off now, eh? I won’t trouble you again. I promise.”

“All in good time.”

Morgrim came down the stairs in a ripple of black silk. He moved like a snake and in spite of himself Fenn was impressed. The man’s grace was mesmerising. It was hard to look away. And not just because Morgrim was so bloody terrifying.

“I have questions for you, Fenn Todd.”

Fenn was hardly in a position to refuse. “Aye, sir. Ask away.”

“You, Mr. Todd”–the sorcerer gave a graceful inclination of his head towards Fern–“are dealing with wild magic.”
I’ve read fantasy books for at least twenty years and it takes a lot for one to take me by surprise with such a unique twist.
Fenn Todd is desperate. He’s been betrayed, cheated, lost his home and countless jobs and the only work he can find that might keep him from starvation is digging a cesspit for a local farmer. Fearing he is being cheated and ridiculed because he is promised a horse for his labors when all he expected was water and a couple of coppers. He knows it can’t be true, a valuable horse for poor labor? But horses are his real love, and the thought of even touching one again makes him agree.
All I will say not to spoil the plot, is that the horse isn’t anything you would expect, but it sets off with Fenn and eventually takes him to an enchanted tower where where Morgrim, the court sorcerer rules.
Nothing is as it seems.
I love the plot and I adore the characters. Both older men that expect no kindness or hope from the world but find it in each other. The love story is adorable. The action fabulous, and the twists very satisfying.
The real star of the show is Squab. Just don’t let him anywhere near your clothes, or your bedding, or your curtains.
Five pink silk stars! (You’ll have to read it to understand)

Lee Welch lives in a house on a hill in the windiest city in the world, Wellington, New Zealand. She shares the house with her partner, two kids, two cats, a dog and quite a lot of spiders. Lee studied ancient history at Auckland University and creative writing at Birkbeck, University of London. By day, she works as an editor and business communications adviser for a large government department. By night, she writes escapist romances, usually with magic in them.

Contact information

Email: leewelchwriter@gmail.com

Website + newsletter sign up: https://leewelchwriter.com/

Twitter: @leewelchwriter – https://twitter.com/leewelchwriter

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/leewelchwriter/

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King of the Titans by J.K. Jones: Blog Tour, Exclusive Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

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Revenge.

Resentment. Malevolence. Desire. It wraps around him like a familiar cloak.

Like a second skin. Years of war hardened his heart into something unfathomable. For centuries he knew nothing but retribution and the ruthlessness of death and decay. His clan lost the war. They were decimated, their way of life stripped and sold to the highest bidder.

Now he finally has a chance to take back everything he lost.

To kill the King of Titans, assassin Julian White pretends to be a courtesan.

Falling in love with Lucious Rex, the man that tortured and killed his family is an unfortunate complication.

King of the Titans
By J.K. Jones

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The moment the arctic demon stepped near; a thrill ran down his spine. It was so sharp and sudden he nearly buckled. His knife weighed heavily in his pockets, and his hands itched to thumb the blade and plunge it into the demon’s neck. Yet amid his blinding hatred, something else settled inside him, a spark, quick and strident, something profound.

Ocean-blue eyes made him dizzy as if he were swimming in warm sun-lit currents before being pulled under. That face, he knew that face. For many years, Julian had meditated on it. The night that had brought hellfire and destruction right to his doorstep.

I will set you free. The day he’d taken pity on the worthless Þrælar had been his undoing. They’d been friends once. Julian stopped that thought before it could begin before it could even form and spiral into a well of self-loathing and despair. He went to bed soon after, his mind in disarray. What exactly did the demon want? Why go through all the trouble to scent him and mark his territory if all he wanted to was talk? None of it made sense.

Julian tossed restlessly throughout the night. In the morning, he awoke groggy and disgruntled, wishing he could close the curtains and go back to sleep. The threat of Madame Zelina barging into his room forced him to get up. No matter what, he wasn’t going to incur her wrath. He dressed simply, putting on some pants and his signature coat.

He tied his hair into a low bun, then went downstairs. Madame Zelina stood near the bar, her dress bright red with vines weaving up and down the hem.

I love fantasy when it’s well done, and this was really well done. Classic enemies to lovers. Basically the humans had ruled and treated the wolves like scum for years to the point of rape, torture, and starvation.

Julian (a human) years ago as a boy hears screams in his father’s house night after night and eventually plucks up courage to investigate. He finds a wolf (in human form) bound, starving, and tortured. He doesn’t find out until he’s an adult that his own father was raping the wolf as well.

Julian takes pity on him, lets the wolf go assuming he will escape, but instead the wolf frees other captive wolves and they slaughter the humans and eventually some years later take over and rule.

Now the wolves are in charge but they descend to the same levels of depravity as the humans once were at, except the King–the wolf Julian released all those years ago–doesn’t like what his wolves have become.

The world building, the writing, is amazing and that earns four stars all on its own.

The plot is tight and moves along at a good pace and the last betrayal was well set up and something I didn’t see.

My problem is the ending. They have an enforced three year separation which is never properly justified and then in the last few paragraphs the King sends for Julian and they have maybe three sentences worth of I love yous.

That isn’t enough for me.

After all that death, bloodloss, execution, murder and death I want to wallow in a happy ending. I want declarations of love and devotion that go on for days, and I didn’t get that.

But that’s me. It was a good book, I just wanted another chapter of smoochiness!

4 pieces of eye candy

J.K Jones is a University Graduate with a B.A in Sociology, also a TESOL certificate for teaching English as a Second Language. Literature is in my veins and the words pour out of my blood. Message me privately to join the mailing list. I like my artys with a bit of fartsy. I love Sundays spend drinking massive amounts of coffee and lingering over whichever book I am currently enthralled with. Favorite movies: American Beauty. Duh. What can I say? It’s a classic. Favorite place: The fort I built in my basement which my mom forced me to take down. Favorite food: Cheetos. Puffs. I don’t know what everything is crazy about the crunchy ones are crap.

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Website: www.jkjonesauthor.ca
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The Prince’s Vow: Starian Cycle #3 by Iris Foxglove: Blog Tour, Exclusive Author Interview, New Release Review and Giveaway

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Adrien de Guillory may be the heir to the throne of Staria, but no one in court believes that the submissive, meek-minded prince will ever be king. What they don’t know is that Adrien is hardly the meek, shy creature he pretends to be and that he has his own plans for the future. To see those plans through, Adrien embarks on a journey to Mislia, the land of his mother’s ancestors, to seek an answer to controlling his magic of foresight.

The one thing Adrien’s visions don’t predict is Isiodore de Mortain, his father’s confidante and the subject of Adrien’s long-standing, deeply embarrassing infatuation. Isiodore intercepts Adrien on his way to Mislia. But it’s too late to turn back—the two of them are now stranded on foreign soil, forced to rely on each other in order to get home in one piece. With Isiodore set on keeping Adrien safe and Adrien determined to become the most troublesome prince in Starian history, a storm is brewing over Mislia…one that will surely sweep both of them out into uncharted waters.

(The Prince’s Vow is an m/m dark fantasy novel, set in a fictional world where everyone is biologically either a dominant or a submissive and compelled to satisfy those urges. As such, the biological imperative kink in this story is pure fantasy, and not intended as a representation of real-life BDSM practices or dynamics.)

Title:  The Prince’s Vow

Series: Starian Cycle #3

Author: Iris Foxglove

Release Date: 6/22/21

Heat Level: 4 – Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 64,000

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, BDSM, AU

(The Prince’s Vow is an m/m dark fantasy novel, set in a fictional world where everyone is biologically either a dominant or a submissive and compelled to satisfy those urges. As such, the biological imperative kink in this story is pure fantasy, and not intended as a representation of real-life BDSM practices or dynamics.)

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When did you write your first story and what was the inspiration for it?

Foxglove: My family couldn’t afford a computer for some time, but we did have a typewriter for homework purposes. The big rule was that in order to use the typewriter, what you were writing had to be worth it. The first story of mine that was deemed worthy featured a group of fairies who caused a hurricane because they partied too hard, and a girl who told them to kindly knock it off, please. I wasn’t a big fan of hurricanes, to be fair.

Iris: I’m older than Foxglove and brought a word processor to college, LOL. But my first story was honestly very similar to Duke’s Demon — I joke that I’ve been writing some version of that story since I was twelve, but it’s true. I wrote a screenplay (I don’t know why it was a screenplay, to be honest) about a ballerina who was magically transported to an Irish castle and lived with a duke who was possessed by a demon. It was absolutely awful, but I still have it, and it makes me smile to think about how years later I published a (much better) version! I probably have had dozens of old Trapper Keepers filled with half-finished fantasy stories, but that was the first thing I ever finished in its entirety. It was called “At the Edge of Midnight” and my dad made me a cover on Print Shop on our family computer. To be honest, it would be a horrible movie but the concept was there, ha!

Where did the desire to write LGBT romance come from?

Foxglove: Well, I came out pretty young, which was rare in my conservative town, and I spent years carefully cultivating a small collection of LGBTQ fiction. It was important to me to know that there were writers out there who thought that people like me deserved love. Eventually, my room was searched and the collection was discovered—only one book remained hidden. I decided then and there that I would write my own stories to make up for the ones that were lost.

Iris: I’ve been a voracious reader all my life, especially of fantasy, and always wanted to see a story with someone like me in it. Especially because I always wanted romance in my stories, and the characters I wanted to get together were never the ones who did! I also wanted to write stories where people were accepting of all sexualities and genders, especially since so much of my love of fantasy is centered around the “found family” trope.

Briefly describe the writing process. Do you create an outline first?  Do you seek out inspirational pictures, videos or music? Do you just let the words flow and then go back and try and make some sense out it?

Foxglove: We mostly babble at each other excitedly until a plot happens. There are a lot of moments that tend to go like this:

“So what IF, bear with me, but what IF this character…”
“Yes?”
“What if they did THIS?”

“OH MY GOD YES AND WHAT IF THEY DID THIS OTHER THING?!”
“AND THEN THIS OTHER THING HAPPENS?”
“YES!!!!”

It can get a little out of hand, but our brainstorming sessions are ridiculously fun.

Iris: It’s true!! We have so many books planned it’s unreal — the world that we’ve created is so fun, and we’re apparently going to write a story for the entire population 😀 We’re pretty good about writing a scene, then saying, “Hey, do you want to jump in, here?” and switching off. Usually we each gravitate toward a character and write their POV. Sometimes we outline, but it’s normally more of a general plot idea that we tweak as we go along.

We did write one of the books in the Starian Cycle out of order — look, we really love the pairing in The King’s Mage, okay — and after we went back and wrote Exile’s Gift, had to rewrite the fifth one!! So there’s two versions of book 5 floating around our Gdocs, lol.

I write best, personally, with music or thunderstorm sounds. Background noise is essential, but it can’t be anything I’m TOO interested in or I’ll get too distracted!

If you could sequester yourself for a week somewhere and just focus on your writing, where would you go and what would the environment be like?

Foxglove: Is this a magical place where I don’t have to cook anything? Can I go there? Also, my kingdom for a comfortable desk chair! I am a creature of simple needs.

Iris: Honestly if I could go somewhere it was raining and/or snowing constantly, with me in a comfy chair with sixteen blankets and a sweater with too-long sleeves and a huge mug of Earl Grey, I would still find a way to play a mobile game and be distracted. But I have such fond memories of finishing Traitor’s Mercy — I woke up at 5 am after I couldn’t sleep due to the excitement of nearly being done, and went to my then-office in our house and watched the sun rise with tea while I wrote Laurent being dramatic in the snow with Sabre. Then, I watched in real-time as Foxglove finished the epilogue, and immediately opened a doc to start Duke’s Demon! It’s such a happy memory, that feeling of excitement when you type “The End” (which I always do) is so satisfying.

I want to say right off that this is book three in the series and I haven’t read one or two. Which might have made a lot of nuances and sub-plots in this book easier to understand. I love fantasy and this had a really good start. In and amongst a fantasy plot the book had dominant and submissive tendencies which if that’s your jam was well done.

I think the plot got lost in detail a little in the middle, but there are a wealth of characters I am interested in discovering how their story progresses.

Adrien as a character is a delight and very well balanced. Isiodore is good for him even if a little too patient sometimes. I wished I had read the previous two books first.

4 pieces of eye candy

Iris Foxglove is a shared pen name between two longtime fantasy readers who are committed to writing fun, escapist dark fantasy featuring decadent, kinky stories, intricate world building and unforgettable characters.

Author Links

Twitter: https://twitter.com/irisfoxglove

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21219026.Iris_Foxglove

Email: irisfoxgloveauthor@gmail.com


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Holding onto Light by Lucien Grey: Release Day Review

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Two strangers running from their dark pasts find redemption in each other.

Harry, a former army doctor, lives in isolation after the devastating war between Rasacara and the Empire came to a bloody and violent conclusion. His lonely life is disrupted by a young, beautiful man surrounded by secrets and suspicion, who would likely destroy Harry if he knew who he was.

Kit, former member of the witch army’s Blue Crows, now on the run from his former master, must keep his identity a secret as his enemy is closing in and Harry, the gruff, mysterious woodsman, is all that stands between him and the man who wants him dead.

Forced together by Kit’s injuries, the two lonely men find comfort in each other, both scarred by the darkness of their pasts, but when Kit’s enemy catches up with him, they are forced to fight, revealing to each other the evils both of them have committed, and testing the strength of their new, fledgling love.

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Pride Publishing

The background to Holding Onto Light is an aftermath of a terrible war that happened some years previously. In this world magic users were harnessed by the leaders and used to war against their enemies. They are hunted out now by a magic-wielding secret police type group now and most live hidden in fear. This group has the power to “bind” magic users so they cannot use their powers or are forced to use it against their will.

An embittered ex soldier–Harry–is living his life in solitude because of his actions that brought about the end of the war. (I have to remain vague and unspoilery.) He worked as a medic during the war, but he has a large dark force of magic inside him that he struggles to contain for fear he will hurt someone.

Our second MC–Kit–has a different and quite unique use for magic, but he is on the run from the same group.
The group captures them both and tries to use one to force the other into welding magic.

I loved the unique twist on the magic, the story setting and the characters had so much potential.

My only niggle is that the whole story was based on mistakes that were made in this war many years ago, and its aftermath, and sense of punishment or retribution carried on through the whole book. The story kept me engaged to read it in one sitting, but I was still left with the feeling that neither Harry or Kit ever really forgave themselves or each other.

3.5 pieces of eye candy

The Hunter’s Gambit by Nicholas McIntire: Blog Tour, Excerpt, New Release Review and Giveaway

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Aleksei Drago never expected an easy life, but he never expected what he got. Growing up amongst the Ri-Vhan of Seil Wood, losing his mother and just as suddenly being torn from the forest folk, Aleksei had no choice but to make the best of the unpredictable path in life.

But what happens when the monsters and figures of fiction become horrifyingly real? Can Aleksei find the right path? When his life and the lives of his family and friends are at stake will he fight, reforging himself into the man Prophecy demands he become? In a world of magic and Magi, of Angels and Demons alike, how will a simple farm boy survive his own contorted destiny?

This is the story of a seemingly-simple world gone mad, and the reality that every action, no matter how apparently benign, can serve to unravel terrifying truths. This is the story of Aleksei Drago, farmer, Hunter, and so much more.

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Henry spent the rest of the day watching his son closely. Something was undeniably troubling him, but until Aleksei decided to open up to him there was nothing he could do.

“He’ll tell you in his own time, Henry.” he muttered under his breath.

So he waited. Every now and then he would engage his son in conversation, but every time he thought Aleksei might be on the brink of telling him something, the conversation fled to some superficial topic. Did he think it would rain by Market Day? Who did he think would bring the biggest pig to the Harvest Festival? Did he think Mother Margareta would come to bless their fields before the first frost?

Henry answered each question as though it was the direction he meant to steer the conversation, and refused to allow his frustration to surface. But by the end of the evening, he was no closer to understanding his son’s troubles than he’d been that morning.

Finally Aleksei rose from his seat before the fire, put his book away, and went to bed. Henry watched him go, more troubled than ever. The boy had never gone to bed without a word before. He always had some last comment to make, even if it was just to wonder at the next day’s activities.

Henry sat before the dying embers of the fire well into the night, thinking. He didn’t remember falling asleep, so when the voice woke him his eyes started open.

Hello, Henry.

He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

Gone was the heat of the hearth, the comfort of his chair. Instead he stood in an enveloping fog of shimmering gold.

He could see no one.

“Where am I?” Henry demanded.

         A dream, Henry. This is merely an illusion. I apologize that I cannot offer you more comfortable surroundings at the moment.

“Who are you?” Henry called, feeling a touch foolish, shouting at phantoms.

His question went unanswered.

Henry, I’ve come to ask a favor.

“Who are you?” Henry repeated flatly.

There was a moment of hesitation before the voice responded. A man much like yourself, Henry Drago. One who only wants what’s best for your son.

“Speak then.”

When the favor was uttered, Henry blinked in confusion. A thousand questions bubbled to the surface, yet he found that he only possessed the strength to ask one.

“Why?” he choked, surprised by the weakness in his own voice.

The air before his face shimmered and distorted, as though he were looking through intense heat. Slowly, images formed. Images of Aleksei. An Aleksei he didn’t recognize.

“Why are you showing me this?” Henry managed.

Because I want you to see what your son could become. The man he could be, if you’d only let him. If you just do as I say.

“I don’t trust you.” Henry barked back. “I can’t even see your face.”

Another image shimmered into being. A man, though Henry saw nothing remarkable about him. The man leaned forward and whispered in his ear, and Henry heard the unmistakable ring of truth.

In that moment he thought he might have preferred a dagger to the heart. It would have been far less painful to simply die at the end of a highwayman’s blade than to agree to this. Either way, he would lose the most precious thing he had.

“Bargain struck.” Henry whispered bitterly, a tear winding its way down his cheek.

You’re doing your son a great service, Henry Drago.

The man even sounded earnest.

Henry started to say something, but even as he opened his mouth, darkness swirled around him. He slipped back into the empty chasms of sleep.

Morning greeted Aleksei gently, rousing him from a dreamless oblivion. It had taken him hours to finally find some rest, and his relief was immeasurable when he woke without encountering the specter of the green-eyed man. His wish had been granted. The man was gone.

He made his way down the narrow stairway and walked into the kitchen, frowning at what greeted him. Their rough wooden table was laid out with provisions for what Aleksei could only guess was a journey.

But a journey where? His father hadn’t said anything about travel. There was still wood to chop and hay to store. The first snow might be weeks away, but there was no telling when the winds would usher in the chill of Northern air. Working outside in the cold was not something he, nor any farmer, relished.

“I see you’re up.” Henry said from behind. Aleksei jumped.

He turned, “Da, where are we going? I thought we were going to finish the hay this morning.”

His father shook his head and smiled, though Aleksei caught the deep sadness in Henry’s eyes. “We aren’t going anywhere, Son. You are.”

Aleksei frowned, “Me? But I thought—”

His father tried to hold the smile, but it was forced, “You’re needed, Son. In the North.”

Aleksei thought his heart would stop. He forgot to breathe. He could hardly process what his father had just said.

You know the truth he speaks, Aleksei.

Aleksei fought back a sob of frustration. He thought he’d freed himself of the damned voice, but now he knew the truth. He would never be free from it. It would hound him until the end of his days, or until it drove him mad, whichever came first.

Or until you simply do as I ask.

“Why?” he finally managed.

His father looked out the kitchen window, and Aleksei followed his gaze. Dash waited patiently outside, a saddle fitted snugly about his muscular frame.

“Because you’re needed, Son. It’s the only answer I can give you.”

“I’m not needed here, Da? Don’t you need me?”

Henry bit back the pain in his voice, “You are more of a help than I can say, Aleksei, and I love you dearly. But no, I don’t need you. Not like this. If you stayed here, you’d be wasting something…extraordinary. And honestly, I think you’d know it too. They need you in the North, Son. And their need is much more important than mine.”

Aleksei stood there, stunned by what his father was saying to him. And then the questions came pouring forth. What did Henry mean by ‘extraordinary’? What had his father learned? What was still being kept from him?

“And I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you want, Son. But I think you know who can. Find him.”

“But how can I….” Aleksei began, fighting back the tears springing into his eyes.

“You’re strong, Aleksei. You’ve always been strong. That won’t fail you now.”

Henry swallowed back his own tears and tried to smile again, “Now you’d better get on the road. The sooner you get beyond the Southern Plain, the better. You don’t want to be riding under the Harvest sun too long if you can help it.”

“But where am I going?” Aleksei cried, his voice breaking. It was happening too fast. His life was slipping through his fingers moment by moment and there was nothing he could do about it.

“North, Son. North. You’ll know where you’re headed as you get closer. That’s all I know to tell you.”

Aleksei looked into his father’s eyes and saw the sadness, the regret that burned within him. His father wanted to know just as badly as he, to know just what sort of place he was so blindly sending his son.

Finally, after a long silence, Aleksei nodded. “Alright, Da. If you want me to go, then I’ll go.”

“I’ll never want you to go, Son.” Henry whispered, his face contorting with pain. He had already lost his wife, and now he was losing his son, too. Aleksei would still be alive, but he would be so far away.

“But promise me something, Aleksei.”

Aleksei nodded, “Anything, Da.”

“If you find this place and if it’s not what you want, what you need, promise me you’ll come back. Even if this isn’t what you want either, at least we can figure that out together.”

Aleksei finally allowed a tear to wind its way down his cheek, “I promise, Da.”

Henry stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around his son, hugging him as close as he could, as though any moment Aleksei might turn to mist and vanish forever. Henry stepped back and managed a sardonic smile. Aleksei might remain solid as stone, but surely enough he was about to vanish.

Henry didn’t watch his son ride away. In truth, he couldn’t bear it. As long as he’d never seen Aleksei leave he could always pretend the boy was out in the barn, or by the pond he’d swum in as a child. It was a good hour before Henry allowed himself to sit down in his chair and sob.

Classic high fantasy and it’s a long book. Be prepared to spend the first few chapters getting into the story because it has a complicated and highly intense magic world. I’d been reading for over and hour and a half and I happened to look at my kindle percentage read and I was at 4%. Yep.

So I settled myself in for the long haul and by 20% I was struggling to put it down. Absolutely classic hero’s journey but the twist is that Alexei (our hero) has two people that could either be his antagonist/second MC/mystical life partner and for a long time the author keeps us guessing.

Each magus (magic wielder/user) in Nicholas McIntire’s world is always paired with a knight. They live and fight together. If one dies they both die.

But like I said Alexei (who becomes the Knight) has no idea which magus he is supposed to pair with.

They both are dragging our farm-boy hero to travel hundreds of miles north based on voices in his head, premonitions, and an interesting back story the author is very stingy about how much and when he gives away.

It’s not pretty. There’s a lot of death, blood, suffering, and some amazing magical twists, abilities, and things never seem to work out quite how you were expecting.

Things get further complicated when our farm boy starts developing abilities of his own.

Complications get answered and resolved, but not completely finished even though the journey has a satisfying ending for our couple, I was immediately ready for book two.

4.5 pieces of eye candy

Critically-acclaimed author Nicholas McIntire has been writing fantasy since he was 8 years old. The bones of the Archanium Codex were first created when he was 16, and in the past 20 years, he has taken that initially simple idea and crafted it into a fully realized world, finished the sequel, earned three degrees (one in Russian, Eastern European Studies, two in Nursing), and lived life to its fullest. Now writing full-time, Nicholas is ready for share is vision of the Archanium Codex, a 10 book series. The first book of the series being The Hunter’s Gambit.

Nicholas, lives in Fort Worth, Texas, but writes in both Fort Worth and Fort Davis, TX, where his family has a small place situated at 5200 feet in the Davis Mountains – and, yes, Texas does have mountains.

Author Website: https://www.nickmcintire.com/

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/NGMcIntire/

Author Twitter: @nickmcintire

Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17088295.Nicholas_McIntire

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