I’m excited to have Bethany Adams as a guest on my blog. Her latest release Sundrered, book two in the Return of the Elves series just came out a few weeks ago. Today her book Soulbound is released as an audiobook.
Its available from:
This is the intro blurb I would read from an index card if I were sitting at a desk on a televised talk show:
Ever since finding a copy of The Hero and the Crown in her elementary school library, Bethany has loved fantasy. After subjecting her friends to stories scrawled in notebooks during study breaks all through high school, she decided to pursue an English degree at Middle Tennessee State University. When not writing or wrangling her two small children, Bethany enjoys reading, photography, and video games.
When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?
I’m not sure there was ever really a decision. I started writing stories when I was a kid and never really stopped for wrong. I did consider other things when I was in college, but writing was always there. It took me until my thirties to get serious about a career in writing, though.
What’s your hidden party trick most people don’t know about?
Inappropriate jokes? I’m fairly quiet, and I keep my off-color sense of humor to myself until I really know people. So when I break out with a raunchy joke, it surprises the heck out of people.
What’s worse? Stepping in something wet after putting on clean dry socks or a noisy cricket outside your window when you need to sleep?
Noisy cricket. I can change socks, but don’t mess with my sleep!
Your books are fantasy-romance, which genre really pulled you into wanting to write the fantasy or the romance?
I’ve always had a deep love of both. I grew up reading Robin McKinley and Mercedes Lackey. Then as a teen, I started picking up romance novels, too. I’ve tried to just write one or the other, but I can’t seem to help it—they blend. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten past a page or two without mixing the two.
Soulbound and Sundered are the first two in the Return of the Elves series. How many books do you have planned?
Heh. That’s a good question. I’m writing a short story (which might sneak itself into a novella) that happens just after Sundered. After that, Book 3 will tie up the story arc with the main villain. But I also have stories in mind for Lynia and Lial, Selia, Naomh and/or Caolte, and a new character popping up in Book 3. I guess we’ll have to see!
When can we expect to see the next one?
I’m hoping to release the maybe-novella in February. It’ll also have a couple of bonus short stories unrelated to The Return of the Elves. Book 3 is a little more tentative. I’d love to have it out in May, but it depends on how smoothly the writing process goes.
Can you give us a twitter-length over view of each book?
Soulbound: Arlyn wanted to meet her elven father, not spark the plot to kill him.
Sundered: Poisoned energy is flooding into the realms of the fae, causing sickness, and Lyr must rush to find the source of the threat.
What has been the most euphoric experience in publishing your novels?
It is absolutely when someone tells me they love my book. Hands down. That anyone would take the time out of their day just to message or email me about my book…it’s such an honor.
As a self-published author what has been the most difficult obstacle to overcome?
The learning curve. There’s a great deal that goes into publishing a book, although it sounds like it should be simple. Most people know that you need an editor and a cover. But then there’s formatting (for ebook and print, which aren’t the same), deciding how you want to publish, entering your information into a million publishing platforms, buying ISBNs, advertising… It all falls to the author. I’m still learning to juggle it all in a lot of ways.
How do your stories come to you?
It’s character first. Always. Scenes just pop into my head, and it’s usually the character in the middle of doing something intense. Of course, sometimes the meanies pop in and then leave before I can get a full story. That doesn’t usually happen, though.
Do your characters become more real the further you get into writing the stories?
I suppose so. For me, it’s like getting to know a real person. As more of their story comes clear, I learn more about them. I didn’t know why Lial, the healer in both books, is so cranky until the third draft of Soulbound. It’s a strange sensation having something from your own brain surprise you.
You’ve provided us with a sampling from Sundered, do you need to set up this scene?
Lyr’s life is pretty messed up at this point. He’s dealing with a great deal after his failures at the end of the first book, and now more problems are popping up. And now he has another surprise in store.
Excerpt from Sundered:
Lyr strode down his favorite path through the woods, his footsteps guided more by habit than intent.
It was beyond foolish to take his daily walk with another assassin on the loose. At the least, he shouldn’t have ducked the bodyguards who trailed him every time he left the estate—the same three who’d been unable to detect or deflect the danger just hours before. But for the moment, Lyr didn’t care, a thought that crept in more every day. Maybe if he walked fast enough, he could outmaneuver his frustration and discontent.
His hands curled into fists at the helpless feeling that washed through him, the same sick emotion that had plagued him for nearly thirty years. He kept telling himself that it would pass. After five hundred and forty-nine years of life, he knew that all things shifted and changed, even among the slow-paced elves. Yet here he was, his father’s murder still unsolved, the person behind their recent troubles unknown, and his soulbonded forever lost to the world. Despite his training and his power, he could fix nothing.
And now he had to worry about the Neorans.
Lyr was halfway to the portal when the alarm set into the estate shielding resounded through his mind. Muscles tensing, he paused to examine the spell. Five people had come through the gate unauthorized, and not guided by someone connected to Braelyn. The guides who escorted travelers possessed medallions to let their charges through, so it had to be a true incursion.
He only wore his boot knife, but time was more of the essence than his safety. Clechtan, but he was a warrior in his prime. These were his lands, and he knew them better than any intruder could. He didn’t need bodyguards with him just to check the gate. It would only take a few moments to creep close, and the land guards shouldn’t be too far away.
Lyr brought his own personal shields to their highest state and darted off the trail. The forest here had minimal undergrowth, much of the excess cleared to prevent fire, so remaining undetected would take some caution. Still, he knew the best routes. He wove through the trees as he flung his senses wide, but he detected only the intruders and the guards perched in the trees surrounding the portal area. The Tayianeln were taking no chances after their previous failures and had rushed extra guards to the portal. Though they awaited his command, they would not be caught unprepared again.
Lyr slipped behind a log bench designed to look like a natural part of the forest. It was the largest and most distant of the three scattered around the clearing near the portal, perfect for crouching behind. Unsure if the interlopers would have the kind of magic capable of detecting him, he sent out several false energy signatures around the edges of the clearing. Finally satisfied, he looked up to examine the newcomers.
Four females and a male. An older elf in long robes stood closest to his hiding place, and the two females nearest her seemed to be servants of some kind. His gaze moved to the flame-haired male, and Lyr’s breath caught. Power swirled around the newcomer, but it was unlike anything Lyr had seen before. Not quite like Eradisel, but…
Ralan’s voice broke into his mind without warning or apology. “Do not attack, and stay wary of the male. He is not what he seems.”
Lyr’s eyes narrowed on the group. The elder’s white robes were richly embroidered. More elaborate than the others in her group. And although the male’s power was undeniable, none of them were armed beyond ceremonial knives. More diplomats? There was one more who could have been some type of guide. She stood apart from the others, and tension hitched her delicate shoulders so high he could see it from across the clearing.
The older one barked a single word Lyr didn’t recognize, and the slender woman pivoted, her long robes swirling around her ankles. The cloth was of good quality, but the robes were simpler than the elder’s and cinched by a leather belt. She took a step forward, and a pendant on a thin chain glinted between her breasts. Was the amulet mere decoration, or was it some kind of weapon?
Perhaps he’d been reckless to leave the estate without his sword after all. Lyr eased forward, his focus on the metallic glimmer. She shifted again, falling into shadow, and the source of the flash came clear. A large crystal encased in silver mesh. If this female was an assassin, he’d eat moss off the back of the bench.
Then she spoke, and his attention darted back to her face. Though she hadn’t noticed him, he fell into her light blue eyes. A shudder went through his whole body.
They had never met, but he knew her.
Lyr’s hands gripped the bark of the log bench until lichen crumbled beneath his fingers. It was not possible. Aimee had died four Earth years before, and his daughter had witnessed it. Arlyn wouldn’t have mistaken her own mother’s death. Besides, the woman before him had pale blond hair, so unlike the vibrant red Arlyn had inherited from her mother. He could see that they weren’t the same with his own eyes, yet he could feel the connection between their souls.
It matched the one he’d shared but never completed with Aimee. As much as this stranger’s energy differed, her spirit was the same.
This woman was his aenac—his soulbonded.
He had never heard of an elf finding another soulbonded after losing the first. Since the souls of bonded pairs connected, the death of one would take a bit of the person left behind, leaving a piece that could never reconnect. Still, his soul sang for the female across the clearing. No matter how much he tried to deny it.
Suddenly, he understood how Kai had panicked and given Arlyn the binding necklace on their first meeting. Lyr wanted to run forward and do the same before he lost yet another soulbonded, and it took all his willpower to resist. Even if the entire group was set to kill him, they were not walking back through the portal. Not until he’d spoken to her.
With a mental command to the Tayianeln hiding above him in the trees, Lyr prepared to reveal his presence. Feeling Kai’s approach, he established a quick connection between them. “Do not attack. Stand down and let me handle this. One of these women feels like Aimee.”
Go check Bethany out online, follow her on all the social media links, tell your friends!
Main website: http://bethanyadamsbooks.com/
Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/bethanyadams
This is unedited RAW, straight from whatever project I happen to be typing away on. Since its NANO month, I definitely have a goal in mind, and these will see the light of day this time next year.
Jimmy wiped his hands together, as if he could clear away the grease, and not just smear it around. A familiar happy tune wafted on the breeze. He looked up. Was that Rose? A cloud of thick golden tresses swirled around her in the freezing wind. She high-stepped and skipped her way over the ice and rocks on the side of the broken up road.
“Hey,” he called out.
Rose froze. She hadn’t noticed the hearse on the side of the road until the man called out to her; the tall good-looking one, the one who cheated off her tests in World History. James. James, what was his last name? If anything he had filled out even more. The white shirt he wore showed off his broad shoulders, the rolled up sleeves emphasized the unseasonal tan of his strong forearms. Rose had only let him cheat hoping he would at least talk to her, but nope. Boys didn’t talk to her in high school, and men didn’t talk to her now, seven years later.
“Oh hi. Did you get a flat? Need some help?” Not that Rose could do anything, but she had been well trained to at least offer assistance.
“No, I’m good, just finished. You aren’t walking home, are you? Where’s your ride?” Jimmy asked
Rose threw back her head and cackled. “You’re funny. Why would I have a ride? I’m pretty sure that damned bastard made sure that I would be stranded out here. Oh wait, that would mean he actually thought about me. No. No, I don’t have a ride, because my father made sure he was taken care of, without a thought for me.” Her voice was thick with knives and resentment.
“That would explain why I heard ‘Ding Dong the Witch is Dead’?” Jimmy smirked.
“Yeah, busted.” Rose grinned sheepishly.
“Can I give you a lift home Rose?”
Rose’s heart sped up, her breathing caught in her throat. James-the-cheat knew her name. “Yeah, James right?”
Jimmy nodded, “Jimmy.”
Van Haas’s face blanched then blushed a ruddy hue as shock, then embarrassment crossed his features. “Ms. Palatine, Julia.” van Haas’s voice dropped when he said her name. “I am in a position of great power and wealth. I have extensive lands and many people follow me within my organization. You are too lovely and should not be expected to participate in the masculine world of business, you…”
“I am going to stop you right there, before you say anymore that you will regret. I do not know the feminist climate of South Africa, but I can tell you right now as a woman in business, you aren’t ever going to get anywhere by telling a woman she should or should not do something.”
“Forget I said anything about business.” van Haas waved his hand dismissively. “I am leaving here soon. We have not had any time to be alone together. I would just like to spend some time with you. You invited me here. And it’s been all business and genetics the entire time.”
“Because I invited you to a genetics conference.”
“Yes, well you invited me, and I came. You have spent too much of my time with other people. I think we should return to my suit and…”
Julia held up her hands in front of her, stopping van Haas from continuing. “No. Clearly, there has been a miscommunication.” This explained his oily demeanor when the others weren’t around. “I am not, no.” She let out a breath. “I don’t want to assume anything, however, I have a very strong feeling that you are about to make a claim with emotional expectations. I am not, I have not done anything that should warrant these expectations from you.”
“You invited me.”
“I also invited the alpha of the Meyer family in Canada.”
Driven: book two Rhea Silvia Legacy
Well, unfortunately, I am not announcing the publication date.
Cause, I don’t know when that will be.
Due to scheduling issues and issues with what it takes to actually self-publish a novel the date has been pushed off.
I’m now shooting for a winter release date.
Also, this book will be released as an eBook first, not sure how much longer after the eBook release it will be available as a trade sized paperback.
The book is in editing, and it is getting done. It’s just taking a little longer than expected.
This is unedited RAW, straight from whatever project I happen to be typing away on. I have no idea if or when these words will see the light of day. They could be edited away, they could be ditched, who knows.
“Are you so sure? Are you so blind that you don’t see the man, you only see a king?”
“But Xernes wouldn’t cry, even if he did have feelings for me. I’m not saying he does. In fact, I’m fairly certain he does not.”
Old Grandmother placed her withered palm against Lilly’s face. “Hold every tear close, he won’t share them with anyone else.”
Lilly stood slack jawed as she watched Old Grandmother continue away. Xernes was not raised a king, he made himself one. He learned on his own to fight and struggle and to succeed. Old Grandmother was right. If he did cry, it would be out of anger and frustration, and he would not hide that. But tears of loss, no that was not something he would do in front of others. Just as she wouldn’t. She hid her tears to hide from the judgement of others, a silly girl crying over a man who did not return her feelings.
Or did he? Why had Old Grandmother said that she only sees the king and not the man? Lilly had to work hard to ensure she treated him appropriately as the king because she was too aware of him as a man.
A cacophony of angry honking and yelling caught Honey’s attention. Not another idiot who thinks traffic on Cannery Row would behave like normal city street traffic. She looked to see who would be so rude in this throng of tourism and froze. Fear and panic stopped her breathing as she recognized the angry man at the center of the commotion.
She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. “Oh God, not him,” she said, barely a whisper. Her hand went to her neck, clasping her protective charm, her personal amulet.
Through the front windshield of a low silver sports car she saw the once loved angles of Bryce Maplecourt’s face, twisted into a familiar visage of rage. Only this time, it wasn’t directed at her. This time, those piercing blue eyes were blazing at another hapless victim of undeserved vitriol.
Air flooded back into her lungs as she gasped and spun around, angling herself to face away from him.
“He didn’t see me, he didn’t see me, he didn’t see me.” She repeated over and over again under her breath as she rubbed the small charm between her fingers.
Honey focused on her breathing, trying to calm the surge of adrenalin. He didn’t see me, and he would never recognize me dressed this way. Honey wore a comfortable old hoodie, one that had been broken in with years of abuse and washing, one that had mystery stains and faded color. The Honey Bryce had known would never wear a hoodie, let alone one she purchased for a buck at a local thrift shop. No— She calmed herself. “—Bryce didn’t see me, and Bryce wouldn’t recognize me if he did.”
Careful to keep herself turned away from the street, Honey carefully made her way through the crowd. When she was half a block from work, she ran. The need to distance herself from Bryce increasing with each step.
She entered the crowded coffee shop and immediately headed to the back, through the office, and into the employee washroom/janitor closet. She slammed the door shut then crouched down in the shower.
She had gotten away. He hadn’t seen her. No matter how much she repeated this mantra, she could not shake the panicked thought that Bryce had followed her, that he somehow knew she was here.
Her breathing came in gasps. She gulped in air as she stared at the door.
Her eyes widened and her stomach lurched as she watched the door handle turn.
Protective, book one in the Rhea Silvia Legacy
I’m trying something new. I’m going to post unedited RAW, straight from whatever project I happen to be typing away on. I have no idea if or when these words will see the light of day. They could be edited away, they could be ditched, who knows.
“Enough!” Xernes bellowed. “I don’t have time to for you to squabble on an acceptable tribunal.” He thrust his arm forward, fingers extended. “Let the djinn tell us the truth.”
The markings on his arm left his skin in a sudden swift jump. They hovered in the air for a brief moment before the shapes melted into grey-blue smoke. The smoke rolled from Xernes’s fingertips growing thicker and denser, but never fully forming into a solid shape.
The cloud wrapped around Lilly in a caress, twining around her ankles then wrapping up her torso like a feline seeking attention.
By guest blogger Jody Wallace
I have been on a blog tour for PRODIGAL for the past week, and I’ve been interviewed, I’ve interviewed a pig, my cat has interviewed someone else, I’ve interviewed one of the characters from my book PRODIGAL, and now I’m going to interview my 10 year old daughter. She’s answering (most of) the questions as if it’s not me who’s interviewing her. I am not interviewing my 14 year old daughter, however, because she’s mean.
1) What do you think of your mom being an author?
Well, I really like it because she can help me to write my papers for school which sometimes I have trouble with. Grammar and stuff—I really don’t know much about grammar and typing.
2) What do you think about the genre your mom writes in? (Note: The genre is romance and the recent release is science fiction romance.)
At this age, I definitely wouldn’t read them, so I have no feelings toward it, because I haven’t really read any romance books. I’ve probably read SF books but no romance books. If there were ever romance in my books, it was way in the background.
3) Do you think the cats help your mom be a better writer? (Note: we have six cats since Grandma and her 4 cats moved in with us last year.)
Yes, because they’re adorable, furry and extremely annoying. Like Sam. Mom will be sitting there and he will come put his butt against her leg. Or in the middle of the night, he will come pop her shoulder out of place. Merri just comes into the room and is all meow meow meow meow meow. Sometimes Mom even asks me for a cat.
4) Why do you think she wants you to get her a cat?
Since the cats are so adorable, furry and annoying, they give her inspiration. They’re cats. They’re just awesome.
5) What does she do with the cats when you give them to her?
She lets them sit there while she pets them and she just lets them be big, furry blogs. Sometimes I’m pretty sure they just run away, though. If she gets sad about that, then I’ll just chase down the cat again.
6) Does your mom still take good care of you while being an author?
Yes, she helps with school, she makes dinner almost every night…let’s see, what else does she do? She buys stuff for me and she makes sure I am healthy. And! She always loves me.
7) Do you want to read your mom’s books?
Not at this particular time, but maybe later in my life. They’re just too grown up to me right now.
8) Do you think she should write kid’s books that you could read? If so, about what?
I would say yes, but I already have too many books that I want to read right now. I would want her to write about magic, cats and more cats. Oh, and don’t forget rainbows.
9) Do you think your mom’s books are even any good? After all, you haven’t read them.
Mom, I’m not going to answer that. Jeez!
10) Any final words for the readers out there who have yet to try your mom’s books?
People should buy and read them more because my mommy doesn’t make a lot of money.
Prodigal is out now, you can get it on Amazon
Jody Wallace, smart, snarky, seductive, has a new book release:
Prodigal: Book 3 of the Maelstrom Trilogy
Check out this hunky cover!
We get a little preview here, and next week on Sept 13, Jody will be my guest blogger.
You can check out Jody on her website at http://jodywallace.com/
… And a sneak peek into the book:
She was curious and worried about the UO, but she was more curious about the stranger. Where had he come from? Why was he naked? He didn’t seem shy about his body—and who would be, with a body like his? But he had to be miserable. “You realize it’s below freezing out here, right?” She shrugged out of her coat and thrust it at him. Winter air cut through her protective tactanium vest and fatigues, but she wasn’t the one who was naked and trembling. “Put this on.”
Voice still rough and dry, he answered. “Thank you.”
This close, she could assess him more carefully without getting disrespectful. He was definitely in good shape. His body looked like a fitness photo shoot waiting to happen, minus the oil, but this wasn’t the time and place to ogle. They both held onto the coat a minute—she was a little worried the weight of the parka would pitch him over on his face. “What’s your name?”
At last he raised his head to look at her.
Sea-green eyes in a perfectly chiseled face pierced her like the laser beam had pierced the silver UO. Through and through. She felt that gaze in her brain, her gut, and her knees. It zinged with energy. Heat flushed her skin but then dribbled away as recognition struck her.
She knew that face.
Everybody on the planet knew that face.
“I don’t know how I got here,” he said. “I don’t know what my name is.”
Claire swallowed the hard knot of anger that had risen at the very sight of him.
“I know what it is.” She released the coat and took a hasty step away from this man, this man who everyone knew was dead. “Your name is Adam Alsing, and you’re a fucking idiot.”