Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
No, I'm not Irish and, yes, I googled that.
Last blog hop I gave away an e-copy of my book, Destiny United, that featured an Irish fae. This time I'll let you choose your own book (it'll be mine, right? RIGHT?) with an Amazon or B&N gift card for $10 (open US and Internationally).
Today I'm going to talk about pinching. Yes, pinching. Why, you ask? Because I'm weird.
When I asked the host of the hop, Carrie Ann Ryan, what the blog post should be about she gave me a list of suggestions: St. Patty's day, wearing green, beer, traditions, pinching...
I'm not Irish. I'm Swedish, my husband's Italian, and my kids are Puerto Rican (figure that one out). So I'm unfamiliar with the traditions. When she suggested pinching, well, I thought she was being weird.
I looked up St. Patrick's Day and pinching and found this explanation:
"Forgot to wear green on St. Patty’s Day? Don’t be surprised if you get pinched. No surprise, it’s an entirely American tradition that probably started in the early 1700s. St. Patrick’s revelers thought wearing green made one invisible to leprechauns, fairy creatures who would pinch anyone they could see (anyone not wearing green). People began pinching those who didn’t wear green as a reminder that leprechauns would sneak up and pinch green-abstainers."
How did I not know this?
Well, I'll tell you one thing, I fully intend to take advantage of this new information today on my family, friends, random strangers on the street...I don't care if you're wearing green or not. No one is safe from my fingers. If someone looks at me funny (or threatens bodily harm), I'll just give them an innocent look and say "the leprechaun did it."
Now that we've gotten the mandatory blog post out of the way, here's an excerpt from my newest PNR release, Destiny Unchained.
Blurb: They call her The Huntress. A vampire with lethal focus, Natalia hunts rogue werewolves and kills them without mercy. She buried her heart centuries ago. Now she lives only for revenge. But when she’s forced to team up with the alpha of the northwest werewolf pack to catch a werewolf serial killer, her carefully controlled world is shattered by the passionate Cristian. Will Natalia accept Cristian’s claim on her heart even if it means sacrificing a part of who she is?
“How can you stand it?” Natalia asked, her nose scrunched in disgust. “It doesn’t smell anything like Chinese food.” The offending odor was called General Tsao’s chicken. It was unlikely General Tso Tsung-tang of the Qing dynasty had favored – or even eaten – fried chicken soaked in sickeningly sweet-smelling syrup. Take-out Chinese food was one of the many atrocities that made her glad to be a vampire. It was right up there with tanning beds and sagging breasts.
“And how would you know what real Chinese food smells like?” Cristian asked, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.
They sat at the small table in the motel room, the six o’clock news filling the background as they half paid attention for clues. Sleep that day had been oddly refreshing, especially considering she’d shared a bed with a werewolf. Not to mention he was a blanket hog. “I spent a few years in the Kunlan Mountains during the seventeenth century. I know what real Chinese food smells like.” She opened one of the cookie packages and sniffed it. “What do they make these out of? Cardboard?”
He grabbed the cookie from her hand. “Miniature life lessons.”
“They make them out of miniature life lessons?”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, you’re likely right about the cardboard. But it’s what’s inside that’s important.” After he broke the cookie apart, he regarded the fortune thoughtfully.
“Well? What’s it say?”
His brows furrowed. “A handsome blonde will enter your life bearing words of wisdom and a big –”
He looked at her. “Not what I was going to say.”
She tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Give me that.” She snatched the paper from his hand and read it.
Love is for the lucky and the brave.
“So,” Cristian said, waggling his eyebrows, “feeling lucky?”
She chuckled, wadded up the piece of paper, and threw it at him. He beamed, likely proud he made her laugh. Gods only knew why he was obsessed with it.
“Luck I get,” she said when they’d sat in silence once more. “But why brave?”
He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze piercing through her. “Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and say, ‘here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and soul.’ And all you can do is hope they don’t crush you.” He leaned closer. “But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms under his hand.”
She was on the edge of her seat, her gaze locked on him. Finally, she tore away and fiddled with her hands.
Clearing her throat, she forced herself to say, “Well said, Romeo.”
Now remember this book and all the rest of mine are only $2.99 on all e-readers!
Comment with your email address below and make sure you're following my blog and I'll announce the winner tomorrow! Thanks for stopping by and don't forget to check out the other blogs in the hop by clicking on the link to the left.