His Master’s Bride
by Claudia Herring
GENRE: Fantasy
TAGLINE:
A
world of mysterious powers and tumultuous intrigues comes to life in Regency
England as a djinni, burdened with a dark secret, is thrown into a love triangle
fraught with subterfuge.
BLURB:
A troubled djinni
seduces his master’s young wife, forcing her to make a fateful choice.
The djinni Yasir,
imprisoned in an urn by a jealous magician, searches the centuries for his lost
love. He finds Lavinia reborn in 1811 England, only to discover she’s his new
master’s bride.
Desperate to have
her, Yasir spell-casts Lavinia’s husband to forget he is master and give her
the urn. When she opens the ancient vessel, Yasir emerges, terrifying in his
magnificence yet somehow familiar, but she fails to recognize him. She
distrusts this djinni even though his very presence enchants her.
Yasir’s spell is
fading. Lavinia’s husband has changed. Now he’s violent as he struggles with
returning memories of when he possessed the urn. Lavinia strives to keep the
two from encountering one another, while torn between fidelity for her husband
and her increasing attraction to the djinni.
Impatient to win
Lavinia’s confidence, Yasir must convince her of her true identity so they can
reclaim their life together. He dare not reveal a deeper reason: Only with
Lavinia can he regain his freedom and exact revenge on the magician who
confined him to the urn—
If she does not go
mad from the spell to awaken her memories.
If her husband does
not escape the djinni’s magic and discover her secret.
If the magician does
not find them first.
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EXCERPTS:
CHAPTER 1
A quarter century earlier, Cairo,
1811
Out of the folds of his galabaya,
like magic, the scrawny peddler produced a bundle wrapped in dingy cloth shot
through with faded brown and blue stripes. He held it just out of Lord Peter
Bramley’s reach.
“To Allah is belonging the treasures
of heaven and earth. But this, my brother, you can be possessing,” the peddler
declared in a singsong tone, smoothing each word as though reciting a poem. He
bowed, then rose, his smile crammed with crooked teeth stained mummy brown. “My
name Ne’bi. Your servant sir.”
Peter pressed his lips together,
suppressing a smirk at the polite English phrase. Where on earth had the
peddler picked it up? He brushed a lock of flaxen hair under his hat and angled
the brim, shading his pale blue eyes from the unrelenting Egyptian sun. “Let’s
have a look then, Ne’bi.”
Peter never tired of the fascinating
artifacts of this country of endless gods and goddesses. Since he was a lad, he
had loved the elegant cats worshipped as divinity, the scarabs elevated to
royalty, rendered in turquoise and gold, and the intricate stylized pictographs.
“A great precious, Sirrah.” Ne’bi
unwrapped his treasure with a flourish, attempting a serious expression, but a
pronounced tic jounced his left eye upward in an exaggerated look of
astonishment.
A ray of sunlight slanted off the
object in his hands and flared out, momentarily blinding Peter, causing him to
turn away at the very instant when he most wanted to see.
The peddler cocked his head and held
out a curiously wrought urn, letting the folds of cloth drape over his stubby
fingers. “Accumulate this, and much fortune, Excellency.”
Peter found the contour of the
vessel, curvaceous as his bride Lavinia, pleasing to the eye. He had never seen
a design like it. The lid was hinged, clasped by a latch rendered as a vine
that curled along the top to form an exquisite knob of intertwined leaves. An
engraved inscription spiraled around the body to the base. Surely the urn was
brass and not gold, yet the vessel seemed dear.
“Wherever did you obtain this,
Ne’bi?” Peter squinted and leaned forward, adjusting the shoulder strap of his
satchel. “The souk, perhaps?” Something about the vessel, something defying
expression . . . fascinating.
“Sirrah!” Ne’bi drew the urn close,
and puffed up his bony chest. “This wonderful t’ing not found in souk.” He
thrust the urn towards Peter. “Only one like this. And brings much desire.”
Peter nodded to keep from laughing.
He felt drawn to the object and reached out his hand. Ne’bi, fast as a snake,
pulled the urn back, just out of Peter’s grasp.
“Excellency, it is enchanter!” Ne’bi
drew himself up to his meager full height. “See. I hold only with cloth.” He
looked straight into Peter’s eyes. “You no touch.”
Peter met his gaze and, to his
surprise, detected a glimmer of raw fear, despite the peddler’s show of
bravado.
AUTHOR BIO:
Claudia
Herring aspired to be a baton twirler when she was five and an archaeologist at
thirteen. When she became a graphic designer and an author of fantasy, she
decided she'd hit upon the perfect compromise.
As
a designer and illustrator she formats the written word around visual art. As a
writer she weaves words into stories that form worlds. Her novel, "His
Master's Bride," a historical fantasy with romantic elements set in
Regency England, won first prize in the Houston Writer's Guild Novel
Competition. "Ties of Smoke," next in "The Djinn
Chronicles" series, is in its second draft.
When
she's not delving into the world of the Djinn, Claudia is practicing yoga to go
to that hushed space where she imagines and plots her next fantasy novel.
If
you like Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, or Carol Berg, you'll love His
Master's Bride.
Links:
Giveaway:
$15 Amazon/BN GC
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10 comments:
Thanks for hosting!
Thank you for the chance!
Thank you for hosting my novel!
Great giveaway.
Great excerpt and I love the cover!! Thanks for sharing :)
Thank you for taking the time to read the excerpt—so glad you liked it. It warms my heart that you like the cover—I designed it!
interesting!
What was the worst movie adaptation of a book?
Thank you for the giveaway!
Great excerpt! I am really looking forward to reading more. Thank you.
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