I’m working on An Imperfect Symmetry, the sequel to The Shimmering Flame  and I realized,I need a hero! So, I’m off to find an Irish hunk!
Here’s one candidate!

His name is Jareth and, here’s where finding Jareth becomes a strange coincidence: In my first published romance, my hero’s name was Jareth!

I’ve had a soft spot for Pierce Brosnan ever since “The Manions in America”.

Here’s a lovely photo:

I always thought that Pierce would make a wonderful Roarke from J.D. Robb’s “In Death” series.
Well, here you are. Two lovely Irish hunks.

just the first of more to come!

A Song of the Sidhe receives an Encore today!
Available now at http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com/books/asongofthesidhe.htm

And to celebrate, here’s a PG excerpt:
SET UP: The singing contest where Ceoleen meets her fate. Competitions like these have always been popular in Ireland, even to this day.
EXCERPT:
Ceoleen paused near the empty expanse in the middle of the Hall. Arranged in a circle, the twelve tables of the ard-Sidhe, the high Sidhe, formed the inner perimeter. Another row of tables, the mean-Sidhe, the middle Sidhe, made the second ring, and the iochtarach-Sidhe, the lowest Sidhe, the outer ring. Her place was in the second ring. One could only gain the inner circle through proving a talent. Or being a great beauty. Graced with beauty, Ceoleen had honed her talent as a singer and composer. Now she felt ready to display both.

Ailill, Ard Rí, High King of the Gaillimh Sidhe stood and a hush filled the hall.

“This day marks the test for those who wish to ascend in rank. Let all contenders enter the circle and prepare for the challenge.”

Moving with eager step, Ceoleen slipped into the circle.

An audible gasp greeted her arrival. Scarce had there been seen a female of her beauty. The cocks of the fir-Sidhe hardened, and the eyes of the mna-Sidhe – of every female – narrowed with envy.

Ceoleen strode with confident steps into the very center, head held high. All eyes assessed her beauty and none found her lacking.

Her gown did nothing to hide the flaming curls between her thighs, the sweet indentation of her navel, the swell of her hips, the pointy nipples and plump breasts. Her fiery hair tumbled wantonly down her back to her slim ankles. Her eyes flashed green sparks.

Every male present wished to take her and fuck her. Every female wished her dead or cursed.

A moment after she entered the circle, another slipped silently into the ring.

Scarce out of girlhood, straight, dun-brown hair curved to her shoulders. Soft blue eyes like the sky at mid-day gazed with awe at the High Sidhe. A slim figure, clad in a bleached gown of linen, a braided rope of vines around her waist, took her place next to Ceoleen. Her newly budded breasts barely lifted the fabric of her bodice. Her feet were bare. A Sidhe of the iochtarach rank, she was not known to anyone.

Her fresh innocence called to the hearts of the fir-Sidhe there. Her shyness prompted the protectiveness of the mna-Sidhe.

Whose call was stronger? Ceoleen’s or the unknown contender?

Ailill spoke once more.

“We know Ceoleen, but who might you be, mo calin?”

Dipping a deep curtsy of respect, the unknown one replied. “I am Drimin. I seek to raise my rank.”

Ailill nodded and gestured to the Amhranai Mor, the Great Singer, who rose from his seat next to the High King.

“Here be notes three. You’ve time until the grains fill this space to compose your song.” He took a crystal goblet with a hollow stem and filled the cup with fine granules of sand. Slowly, a thin stream filtered down the stem and into the base. “Begin.”

Ceoleen needed no preparation for these three notes had been given to her by Lorcan during pillow talk. But she waited, not wishing to appear too eager or too easy.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Drimin’s hesitant voice.

“I’m ready.”

The Amhranai Mor gestured for her to start.

Drimin cleared her throat and out poured a tune of delicate grace. All were captivated by the melody. The Amhranai Mor smiled as the final notes died away.

Applause filled the hall while Drimin bowed her head in humble acceptance.

The Amhranai Mor turned to Ceoleen. “Are you ready?”

Ceoleen nodded and took a calm, steadying breath. As lovely as Drimin’s tune was, she knew hers was better.

Ceoleen’s voice soared with passion. Visions of lovers, sweaty and straining in the throes of desire, appeared before all within the hall. The fir-Sidhe sought out the lips of their mates and kissed them. A handful, carried away with the lustful melody, lifted their lovers onto their laps and flashed out of the hall back to their bedchambers.

As the last notes burned into ashes, Ceoleen cast a satisfied glance at her competitor. Frenzied clapping filled the hall.

The Amhranai Mor raised his right hand above his head for silence. “The test has been won by Ceoleen.” He turned his gaze around the Hall at those who remained. “But since there are two seekers, and only one place open, we must have another test. Here are three more notes. You have the same amount of time to compose this song.”

With a clear ringing voice, he offered another group of tones and turned over the timer.

This time neither competitor spoke until the last grain filled the bottom of the goblet.

“Since Drimin went first, Ceoleen may begin this time.”

Ceoleen nodded. Unlike the first song that was fast and furious, this melody was slow and seductive. She glided around the circle, pausing at those fir-Sidhe seated alone and gazing into their eyes, silently offering not only her music, but her body should they applaud her melody.

Approaching Ailill, she boldly swayed before him, cupping her breasts. Her eyes closed in rapture, she flung her head back as she let the song take hold.

The music ended abruptly and Ceoleen opened her eyes. Ailill’s gaze locked with hers, but his mate’s hand clawed at his arm, and he turned away.

The fir-Sidhe stamped their feet and pounded their goblets on the tables.

The mna-Sidhe remained silent.

The Amhranai Mor once more raised a hand for quiet. “Now, Drimin. Your turn.”

This tune was lively, filled with the joy of spring and the delights of nature. Drimin, too, moved around the circle, but she paused at the female Sidhe. Her tune spoke of babies and newborn creatures of the forest and fields. The women melted as they thought of innocent infants. Drimin skipped from place to place and stopped before Ailill’s mate. The Ard Bánríon, the High Queen, longed for a babe of her own and caressed Ailill’s arm. She darted a look to the Amhranai Mor and he nodded.

“Drimin wins this round. We have a tie.”

Pandemonium ensued until Ailill raised his hand.

“One final test must decide the winner.” He gazed around the hall. “Who shall grace our inner circle? Ceoleen, Drimin, wait outside.”

 

A Song of the Sidhe
 Donal and Ceoleen will be singing their new, expanded and revised song on the 21st from Liquid Silver Books.
I can hardly wait!!

Nolen in The Shimmering Flame, is one of the most evil villains I’ve written. He perverts everything he touches; distorting and degrading people and ancient traditions. In this excerpt from the story, we witness this first hand.
EXCERPT:

Nolen turned as the staccato tap of her heels announced the arrival of Mrs. Scathan. “Did you hear? I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule our evening.”

“Shall I wait up for you? You may need me.”

Anyone seeing her now would never recognize her for the staid woman who guarded his door like a lioness. Her unbound bog-brown hair fell to her waist. She wore a jade-green silk caftan that caressed a surprisingly well-endowed figure. She fit into her daytime uniform by binding her breasts and wearing a tight girdle. No one could conceive of any sort of illicit relationship between the unsmiling, repressed widow and his lordship. And that was just the way they wanted it.

He smiled at her, his gaze filled with lust. “I’m not sure if you need to wait up. Why don’t you go to bed? If I need you, I’ll come to you.”

“No matter how late,” she urged.

He nodded. “You’re a gem.” He grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply in her mouth. “Later,” he whispered.

“Aye.”

He let his hand cup her buttocks, then watched as she slowly mounted the stairs, holding her gown out of the way so it outlined her hips. His loins tightened. Mrs. Scathan’s utter devotion to his every whim and her total dedication to Ba’al was a gift he cherished. She never tired and never denied him when he came to her bed. Though it had not come to it yet, he knew she would kill or die for him.

He entered the manor’s spotless kitchen, opened the backdoor and moved through the kitchen herb garden. The scents of thyme, sage, and basil, mixed with more exotic odors, assailed him. The garden was Mrs. Scathan’s domain and she tended it with care. The farther he progressed through its orderly rows, the more rank and foul the smells issuing from the plants, herbs and roots.

Ahead, he discerned the Sacred Grove of the Nine Trees, the varied colors of the oak, ash, thorn and the other woods, pleased the eye. Bright pink apple blossoms clinging to the branches, decorated the circle like frosting on a wedding cake. He halted between two stalwart oaks and stripped off his clothes, standing naked save for a bronze amulet of power hanging on his chest, and let the fresh, spring air caress his skin. Folded neatly at the base of the tree were his vestments and the other tools necessary for the evening’s task. He slipped into the ankle-length robe made of soft linen, grasped his equipment and quietly murmured the proper incantations for success. He strode counterclockwise around the Grove and then entered Ba’al’s domain.

He summoned the raven, Dubhanam. The bird would make far better time searching for a sign of the American female than he would. He presented her picture to him and her jacket for her scent and the bird flew off.

Nolen closed his eyes and joined with the high-flying raven, looking through the bird’s eyes as he soared over the forest. Together, they flew over the ancient campsite. Mil’s three soldiers were gathered around a fire, huddling together for warmth. Dagda’s cave came into view and the quiet work site. Carrigclarseach appeared and through the windows, the raven saw the town’s inhabitants all neatly tucked in their beds.

But not a sign of the woman.

By the left testicle of Ba’al, where was she?

He ground his teeth in frustration and dragged off his robe. Stooping, he picked up his everyday clothes and strode back into the mansion. He tossed his garments on a chair in the kitchen, knowing that his devoted housekeeper would put them away neatly for him.

At times like this, he needed Mrs. Scathan’s enthusiastic submission.

Naked, he took the stairs to her room two at a time and entered without knocking.

She was waiting for him, sitting unclothed on the side of the bed, her hands neatly folded in her lap. She looked up as he entered and frowned. “Is all well with you, Master?”

“Did I give you leave to speak?”

He slapped her across the face and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue snaked out to taste it and her eyes closed in ecstasy. She fell to the floor and crawled to his feet. “I beg you, please forgive me.”

“Silence! I don’t wish to hear a word from you! If you utter a sound tonight…”

She rose to her knees and clasped his legs, pressing her face just below his outthrust cock. “Please, Master…”

He grabbed her hair and dragged her head back. “Did you hear a word I said? Now, use that mouth for something better than talking.”

She knew exactly what he wanted. He watched impassively as she positioned her body so that she could take in as much as possible of his erection. He allowed her to steady her legs as she swallowed him inch by inch. After years of practice, she had become adept at sucking him deeper than any other female before her. He moved rhythmically, debating whether he should come in her mouth or her ass.

If he took her from the rear, he could bind her. “Get up. Go to the bed. Lie down on your belly and present yourself. Don’t say a word if you wish to receive me tonight.”

She suckled him hard one more time, then did as he instructed. Nolen went to the nightstand and removed the coarse twine he kept for very special evenings. He eyed the ragged, scabby wounds around her wrists. No one knew that the reason she wore cuffed sleeves was to conceal the welts from their sexual encounters.

He licked his lips.

He moved onto the bed and straddled her, his penis nudging the crack between her butt cheeks. Taking her right hand, he wound the twine around her wrist and attached one end to the bedpost, then did the same with her left hand. He pulled tightly. If she moved too much, she would re-open the scabs on her wrists.

He knew she would move.

He smiled, his mouth a cruel slash. “Remember–one sound from you, one murmur, one moan and I’ll stop, otherwise I’ll continue until I’ve had enough of you. Nod if you understand me.”

She nodded.

“Good. This is my night. I am your Master.”

And he took her until her wrists bled, and she bit her lip so hard that crimson beads dripped onto the sheets when she came. He took her until she lay unmoving beneath him, glorying in her ability to satisfy him, thrilled that she had fulfilled his demand of her.

She hadn’t uttered a sound.

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Darragha Foster created the most gorgeous trailer for my current covers from Loose Id, Liquid Silver Books and Aspen Mountain Press.

Check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tr2M3ogC23c if I screwed up imbedding it in the post.

Darr is so amazing!!!!
Thanks so much!

 

The Irish Terran Singers, Speakers and Protectors. Remember, these are just partial lists and includes transliterated first and last names

Protectors — The warriors of the Terrans
Casey — vigilant in war
Clancy — red warrior
Farrell — valorous
Hanlon — champion
Kearney — victorious
Larkin — rough or fierce
Tracy — warlike
Ardal — high valor
Conleth — chief lord
Connell, Conall — strong as a wolf
Donal — world mighty
Fergal — manly, valorous
Fergus — the strength of a man
Tressa — strength
Alistir, Alistair — defender of mankind
Begley — little hero
Callan, Callanin — strong in battle
Cahir — battle lord
Mullen — warrior
Rory — red king

Singers — They can control both humans and Terrans alike with the power of their voice or song
Amirgin — born of song
Bardan — poet
Binne — melodious, sweetness
Duana — poem, song
Laoidheach (Lee) — songful, poetic
Reardan — royal poet
Teague — poet

Speakers — Their power lies in their words and is limited to control over humans
Nolen, Nolan — shout
Scully — town crier
Lowery, Lavery, Lowrey — Speaker

 

The Irish Terrans derive their names from several sources; the Elements and whether they are a Protector, Singer, Speaker ~ or even, Destroyer. Over the course of centuries they intermarried with the native humans and their heritage was lost. Now, the only way to tell if there is Irish Terran blood in your family is to check this list ~

Earth Keeper – Everything associated with the Earth — flowers, plants, trees, hills — this is only a partial list.

Cullen, MacCullen, O Cuileann - holly
Eithne, Enya, Etna, Anna, Annie – kernel or gorse
Owen, Eugene, Eoghan – born of the yew
Fiona – vine
Vaughan – beech tree
Adare – oak tree grove
Ardeen, Airdin – little height
Carrick, Garrick – rock
Carrigan, Kerrigan – little rock
Cavan – the hollow
Killian, Cillin – church ground
Clady – muddy place
Corr – round hill
Corroy – russet round hill
Dara, MacDara – oak and son of the oak
Ennis – island
Killeen (coillin) – little woods
Ross – headland
 

“A Song of the Sidhe” has a gorgeous new cover created by April Martinez and a new home with Liquid Silver Books!  I am so happy the Donal and Ceoleen will be able to share their story with more readers!

Their Terran heritage veiled in legend for centuries, the Irish Terrans unknowingly kept their ties within their names. See if your name has its roots in the Terran Realm!
Fire Keeper

Egan, Hayes, Keegan – fire

Aidan – little fire

Fintan – white fire

Cara, Carra – fiery red

Conley, Conleth, Connelly – prudent fire

Daigh – flame, fire

Eavan, Aoibhinn, Éibhleann, Evlin, - beautiful radiance (this name is female)
Evin, Evan - radiant (masculine)
Kelly – bright-headed
Laisrén – flame
Leesha, Louisa, Lucy - radiant girl
Lugh, Lou, Aloysius, Louis - light, brightness (also the Celtic god)
Niamh, Niav – brightness, radiance (feminine)
Flannery – red
Flynn – bright red

Rowan, Rohan – red-haired
Rory – Red-haired king (this name would imply that you also might be a Protector)

 Another list Coming Soon!