How many times have you promised yourself you’d never do something? And then, for some unavoidable reason, you find yourself doing it? In the writing world, it’s almost the Golden Rule. Ferret out the one thing your hero or heroine would never do—then find some ironclad reason they HAVE to do it.
For years, I’ve sworn I would never write an amnesia story for one simple reason. They bug me. I actively avoid them on the shelves. Yet when I started my Tudor fallen angel romance MIDSUMMER MAGICK, I realized to my dismay that my plot demanded an amnesiac heroine. I wept. I railed. I gnashed my teeth. But there was no avoiding it.
The Magick Trilogy is the first series I’ve ever written. In the previous book, I’d screwed up. In MAGICK BY MOONRISE, I’d written my half-royal Scottish heroine, Lady Linnet Norwood, into a romantic corner. I’d gotten her involved with the wrong hero! So I needed to erase the last two years of her life for MIDSUMMER MAGICK. Her only escape was for Linnet to fall prey to Faerie magick—and forget those two years.
Thus, I found myself with an amnesiac heroine. Linnet can hardly be more vulnerable when she first encounters exiled angel Zamiel, the Son of Lucifer, on the streets of Tudor England.
* * *
Silent as a spirit, the glittering nobleman materialized before the wagon, cape rippling like ebony wings around his shoulders. Close enough now to glimpse the face beneath his fashionable brim—all slanted cheekbones and angular jaw and a mouth to make any woman blush. Beneath a dramatic sweep of jet-black brows, his long lashes were lowered, eyes hidden as he gazed down at the death spilling into the straw at his elegantly booted feet.
“Be at ease, Burl, son of Grufydd,” he whispered. “For you suffered greatly in life, and killed without malice to feed your ailing mother. Someone will make a case for you.” He paused. “If I were you, I’d ask for Gabriele. Avoid Michael like the smallpox.”
Even at such a moment, with the man himself speaking nonsense, he flashed a grin that was pure mischief.
Unexpectedly, his eyes lifted. Linnet realized she’d been waiting for that, for him to look at her and see her, since the moment he’d arrived. Her breath rushed out in an audible gasp.
She’d never seen such eyes. Bright as candles, they glowed with violet light, spilling lavender fire over the snow-cloaked courtyard.
“Gentle Mother,” she whispered, staring into those glowing orbs. “What are ye?”
Something flickered in his face, as though the answer that sprang to mind was not one he wished to share. Then an impish brow arched over his purple gaze. He leaned forward as though they were confidantes, as though he confessed a naughty secret.
“I’m the rebel, the rabble-rouser, the anarchist and the outcast. And for your sake, I dare say, I’m going to be in quite a bit of trouble.” His mouth curved in a wicked smile, and the sight stole her breath. “I’m Zamiel.”
* * *
GIVEAWAY ALERT! What’s the one thing you swore you’d never do—only to find yourself doing it? Drop a comment and your email address in the box, and you could win a copy of MIDSUMMER MAGICK and its prequel MAGICK BY MOONRISE. Good luck!
Twitter ID: @LauraNavarre