Curvy single mum Leanna is waiting for a man, not just any man. He has to be handsome, intelligent, funny and dominant. Enter Joe. He's a masterful business man who brooks no nonsense and who punishes Leanna in just the way she needs, just the way she likes. He appreciates her curves and uses every excuse to get his hands on them!
Passion sparks between the couple, Naughty liaisons and public games all play to their deepest desires but can their love blossom? Will Joe give up his workaholic lifestyle and can Leanna learn to trust another person with the most important thing in her life - her child?
Available in Print and Ebook
http://kelleyheckart.com/winters_requiem.html
Winter’s Requiem, Book 3, Dark Goddess Trilogy, Celtic historical/fantasy
Blurb:
Three different women, one ancient curse…
An ancient curse is revealed, leading Domelch, Brigit and Cailleach into certain danger amid a web of deceit. Can they break the curse and put the shattered pieces of their lives back together?
Excerpt:
“Ungild, I am retiring to my room for the night. I will not need your services.” Cailleach concentrated on concealing her thoughts, hoping the old woman would not detect her deceit. Wrapping herself in shadows, she pretended to walk toward the hall to the royal quarters, but instead slipped silently into the woods.
She’d been careful not to use magic around the mortals, but tonight she had no choice if she was to test Aethelfrith’s heart. Concealing herself among thick bushes, she stepped out of her clothes. Her naked skin prickled in the cold autumn night, but the feeling of being naked filled her with a sense of freedom—freedom from the binding fabric, freedom from the laws of mortals.
Calling on her powers, she used all of her concentration and strength, aware of her weakness in this foreign land. Her body tingled with the transformation, her flesh twisted and shifted, sprouting black feathers.
The raven let out a harsh cry, ruffling her feathers and taking flight. Happiness filled her at the freedom this shape gave her to slip undetected through the night, soaring on wings across the treetops. The cold air bounced off her insulated body, her wings slicing with ease through a night illuminated by a full moon. The sounds of pounding hooves and jangling bridles reached her ears and she changed course, flying toward the river. Below outstretched branches, she spotted Aethelfrith and his band of warriors. They emerged from the woodlands into a clearing in pursuit of a stag.
Cailleach flapped her wings faster to increase her speed so she could keep up with the swift hunters. She recalled the thrill of hunting, her heart fluttering with excitement. The riders spread out around the fleeing stag in a skillful formation, cutting off its escape. The majestic beast fell under the might of the roaring spears.
Alighting on a nearby branch, Cailleach waited for the warriors to gather their prize stag, knowing they would probably stop to rest now.
A small fire sparked below. The warriors gathered around for warmth. Drinking horns gleamed in the moonlight, laughter carried up into the night.
It was time. Cailleach shrugged off the nervous jitters surging through her body, uncertain of what she wanted to happen. Spreading her wings, she landed on the ground, calling on more magic. Her body shifted, her flesh pulling and shaping into the sagging flesh of an old, ugly woman. In this tormented body, she did not have the same joyful feelings as she embraced in the raven’s body. The gnarled, painful joints twisted in a hideous angle, the naked flesh wrinkled and sagging. A sudden terrifying thought filled her that her senses about Aethelfrith were wrong. If he failed her test, she might not have the strength to change her shape back and she would be stuck in the hideous body.
It has to be this way. It has always been this way.
Naked and limping through the trees, she emerged before the warriors who sat in a circle around the fire. All heads turned toward her.
“Who here will give warmth to a lost, cold old woman?” Her voice sounded like a raven’s harsh croak. She parted her lips in a smile, revealing blackened and chipped teeth.
Theodbald looked at her with disgust. “Old woman, you will find no warmth here. Be off with you,” he barked, waving her away.
“Wait.” Aethelfrith stood, peering at her. “Take this to cover yourself.” He took off his cloak and approached her, draping it across her naked shoulders.
She looked at him, hoping he would see through the guise. Her chest tightened in apprehension. “Would you warm an old woman’s frozen lips?”
He gazed at her as if looking right through her. Cailleach’s heart quickened. He pressed a kiss to her lips, awakening the magic.
Her body changed, the bent, swollen joints straightening, the sagging skin tightening into the shape of a young, beautiful woman.
“What is this?” He stared wide-eyed at her.
“King of the land of Bernicia, I am Sovereignty and your seed shall be sown over every kin,” she said, hardly able to keep from revealing herself to him.
He peered at her, recognition glimmering in his eyes. “Frige?”
She gave him an enigmatic smile and called on the magic to change her shape into a raven. The cloak landed in a heap on the ground at Aethelfrith’s feet. Her transformation used the last of her powers until she could rest and gain more strength. The raven stared up at him and let out a parting croak. Flapping wings carried Cailleach away into the moonlit night, her thoughts troubled. She should be happy that he had the heart of a king, but something didn’t feel right.
A blanket of mist sparkled and shimmered beneath the ghostly splash of moonlight over the river dividing Bernicia from Gododdin. The fog emitted an unearthly radiance, parting as if opening a doorway. She tried to turn to avoid entering the strange mist, realizing it was a trap, but the fog surrounded her. In her weakened state, Cailleach’s magic was nothing more than a harmless ember that faded into a cold ash. She experienced a sense of confusion, the cold, wet mist capturing her.
Cailleach struggled to escape the trap. She sensed that Badb had tricked her, luring her here with magic. Badb knew Cailleach was unable to resist the temptation to test the prince for kingship and would be too weak after working such strong magic to be able to escape the trap. The fog encircled Cailleach with a memory, one she wanted to close her mind against. She tried to fight the powerful, magical pull.
I cannot escape from my past.
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'Ms. Heckart draws the reader into the pages and enchants them with her words.'
Kelley Heckart
'Timeless tales of romance, conflict & magic'
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How does a romance writer create that perfect hero? Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. In paranormal and fantasy romance, they may even be supernatural. There are Alpha, Beta and Omega males to choose from. The Alpha hero seems to be popular, but I prefer a hero somewhere in between Alpha and Beta. While the Alpha can set a female’s blood on fire, he does not make a great long term, monogamous romantic partner. A Beta is a better choice, maybe not as exciting as the Alpha, but give him some Alpha qualities and he can make a woman’s pulse race. Either way, the perfect hero should be appealing to the reader. It can be challenging for a writer to combine just the right ingredients to make that ideal hero.
My heroes are usually warriors, which is weird because in real life I am married to a pacifist musician. Ancient warriors are fascinating to me because they are a mix of courage, fierceness and passion. I grew up reading about them in Greek classics like The Iliad, in the tales of King Arthur and in Irish/Celtic mythology where they usually battled mythical monsters and were enchanted by goddesses or faery women. Some of them even had magical powers of their own.
I usually base my heroes on the Irish Fianna. In early Ireland, fianna were small warrior bands living apart from society as mercenaries, bandits and hunters, but could be called upon by kings in time of war. They appear in Irish mythology as an otherworldly, fierce band of warriors with the hearts of poets. Yes, I said poets. Along with other rigorous tests to prove their supernatural strength, expertise and bravery, one of the requirements to be initiated into the Fianna was to be a skilled poet. That mix of fierceness, courage, passion and sensitivity fascinates me and I like to create heroes with those qualities.
When I say perfect, I do not actually mean that the hero should be without imperfections. I like complicated heroes, ones with flaws. This is where a writer needs to use caution because a hero with too many flaws or unlikable traits might turn a reader off. For instance, I had the challenge of taking a real sixth century Irish king known as one of the most feared warlords of his time and turn him into the hero in my latest release. He was called Aedan the Treacherous in the Welsh poems. I thought about this and realized that his enemies would probably not call him something nice, but to be a successful king in that century he would have to be a tough ruler. And to the outside world he is strong and merciless, but in private with the woman he loves, he shows a more tender side. But he is not without his faults. He can be arrogant and has a jealous streak. This adds some conflict to the story, but I had to be careful not to take things too far or my hero could come across as a tyrannical jerk. Those are the risks writers have to take when creating a flawed hero.
My perfect hero has some qualities of the Alpha male, he is a leader and has a touch of arrogance, but also possesses some Beta qualities like compassion. Oh, and he should have a cool name. My perfect hero is also tall, muscular and has long hair. That last part about long hair is probably influenced by my real life infatuation with musicians.
What type of male is your perfect hero?
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http://kelleyheckart.com/cats_curse.html
Blurb for Cat’s Curse, Book One: Dark Goddess Trilogy: A Celtic prince, an ancient vampire and two curses…
Excerpt from Cat’s Curse:
The man started at her sudden words, turning toward her with the sword blade stopping just before the blade cut into Cardea's neck, the coldness of the iron striking a shudder in her. That was the second time in one night she almost lost her head to his sword blade.
“Why are ye following me?” Irritation filled his voice.
“You look like you need some help starting that fire.”
“I do not need yer help.” He stared at her. His brows knitted together, his eyes scrutinizing her. “A good Christian lass would not be out here all alone in the forest at night,” he remarked with a sneer.
Cardea’s mocking laughter filled the air.
“Do I amuse ye?” He peered at her, eyes narrowed in annoyance.
She found her courage again. “You presume much of me, but what about you? I can only imagine what dreadful act you committed to be banished into these dark-winged woods. Though I can assume your misdeeds had nothing to do with fire,” she smirked, crossing her arms and planting her feet firm to the ground.
“Ye lass, are a rude minion of the Devil himself.” His handsome face rippled with indignation.
“That I may be indeed.” She stared hard at him. His ranting recalled images of the hated Levite priests. A shudder tore through her body and rage fumed inside of her, threatening to rise. She flirted with the temptation to rip his neck open and drink him dry. No one would find his rotting corpse out this far in the forest. The beasts would clean the bones of all flesh. She did not understand why she held back, but her hesitation had something to do with the odd way this man stirred her senses.
He turned around and strode with great arrogance back to his fire pit, striking the blade with the flint rock in angry thrusts. After watching him for a few moments, she approached him.
“Do ye have more insults for me?”
“No. I just cannot stand to watch you make a mockery of fire starting.”
“I can start the fire,” he insisted, turning back to the fire pit.
She watched him struggle again with the stone and blade, trying not to laugh.
“Please, allow me to assist you. It is much too cold tonight to be without a warm fire.” She did not understand why she felt compelled to help him and reached for the dagger she carried on her belt. His cold blade touched her throat before she could blink. Three times now his blade touched her throat and she wondered if it were a portent. “I need my dagger to start your fire.”
He eyed her with suspicion, but withdrew his blade from her throat.
“Ye live alone?” he asked, giving her room to start the fire, but he did not sheath his sword.
“Yes.” She noticed how he bit back a derisive retort.
Cardea held the stone with the sharp edge facing the blade and struck the blade in one swift movement. A spark shot out and the dry peat began to smolder. She struck the blade one more time and a flame rose from the peat, sending out warmth.
“You have to strike the blade in one swift movement with the stone to create a spark. Rubbing it like you were doing only wears the stone down. And it is best to strike the blade with the sharpest edge of the stone.”
“I have a capable pair of eyes. I saw how ye did it.” The bitter tone of his voice revealed his irritation toward her.
“I did not intend to offend you.”
“Good night to ye.” He waited for her to leave the fire before sheathing his sword. Keeping his eyes on her, he stoked the flames.
She stepped toward him and he jumped up, moving away from her. “Do not touch me.” His eyes turned an angry shade of dark blue and an aura of torment surrounded him. “I wish to be left alone.”
Cardea bristled at his surliness, thinking him to be the most arrogant man she'd ever met.
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Kelley’s Bio:
Kelley writes Celtic historical romances with fantasy elements. Her stories reflect her passion for history, storytelling and the supernatural. Inspired by the ancient Celts, her tales are filled with fierce warriors, bold women, magic, conflict and romance.
Kelley’s links:
http://kelleysrealm.blogspot.com/ Check out my long hair hotties!
http://twitter.com/CelticChick
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Kelley-Heckart/111838455604
http://www.goodreads.com/kheckart
Kelley’s book page at Mundania:
http://www.mundania.com/author.php?author=Kelley+Heckart
Kelley’s book page on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Kelley-Heckart/e/B002BMOQ3C/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
