A Demon’s Embrace by Celia Breslin
Give a Spooktacular welcome to Celia Breslin author of A Demon’s Embrace. Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Celia Breslin and A Demon’s Embrace. Plus Bumped by the Banshee, Halloween Flash Fiction. Psst… don’t forget to enter the rafflecopter giveaway at the bottom of the post!
Happy Halloween Month, Everyone! For
Halloween every year, I like to share my favorite spooky story from my family’s
arsenal of tales about the Fae. In this one, my Irish grandmother recounts her
personal encounter with a Banshee when she was a teenager. Enjoy!
Bumped by the Banshee
by Celia Breslin
… I lived in a large two-story house with my
parents, younger sister, and grandmother. It was a cold, winter evening,
nothing special or out of the ordinary. My family dined together, then my
sister and I cleaned up while our parents and grandmother drank tea. We joined
them at the dining table to do our homework, but my grandmother said she was
tired and went upstairs to bed. My parents followed shortly after that, but my
father paused on the landing.
“Maeve, it’s going to be a cold night. Fetch
us some coal, please.”
I abandoned my homework, grabbed the empty
coal bucket from the kitchen, and went down into the cellar. I filled my bucket
and returned to the stairs. I had one foot on the first step when the
temperature in the cellar, already cold, dropped dramatically. Chills ran down
my back. Behind me, someone moaned.
But how could that be? I was alone…
Terror rooted me to the spot. The keening
grew louder. I dropped my bucket and covered my ears. A cold wind bumped
against my back. I stumbled forward as the shrieking wind rushed over me and up
the stairs.
But how could that be? The cellar had no
windows…
Above me, the cellar door slammed shut. The
sound broke me from my stupor. I screamed and ran up the stairs and out of the
cellar, through the kitchen and dining room, and up the stairs to my room. My
parents and sister found me under my bed, shaking like a puppy lost in a
snowstorm.
“Maeve! Maeve! What is it? What’s wrong?”
They asked me, while pulling me from my hiding place.
“I heard the Banshee wail.”
We stared at each other in silence, all of us
reaching the same conclusion moments later. We hurried to my grandmother’s
room.
She was dead.
(Copyright 2021,
Celia Breslin. All rights reserved.)
A Demon’s Embrace
A sneak peek between the pages of A Demon’s Embrace:
Stryker and Zara’s First Kiss…
Location: Charon’s boat, River Styx, the
Underworld…..The boat heaved upward
as if struck from below, sending her airborne. Before she could conjure her
wings, Stryker shot up and snatched her around the waist, hauling them both to
the deck.Flat on his back with her
sprawled atop his hard body, he grinned, much too pleased with himself for her
liking. “Told you it gets rough,” he shouted over the rush of water. “I never
lie to you, Angel Face.”“That in itself is a
lie,” she shot back, wedging her fingers in the gaps between the bone flooring
and gripping tight while the chopping river tossed their ride. She could list
thousands of his deceptions. Fine, they were revisiting his loathsome past
behavior. “What about the time you stole the Ark of the Covenant? Or the Holy
Chalice? The Vatican heist? Or when you took Joan’s sword and—”“Aw, c’mon, she deserved
it. She cut off the tip of my wing.”“It regenerated, and you
had no right to bother her in the first place when she was busy saving—“Hey, I gave it back.”
“I made you give it back,
demon.”He laughed but the sound
was lost in the great roar of the river. Its turmoil increased, waves thrashing
over the bow as if their presence angered the river.“Buckle up, baby.”
Stryker held her tight to his chest. The boat bucked upward and bashed down,
again and again. Freezing water sprayed everywhere, drenching them in seconds.
Zara shuddered, chilled to the bone, half expecting ice to form on her frame.Cheek to cheek, Stryker
clutched her close with a hand cupping her head and one massive arm banded
around her torso. “Hang on Angel Cake, I’ve got you.” Warmth slid into her
quivering body, a soothing heat wafting from the demon. “Nice trick, right?” he
murmured into her ear, lips grazing her skin.Teeth chattering, she
didn’t reply, too caught up in the sensation of his surprisingly soft lips on
the shell of her ear, and his spicy scent, an intriguing blend of cardamom,
cinnamon, and earthy, masculine musk.Desire danced through
her, followed fast by denial. No. Please, no. Eternal enemy. Archnemesis. He’s
the bad guy. But her libido didn’t seem to care one bit about their
battle-filled past, or even their more recent clashes. Her treacherous body
relaxed against his, basking in the continued warmth emanating from him.“Yes, baby. That’s it.”
His hand slid to her nape, and he exhaled against the sensitive skin of her
neck, setting off a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.Trap. This had to be a
trap, right? Nothing good could come of a tryst with a demon. It didn’t matter
how loudly the hum chimed in her, or how wonderful his hard body felt under
hers, they couldn’t possibly—Oh, no, now his clever
fingers kneaded the knots in her muscles, massaging the tension from her neck
and shoulders, making her melt.His warm lips brushed her
ear once again. “Angel…”She should stop him.
Really, she should. Then he nuzzled the hollow of her shoulder, and his soft
kisses eroded her superego’s usual iron will. […] Maybe, if she explored the
cosmic hum trying to call them together instead of running from it, she would
discover it meant nothing at all. Maybe, she could simply kiss him and move on.She turned her head. He
stilled, one hot palm planted between her shoulder blades, the other lounging
on her lower back, his mouth so close their breath mingled. Goose bumps tracked
over her and not from the cold since she had Stryker as her personal space
heater.Zara didn’t dare look
into his eyes, instead digging deep one last time to stop this insanity,
dredging up reasons this was a bad idea. Demon. D’uh. Longtime foe. Brash,
blunt, devious, conniving, opinionated, manipulative, flirtatious, and yes,
flirting was bad, so very, very ba—[…] Lord help her, she
wanted him too. Her gaze clashed with his. Such pretty eyes for a demon, like
black onyx flecked with amber. He went statue-still beneath her, seemed to be
holding his breath now, waiting for her to…Make a move?
She wrapped a lock of his
shoulder-length hair around her finger. Damp from the crashing river. Shiny,
deepest black. Silky, and as warm as his body. She tugged on it.A groan escaped him, and
he kissed her.
About the Author:
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. When not writing, you’ll find Celia exercising, reading a good book, hanging with her family, or indulging her addiction to fantasy TV shows and movies.
Website: http://www.celiabreslin.com
Blog: http://www.celiabreslin.com/blog/
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/celiabreslin
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CeliaBreslinAuthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CeliaBreslin
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/celiabreslin/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/celiabreslin/
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bxqwRL
It’s been great having you with us today. Good luck with A Demon’s Embrace!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged A Demon's Embrace, Bumped by the Banshee, Celia Breslin, Haunted Halloween Spooktacular by Tena Stetler with 5 comments.
A Warrior’s Kiss by Celia Breslin + Halloween Movies
GIve a Spooktacular Welcome to Celia Breslin author of A Warrior’s Kiss. Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Celia and A Warrior’s Kiss. But first Celia” Must-See TV Shows for Halloween!
Sneak peek between the pages of A Warrior’s Kiss:
“Think he’s dead?” The whispered question quieted his internal whining.
Nice voice. Soft and smooth, like velvet. Feminine. Clearly, he wasn’t alone.
“He sure looks dead.” A second woman replied, louder and with a chuckle.
He suppressed a scowl and kept his eyes closed. She thinks this is funny?
Bodies shifted behind whatever his head had cracked into, edging closer to either side of him.
“There’s no blood, though,” she of the velvet voice murmured. “Shouldn’t there be blood? […].”
Ah, their business neighbor. She came to a halt near his head, her body heat and peaches-and-honey scent saturating his senses. He should open his peepers and say something, see if the female looked as good as she sounded and smelled.
Shit. Where had that reaction come from? He had no room in his life for a woman, especially not a mortal woman.
“Maybe we should check for a pulse,” the one Peaches had called Maya suggested.
“I’m not touching his body.”
Fast reply from Peaches. Jesus, did he look so horrible? And double Jesus, why did her opinion matter? He must have hit his head harder than he imagined.
“C’mon, girlfriend. It’s a big, beautiful body. How can you not want to get your hands on it?”
Listen to your girlfriend, Peaches. No. Wait. Belay that order.
“Really, M? One-track mind much?”
He tensed to haul his ass upward, but a soft, gentle hand landed on his shoulder, feather light, then slid down his bare arm, kicking up a riot of electric sensation along his skin. He should move, but damn if he didn’t want to see what she would do next. Or touch next.
Warm fingers palpated his inner wrist, right over his madly beating pulse. Racing for her? A human female he hadn’t even laid eyes on? Shit. […]
Eyes shooting wide, he sat up.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged A Warrior's Kiss, Celia Breslin, Halloweem Spooktacular, Paranormal Romance, Thh Cupid Dating Agency by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Spooktacular Blog by Celia Breslin Author of Jasmine Moon
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cauldron. Take your choice of a bat wing Chocolate Chip or Pumpkin, or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Celia and her Jasmine Moon!
year to binge-watch supernatural shows. For your viewing pleasure, here are my
top ten favorite movies and TV shows featuring wolf shifters in either a
primary role or as fun supporting characters.
Nicholson. Can’t go wrong with Jack
Nicholson.
(1981). A classic. Humor + Horror.
Green as Oz, the musician/werewolf who loves Willow.
Trevino as Tyler Lockwood, a broody bad boy with heart.
Herveaux = soooo sexy.
as Niklaus Mikaelson. A vampire/werewolf hybrid, 100% badass. So are the other
hybrids on the show.
werewolves on both sides of the “good vs. bad” fence.
spin-off chock-full of werewolves and other teens from the preternatural
community.
A sneak peek between the pages of Jasmine Moon.
Evan tipped his head and eyed the ceiling. Prompt replies, punctual people. Striking deals and hitting deadlines. These items made his world tick. Not loitering around a miniscule airport pulling a Waiting for Godot moment on infinite repeat for a no-show, flakey designer from California.
God grant him patience and balls of steel when he showed up without the designer and the all-important wedding dress, because his future sister-in-law Darci would certainly be unhappy. […]
He took a deep fortifying breath and froze. Airport smells assailed his senses—the sharp tang of bleach and lemon-scented cleaners, […] coffee, donuts, fried fast food, and under it all, the distinct musk of wolf.
Female wolf.
She smelled damn good. His wolf perked up, and his legs propelled him toward the empty baggage claim, where one bright-pink suitcase covered in Hello Kitty stickers sat, unclaimed, on the unmoving L-shaped conveyor belt. Her scent, stronger here, socked his gut, and his gaze shot to the corner.
The chaos around the woman stunned him silent. Large, paper coffee cup, half-eaten banana, and a quarter of a powdered doughnut perched on a brown paper bag next to her. Crumbs splattered the linoleum and the woman’s long-sleeved blue blouse in a thick layer of white, sugary dust. On her other side, two pink garment bags lay like corpses, along with a bubblegum-pink unzipped duffel as long as her outstretched, denim-clad legs. Some of the bag’s contents—pads of drawing paper and large swaths of fabric—protruded over the opening, the fabric splaying over her legs in a rainbow-colored blanket. Her feet peeked out of the mess, encased in sparkling pink UGGs. Good grief, sequins? She smacked her shiny boots together in a poor imitation of Dorothy and bobbed her head from side to side in time to some music only she seemed to hear. Her shoulder-length red hair, the color of ripe dark cherries—his favorite fruit—gleamed under the harsh airport lighting and curtained most her face from his view, save a pert nose and small chin, both speckled with a generous amount of freckles.
He’d always liked freckles.
Clearing his throat, he stepped closer, but she didn’t flinch in surprise or look up. Her attention remained on the tablet on her lap, the stylus between her pale, freckled fingers swiping without hesitation over her screen. […]
He positioned himself right in front of her wiggly, booted feet. “Excuse me, J—”
“Sh.” She raised her arm and flicked her hand in the universal get lost gesture.
He gaped at her. “Excuse me?”
Another wave of her hand while her stylus streaked across her tablet screen with the other. “Not interested.”
Nice voice. Low and husky. Her attitude, on the other hand… “But—”
“Go away.” Her velvet voice carried a stubborn edge.
In other circumstances, he would’ve admired her strength. But he’d wasted copious amounts of time hunting for the clearly inconsiderate and irresponsible female. “Fine. Get your own damn ride to Los Lobos. Jasmine.”
It’s been Spooktacular having you with us.Today Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good luck with Jasmine Moon.
Views: 376
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Black Hills Wolves, Celia Breslin, Jasmine Moon, Paranormal Romance by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
Spooktacular Origins by Celia Breslin
Give a Spooktacular welcome to Celia Breslin Author of Origins, Tranquilli Bookline, Book 3.
Fiction
I like to share my absolute favorite spooky story from my family’s arsenal of
scary tales. This one comes from my Irish grandmother, about her personal
encounter with a Banshee when she was a teenager. Enjoy!
large two-story house with my parents, younger sister, and grandmother. It was
a cold, winter evening, nothing special or out of the ordinary. My family dined
together, then my sister and I cleaned up while our parents and grandmother
drank tea. We joined them at the dining table to do our homework, but my
grandmother said she was tired and went upstairs to bed. My parents followed
shortly after that, but my father paused on the landing.
going to be a cold night. Fetch us some coal, please.”
homework, grabbed the empty coal bucket from the kitchen, and went down into
the cellar. I filled my bucket and returned to the stairs. I had one foot on
the first step when the temperature in the cellar, already cold, dropped
dramatically. Chills ran down my back. Behind me, someone moaned.
that be? I was alone…
to the spot. The keening grew louder. I dropped my bucket and covered my ears.
A cold wind bumped against my back. I stumbled forward as the shrieking wind
rushed over me and up the stairs.
that be? The cellar had no windows…
cellar door slammed shut. The sound broke me from my stupor. I screamed and ran
up the stairs and out of the cellar, through the kitchen and dining room, and
up the stairs to my room. My parents and sister found me under my bed, shaking
like a puppy lost in a snowstorm.
What is it? What’s wrong?” They asked me, while pulling me from my hiding
place.
heard the Banshee wail.”
each other in silence, all of us reaching the same conclusion moments later. We
hurried to my grandmother’s room.
Celia Breslin. All rights reserved.)
The car stopped. I couldn’t convince myself to step out. What if this was a freaking, injection-induced hallucination? What if I was still back in the damn prison?
Besnik helped me out.
The mansion’s mammoth double doors eased open. The man illuminated in the doorway chased away the numbness, pumped my heart so hard it might pound right out of my chest. He opened his arms wide, calling me. My lips curled upward in the first true smile I’d cracked since the last time he’d held me in his arms. That man, my man, loved me more than any other on this whole damn planet.
“Alexander.”
I ran to him.
Alexander’s arms closed around me, his hold so tight I could barely catch a breath. Tremors ran through his hard body, again and again.
“Carina,” he croaked, voice sandpaper rough. “Carina.”
Nuzzling his neck, I planted fevered kisses along his tan, heated skin. He’d fed recently to be this warm under my lips. Temptation had me licking his pounding pulse, nipping at the vein. Couldn’t resist it. My fangs slid home.
Energy exploded between us, our mate bond bursting to life and tearing away whatever magical wall had separated us for far too long. My bite, the catalyst, his blood the cure. Awash in the force of our reunion, Alexander staggered then clutched me closer while I pulled out of his neck and laved the rapidly healing holes.
As our power continued to bubble and stitch us back together, he whisked us into the grand entryway, planted my ass on an ornate, antique cabinet, and devoured my mouth like a starving man. His hands roamed everywhere, searching, cataloguing, as if to reassure himself this wasn’t a hallucination, that I was really here, in his arms, relatively unharmed.
The more he kissed me, the more those wonderful, golden threads of our connection resurrected inside me, around me, between us, and I felt like freaking Sleeping Beauty awakened from her magical slumber by a kiss from her fated handsome prince. The silly thought made me giggle against Alexander’s seeking mouth, and then I was crying while my love cupped my face between his hands, wiped away my tears with his thumbs, and pressed tender kisses to my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose…
“Alexander.” I fisted his shirt tight. Please, God, let him be real. “I… I don’t want to wake up.” Please, don’t let this end.
His smoky blue eyes bored into mine, his brown hair spiked in every direction, a bit longer than in my memory. It’s not a dream, baby. You’re here. You’re home.
Oh my God, I can hear you. I swiped some willful bits of hair away from his forehead, touched his full lips, ran my fingers along his strong jaw, taking in the whole handsome, bad-boy package. You’re back in my head. I’d never been happier to have someone inside my mind. Silence was seriously overrated.
And back in your arms.
Celia lives in California with her husband, daughter, and two feisty cats. She writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance, and has a particular fondness for werewolves, vampires, and the Fae. Her stories are action-packed and typically include one of the many varieties of romantic entanglements: fated mates, second chance, rescue romance, opposites attract, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, and more.It was Spooktacular having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Origins.
Views: 394
Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Celia Breslin, Halloween Flash Fiction. Bumped by the Banshee, origins, Paranormal Romance, Tranquilli Boodline Book 3, Urban Fantasy by Tena Stetler with 5 comments.
