Author Elizabeth Davies stopped by Nesie’s Place to chat about her book birthday, what her hubby thinks of her favorite drink of choice, and share a suspenseful excerpt! (This paranormal excerpt contains graphic content during spell-casting and may not be appropriate for all blog visitors.)
Hello, Elizabeth and welcome! Thanks for stopping in today!
Thanks for having me!
First question – what’s your favorite genre to read?
Paranormal romance and historical, and if the two are combined in one, I’m in seventh heaven!
Do you venture into other genres other than your preferred?
I read quite a wide range, depending on my mood and have been known to read crime and thrillers, and I quite enjoy a fantasy now and again, too.
Favorite beverage to read with?
Tea. Lots of weak tea with sugar. My husband thinks I’m a disgrace.
LOL! I get the same from my mister about my strong coffee!
Pantser or Plotter?
Pantser all the way. I’ve tried plotting, but it simply doesn’t work for me. I find that I can’t stick to a plan when my characters want to do something else entirely.
Are you self-published, traditional, or hybrid?
I’m self-published – I enjoy the control, and I’m too impatient to wait for a publisher’s schedule.
How long have you been a writer?
I think I must have been a writer all my life, at heart. I’ve certainly always had ideas and premises running through my head. But it wasn’t until I was in my forties that I actually did something about it, and knuckled down to produce a novel
How long did it take you to write your first book?
The first book I published took about eight months. The first book I actually wrote (I’ve buried it deep in the depths of my computer) took about a year and a half.
What’s your favorite genre to write or do you only write in one genre?
I write paranormal romance, but I think my stories fit into a couple of genres – historical, romance, supernatural, fantasy. I don’t think they can make their minds up.
Do you have any advice for new authors?
Learn as much as you can about your craft as fast as you can. And whatever you do, always make time to write.
Where do you get the most writing done?
At the dining room table, usually, although I have been known to write anywhere and everywhere the mood takes me.
Totally addicted to social media or could you live without it??
If it wasn’t for being an author, then I could live without it. But, it’s part of a writer’s toolkit when it comes to marketing and advertising, so I guess I’m stuck with it. Besides, I’ve met such wonderful people that it would be a shame to miss out on that.
Today is the first book birthday for Three Bloody Pieces?
Yes, It’s book 1 in the Caitlyn Trilogy! It’s Paranormal Romance, although the romance bit doesn’t really emerge until the final book. I suppose it could also be described as magical realism, fantasy and historical. Books 2 and 3 will be out in October and November 2018.
Please share an excerpt with us!
Introduction – Caitlyn keeps experiencing strange visions. In this one Herleva, the witch, is preparing to cast the spell which will bind Caitlyn to her, and turn her into a cat, the witch’s familiar.
The chanting grew louder, monotonous, drowning out the dying gasp of the storm. The older woman’s lips moved and I tried to fathom the words. She sang in a language I’d never heard before, and it raised goose-bumps on my arms. A chill traveled up my neck. I wanted to run, to fight my way free of the nightmare, but self-preservation kept me still. The old woman had no idea I was there and I had no intention of alerting her to my presence, no urge to feel her crushing, soul-stripping stare. I sent a silent prayer to any god who might be listening, to wake me from this hellish sleep.
She reached deeper into the stomach cavity using swift sure strokes of a knife, with the ease of a butcher, slicing and pulling, until her prize came free with a reluctant sucking squelch. She held the young woman’s heart close to her face, turning it this way and that. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her. She gave a nod and placed it on a nearby table, where knives and assorted instruments lay, for purposes I didn’t care to guess.
Folded cerecloth, stiff and yellowed from its coating of beeswax, sat next to the instruments. A bundle of grey fur lay to one side. Bowls of dried and aromatic herbs were lined neatly in a row on a shelf above. I recognised some, like the white yarrow flowers which were good for staunching blood, but not all. Too late for any of them to halt the blood loss here, surely, though my mother did once tell me that in the wrong hands, yarrow was used for divination. I also noticed monkswood, with its purple, curled petals, beautiful and deadly; often called wolfsbane and used to poison arrow tips, it was shot at wolves to prevent men from transforming into werewolves.
The woman moved to the fire, wrapped a cloth around her hand and lifted the bubbling pot off its stand. As she poured the liquid into a jug, the smell of thyme filled the air with its distinctive scent, strong and pungent. I caught a whiff of other aromas: rosemary, lavender, cloves.
She rinsed out the corpse’s body cavity with the scalding liquid, wincing at the heat on her hands, and I finally understood what she was doing. She was embalming it. The infusion was one my mother often made, to use as a disinfectant. This woman must be an embalmer, though why I should dream of such a thing mystified me, especially since it was an unusual job for a woman.
I moved closer, an involuntary movement, a glide rather than a step.
And wished I’d stayed put, as I saw what she now had in her hands.
What I’d assumed was a piece of fur on the table, was the body of a grey cat, sticky with blood. She turned it over. Its insides were gone, its face a rictus of fear and snarling teeth. This cat had not had an easy death.
She took a little knife, wicked and sharp, and inserted it into the creature’s belly cavity. More sucking noises, then the cat’s heart was in her hands, pathetically small. She placed it next to the woman’s heart. Using her knife, she made a hole in the larger organ and stuffed the smaller one inside. The needle was already threaded with catgut, and she stitched it up with quick stabs.
When she put the bloodied mess back in the cat’s body, I almost cried out. The woman’s heart and the rest of her innards should be buried alongside her as was the custom, not stuck inside a cat. But when she picked up the animal and inserted it into the yawning belly cavity of the poor young woman on the table, I couldn’t help but let out a cry of disgust.
She froze, her murmured chanting ceased, and she hunted the room, peering into every corner and crevice, a frown on her face. Her gaze halted when she found me, and the frown transformed into a smile.
Ah, it’s you, my pretty.
WHOA!!! What an excerpt! Pretty sure I’ll have to read this one with the lights ON!
Many thanks to Elizabeth for stopping by today. Check out her links, don’t forget to enter her amazing giveaway which is open INTERNATIONALLY, then head over to your favorite retailer and grab a copy of Three Bloody Pieces for only 99¢!
A dead king, a queen who is more than she seems, and a witch who uses the dark arts to entrap her.
Queen, widow, beggar – Lady Caitlyn is all three, and now she can add murderer to the list.
When death and treachery propel her south to Normandy, to seek sanctuary with the exiled Prince Alfred, visions of a woman with ancient eyes travel with her.
Herleva is a woman filled with ambition and greed. A woman who intends to be more than a commoner. A woman who gets what she wants by whatever means possible, even if she has to practice the dark arts to achieve her goals.
A woman who is a witch.
Caitlyn finds herself caught up in a magic which changes her very being. A magic which produces a king to change the lives of every man, woman, and child in England.
Elizabeth Davies is a paranormal author; whose books have a romantic flavour with more than a hint of suspense. And death. There’s usually death…
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