A world of mysterious powers and tumultuous intrigues comes to life in Regency England as a djinni, burdened with a dark secret, is thrown into a love triangle fraught with subterfuge.
The djinni Yasir, imprisoned in an urn by a jealous magician, searches the centuries for his lost love. He finds Lavinia reborn in 1811 England, only to discover she’s his new master’s bride.
Desperate to have her, Yasir spell-casts Lavinia’s husband to forget he is master and give her the urn. When she opens the ancient vessel, Yasir emerges, terrifying in his magnificence yet somehow familiar, but she fails to recognize him. She distrusts this djinni even though his very presence enchants her.
Yasir’s spell is fading. Lavinia’s husband has changed. Now he’s violent as he struggles with returning memories of when he possessed the urn. Lavinia strives to keep the two from encountering one another, while torn between fidelity for her husband and her increasing attraction to the djinni.
Impatient to win Lavinia’s confidence, Yasir must convince her of her true identity so they can reclaim their life together. He dare not reveal a deeper reason: Only with Lavinia can he regain his freedom and exact revenge on the magician who confined him to the urn—
If she does not go mad from the spell to awaken her memories.
If her husband does not escape the djinni’s magic and discover her secret.
If the magician does not find them first.
The Book is on sale for $0.99 during the tour.
Exclusive Excerpt: Chapter 15
Lavinia’s chamber, a short time earlier
Lavinia bent over the opened urn and inhaled. A faint scent, honeyed like a rose, but mixed with dusty earth and rain, evoking images she had never before seen: gilded palaces, huge halls hung in rich tapestries, foreigners whose skin varied in color like their brocades and shining robes of samite. Lavinia closed her eyes, sensing something familiar, something calling to her. The brass was still warm to her fingers, but the exotic aroma had vanished, leaving a disagreeable, musty smell. She wrinkled her nose and upended the urn.
“Empty.” She set it hard on her dresser, stood straight and crossed her arms, her mouth turned down in a sulk. “Just like Peter—to be taken with this silly piece of tinker’s junk.”
Lavinia pushed the urn aside and glanced up. A pair of eyes tight with scorn met hers. She jumped.
“Frightened by my own reflection.” In the mirror, her sapphires glinted as the room behind her dimmed. A swirling amber mist covered the floor. It rose and filled the room, obscuring her embroidery chair, her pink-flowered wallpaper and the tussah silk curtains framing the windows.
She fanned her hands, but the mist eddied around her, cold and damp. The presence she had sensed grew into something tangible. A shudder snaked down her spine as she edged through the murky haze towards the door.
Something solid caught her foot. She stumbled, holding out her arms, feeling her way. Abruptly, the mist parted onto the blurred silhouette of a man. He moved towards her.
Lavinia opened her mouth to scream. She could see her wardrobe through the apparition. The specter dissolved and coalesced while she watched, struck dumb. Through the sparse hollows in the mist, she glimpsed the figure’s extraordinary garments, shimmering like stars blinking through shadowy twilight.
Her scream shrilled through the chamber. She turned to run as the specter came nearer, vestiges of her piercing shriek ringing in her head, magnifying the enfolding silence of her pursuer. The apparition seized her waist from behind. She cried out. A hand clamped over her mouth.
By the saints in heaven, he was real.
At his touch, she flinched, then felt his hand, like Peter’s, hard on her mouth. The pit of her stomach solidified, a bitter sphere of ice, as she relived Peter’s callous caresses that day in the gazebo. Cold crept into her limbs until she shook. Blackness swirled inside her. She was nothing. Nothing.
A blistering flame shot through her. Damn Peter, damn his soul to hell. She jerked her head back, sank her teeth into the intruder’s hand and dug her nails across his arm. He let go. She pushed away and ran to her dressing table, grabbing the first thing she found. The urn was heavy in her hands as she turned to face him.
Claudia will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Claudia Herring aspired to be a baton twirler when she was five and an archaeologist at thirteen. When she became a graphic designer and an author of fantasy, she decided she’d hit upon the perfect compromise.
As a designer and illustrator she formats the written word around visual art. As a writer she weaves words into stories that form worlds. Her novel, “His Master’s Bride,” a historical fantasy with romantic elements set in Regency England, won first prize in the Houston Writer’s Guild Novel Competition. “Ties of Smoke,” next in “The Djinn Chronicles” series, is in its second draft.
When she’s not delving into the world of the Djinn, Claudia is practicing yoga to go to that hushed space where she imagines and plots her next fantasy novel.
If you like Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, or Carol Berg, you’ll love His Master’s Bride.
Amazon author: http://www.amazon.com/author/claudiaherring