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Song of Blood and Stone by L. Penelope ~ Cover Reveal, Guest Post, Book Spotlight and Giveaway

I’m excited to participate in the cover reveal for Song of Blood and Stone by L. Penelope. This is an adult fantasy romance. Song of Blood and Stone officially releases January 13, 2015.


The cover of Song of Blood and Stone was designed by James T. Egan at Bookfly Design.


About the Book:

Between love and duty lies destiny


Orphaned and alone, Jasminda is an outcast in her homeland of Elsira, where she is feared for both the shade of her skin and her magical abilities. When ruthless soldiers seek refuge in her isolated cabin, they bring with them a captive – an injured spy who steals her heart.


Jack’s mission behind enemy lines nearly cost him his life but he is saved by the healing power of a mysterious young woman. Together they embark on a perilous journey straight into the heart of a centuries-old conflict.


Thrust into a hostile society, Jasminda and Jack must rely on one another even as secrets jeopardize their bond. As an ancient evil gains power, Jasminda races to unlock a mystery that promises salvation.


The fates of two nations hang in the balance as Jasminda and Jack must choose between love and duty to fulfill their destinies and end the war.




 Song of Blood and Stone
Excerpt:
The girl looming above Jack looked like a mirage. She’d marched
directly to his hiding place behind a cluster of coarse shrubbery and stood,
peering down, head cocked at an angle. He went to stand, years of breeding
kicking in, his muscle memory offended at the idea of not standing in the
presence of a lady, but apparently, his muscles had forgotten the bullet
currently lodged within them. And the girl was Lagrimari—not strictly a lady,
but a woman nonetheless—and a beautiful one, he noticed as he squinted into the
dying light. Wild, midnight curls floated carelessly around her head and
piercing dark eyes regarded him. Her smooth skin was a confectioner’s delight.
His stomach growled. When was the last time he’d eaten?

Her
presence meant he was still on the Lagrimari side of the mountain range
bordering the two lands and had yet to cross the other, more powerful barrier
keeping him from his home of Elsira: the Mantle.
The
girl frowned down at him, taking in his bedraggled appearance. From his
position lying on the ground, he tried his best to smooth his ripped uniform,
the green fatigues of the Lagrimari army. Her confusion was apparent. Jack was
obviously Elsiran; aside from his skin tone, the ginger hair and honey-colored
eyes were a dead giveaway. And yet he wore the uniform of his enemy.
“Please
don’t be scared,” he said in Lagrimari. Her brows rose toward her hairline as
she scanned his prone and bloodied body. Well, that was rather a ridiculous
thing to say. “I only meant that I mean you no harm. I . . .” He struggled with
how to explain himself.
There
were two possibilities. She could be a nationalist who would turn him in to the
squad of soldiers currently combing the mountain for him, perhaps to gain favor
with the government, or she could be like so many Lagrimari citizens, beaten
down by the war with no real loyalty to their dictator or his thugs. If she was
the former, he was already dead, so he took a chance with the truth.
“You
see, I was undercover, spying from within the Lagrimari army. But now there are
men looking for me, they’re not far, but—” He paused to take a breath; the
effort of speaking was draining. He suspected he had several cracked or broken
ribs in addition to the gunshot wound. His vision swam, and the girl turned
into two. Two beautiful girls. If these were his last moments before traveling
to the World After, then perhaps he was not as unlucky as he’d always thought.
He
blinked rapidly and took another strained breath. His mission was not complete;
he could not die yet. “Can you help me? Please. I’ve got to get back to
Elsira.”
She
stole an anxious glance skyward before kneeling next to him. Her cool hand
moved to his forehead. The simple touch was soothing and a wave of tension
rolled off him.
“You
must be delirious.” Her voice was rich, deeper than he’d expected. It eased the
harsh consonants of the Lagrimari language, for the first time making it sound
like something he could imagine being pleasant to listen to. She carefully
worked at the remaining buttons of his shirt, pulling the fabric apart to
reveal his ruined chest. Her expression was appraising as she viewed the damage
then sat back on her haunches, pensive.
“It
probably looks worse than it is,” he said.
“I
doubt that.”
Jack’s
chuckle sounded deranged to his own ears, so it was no surprise that the girl
looked at him askance. He winced—laughing was a bad idea at this point—and
struggled for breath again. “The soldiers . . . they’re after me. I have to get
back through the Mantle.”
“Shh,”
she said, digging into her bag. “Hush all that foolishness; you’re not in your
right mind. Though I’ll admit, you speak Lagrimari very well. I’m not sure what
happened to you, but you should save your strength.”
She
retrieved a jar filled with a sweet-smelling substance and began spreading it
over his wounds. The constant, throbbing pain eased a notch making it easier
for him to breathe.
“What
is that?”
“Just
a balm. Helps with burns, cuts. Can’t do any more for you right now, but you
can’t stay here. Storm’s coming.”
He
laid his head back on the ground, closing his eyes to savor the slight
reduction in pain. “A quick rest and I’ll be back on my way. Need to keep
moving, though. Need to get back.”
She
shook her head. “Back through the Mantle?” Her voice was skeptical.
He
nodded.
“And
away from the Lagrimari soldiers chasing you?”
“Yes.”
Her palm met his forehead again. She thought he was delusional. He wished he
was. Wished the last few weeks had been nothing but the imaginings of an
impaired mind.
“The
Seventh Breach ended almost five years ago.” Her voice flowed over him, as cool
and comforting as the balm she’d used. “We’ve had peace since then. No way to
cross the Mantle from either side.”
He
shook his head, aggravating the hole in his upper chest, inches from his heart
where an inconvenient bit of metal was still lodged. “There are ways.”
A
crunch of boots in the distance set him on alert. He grabbed the girl’s wrist
to halt her while he listened. The soldiers were near.
He
opened his eyes and looked into her startled ones. “Shh, they’re coming.”

About the Author:

Leslye Penelope has been writing since she could hold a pen and loves getting lost in the worlds in her head. She’s a romance junkie who self-medicates with happily-ever-afters and steaming mugs of green tea. She lives in Maryland with her husband, an eighty-pound lap dog, and an attack cat. Visit her online at http://www.lpenelope.com.


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Guest Post: Respecting the Muse
People frequently
ask authors where their ideas come from. The muse, that creative force
responsible for inspiring artists, is often said to be fickle. Mine can
sometimes be an outright jerk. Like a toddler who can’t decide which toy to
play with, my muse throws fits and tantrums, and just might have ADD.
When
she’s on her good behavior, she tends to show up in the most unexpected ways. I
got the idea for one manuscript from my husband who challenged me to write a
“black, female, Napoleon Dynamite.” The result bore no resemblance to
that film or character, but it was a great starting point.
Another story
features a character whose psychic ability manifests via smell. The idea for
this one came from my own life. I sometimes smell things that don’t belong, but
are recognizable. Like the scent of my late grandmother’s closets, or my late
father’s cologne, or ­­––even stranger–– mothballs. The scents are fleeting,
but I wonder if they could be messages of some kind. In that story, my
character can tell that something bad is going to happen to the person she
smells, but she doesn’t know what or when.
The idea
for Song of Blood & Stone was
born late one night as I was binge-watching movies on Netflix. I was in my
Jamie Bell period, watching and re-watching anything I could with him in it. My
stroke of inspiration came during the movie The
Eagle
when his character, Esca, first appears on screen. He’s a slave in
ancient Rome, entering a fight against a much larger and well-armed gladiator. Esca
doesn’t look scared even though he’s outmatched. He looks pissed. http://makeagif.com/i/GEscaw This is the exact expression
that Jack wears the second time he and Jasminda meet in Song of Blood & Stone. About six seconds of film was enough to
set my imagination on fire. The next day I started writing.
So, what
inspires you? How does your muse behave? My muse definitely has a mind of her
own. And even when she’s erratic, I’m always grateful for the sparks of
inspiration no matter how they come. 


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