Nomad Authors is happy to be among the first to reveal the cover for Abbey MacMunn’s new book, Violet Souls. And the cover is a stunner! Find out about the book and Abbey, and read a couple of excerpts below.
Violet Souls
The Evoxian Legacies
Book 1
Release date: 5th September 2018
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
ARCs available: epub, mobi, PDF
Word count: 78,000
Number of pages: 232 (approx.)
While searching for clues to her past, shy single mum, Bree Mills discovers a subculture of aliens with supernatural abilities living on Earth.
And she’s one of them.
Finding herself hurled into a world of possibilities, it’s made more alluring by Quinn Taylor, the violet-eyed Evoxian from her childhood dreams.
324-year-old Quinn knows his destiny is entwined with Bree’s, but before he can confess his love, he must wait for her to sense the Akui, a mysterious force tied with ancient Evoxian law.
At a Cotswolds country manor, passions awaken and ignite a love more magical than the once-Utopian planet, Evox. Then Fate delivers a cruel and heart-breaking blow when Bree is kidnapped by a malicious alien who wants her and her power.
Will Quinn still love her when she’s faced with protecting her half-human daughter… whatever the cost?
Buy Links: (pre-order available now)
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Excerpt 1:
Brianna Mills grasped the curious pendant around her neck. Like before, when she’d first touched it, the violet jewel warmed, and her peripheral vision shrank back.
Her steps faltered. With somehow more focused vision, she watched the man coming towards her along the tree-lined track.
Jasper stopped rummaging in the undergrowth, sniffed the air, and wagged his tail. But despite her dog’s interest, she sensed something…odd.
It wasn’t just the disconcerting vision or the static electricity surrounding her. Or even the disappointment as she pondered over the outcome of her adoption meeting earlier. No, this was something else, something tangible. Electromagnetic energy rolled over her skin, made her scalp tingle. A strange, coppery scent circulated in the cool spring air.
Blood pulsated in her ears, muffling the sound of birds chirping in the trees. She came to a standstill, all five senses fizzing with an unseen force, her heartbeat pounding like tribal drums.
Still six metres ahead, the guy looked tall, well-built with broad shoulders, and casually dressed in a faded brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans, worn at the knees. Overlong blond hair rested on his shoulders, and messy waves fell either side of a tanned, ruggedly handsome face.
Drop. Dead. Bloody. Gorgeous.
A tiny spark ignited somewhere within and she forgot how to breathe.
Bree recognised him. But he wasn’t anyone she’d ever met before, not while she was awake. No, this was someone whom she used to dream of when she was a child.
It didn’t make sense. How could she have dreamt about him, what, fifteen or so years ago?
The spark became a small flame, breathing its warmth on parts of her that she’d forgotten existed. Her cheeks heated. She had so little experience with men. No wonder she’d fallen for the first guy to show her any interest and been naïve enough to get herself pregnant.
Jasper barked, which made her jump, and then raced towards the guy, wagging his tail and leaping around excitedly, greeting him like some long-lost friend.
“Jasper! Get back here. Right now.”
Trying to focus through the tunnel vision, she willed her feet to walk the remaining distance to retrieve her dog.
Get a grip, Bree, get a grip.
Keeping her head down, she wished she hadn’t tied her hair in a loose bun, so she could have hidden her embarrassment behind the long tresses.
“Sorry. Jasper doesn’t normally like strangers.” She gulped. Her words were breathless and pathetic, and she cursed under her breath. Is he a stranger though? With shaky hands and distorted vision, she grabbed her Labrador and fumbled with the lead, desperate to get the damn thing to clip on to Jasper’s collar.
“Are you wearing blue contact lenses?” he asked in a deep, hypnotic, and strangely familiar voice.
Bree blinked rapidly and her vision returned to normal. “What…? No.” She wouldn’t look at him, preferring to give her attention to Jasper’s lead, now gripped so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
She could almost feel the guy’s stare burning the top of her head. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she backed away—until she noticed his dog.
Similar to a pure white Alsatian, but she’d never seen one as massive or as muscular. It stared at her too, with weird violet eyes.
Violet eyes like hers.
Excerpt 2:
“I know it must seem impossible to believe, but please give me a chance to explain.” Quinn’s amethyst gaze never left hers. “Haven’t you always felt different to everyone else? Did you ever wonder why your eyes are an unusual colour?”
Bree blinked like a stupid airhead.
“I know you sensed the connection to your talisman; surely you can’t deny that?”
Something tugged inside. Despite her fear, her confusion, and the craziness of what he’d told her, she controlled the impulse to run.
She could answer yes to every question, hell yes, but it didn’t mean she came from another planet…did it?
Her head spun. Erratic thoughts swirled like dust motes caught in a breeze. She was a single mum, slightly odd maybe, but living an ordinary, uneventful life, or at least trying to. How could this be happening? Beads of sweat dampened her brow, her neck. Could it be true?
“Let me show you something, then you can decide. Would you give me your talisman, please?”
With no idea why, Bree took off the pendant and handed it to him, flicking her tongue across lips that were drier than the Sahara.
He tilted his head in the direction of the small table. “Sit down and I’ll prove it to you.”
With her legs buckling at the knees, she had no choice but to do as he asked.
Quinn closed the curtains, blocking the bright shaft of sunlight, then sat in the seat opposite. His intoxicating scent, sandalwood, soap and the faintest whiff of zesty orange shampoo filled her senses, made her insides fizz with anticipation. “Hold both hands out, please, palms upwards on the table.”
Bree wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. Yep, I’m the crazy one here.
“Okay, try to relax.”
Un-bloody-believable. How the hell was she supposed to relax? Not to mention the touch of his hot, dry hand was playing havoc with her pulse rate.
About Abbey MacMunn:
Abbey MacMunn writes paranormal and fantasy romance. She lives in Hampshire, UK, with her husband and their four children.
When she’s not writing, she likes to watch films and TV shows – anything from rom-coms to superheroes to science fiction movies.
She is a proud member of the Romantic Novelists’ Association.
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Tirgearr Publishing
beach, school concerts, just hanging out with friends, dinner at Dairy Queen, talking about books. For eight years we drove nationwide as long-distance truckers where, even as tired and cranky as we were on occasion, we viewed sunrises and sunsets, wide open spaces, and horrific traffic jams all while holding hands (metaphorically).
Jack has always been there to remind me that that’s the ticket to a good life. He’s always been able to make me laugh, and that’s fun no matter if we’re dressed or not.
dentist’s office because that affords me guilt-free reading time. Five hours between flights? Gosh, that’s too bad. I guess I’ll just have to read. Thirty minutes between ordering my meal and receiving it? Darn it, I’ll be forced to open this book I have in my purse.
The reason this is such a welcome indulgence is this. Jack grew up with dyslexia in the dark days when dyslexia wasn’t really recognized as a problem. When we grew up, if you couldn’t read it was because you didn’t try hard enough, or you didn’t read enough (figure that one out!), or you were stupid. I despaired of his ever reading anything other than technical manuals or the IRS guidelines. Now, with text to speech programs, he can listen to books and we actually spend quiet evenings “reading” together. It’s a together time that I love!
Of course, I don’t look anything like this young lady (sadly), I don’t really enjoy beaches, and I burn if I’m out in the sun more than ten minutes. But I have the Kindle, so life is still good! Happy reading, summer, winter, fall, and spring!
met (met again, actually) the younger version of the man I married, I let Dear Diary know first. It was really a great thing to do.
Years. Like writing every day, I need to develop the habit of keeping a journal (“journal” sounds so much more mature than “diary”). Where is that Kick-Me-in-the-Butt machine I need to remind me of good habits to form?
and night, and never worried a bit. Within a year of having a cell phone and I nearly had hives when I realized I’d taken off from home one day and had forgotten my phone. I can’t remember a single time in years that I needed the stupid thing and suddenly it had become a technological device I was afraid to be without. Even now, when half of our town is within walking distance, I get antsy if I don’t have my phone.
was. Then hubby updated out phone contract and came home with iPhones. Now I have real addresses and email addresses in it, I read the news on it, I Google and read and yes, play Solitaire on it. I use the calendar and keep notes and set alarms. I have become attached. I hate it, but what’s a girl to do? The technological heart wants what the technological heart wants. Sigh.
As far back as I remember I would make up scenes with fictitious characters. Sometimes I would jot them down, but I never took them seriously, I would collect them, but they would always end up in the circular file. Gasp!
She never expected to be in this situation, so doesn’t know anything about being a detective or solving cases. She’s not going to let that deter her, especially after landing her first big client and a missing persons case. She tries her best to hang with the pros. Problem is, she’s got this annoying and unfortunately extremely attractive FBI agent that keeps reminding her of her amateur status. She’s not looking for a new love, but she runs into a guy from her past that is trying to change her mind. And, well I mentioned the hot agent…so I’m not sure her heart is going to listen to her head. She’s got to learn to trust her instincts in order to succeed, but will she be able to do that before someone gets hurt?
Andi Ramos is a debut author from central Massachusetts where she lives with her family, goat, and Boston Terriers. Her love for reading grew into a passion for writing. She dabbled with pen and paper for a long time and eventually stopped pushing her amusements aside and started developing those stories into novels. One of her favorite things to do is to hop into her motorhome with her family and write while traveling down the road as they journey to various destinations.
The South was well-known for having girls’ schools and boys’ schools, and never the twain shall meet. During my day, UVA was all male except for certain disciplines in junior and senior years. (This changed during my junior year when the twains did meet and UVA became co-ed, at which time Mary Washington became simply Mary Washington College.) I didn’t know where Fredericksburg was in relation to where Jack might end up going to school, but at least I would be back in Virginia—if I was accepted. And, thankfully, I was.
My trip north to sleepy Fredericksburg allowed me to meet people that have continued to touch my life, gave me my first taste of independence, and introduced me other adventures I’d have missed had I taken the easy route of staying in Florida for school. In many ways, it was life changing. And—as important—it was fun!
So, after hubby and I tied the knot and we had worked long enough to give back a little, I wanted to get Mom a special Christmas gift I knew she would never get herself. I called Elizabeth Arden’s Red Door Spa in Dallas (since closed) and arranged for a day’s treat for my mother. I was giddy with excitement! She would have her hair cut, a facial, a full-body massage and time in the sauna. She would be petted and pampered. At the time it felt ridiculously expensive–$150!!
So Christmas morning I called my aunt’s house in Dallas. The day in Virginia had calmed down but their house was chaotic with cousins, second cousins, and my grandmother. Mom described her new nightgown in detail, told me all about a new Johnny Cash record, spoke at length about her new set of boots, and oh, yes, “Thank you, sweetie, for the spa trip.” That was it. How could I be so excited and she be so blasé?
She said in all the excitement she hadn’t taken the time to read what the gift entailed. At last I was able to smile, knowing I had given her something she would never buy for herself but which she would enjoy. It wasn’t a gift that lasted years, but it was a special moment in time, and isn’t that what makes great memories?