Elements of Rebellion by Coral Moore
Genre: Fantasy
Romance
Publisher: Bared
Teeth Publishing
ISBN:061564841X
ASIN:B0084V2V04
Number of pages:284
Word Count: 85,000
Cover Artist:
Amanda Kelsey
Book Description:
After spending most
of her life an unwilling captive in a brothel, Sindari is sold to Lord Devin, a
man with a reputation for unspeakable cruelty. In the arms of this man who must
pretend he cares nothing for her, Sindari finds compassion, making the journey
through her barren homeland all the more perilous. Along the way she discovers
she can channel elemental forces that compliment Devin’s ability to manipulate
fire.
Harnessing this
power, she battles the Dominion, an unrelenting foe that has broken the spirit
of the Eldari people through twenty years of savagery. Trapped by the brutal
empire that has enslaved millions, Sindari and Devin fight against hopeless
odds.
Warnings: Graphic Violence and Sexual Situations
Interview:
1. Where did you get
the idea for the novel?
The idea for Elements of Rebellion came to me in a dream. I know
how cheesy that sounds, but it’s completely true. It started with a single
image--a couple riding through a dry prairie side by side on horseback. The man
must conceal who he really is and the woman must follow him, first out of
necessity, later out of respect, and finally out of love.
2. Your title. Who
came up with it? Did you ever change your title?
The title was originally Firestorm, but I didn’t like that very
much. I asked some folks on a writing forum for some input on a few different
choices, and after a few days I settled on Elements of Rebellion.
3. Which came first,
the title or the novel?
Definitely the novel. Titles are hard for me, although with
practice they do get easier.
4. Since becoming a
writer, what’s the most exciting thing to ever happen to you?
I think that title has to go to my first unsolicited review.
That meant someone had actually bought and read my book. And they liked it! I
was thrilled. I don’t think I stopped smiling for a week. I read it out loud to
my husband. I think he’s developing a complex because I never believe him when
he says something I wrote is good, but I’ll believe complete strangers.
5. What book are you
currently reading or what was the last book you read?
I just started reading Eternal
Rider by Larissa Ione (good so far) and I just finished On Wings, Rising by Ann Somerville (very
good, and highly recommended).
6. What was your first
book that you ever wrote (very first one you wrote, not published)?
The first book I ever wrote was a terrible mess that I like to
call The One that Will Never Leave the
Drawer. It was a story about a zombiepocalypse, though it was more about
the survivors who lived in the aftermath. I may someday reuse a few characters
from that story. There’s a marine colonel that I fell in love with from the
first moment he took form on the page that I’d love to find another home for.
7. What is your
writing process?
For me, it really depends on the book. Elements of Rebellion was
very quick and came out mostly in chronological order, with very little
structural work needed afterward to shore it up. My first release, Broods of
Fenrir was rewritten a few times, trying to get the essential pieces of the
story hammered out. That one I struggled with a lot of ‘in between’ scenes that
I had to find a place for afterward. But in general, I slog through the first
draft and then make one editing pass myself. Then the story goes off to beta
readers for a look through. I look at their suggestions and possibly make some
changes, but usually nothing substantial. Then it goes off to my editor. She
usually has a lot of great notes for me, and I incorporate many of her ideas as
I make the second draft. We go back and forth a few more times, until we’re
both satisfied that the book is the best it can be.
8. Who are your favorite authors of all time?
Stephen King was one of my first favorites and holds a special place in my heart. Robert Jordan showed me what fantasy was, and for that reason will always be on that list too. More recent obsessions are Josh Lanyon, Diana Rowland, and Patricia Briggs. I have pretty eclectic reading habits, I guess.
9. At a book signing, do you just sign your name or do you write a note? How do you come up with stuff to say? I’ll let you know after I attend my first one! I suppose I will probably panic and then only manage to scrawl my name, but over time I hope to be a note making author.
10. What is something people would be surprised to know about you?I suppose that I have an almost terminal case of self-conscious nerves whenever someone new reads my work. There’s a troublesome imp in my head that always screams how bad everything I create is. Sometimes I wish he would leave me alone, but then I realize that he makes me strive to improve constantly, so he’s not so bad.
11. How do you react to a bad review?If the review was solicited by me, I thank the reviewer for the time by email--I always do that, no matter what the outcome of the review. I also try to take something from each of my reviews to help my writing improve. Then I curl up with some ice cream and my dog and watch something sad on television.
12. How did you celebrate the sale of your first book? I don’t think I did anything special at all. I was caught up in a whirlwind of trying to get the promotion my second book out, believe it or not. I don’t think I’d realized I’d actually sold anything until a few days later. Now that I think about it, that’s a little sad.
Excerpt:
I don’t belong to him,
and nothing he can do will change that. I repeated that in my head while I
sobbed. I lay face down along the length of the heavy, familiar bench, my
wrists secured to the legs on either side. The bindings held me so I couldn’t
move more than a tiny bit in any direction.
Between my hitching
breaths, I heard Master Mitchell’s belt threading back through the loops of his
trousers. He stood next to me without saying a word.
When the last of my tears
had flowed, he pulled my hair away from my face with gentle fingers. “Aren’t
you tired of fighting me after all this time? You know it won’t do you any
good.”
I didn’t bother to
answer. He reached over me to his dresser, then gave me a whack on the
backside. I stifled a groan. The pain was nothing compared to the welts that
burned across my back from his belt’s attentions, but I knew what he held from
that one touch. The wooden back he had just slapped me with was by no means the
worst that coarse brush had to offer.
He paused to rub his
knuckles over my bare bottom in a mocking caress. “With your uncooperative
attitude, I can only place you with the roughest of my clients. Wouldn’t you
prefer to serve men who won’t treat you so badly?”
“Then who would you offer
up to those swine?”
He flipped the brush
around and hit me with the stiff bristles until I squirmed from the cutting
bite of it scratching my skin. “That’s none of your concern.”
How wrong he was. I’d
been making that decision for years by being difficult with every man he put in
a room with me. Keeping the worst of them away from the other girls seemed
worth it, most of the time.
Merciful spirits, I hated
that brush.
He sat down on the bench
above my head and lightly placed his hand on the back of my neck. “I can think
of more pleasant ways to spend our time.”
I had little interest in
his clumsy seduction, a fact which he knew by then. “Let’s just skip ahead to
the part where you force yourself on me and pretend that I enjoy it.”
With an angry hiss, he
peppered my back with the brush. The bristles tore at my broken skin and sent
agony radiating in every direction. I started screaming after the third strike
and lost count soon afterward.
When I ran out of breath
and could scream no longer, he stopped. My entire back throbbed. I gulped for
air. He tugged the strap around my knees loose while humming quietly. I rested
my face against the bench and took a few shuddering breaths.
He scratched the bristles
of the brush up the back of my right thigh to get my attention. Though my legs
were free, I was too exhausted to move away from the uncomfortable sensation.
“Your defiance is not
without its charm. The quiet moments after are always so enjoyable. I’ll miss
you when you’re gone.” He’d threatened to sell me to a labor camp as a breeder
so often that it had ceased to frighten me long ago.
I swallowed to steady my
voice, my throat raw from screaming. “Am I going somewhere? I hear Garza is
nice this time of year.”
He laughed, but there was
little humor in the sound. “Tristan will be here in a few weeks to take a batch
of girls to sale in Rochelle.” He put down the brush and ran his fingers over
the curve of my ass. “You don’t bring in as much as you used to. I can no
longer justify keeping you for what little amusement you offer me when there is
no profit in it. You’re going in the next group.”
I turned my head to look
at him, not believing a word of it. When I saw his expression, though, I knew
he was telling the truth. His graying hair clung to the sides of his face,
framing a sad smile that was not at home on his handsome features. I held his
gaze for longer than could be considered appropriate. Neither of us spoke.
I had wished myself free
of his House more times than I could remember, but with the prospect of getting
out before me, fear crept into my throat and choked me. With Mitchell, I knew
where I stood and which lines he wouldn’t cross. As much as I hated him, there
was a measure of trust there that I couldn’t deny. After I was auctioned, there
was no telling where I would end up.
“Nothing to say?” His
hand slid over the torn skin of my back with a light touch that brought an
absurd amount of pain. I gritted my teeth.
He crouched next to my
head and worked at the binding on my right wrist. “If you ask me nicely, I’ll
consider keeping you.” His blue eyes searched my face as he caressed my cheek.
The unspoken promise of tenderness was a familiar lie. I no longer wondered who
that lie was supposed to convince.
How easy it would be to
beg him to keep me. For a brief moment, I almost wished I could do it. I
despised the weak part of myself that wanted his approval.
“Never.” I turned my face
away from him and closed my eyes. Tears overflowed and spilled down my cheeks.
I didn’t want him to see how much he had hurt me because I knew that pain was
what he sought, an indicator that he’d broken me at last.
With a contemptuous
growl, he stood and kicked the bottom of the bench under my head, jarring my
teeth with the force. The sound of his belt being pulled free again rasped in
my ears.
Author Bio:
Coral Moore has
always been the kind of girl who makes up stories. Fortunately, she never quite
grew out of that. She writes because she loves to invent characters and the
desire to find out what happens to her creations drives the tales she tells.
Prompted by a
general interest in how life works, her undergraduate schooling was in biology.
She follows science news and enjoys conversations about genetics and
microbiology as much as those about vampires and werewolves. Coral writes
speculative fiction and is pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Writing at
Albertus Magnus College.
Currently she lives
in Connecticut with the love of her life, who offers both encouragement and
kicks in the tail when necessary. Also in residence are two mammals of the
families Canidae and Felidae.
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