The Valkyrie’s Guardian by Moriah Densley
Publisher:
Crimson Romance / F+W Media
ISBN:
1440551375
ISBN13:
9781440551376
Number of pages:
300
Word Count:
91K
Book Description:
You might call them superheroes. “Extra-sentients” are one in 4.5 million with the extraordinary ability to unlock the full potential of the mind.Cassiopeia Noyon is descended from the most powerful known extra-sentient, but she’s a dud – no impressive talents except a healing ability which lands her in trouble. She’s all wrong for Jack MacGunn, her dazzling immortal berserker bodyguard.
Cassiopeia Noyon has a medical degree at age twenty-one, which makes her a total loser … for an extra-sentient with merely superhuman strength and healing powers but not much else. Cassie may not even be immortal, which is a downer since the man she’s adored since age six, is.
Jack MacGunn is King of the Bad Pick-Up Line. A true blue kilt-wearing, pipe-playing Scot descended from a long line of berserker warriors; if he’s awake, he’s either hungry or itching for a fight. Lately Jack feels lost. His career as a Navy SEAL detachment agent is on a slow train to nowhere. He suspects it has something to do with his out-of-control superhuman rages.
The one task Jack has never failed at is guarding Cassie from their enemies, but now he fears he can’t protect her from himself. Even if they could go a single day without fighting, Jack knows he’ll never be good enough for her. The boss’ granddaughter is off-limits anyway.
A chance encounter with a villain long assumed dead sends Jack and Cassie on a race to save the children secreted away at Network One, the academy for genius extra-sentients. Jack discovers a new side of Cassie when in the heat of combat she invokes unheard-of powers. Has Jack finally met his match?
Read Chapter 1 free: http://moriahdensley.com/chapter-1-the-valkries-guardian/
Interview:
Hi, Alisia. Thanks for hosting me today on Books and Other
Spells. I see a lot of fantastic authors here – this is where it’s at!
1) Where did you
get the idea for the novel?
The idea for The Valkyrie’s Guardian came to me while I was
waterskiing at Lake Powell, my family’s perennial vacation spot in Arizona. The
only thing I do impressively on a ski is wipe out, but I got a kick out of
watching the pros. I saw some crazy stunts,
and it made me think “What if?” I’d already been researching Celtic and Norse
mythology, so it occurred to me a berserker would have a ball with water
sports. The Barney Fife-inspired park ranger required little embellishment.
2) Your title. Who
came up with it? Did you ever change your title?
*sigh* I’m so bad at inventing titles. This one is mine, and
it’s so-so, but it took three tries to come up with it. Out of the five novels
I’ve written, the worst working title so far was “Taming Bougainvillea.” (Yes,
laugh away.) Fortunately, the book was better than the title – it finaled in
the RWA Golden Heart contest this year and I sold it to a publisher. I’m
jealous of authors who come up with catchy, marketing-savvy two-word titles. I
rely on beta readers for that.
3) Which came
first, the title or the novel?
Definitely the novel. I called it “Paranormal 2” even after the
second or third draft.
4) Since becoming a
writer, what’s the most exciting thing to ever happen to you?
Most exciting [nerve-wracking] moment? The seven seconds it
took to open and load the email titled “Your cover is ready! Take a look.”
5) What book are
you currently reading or what was the last book you read?
Sherrilyn Kenyon & Dianna Love’s “The Curse” from the
Belador series.
6) What was your
first book that you ever wrote (very first one you wrote, not published)?
A 140-k word behemoth – a historical - which thankfully
never saw the light of day. I tried writing a Jane Austen-esque soap opera, and
it was as bad as it sounds. I scrapped it and rewrote it – twice - and the
third version is my Golden Heart story. I’m very fortunate to have superb
critique group partners. They make me look good.
7) What is your
writing process?
Pantser with an “artistic temperament” here. I get obsessed
with an idea and crank out a first draft in a few weeks … and burn out. Reading
a pile of books inspires me; I’ll spend the next three months editing every
word a dozen times over, then every flaw seems insurmountable and I hate it. A
few months later I edit again, and that’s when my beta readers talk me down
from the ledge. I edit some more, then submit, then eat boatloads of chocolate
and watch Jude Law movies until the next idea strikes. I once did this five
times in one year. The keys fell off my laptop.
8) Who are your
favorite authors of all time?
Charlotte Brontë was a mad genius. I also love Orson Scott
Card, Diana Gabaldon, Meredith Duran, and Linda Howard. Nods to Judith Martin,
a.k.a. “Miss Manners,” whom I consider my muse.
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?
Being published by a “digital-first” company, I’ve never
done a book signing. Couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t hide under the table if I
did one anyway - I’m shy at social functions. Meeting readers does sound like
fun, though. Send me a note, friends, and I’ll write back!
10) What is
something people would be surprised to know about you?
I’m a soccer mom and neighborhood music teacher, so the CCW
(concealed weapons permit) in my wallet usually surprises people - I love
ordnance and marksmanship. I got a rifle for my 16th birthday. I can
shoot 3-inch groupings at 25 feet. I own a thigh holster. Showing my redneck
roots, I guess.
11) How
do you react to a bad review?
I got my first bad review just last week, and
it was sooo bad. My face burned. I stared at the screen in shock. I did NOT eat
an entire bag of Reese’s. *ahem* Then I showed the other writers in my online group,
who dutifully agreed the reviewer was PMSing and probably half-illiterate. Once
I quit inventing snarky comebacks I wouldn’t dream of actually posting, I
should probably take another look and try to glean points which might hold some
truth and use it to improve my next book.
12) How
did you celebrate the sale of your first book?
I went out to lunch with my friend Pauline and chattered
incessantly about my book until her eyes glazed over. Then we ordered dessert
and gossiped the rest of the time. It was lovely.
Excerpt:
Without much
effort she summoned static in the air. It gathered in her hands as she wrestled
to equalize the tension between ground and sky. The shift in atmospheric energy
sucked down a dull pressure she could feel in her skull and chest. The charge
crackling in her fingers burned ice hot.
Cassie walked
calmly to the men locked in struggle and set a hand on each of their shoulders,
transferring a mild dose of purple electricity into their bodies. They jerked
back and screamed. She exploited their surprise and shoved them both apart,
hurling them several feet.
She heaved slow
breaths to calm her anger, resisting the temptation to fry their idiotic
brains. They rolled slowly and strained to sit up, mist steaming out of their
collars.
“Jack. Ben. That’s
enough. Look around, you morons. Is this what you want your family to see?”
They glanced around and saw the somber faces watching from inside the great
house, all the small ones who had just been taught a bad lesson.
“Bloody hell.
What is she?” Ben muttered, wiping his split lip.
“The voice of
reason.” She stood between them. “You two have to work together while we’re
here. This is your clan, and you are the leaders. Now start acting like it.”
She waited while
they sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm themselves from the rage.
“Do you think
your family should see you shake hands, or did you mean to start a war today?”
Ben breathed an
oath in Gaelic under his breath, and Jack made something pop in Ben’s hand as
he squeezed. She closed her eyes in forbearance.
* * *
At that moment,
three pagers went off. Jack, Chief, and Pops all retrieved their phones and
checked the display with identical motions.
Jack said, “CO
called in the whole team. It’s probably nothing, but we have to go.”
“Run like the
wind,” Cassie replied flatly, as though she had no
curiosity at all about his urgent summons to headquarters. “Nice meeting you,
Chief, and ah, Papa Smurf. I’ll find my own way to the barracks.”
Damned if she
didn’t show them her back and strut away like a tabby cat. Of course he stared,
mesmerized by the dual motion of her hips and swaying hair. A draft of her
honey-anise scent lingered. Catnip. “Eighteen-hundred hours, baby,” he called,
a last ditch effort to claim her with the officers observing.
She spun 180 degrees
and walked backward. “Sorry, I have to polish my pistol.” Chief and Pops sucked
in a breath at her suggestive tone—with that purring sound in her voice,
anything sounded like innuendo.
Jack couldn’t
help it. He winked. “Sure thing, darlin.’ After you polish mine.”
* * *
Cassie could
always count on Jack for two things: he would come from near or far at the
sound of food cooking in the morning, and he went ga-ga over women in workout
clothes. Forget lingerie–Jack wanted yoga pants and a racerback top. This
morning Cassie brought out the heavy artillery with both his vices: smoothies
and spandex.
Revenge,
torture–either would do.
Ice clunked
around in the blender as she added peach slices, raw almonds, yogurt, and lemon
rind. Perfect timing—Jack jogged down the stairs and nearly tripped over Cat,
dropped his duffel, and made a beeline straight for the kitchen. He rocked back
on his heels, apparently expecting Anne the housekeeper, not Cassie. She made a
point of opening the fridge as he entered, as though she hadn’t seen him.
When she turned
around, his eyes widened and he visibly swallowed hard.
Unapologetically
his eyes roamed from her long swinging pony tail down over her shoulders
exposed above a skin-tight cropped tank. His eyes lingered on her navel, watching
it contract as she breathed, before scanning up and down her legs once, twice,
and again. He wore the expression of a tiger watching a platter of meat through
the bars of his cage.
“All the subtlety
of an anvil, Jack.”
“I might say the
same to you, sweetheart.”
* * *
“Bait?” Cassie
coughed, then half-shrieked, “Bait? You think it’s funny? Jack—you promised!”
Jack tried to
tuck her behind his shoulder and interrupt, but Cassie leaned around him and
jabbed an accusing finger at Memphis.
“No more bait, no more turkey shoots! You tell him no, Memphis, or
answer to me. Find another way, whatever. He comes home in a
body bag, and I come after you.”
She glared, the
silence stretched, and she wanted Jack’s buddy to know she meant it, every
word. Bad enough that they went willingly into danger, no reason they should
play high-stakes games with their lives. No operation was worth that.
Memphis raised
his eyebrows and Jack seemed stunned.
Cassie exhaled in
a gust and muttered, “I think I just grew a few gray hairs.”
Memphis surprised
her with his softened, sympathetic expression. “It takes a strong woman to love
a soldier. You’ll get used to it, honey.” He nodded his head, “We always come
home. Don’t worry.”
Jack sputtered
then argued, “Oh, we’re not—It’s not–”
“You’re gone, bro. I give it two months, max, and we’ll all be in our dress whites.”
Cassie looked
between them, confused, then hacked into Memphis’ thoughts to discern he meant
their formal Navy uniforms, for the occasion of her and Jack’s supposed wedding.
Wow.
Memphis winked at
their twin shell-shocked expressions.
Author Bio:
2012 RWA Golden Heart finalist Moriah Densley sees nothing odd at all about keeping both a violin case and a range bag stuffed with pistols in the back seat of her car. They hold up the stack of books in the middle, of course. She enjoys writing about Victorians, assassins, and geeks. Her muses are summoned by the smell of chocolate, usually at odd hours of the night. By day her alter ego is your friendly neighborhood music teacher. Moriah lives in Las Vegas with her husband
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/moriahdensley/
Giveaway:
Hi, Alisia! Thanks for hosting me on your cool blog, and for helping me get the word out about the giveaway. Much appreciated! -MD
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