Cuddle with a Dragon for #Inspiration by Darcy Carson #MuseMonday

MUSE MONDAY

Please join me in welcoming Darcy to Muse Monday on Discover... We authors find our inspiration all sorts of ways. Darcy lives with hers, and he's cute and cuddly. Share with us, Darcy.

The music loving dragon, Torkel, in the third book in the Dragons Return series, SHE WAKES THE NIGHT, is based on my black, ten-pound toy poodle, Bandit. When I brought him home as a teeny-tiny puppy, he had a white chin and his middle claws on his back feet were white. I always wondered what he thought of that…so when I created Torkel, I patterned him after Bandit’s coloring. Bandit loved being held and putting his head on my chest and I imagined him listening to my heartbeat. Why not create a dragon who liked listening to music? That’s how a writer’s mind works sometimes. 

Blurb:

Trell Langois escapes a thousand-year-old curse. Being trapped as a tree wasn’t on her bucket list, but now she can continue as a healer. Traveling with her dragon, Torkel, she seeks out new cures to help others and meets Gren, an unfortunate soul who suffers from a dreadful disease.

Gren Oyg Har is a prince on a mission. In order to rule his father’s kingdom, he must first find a healer. Not just any healer, mind you, but one with a dragon. Yet, it is Trell who finds and rescues Gren, but wants nothing to do with him. If not for Torkel, she would leave him behind.

Separate goals soon become entangled, and both Trell and Gren are on their way to falling in love until secrets better kept hidden become known—and threaten to destroy all they hold dear.

 

Excerpt: 

“The music. The human stopped playing. ‘Tis all your fault.”

Trell shook her head. Sometimes… “Return to the dragon circle, if you dislike my methods.”

“I follow where you go.”

She gave up and paused to listen. Sure enough, the sounds returned to normal where people conversed with one another. The stomp of iron-hooves striking the ground added a low tremor as they continued to nicker.

Squaring her shoulders, Trell replaced the lantern to where she round it. She put water on the fire and wiggled under the wagon. Gren sat with his legs crossed, the flute in his lap.

“You must be weary,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to play while I was away.”

“I missed you, and playing allowed the time to pass quicker.”

Her heart fluttered at his flowery woods. “How do you feel? I’ve put a kettle on for Grandmother Lurri’s tea. I could make you some chamomile as well.”

“That’s unnecessary,” he answered. “My neck is just still, is all.”

“Allow me to make you feel better while the water heats.” She reached for him.

He jerked back. “Touching me is unwise.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, continuing to scramble over to him. Her fingers brushed over his neck and shoulders. Much to her surprise, his muscles felt like the cords of a warrior, not those of a sick man.

He scrambled away and stretched his arm to prohibit her from getting closer. “Stay back.”

That fleeting touch caused a tingle to run up her fingers like warm water. The sensation flowed up her arms, seeping into all her pores until her head spun.

How sick was he? The disease caused a person to lose extremities due to repeated injuries and infection. They had to be amputated. Some people died within five years, others lasted for several decades. No one knew why.

She liked Gren and wanted to help him. Yet she was sure he hid something from her. How sick was he? Or was he sick at all? She hated having doubts. His feelings mattered to her. It wasn’t fair such a kind, decent man suffered. She watched him tuck away the flute with care. A task hampered by rags covering his large hands. Yet those same hands created beautiful music.

She eyed him and smiled. “I would say you have magic in your hands.”

“What you do mean?” He repeated her earlier words.

“You create powerful music. It brings joy to all who hear.”

She examined the back of his head from under her lashes as if her gaze could pierce his ragged cowl. His music tugged at her heart with its appeal, but something deeply earthy pulled her to the man himself.

That was wrong.

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Author Bio:

Award-winning author, Darcy Carson, grew up reading everything her mother brought home from the library. Reading romances became her favorite genre. Eventually her love of those novels led her to start writing them. She resides in a Seattle suburb with her husband and a prince of a toy poodle. 

Author Social Links:

Website:  https://darcycarsonbooks.com/

Facebook:  https://m.facebook.com/?_rdr

She Wakes the Night by Darcy Carson #MuseMonday #dragons

MUSE MONDAY

Muse Monday welcomes Darcy Carson with a taste of her novel, She Wakes the Night.

Blurb:

Trell Langois escapes a thousand-year-old curse. Being trapped as a tree wasn’t on her bucket list, but now she can continue as a healer. Traveling with her dragon, Torkel, she seeks out new cures to help others and meets Gren, an unfortunate soul who suffers from a dreadful disease. 

Gren Oyg Har is a prince on a mission. In order to rule his father’s kingdom, he must find a healer. Not just any healer, mind you, but one with a dragon. Yet, it is Trell who finds and rescues Gren, but wants nothing to do with him. If not for Torkel, she would leave him behind. 

Separate goals soon become entangled, and both Trell and Gren are on their way to falling in love until secrets better kept hidden become known—and threaten to destroy all they hold dear. 

Excerpt: 

The music wove a powerful spell around her, and she wasn’t alone.

Rapt Fezners sat on the steps of their wagons or stood beneath trees with their heads cocked, listing to the music.

And Torkel flew overhead.

She could almost hear a purr of delight emanating from the dragon through mindspeech.

Farther away, where the Fezner horses were tethered, the animals stomped the ground or whinnied in protest. She held her breath. The horses sensed a predator—Torkel.

“Do not stop him,” the dragon mindspoke as if he fathomed her concerns. “He does not play often enough.”

“How close did you fly?” She held her stomach in dread. “No, don’t answer. I have no wish to know. Fly back to the dragon circle.”

“I cannot. A force calls to me. I can’t decide if it is the music or something else.”

In spite of her misgivings, Torkel’s repentant tone elicited a grin from her. “I can’t stress the danger. Gren already suspects that a dragon is nearby,” she reminded her friend. “This is dangerous for you. You’re being selfish. If you won’t worry about yourself, think about the dragonets. They are too young to protect themselves.”

“See what you have done,” he mindspoke back, dodging her protest.

“What?”

“The music. The human stopped playing. ‘Tis all your fault.”

Trell shook her head. Sometimes… “Return to the dragon circle, if you dislike my methods.”

“I follow where you go.”

She gave up and paused to listen. Sure enough, the sounds returned to normal where people conversed with one another. The stomp of iron-hooves striking the ground added a low tremor as they continued to nicker.

Squaring her shoulders, Trell replaced the lantern to where she found it. She put water on the fire and wiggled under the wagon. Gren sat with his legs crossed, the flute in his lap.

“You must be weary,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to play while I was away.”

“I missed you, and playing allowed the time pass quicker.”

Her heart fluttered at his flowery words. “How do you feel? I’ve put a kettle on for Grandmother Lurri’s tea. I could make you some chamomile as well.”

“That’s unnecessary,” he answered. “My neck is just stiff, is all.”

“Allow me to make you feel better while the water heats.” She reached for him.

He jerked back. “Touching me is unwise.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, continuing to scramble over to him. Her fingers brushed over his neck and shoulders. Much to her surprise, his muscles felt like the cords of a warrior, not those of a sick man.

He scrambled away and stretched his arm to prohibit her from getting closer. “Stay back.”

That fleeting touch caused a tingle to run up her fingers like warm water. The sensation flowed up her arms, seeping into all her pores until her head spun.

How sick was he? The disease caused a person to lose extremities due to repeated injuries and infection. They had to be amputated. Some people died within five years, others lasted for several decades. No one knew why.

She liked Gren and wanted to help him. Yet she was sure he hid something from her. How sick was he? Or was he sick at all? She hated having doubts. His feelings mattered to her. It wasn’t fair such a kind, decent man suffered. She watched him tuck away the flute with care. A task hampered by rags covering his large hands. Yet those same hands created beautiful music.

She eyed him and smiled. “I would say you have magic in your hands.”

“What do you mean?” He repeated her earlier words.

“You create powerful music. It brings joy to all who hear.”

She examined the back of his head from under her lashes as if her gaze could pierce his ragged cowl. His music tugged at her heart with its appeal, but something deeply earthy pulled her to the man himself.

That was just wrong.

Author bio: 

Award-winning author Darcy Carson grew up reading everything her mother brought home from the library. Reading romances became her favorite genre. Eventually, her love for those novels led her to start writing them. She resides in in a Seattle suburb with her husband and a prince of a toy poodle.

Pitbull with Lipstick by Darcy Carson #FearlessFriday #historicalromance

FEARLESS FRIDAY

You're going to love my fearless guest's story today. Grab a cup and relax and be ready to chuckle. Take it away, Pitbull, er Darcy.

My friends call me the Pitbull with Lipstick. I’m not afraid of sharing my opinion with ANYONE. Telling what you think isn’t sharing what you are feeling. That’s two different things in my book. I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. One thing my friends laugh about the most is the time we took a night-owl fight to NYC for a conference. Since I have a hard time falling asleep in strange places, I asked my doctor for sleeping pills. Let’s just say the first one didn’t work to my satisfaction, so I took another one. By the time we landed, I was rummy and off in la-la land. I jumped on the luggage cart and asked the bell hop to take me to the registration desk. I was with a group of four other ladies, one was always saying, ‘Someone keep an eye on Darcy. She keeps wandering away.’. I really don’t remember much of that trip.

One incident I remember from my childhood was when I was twelve. I went horseback riding for the first time in my life. Wasn’t afraid. I picked this pretty palomino. A girl’s got to have a pretty-looking horse. Right? Well, at a specific spot, the guide would let experienced riders race their horses. With a squeal of delight, I kicked my horse to go, too. The squeal scared the guide. I was laughing. She thought I was screaming, but she couldn’t catch me because my horse was not only pretty, but the fastest horse in the stable. I loved it. Went back the following week. My palomino was already out. Boo-hoo. They gave me a semi-draft horse. Imagine your legs sticking straight out. That was me. Then my supposedly gentle giant got into a fight with another horse. We were losing, so I stood in the stirrups and used my reins to hit the other horse. Didn’t help much. My mount and I ended up in the river. But it was exciting. I wonder if that means I’m a little bit of an adrenaline rush junkie. Maybe? I’m not telling.

I’ve drag raced. I had a stock Mustang and my sister’s boyfriend had a Corvette. He wanted to show me up with his fancy, sports car. Big mistake. We found a nice straight street, late at night and hit it. My little Mustang beat the pants off him because he blew his engine. Poor did he want my car after that. A few years later, we moved away from Washington State, and were selling my car. He wasn’t letting it go and bought it. The next week he lent it to another friend and the guy rolled and totaled the car. Too bad, so sad. Told him, she was fast.

None of my experiences went into To Steal an Irish Heart (it’s a historical romance), but Roanne O’Casey has a fearless spirit. She doesn’t back down from a challenge, and she has to wed or die.

Roanne O'Casey has no desire to wed…but is under the control of an ancient prophecy. Fate takes away her choice when the fiercely independent Irishwoman is forced to marry the enemy, an Englishman…and is swept off her feet.

Simon Lancaster never intends to wed, but he agrees to marry the redhead in the rollicking Irish pub, in front of her rowdy brothers, as an amusing lark. His attraction for Roanne grows until he learns of his brother's death, and evidence points to one of her brothers.

When Roanne accompanies her husband to England, she walks into a trap for a killer. How can she solve the murder and win Simon's heart?

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Award-winning author Darcy Carson grew up reading everything her mother brought home from the library. Reading romances became her favorite topic. Eventually her love of those novels led her to start writing them. She resides in a Seattle suburb with her husband and a prince of a toy poodle.

https://darcycarsonbooks.com/