PROMO BLITZ! THE TRICKSTER’S LOVER BY SAMANTHA MACLEOD (@puretextuality)

Caroline Capello doesn’t take chances.

A graduate student at the prestigious University of Chicago, Caroline dedicates her carefully-planned life to the serious, academic study of mythology.

Until a god shows up in her bedroom.

Loki, the enigmatic and irresistibly sexy Norse god of lies, appears late at night in Caroline’s apartment, cuts her clothes down the middle, and rocks her studious world in ways she couldn’t even imagine. The next morning, she’s convinced it was a dream–until she sees her clothes on the floor, cut in two.

When Loki’s appearances stop as suddenly as they began, concern for her lover forces Caroline to risk everything in an attempt to reach Val-Hall, the ancient home of Óðinn’s army. Once there, she must put all she has learned to the test.

If she fails, there’s far more than Loki’s life at stake…

About the Book

The Trickster’s Lover
by Samantha MacLeod

Series
Loki #1

Genre
Adult
Urban Fantasy
Paranormal Romance

Publisher
Vestal Valley Press

Publication Date
September 6, 2016

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About Samantha MacLeod

Samantha’s work has been described as, “breathtakingly lyrical stories that breathe new and unexpected life into the old gods and the mortals who cross their paths.”

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.

Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

 

Author Links

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BLITZ! DEATH AND BEAUTY BY SAMANTHA MACLEOD

Death and Beauty
By Samantha MacLeod
Genre: Fantasy Romance
Graphic Designer: Teresa Conner
Blurb:
Baldr the Beautiful is dead.
Desperate to get back to his privileged role as Óðinn’s favorite son, Baldr strikes a bargain with Hel, the terrifying half living and half skeletal queen of the realm of the dead. He offers her the only thing he’s got: knowledge from the living world. Hel gives him three days. If he can teach her something new, she will return him to the realms of the living.
But the icy Hel seems completely impervious to Baldr’s charms. What’s worse, she already knows everything. By the end of the third day, Baldr realizes he’s only got one chance left to impress her.
Returning to his former life looks like it’s going to depend on Baldr the Beautiful seducing the most formidable woman in the Nine Realms.
Pre-Order Links:


Excerpt One
The branch trembled, making the delicate green leaves and white flower clusters dance. A single petal shook free to sail across the bright blue sky. It was so beautiful, caught in the golden light of late afternoon. I couldn’t understand why someone was crying.
The flower petal tumbled through the sky, heedless of the voices below. I liked it. I liked it all, the bright sky, the white flowers, the audacious little green leaves. I tried to turn and follow the petal through the sky, but my neck wasn’t quite working. It didn’t matter anyway. Soon the brave little petal would be swallowed by the blackness creeping into my vision, turning the sky into a little, shrinking circle, growing farther and farther away, until it was entirely gone—
Darkness. Darkness and voices, a soft rush of motion. Then something harsh and acrid, like battlefield smoke, stung my nostrils, and my head spun. I tried to open my eyes.
“What happened?” I moaned.
Someone clucked above me. “Don’t move just yet, my boy.”
The voice sounded old and only mildly sympathetic. I ignored it, pushing myself up to sitting. My head throbbed and my stomach surged, making me gag. Soft hands grabbed my arm, dragging me back to the bed. Her grip felt weak, but I didn’t have the strength to resist.
“Where am I?” I whispered, once my stomach stopped roiling.
“You’re dead, dearie.”
I shook my head, making the room spin. “No. That’s not possible.”
She clucked again. My eyes were adjusting to the gloom, and I could just make out a hunched figure tending to a fire. “Oh, that’s what they all say.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m—”
“Baldr the Beautiful,” she said. “Óðinn’s favorite son. Yes, yes, we know all about you here.”
“But I can’t die. My mother is Frigg. She traveled the Nine Realms, and everything she found—”
“Promised not to harm you. I know. I heard all about it.”
The old woman turned and gave me a sympathetic, tired smile. She looked like a nice woman, but of course you never can tell. “But your mother couldn’t possibly have gotten a promise from every single thing.”
She hobbled a bit closer to the bed, her arms outstretched with a rough wooden bowl in her hands. “Drink this, dearie. It’ll help.”
I tried to push myself up to sitting. Again, my head and stomach revolted, throbbing and churning. The old woman chuckled sympathetically.
“It takes some getting used to, being dead,” she said. “Tell you what, Baldr the Beautiful. Why don’t we talk about the last thing you remember, hmmm?”


Excerpt Two
It was late afternoon on the third day, the final day, and I was feeling damn near desperate. We’d walked along the river after our morning of sailing, and then, after lunch, I asked to go for another walk in the orchard. This was where Hel had seemed the least comfortable; for some reason, this orchard threw her slightly off her game. It was my last, desperate chance. Perhaps I could stumble on something out here.
“Are these all apples?” I asked. I’d given up trying to offer her some knowledge. Instead I was asking a thousand questions in this hopes she’d slip up.
Hel shook her head. Her back was stiff, and she’d turned her living face away from me. I wished I could ask her why the orchard made her uncomfortable, but I didn’t imagine that question would go over particularly well.
“So…pears? Cherries?”
The trees around us were flowering, filling the air with their delicious perfume. Soft, white petals drifted in the space between us, falling like snow.
She shook her head again, although I wasn’t sure if she was telling me I was wrong or if she was just trying to brush off the stray petals caught in her hair. She was wearing it loose today, and it tumbled down over her shoulders, softening the severe lines of her aggressively unflattering dress.
“Would you even tell me if I guessed?” I asked, with a smile. I picked a blossom from a tree and brought it to my nose. It had a light, sweet fragrance. I examined it. Five soft, white petals unfurled casually from a pollen-laden yellow core.
“Apricots?” I glanced at her.
She looked away so fast her hair whipped across her shoulders. At the same time her dress snagged on a log hidden in the thick grass, and she stumbled.
I moved without thinking, catching her arm in mine. It was only after I closed my hand around the twin bones of her skeletal forearm that I realized it didn’t feel right.
She was warm and soft against my palm. Like skin.
Hel met my eyes and a deep red flush burned across her neck and living cheek. Then she yanked her arm out of my grasp and stumbled backward, her face again a cold, impassive mask.
Perhaps she wasn’t totally immune to my charms after all.
“Pardon me,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me. “I just didn’t want you to break your nose.”
Her lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile, and an absolutely insane idea bubbled through my consciousness.
“Oh, there is something I can teach you,” I whispered.


Author Bio
Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.
Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.

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COVER REVEAL! THE TRICKSTER’S LOVER BY SAMANTHA MACLEOD

Cover Reveal
The Trickster’s Lover
by Samantha MacLeod


Genre: Paranormal Romance
Graphic Designer: Teresa Conner


Book Blurb

Studying ancient Norse mythology is supposed to be hard, but no one warned Caroline it would be life or death.

Caroline Capello’s carefully planned life turns upside-down when Loki, the enigmatic and irresistibly sexy Norse god, appears in her studio apartment, cuts her clothes off, and rocks her world all night long. The next morning, she’s convinced she imagined it all, a result of working too hard and getting too little sleep—until she sees her clothes on the floor, cut down the middle.

Over the course of his unpredictable visits, Caroline questions everything she’s heard about the trickster god and his world. Is he as bad as the myths make him out to be? Will he start Ragnarök, the apocalyptic final battle destined to destroy the gods and ends the Nine Realms?

And does she dare trust him with her heart?

When Loki’s visits stop and Caroline’s other-worldly dreams hint at a dark future, concern for her lover leads her to Val-Hall, the ancient home of Óðinn’s army, where she must put everything she has learned to the test. If she fails, there’s far more than Loki’s life at stake.

The end of the world is on the horizon, and only a graduate student with a crush on a god can prevent it.



Buy Links (Starting 3/19 will be $0.99!)
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Kobohttps://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-trickster-s-lover



Excerpt One


I told myself I’d only work until midnight. When midnight came I made another cup of tea and said I would only work until one in the morning. Now the clock above my tiny half-oven blinked quarter to two, and I ignored it.

“Girnud,” I muttered to myself, trying out the words. I rolled them on my tongue, imagining Viking ships and longhouses, imagining woodsmoke, the spray of salt from the ocean.

“Girnud, löngun.”

And then I was no longer alone in my apartment.

There was, perhaps, a crackle of electricity in the air, a quick gust of cold on the back of my neck, like a melting snowflake.

I looked up from the table. There was a very tall man standing in the middle of my apartment. I stood and stumbled backward, bumping awkwardly against the wall. Our eyes met, and my breath caught in my throat. He was unreasonably attractive.

“Uh, hi?” I stammered, staring at his full lips and long, fiery red hair.

He smiled, and my heart surged. Damn, what a smile. I fought the insane urge to smile back and tore my eyes off him, glancing at the door to my apartment. It was still closed, bolted, with the chain drawn. How did…?

I turned back to him, and he moved a step closer. He wore strange clothes; they looked like leather, black with streaks of gold and red, with an enormous cloak rippling behind him. His fingers were delicate, and his ice-blue eyes seemed to be laughing. He bent toward me, so close our lips were almost touching. So close I could smell him. Woodsmoke. Salt spray. Cold, and leather.

“Hello,” he whispered, his breath warm on my neck.

My skin prickled, and I trembled as my body flushed with heat. I swallowed and tried to think. It’s the middle of the night, I told myself. And there’s a strange man in your apartment. I turned to face him, my gaze lingering on the soft curves of his full lips, wondering how they would feel –

I shook my head to stop myself. You should not be thinking about kissing him.

“What are you – ” The words died in my throat as a jolt of recognition surged through my body. I know you, I thought. I’ve been reading about you since I was thirteen.

“Loki?” I whispered, my voice sounding very small. “Loki… of the Ӕsir?”

His eyes danced. “Very good. I am Loki, son of Laufeyiar.” He gave me another slow, incendiary smile. “And right now, I’m admiring you.”

The room suddenly felt very warm. I took a deep breath. “That’s not possible,” I whispered.

He tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow. “What’s not possible?”

Neither of those things are possible.




Excerpt Two


“You okay?” My brother tilted his head toward me. The breeze off the ocean ruffled his hair, which was bleached almost white from years of surfing and working outside.


I don’t know, I thought. Maybe I met a god last month. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.

“Thanks for rescuing me this morning,” I said, avoiding his question.

It was Christmas Day, sunny and a perfect seventy-five degrees in San Diego. We were walking along Coronado Beach, barefoot, my jeans rolled up to my knees. I’d flown in from Chicago last night, and Mom had given me a solid twelve hours of sympathy about breaking up with Doug. But as soon as the presents were opened this morning, she was back to her litany of suggestions about the various ways I could be less of a disappointment to the family.

“Caroline, you could at least wear a little lipstick,” Mom said.

I nodded under the glare of the white aluminum Christmas tree. My mom had given me a Mary Kay makeup kit the size and shape of a cinder block, and I shifted it precariously close to my knees so I could reach my mimosa.

“You’ve just got to get back on that horse,” she continued. “I’m sure there are plenty of very nice boys out there in Chicago. Go have a few dates!”

I nodded again, draining my mimosa in one gulp. I felt like the makeup kit was cutting off circulation in my legs.

“And you know, Caroline,” she said, dropping her voice to a stage whisper, “it wouldn’t hurt to find someone who makes a good living. Because honestly, I don’t know how you expect to support yourself studying Greek gods.”

“Norse, Mom,” I muttered. “I study Norse mythology.”

Mom threw her hands in the air, rolling her eyes.

My brother Geoff came to my rescue then, offering to get the two of us out of Mom’s hair for an hour or so and promising to be back in time to help cook Christmas dinner. And we’d come here, to my favorite place in all of San Diego, the long, golden crescent of Coronado Beach.

He nodded at me, glancing out across the ocean. I followed his gaze, shading my eyes as I looked over the waves. I could just see a freighter on the horizon, dwarfed by the vastness of the sunlit Pacific.

“Some pretty weird shit happened to me this fall,” I said.

“Weirder than normal?”

I snorted a laugh. Weirder than normal, indeed. Weirder than me, the only person in my family with black hair and pale skin? The one who spent her sweet sixteen summer teaching herself to read German while everyone else snuck off to Mexico and had magical first kisses on the beach? The one who decided to move to Chicago and study ancient Viking gods while every other person in my family ran Capello’s Landscaping & Tree Surgery?

“Yeah,” I said. “Weirder than normal.”

My brother nodded. “Weird shit happens to our family,” he said. “You wanna talk about it?”

I looked over the Pacific. Seagulls whirled and dove into the waves, their lonely cries echoing off the beach. Beyond the breakers, the ocean was a pale, translucent blue. Like his eyes, I thought. Just like his eyes. My heart tightened painfully in my chest.

“Not just yet,” I said.

I was in no rush to tell my brother about Loki.



Author Bio

Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.

Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.


Social Media Links

Samantha’s Blog – https://sammacleod.wordpress.com
Amazon Author Page – http://amzn.to/2m28t9D

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