Category Archives: Gay Historical Romance

Guest Author.. Ciaran Dwynvil

Today, my guest is author, Ciaran Dwynvil to celebrate the release of his latest book, In Blue Poppy Fields Part 2.

So without further ado, here’s Ciaran.

—————————————

;20130808-135839.jpg

“Let a real life dominant tell you an electrifying story of dominance & submission.”

Thank you for having me as your guest, Jessie. I’m really excited to be here today to share In Blue Poppy Fields Parts 1&2 with you and your readers. But first a little bit of housekeeping: everything in this blog post is intended for adult readers only. If anybody younger than eighteen stumbled upon the article by chance – please don’t read further.

For the rest of us, let’s go ahead.

In Blue Poppy Fields: This irresistible gay erotic paranormal fantasy belongs to Guardian Demon Series that will hold you prisoner to unforgettable stories of life, love and lust set amid a fascinating fantasy world. That’s what you can read in the books’ description. But… where will I really take you?

Taste it:
The dance was both heaven and hell. Promising pleasure and denying the immediate satiation of lust. Giving a little that was never enough. Again and again they stamped, again and again they swirled around, again and again their palms and orbs met in need, again and again their fingers avid for pleasure groped and stroked firm flesh. Until he almost couldn’t bear the fever of this night longer.

And then, just in his mind, he heard a husky and rich, though slightly breathless: “Choose two of them.” Hunt and Trickery and Blood. Now. Craving pulsed in his every nerve when his eyes roved over the circle. A young red-haired stud with bare chest caught his attention. And then a youth with long golden locks. Their color in the light of fires was like molten gold, and his slender body promised cat-like litheness.

Dancing closer to the one whose mane was on fire like the sky at sunset, he saw in the corner of his eye Belial approaching the other one. Their hands reached out almost at the same moment and dragged the prey onto the dance floor. And the crowd roared its throat hoarse in shrieks and whoops. The nobility chose their mates for tonight. In the night of Bain all were equal. And all was possible under the sky where the full moon was making love to midnight clouds veiling it in tender embraces.

The two young ones Adhemar had chosen were enraptured, enamored, aroused, and excited. Life radiated from them in strong, desirous waves. They were breathing, dancing, and longing. And their very desire was bringing them closer and closer to their deaths. They knew nothing of their fate. With young passion, they wanted to give themselves to the bewitching strangers. For tonight. He read it in their minds. In those impetuous heads that wouldn’t throb with hangover tomorrow.

Tomorrow their lifeless eyes would stare into the morning light. But they didn’t know and kept dancing closer and closer to their demise. Several times the four of them changed their partners in the dance of death. Reapers and harvests. Palms and eyes and short breath. Heads spinning and chests heaving with need. Loins heavy with want. Legs quivering with effort. Midnight shadows and fire reflections all around. Violins, bagpipes, and flutes raging in a wild crescendo.

***
As you sit there reading this, I know that you’re craving to embark on a journey to a marvelous place where you can let your soul soar and experience life, love and lust in their naked, raw form.

Well, you can put that desire to sleep for now… but wouldn’t you really rather take my hand and make a leap into a story that will overwhelm all your senses?

I must warn you though, our world is not for the fainthearted. First fear grabs you in its ironclad fist. You can barely breathe. It hurts as you pull your inhales in and push your exhales out. Your wide-open eyes smart, you writhe in physical agony as you feel every sensation together with my men. You’re dying to avoid the pain… but you’re not a coward. Your pride kicks in and helps you through the bleakest hours, through the moments when all hope seems to be lost. Then relief floods you as you narrowly escape death. Exhilaration fills your every nerve as tremors of adrenaline rush rake your body from head to toes. In this very second you love life more than anything. You clutch it, you cling to it, so that nobody can pry it away from you. You want to live… and you feel it in your guts, in your chest, in your throat. You smell it in the autumn mist, you taste it in deep and hungry kisses, you hear it in your own heartbeat, you see it in the desire-filled eyes of your companion. You feel it under your fingertips as you touch his body. And you shudder with the need as you realize what his look demands. No, you are no longer reading the tale, you are living it. Passionately.

Would you like it?

Have you answered my question?

I truly hope you did. But if you’re scared by dominance & submission, stop reading here. These books aren’t for you. Otherwise – let me take you on a mesmerizing ride you will never forget:

A victim to another man’s cruelty, talented and beautiful theater actor Adhemar Lebeau learned not to trust and not to love anybody but himself. Falsely accused of his master’s murder, he has to accept assistance of mysterious Count Sanyi Arany to later discover his savior is a vampire. Forced both by a fatal illness and aftershocks of torture experienced during his unjust imprisonment, Adhemar agrees to the only possible cure. Rebirth.

Healed in body but not in mind, he guards his independence, free will and heart. He is not able to give love, only the fulfillment of lust. Yet, satiation of sensuous longing is not enough for his Sire and he knows it. When an eerie malady strikes and seems to deplete Sanyi’s life energy for unknown reasons, Adhemar understands his fears and agrees to keep a street boy, Reyach, as a pet for both of them in hope it will soothe the unspoken worries.

Out of necessity he finds himself in the role of the only hunter in their company, and out of attachment he accepts the responsibility readily. Indulgence in blood and carnal pleasures fill his nights and vampiric powers give him the feeling of safety. Until the evening when he carelessly falls prey to High Demon Belial’s plays that quickly turn into more than either of them has bargained for.

In spite of a hard start, Adhemar feels burning urge deep in his heart and no matter how much he denies it, the cause of the strange sensation is a budding seed of affection brought to life by the insufferable demon. But letting Adhemar learn to love somebody other than him is not what seemingly innocent Reyach plans.

Own both books now. For less than the price of a movie ticket you will gain hours of excitement and reading pleasure. And the more you’ll read, the more you’ll crave. Do you need a proof?

From editorial reviews: “Another really imaginative and brilliantly written book. …I can’t wait to read more and see where Ciaran takes us next. Really looking forward to the next one.” Booksessed Bec, #39 top reviewer on Goodreads

Earlier on I asked you the question: “Wouldn’t you really rather take my hand and make a leap into a story that will overwhelm all your senses?” Since you’re still here with me, reading this, I’m going to assume you answered: “Yes.” Well, now that I’ve shown you what a ride packed with emotions I’ll treat you to – it’s time for you to act on this. See you soon – In Blue Poppy Fields.

Buy links:
Part 1 on Amazon USA: http://www.amazon.com/Poppy-Fields-Guardian-Demon-ebook/dp/B00BX0PTPM/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1
Part 2 on Amazon USA: http://www.amazon.com/Poppy-Fields-Guardian-Demon-ebook/dp/B00DINDE9U/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1
Part 1 on Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Poppy-Fields-Guardian-Demon-ebook/dp/B00BX0PTPM/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1374253237&sr=8-4&keywords=ciaran+dwynvil
Part 2 on Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Poppy-Fields-Guardian-Demon-ebook/dp/B00DINDE9U/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374253237&sr=8-3&keywords=ciaran+dwynvil

href=”http://jessielansdel.files.wordpress.com/2013/08/20130808-140138.jpg”>20130808-140138.jpg

Still lingering here? Not completely sure if the Guardian Demon series is the right companion for your reading pleasure? Well, you can dip a toe in our world for free. In the prequel to Guardian Demon books: Throne for the Idol, which has earned Compulsion Reads coveted endorsement.

The Compulsion Reads endorsement is all about discovering and highlighting the best indie books on the market and the talented authors behind them,” says Leslie Ramey, co-owner of Compulsion Reads. “When a reader sees the CR seal on a book’s cover, they know that they’re in for a good read. Throne for the Idol meets this standard, and Ciaran Dwynvil is definitely an author to keep an eye on.”

This tale will carry you to the monastery in Lindisfarena to witness dark, forbidden love between Brother Rikard and High Demon Semiazas, the First of the Fallen.

How can you lay your hands on this book? Sign up to my newsletter here: http://wordpress.us6.list-manage1.com/subscribe?u=9dabb45c4503d00d58299e0f5&id=25f613cd4a

And I will send you a coupon for a free download.

It isn’t all: if you sign-up now, you’ll be entered in a draw in the current giveaway I’m having for my newsletter subscribers. And because most of them have all the Guardian Demon books that have been published so far, this time I’m giving away three of my personal favorite gay fiction books:
Liquid Glass by Zathyn Priest: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/170524
Blake Takes Some Heat by Thianna D: http://www.amazon.com/Blake-Takes-Dusty-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B0088GT98C/ref=sr_1_11?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374254775&sr=1-11&keywords=thianna+d
Afflicted by Brandon Shire: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/223266
I’ll do the draw for this giveaway on the 10th of August and everybody who’s on my e-mail list on that day will have a chance to get one of these books, so hurry up and subscribe now not to miss it. I’ll contact the winners privately by e-mail and will share their first names in the next issue of the newsletter too, so please make sure you enter your valid e-mail address and your first name in the sign-up form.

Thanks for staying here with me until now. I must have really grabbed your attention. *grins* If you’d like to keep in touch, the best way really is through the newsletter subscription. Just imagine that tomorrow there are no social platforms. How can you still get news from me? Well, provided that at least e-mails work, you have your answer – through the newsletter. And you can always reach me on ciarandwynvil@yahoo.com

I also talk about my writing, Guardian Demon Series world, D/s & S/M on my blog: http://ciarandwynvil.wordpress.com/ I would love it if you dropped by to say hello. True, I’m a dom. But quite a friendly one. I won’t bite you unless you absolutely want me to… aaand we better stop here before I get too carried away. *smirks* Thanks again for having me over today.
—————————————————————————————————————

20130808-140031.jpg

<a

Hump Day Hook.

Hi everyone…it’s Hump Day again and time to read some amazing excerpts from loads of talented writers. So to indulge in some brilliant reading visit this site and enjoy.

Following on from last week and my WIP Ellis Stephen and Ellis are planning how Stephen can sneak into the house without his Mum seeing the tear in his trousers…..now read on;

‘ Mebbe you could sneak into back yard and into the lavvy and…and…’ Ellis stood there, still staring at the offending rent while rubbing a grubby finger up and down his snub nose; always a sign that he was thinking. I knew what he meant, and still smarting and annoyed I snapped, ‘And what, eh? Run passed me mam without me bloody trousers on?’

‘Ahm sorry, Stevie, I was only trying to help’. Ellis’s eyes pooled with tears,his bottom lip trembled and I was immediately contrite. I couldn’t stay angry with Ellis for long…and moving to his side, I laid a hand on his thin,narrow shoulder. ‘Sorry Ell..ah didn’t mean to snap’.

Ellis sniffed and wiped his sleeve along his snotty nose.’Well it might work yer know if yer mam’s busy in’t kitchen’, he said, his sun kissed freckled face brightening, ‘she’ll have ‘er back turned and she mebbe won’t see if you run fast’.

Oh, Ellis, Ellis, how simple things were for you, and us then.

20130508-111603.jpg

A-Z Challenge

20130416-111927.jpg is for Night Owl. And many writers will admit to being night owls and staying up until stupid-o-clock because they are much more efficient and creative during the wee small hours. I know….I am a self-confessed Night Owl.

20130416-113318.jpg As soon as the sun begins to disappear over the western horizon and the sky glows red and gold….I start to come alive. Any feelings of being down or mildly depressed disappear, the creative juices start to flow and my Muse yawns, stretches and hops out of bed eager to begin writing.

I think also that I feel safer at night. No one can ‘get’ me when the rest of the world sleeps. No one will knock at the door (at least no one who I want to see) my phone won’t ring so there are no demands for my attention. And even as a child….I was never afraid of the monsters under the bed or ghosts who may be lurking in dark corners.( The only thing that I can remember which scared me silly was an episode of the 50s western series ‘Cheyenne’ when the hero of the title met the Native American mythological creature…The Wendigo. Now that’s really giving my age away. But I was about 4 or 5 at the time. )

The downside of being a night owl though is that most of your family and friends are ‘Larks’ …the opposite of ‘Owls’. Or if they are naturally ‘owls’, they’ve had the good sense to force themselves to change their natural rhythm because of work or family commitments. So when they are off ‘up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire’ at ten-o-clock, you’ve hardly started. Many are the times I’ve phoned/texted members of my family at midnight and beyond and had sleepy, slightly irate voices or return messages asking me ‘Do you know what bloody time it is?’ Er…..yes of course I know. And why are you in bed so early? And worse, they come knocking at your door at eight thirty when you’ve only been in bed for four hours.

And apart from writing more efficiently at night, you get to see, hear and feel things that ‘larks’ miss while asleep.
In summer one can occasionally see beautiful lightning dancing around the clouds and if one is really lucky, there’ll be some thunder as well. Foxes with their cubs coming to scoff the old cat food I used to put out at night, and hearing them barking on cold, misty nights. And one very memorable evening…I felt this;

The 2008 Lincolnshire earthquake struck Lincolnshire, in the United Kingdom, on 27 February 2008 at 00:56:47.8s GMT. According to the British Geological Survey, the quake registered a reading of 5.2 on the Richter scale with the epicentre 2.5 miles (4 km) north of Market Rasen.
(Wikipedia)
Now that was really exciting, but had I gone to bed at a ‘decent’ hour I might have missed it.

I believe it’s true that…””Blessed are the owls, for they shall inherit the mystery and magic of the night”. And there is, for me at least, nothing as magical as seeing the first inky white glimmer of light in the eastern sky on a May morning, and hearing the first jubilant notes of the blackbird’s song as it resonates around the empty streets.

The late Margaret Thatcher famously said that she only had four hours sleep a night and thrived on it….I can believe that. And here is a list of other famous Night Owls;

Florence King
Fran Lebowitz
Hunter S. Thompson
Adolf Hitler during World War II slept from about 4 to 10 am and napped from about 5 to 7 pm.[13]
Charles Bukowski
Winston Churchill
James Joyce
Marcel Proust
Joseph Stalin
Keith Richards
Elvis Presley
Nick Drake
Van Cliburn

Good Night.

20130416-135810.jpg

Hump Day Hook

It’s Wednesday and that means…..Hump Day! Lots of lovely authors (and me) share snippets from WsIP or published stories and books. So if you want to read them, go to This Site for the list of participating authors and enjoy.

We follow on from last week with my WIP, Ellis.

Even in here I can hear the gulls screaming over and around us, and they seem to mock me; Go on, tell him, tell him….we dare you.

The sound of them still has the power to invoke memories. Memories of long summer days when, in our world at least, the sun always shone; and winter when we waited with the others for the fishing boats to sail safely back into harbour. Even in our fear we had each other and that was comfort enough as we stood by the harbour wall, peering through curtains of icy, wind blown rain.
The women’s faces creased with anxiety and concentration as they too waited for a glimpse of a sail, and the weather and worry added more silver strands to already greying hair and more lines to the life maps that were their faces.
And always the gulls, screaming and wheeling around the headland and the cliffs, and always there is Ellis, my beloved Ellis.

The reverend waits patiently for me to begin my story. And I’m afraid that, when he hears it he will look at me not with friendship, but with disgust and revulsion.

‘Very well, I’ll tell you about my friend’, I say, ‘But you promised you would hear me without judging me. And I’m so afraid that you will change you’re mind when you have heard me out’.

‘I cannot judge you, Stephen, I leave that to a higher power’. He says, leaning forward to coax the flames with the poker.
And as I watch him perform that one simple, domestic act, and feel the heat from the flames as they leap upwards, I begin my story……

20130410-100438.jpg

A-Z Challenge.

20130403-205006.jpg is for Death. And the only thing we can be sure about in this life…..we’re going to die some time.

Now, I don’t mean to be morbid or depressing but really, death is very much a part of life. The cycle of life…we are born…we live..and then we shuffle off this mortal coil.

But, mercifully most of us don’t know when Mr G Reaper will come knocking. We hope it won’t be until we are too old or too sick to care and are ready to go with him. However….some unfortunate souls know only too well when they will be sent to the next world, and in the first story I had written for many years, my hero, Edward was one of these. He was about to be beheaded.

Poor Edward; based on a real historical figure, he was banged up in the Tower of London on a charge of treason, and spent his time dreaming of his home ‘Borley Hall‘ in Essex. His last wish was to come back as a ghost so he could walk there again, presumably ‘Sans Tete’.

The story was entitled ‘Twenty Three Steps To Borley‘, the steps of the title being the number of steps Edward counted from the Tower to the block. The final step, the twenty third was the moment the axe fell and his spirit was free.

Then, I had the ‘What If’ moment that many writers have. What if Edward’s valet had harboured a secret love for his master and, at the last minute so to speak, confessed his love to Edward. I wrote Ned & Will, A Love Story and published it on my blog in four parts. I had to change Edward’s last name to Wharton as the original name was Waldegrave (pronounced Wallgrave) and there are still members of that family living….what’s more, they are MPs. I didn’t want to offend or anger anyone with my scribblings.

So Edward and William consummate their love in a mean prison cell with a storm raging over London. (I do love my rough weather metaphors) and its all very sad and poignant but tender and loving. I adored writing it but with a little more experience under my belt, I can see its flaws. But I am very very fond of my two boys and didn’t want to let them go. So, I transposed Edward and Will into one of my WsIP ‘Defying Leviticus‘ which is also the name of this blog.

Now, I have another WIP which begins in a churchyard with the protagonist grieving over his lovers grave.

Hmmm! I’m not morbid, honest. But death can be so wonderfully, gruesomely exciting (in fiction) and, if it is bloody and sudden as in Edward’s case, it is full of high drama and tension; but the quiet death resulting from illness or old age is sad and touching.

And, as an author, you get to play God and choose how your character dies. Now that’s something to think about.

20130403-224837.jpg