Scarlett Legacy by Shelli Rosewarne

Hi all.

It’s wonderful to be here today with my new release, Scarlett Legacy. It’s a paranormal romance, inspired by the fairytale of Little Red Riding Hood – but this one is definitely not for children! Now, my Big Bad Wolf is bad in a whole different way, so I thought I would share a few mini excerpts, as well as my top ten reasons why the poor wolf is just misunderstood, and is actually much more fun than Prince Charming any day!

  1. Wolves can play the hero too. Well, sort of!

She was lost, he realized. Well, that was just perfect. His teeth bared in a wicked smile, he could go and “rescue” her. She would think he was Prince Charming when actually he was the big bad wolf.

  1. You can still get the honest-to-goodness castle (come on, be honest, wasn’t that half the Prince Charming appeal?). This Big Bad Wolf has obviously moved up in the world!

Grey stone rose up from the thick trees, topped with actual turrets and what looked like a round tower on one side. The tower and roofs were a reddish slate and the only windows she could see on the upper levels were narrow slits. It was incredible, like something out of a fairytale, or a gothic novel, and for a long moment Natalia simply gaped at in surprise and amazement. Wow.

  1. If you’ve ever loved wolves, you get to go up-close-and-personal with your own one. Cool, if a little scary? Besides, it’s like getting a two in one deal – who doesn’t love a bargain?

Eventually she had to shift, her cramped muscles protesting at her, and he shook himself like a dog and jumped to his feet. Natalia couldn’t stop staring at him in wonder. It was just so unreal. She had always adored wolves at the zoo and on television, so in one way it was crazy to be so close to one, and then even crazier to think it was actually a person. She shook her head. This had to be one of the oddest nights of her life.

  1. No one messes with his woman. Who doesn’t go gooey for a bit of alpha male?

Damian slowly crouched down next to the man, aware that the village street had gone eerily still. Any number of wolves would back him in an instant but it wasn’t needed. Kevin’s crisp shirt was muddied, his immaculate hair mussed, and the man looked ridiculously pathetic as he sat gasping in the dirt. Damian calmly let the wolf rise, let the other man see the animal lurking behind his eyes, and when Kevin cringed back in fear, Damian spoke, “That was for cheating on Natalia. If you ever hurt her again, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

  1. He can still be a big softie at times (just don’t tell anyone!).

“You’re actually here,” she whispered, complete disbelief in her voice. “You came.”

“I said I would,” he replied and, because he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, ran his finger down the petal soft skin of her cheek. Lightly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he looked down at her. Her eyes closed a moment, and when she opened them again, they were watery.

“Why would you do that?”

He was surprised she’d asked why rather than how, but he answered her as honestly as he could. “Because I couldn’t not do.”

  1. What a deep voice you have! The better to greet you with.

His voice was deep, rich, with a slight accent running through it. She could feel it rubbing down her spine like velvet.

I am a total sucker for a deep voice, throw in the accent too and I’m a puddle on the floor.

  1. What big eyes you have. The better to see you with.

He was tall, taller than her, which was a rarity. Kevin had always complained that she towered over him when she wore heels, but this man had a good foot on her! He obviously worked out; camouflage combat pants encased long legs and a knitted sweater clung to broad shoulders and what she could tell was a defined chest even through the layers. Jet black hair hung in surprisingly shaggy locks to his shoulders, but it suited him, framing a rugged face with chiseled features and the strangest eyes she’d ever seen—a deep amber color that seemed to hold her mesmerized.

Hmm, yes please! Now, what was I saying?

  1. What big hands you have! The better to grab you with.

Now, even putting aside the theory about big hands, who doesn’t want to be grabbed by a rather yummy wolf.

            He returned her kiss with equal fervor and lifted her out of the folds of her dress and flipped her onto her stomach over a nearby tree trunk. For a moment, she squeaked in protest and then he pushed down on her back with one large hand, while with the other he slid two fingers deep inside her slick center.

  1. What a big mouth/teeth you have! The better to eat you with.

*ahem* yeah, I’m not going there! Use your imagination.

Now, you may have noticed I’ve only got to number nine there – so help me out! What do you think would be the best thing about the Big Bad Wolf. Bonus points if you can sneak a bad pun in there J Or if you can’t think of one, just share with me your favourite fairytale and what you like about it.

Thanks loads for having me today – and I really hope I’ve converted you a little to the benefits of my wolves! If you want to catch up with me elsewhere, I’m on:

Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Shelli-Rosewarne/364962230246715

Twitter – @shellirosewarne

Blog – http://shellirosewarne.wordpress.com

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ScarlettLegacy_200x300Who’s afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

When Natalia rents a holiday cottage she is looking for peace and quiet. A place to reassess her life and recover from her failed relationship. Instead, she finds a man who turns her world upside down.

However, people and things are not as they seem, and Natalia begins to discover that legends are real and fairy tales have a basis in reality. As she grows closer to the enigmatic Damian, she finds herself tested as danger and passion go in hand in hand, and everything she thought she knew about the world will be questioned.

After years of waiting Damian had given up hope that he would ever meet his destined mate, and he certainly never expected her to be a sassy American who had no idea that his world even existed. Can he convince Natalia to believe in the impossible, and more importantly, can he protect her from those who seek to destroy his people?

Find Shelli Rosewarne on Amazon

***

Excerpt

Natalia eyed the shining water with fresh appreciation. She had to admit it would be nice to do something to take her mind away from all the crap.

“I didn’t bring a suit,” she murmured, a bit regretfully.

His grin turned wicked. “You don’t need one. There’s no one around.”

She glared at him. “You’re around!”

“I won’t look.” His eyes were teasing.

Yeah, right! She snorted. “I don’t believe you!”

“Okay, how about this. I may look, but I promise I won’t touch. Unless you ask me to, of course.”

Natalia burst out laughing, surprising herself. Ten minutes ago, she’d been sobbing her eyes out.

His gaze softened. “Come on, you could do with it.”

The water did look calm, she thought as she eyed it up. “You’re sure it’s safe for swimming?”

“Sure, I used to come here as a kid.”

She shot him a quick glance at that. It was hard to imagine him as an innocent child. He grinned back at her as though he knew exactly what she thinking—which, quite frankly, shouldn’t surprise her after today, but she wasn’t going to go there right now.

“Look, if you’re that bothered leave your underwear on. It’s such a warm day you’ll dry out afterward.”

Really, it wasn’t much different than a bikini, was it? She found herself nodding before she thought better of it and he reached a hand down to tug her to her feet. A half smile tugged at her lips. It might be a bit old-fashioned, but she liked the little gestures he made like that. Then he pulled his shirt over his head and she stopped breathing.

His body was like something out of a magazine, or like the Greek statues at the museums she’d been to for tedious fundraisers. Bronzed skin covered sculpted muscles with a dusting of hair leading down into his pants—which, oh Christ, were coming off as well! She closed her eyes a moment, and then couldn’t help herself and had to peek. So much for wondering whether he was going to keep on his underwear as he wasn’t wearing any. He seemed completely comfortable in his nakedness, and when he bent over to neatly place his clothes on the rock she had to clench her hands to restrain from reaching out to that tight ass. Jeez, you could market that! He turned back to meet her gaze and her cheeks flamed at the knowing amusement in his eyes. Before her fuddled brain could even start to think of something to say, he leaned forward and brushed a quick, hard kiss across her lips.

“Don’t worry. You have the exact same effect on me,” he whispered to her and then stepped back. “See you in there,” he told her with a grin, before turning and jumping off the rock straight into the shining water.

Find Shelli Rosewarne on Amazon

Love – A Unique Magic

Follow the White Rabbit 200x300Guest blog by Shelli Rosewarne, author of Follow the White Rabbit

Hi all,

It’s wonderful to be here, and I’d like to talk a little about why I write in the genre I do. I write romance, but most of my stories will tend to have some aspect of fantasy or paranormal as well. I love the idea of magic, when I was a kid all the stories I loved most were about wizards, witches, fairies and other magical creatures. When I got older I moved onto fantasy books, sticking with the theme and I still love them today, along with ‘urban fantasy’. Although most of the books I write have some element of magic or paranormal they are generally set in the modern day world. After all, there’s something very appealing about the idea that there might be so much more to this world than we realise :)

I think that’s probably one of the things that attracts me to romance as well, both in reading and writing it — the fact that a love-story has its own special and unique kind of magic. It’s about two people fighting their own battles and their own inner demons in order to be able to find their ‘happy-after-after’. I’m always slightly baffled by people who seem to think that romance is not ‘deep’ enough. Love is surely something that everyone can relate to, that can connect people around the world who may have nothing else in common, that underpins everything in life. If we can’t find fairies at the bottom of the garden then we can find our own magic in the world around us.

If nothing else there’s surely magic in the opening of a book, the ability to be transported to another place, another time, another world. The chance to hear words from someone who we have never met, but can still feel a unique connection to. I know that I will probably never meet many of my favourite authors, yet they have touched my life in a hugely significant way through their words on the page. I have laughed and cried with them, I have felt for their characters every step of their journey, I have drifted away and escaped my own reality for a while. That for me is a kind of magic, and my greatest hope in my writing is that it can do that for someone else. What do you think, what’s your favourite thing about romance writing?

Bio

Shelli Rosewarne is a paranormal romance writer. She’s currently published with Breathless Press and lives in Edinburgh, Scotland, where she’s lucky enough to be able to see castles every day and be constantly inspired by Scottish folklore. You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter or at her blog:

http://shellirosewarne.wordpress.com

Follow the White Rabbit Blurb:

In Wonderland the strange and magical is everyday, but when a woman who can’t remember her own name meets a shape-shifting cat, anything can happen.

Mary Ann doesn’t remember her life before she wandered into the Woods of Forgetfulness. She doesn’t remember who she was, where she came from, or even her real name—and she’s given up on anyone coming to look for her. Now, she works for the White Rabbit, and if she’s not deliriously happy at least her life is content.

Until, that is, she comes across a Cheshire Cat, a rare shape-shifter, who may be about to turn her life upside down.

In Wonderland, things are rarely what they seem.

Buy: Wonderland Tales

Excerpt:

He put a finger underneath her chin, his touch light but firm as he forced her head up to meet his gaze. Mary Ann shifted uncomfortably.

“I think so. I don’t really know,” she whispered, and when his brow rose in query, she added in a rush. “I lost my memory in the Woods of Forgetfulness, I don’t know who I am, or where I come from, or even what my real name is. Everything before I went in there is just a blank.”

His face softened suddenly. “Surely, someone is looking for you then?”

Mary Ann was embarrassed to feel tears burn her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. “If anyone was looking for me then they would have found me by now. Obviously no one cares.”

The silence stretched out, and she forced herself to open her eyes, needing to see his face, though half-expecting there to be disgust etched on it. She was pathetic; apparently she couldn’t even do a one-night stand without fucking it up before it even started. He was staring at her, but the look on his face was odd and unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just feel so alone sometimes, I think I’m going mad.”

A small smile curved his full lips. “We’re all mad here, little mouse.”

She found herself reluctantly smiling back. Perhaps he was right. His smile suddenly broadened into that wide grin.

“I think perhaps you need to see something strange and beautiful.”

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