Blind Beauty (Witches’ Mischief Series 2)
Thank you for having me!
Many things inspired the creation of Blind Beauty, (my love of fairy tales, The Golden Cock, reviewers…) but as it happens, music also played an important role.
Crazy as it might sound to some, I write with music. Words flow easier and scenes become brighter if I have a tune to go with. When it came to writing Blind Beauty, I found that I needed something folksier and in a way magical. After all, most of the story takes places in Belmont Forest and there are strange things going on… (Aka a little nudge from a certain magic user).
James barely looked his way as they continued to trudge through the forest. Light was quickly failing, the oncoming night creeping on them. The temperature dropped and the moon rose, the soft white light bathing everything and creating a land of ice and shadows before their eyes.
I found my musical inspiration in German pagan folk band, Faun. Their album Von Den Elben created the perfect mood to create a world full of love, magic and adventure.
Sunshine illuminated her features and a soft wind blew her dark locks across her face. Her little nose was wrinkled and her mouth set in a thin line of concentrated determination as she saw things behind her lids that only she could glimpse.
One of the songs that inspired the beginning of the story was Faun’s cover of Schrei es in die Winde, a song originally from Eluviette (another great group, whose music was also a source of inspiration) and whose melody, for me, (since I don’t speak German), expresses hope. *Smile*
He was alone. Alone, in the middle of nowhere, and he was glad. Raising his hand in silent farewell to everything he left behind, he veered his horse and continued down the path away from everyone. Here, amidst nature, there was no one to mock him for his looks. No one to gaze at him with disgust or feigned interest.
His lips twitched and he smiled wildly. Kicking his horse’s flanks, he set at a gallop. He would never return.
I invite you to read Blind Beauty and listen to the music that brought James and Richard’s story a little more alive.
James Macintosh is hours away from his new home. He is ready to start a secluded life away from all the rumors, insults and disgusted faces concerning his appearance. However, a meeting with a mysterious woman and her child, mingled with a sudden harsh snowstorm will set him down a very different path than the one he had originally envisioned.
Richard Randywine is an accidental fugitive living with a band of rowdy thieves. A good man at heart, he has gotten used to hiding his emotions behind his strapping muscles and brute strength. Yet, when the thieves ambush an unsuspecting rider, Richard is forced to drop his mask and step forward.
Will both men be able to see what lies before them or will they be blind to the possibility of happiness?
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Defined as weird since she was about eight, Elyzabeth honors the title by making up songs about her chores, doodling stars and flowers on any blank sheet of paper and talking to her dog whenever he feigns interest.
Losing the battle to the voices in her head is her favorite pastime after annoying her younger sister with her singing. Writing stories full of passion and emotion where love conquers all is her happy pill and she'll forgo sleep to make her readers live the dream.Blog
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He climbed atop his horse, as told. His back molded to Richard’s, his body betraying him as it molded into the other man’s embrace. Richard pulled him hard against him, his body enveloping him in an almost suffocating hug.
“Go,” he whispered huskily into his ear, his breath fanning it. James pressed his thighs against Faith’s flanks, hoping the animal would understand, considering the strange position she was in. She did, for she set off at a trot in the direction Richard indicated. They galloped in silence, trees whirring past them, snow flying when they swept past. James eyes widened and he barely controlled the urge to order Faith to stop as he realized their impasse.
“Richard, the hoof prints, the snow.” James pointed at the visible trail. “They’ll track us down as easily as the king’s hounds trace a fox.”
Richard’s breath was warm in his ear. His hair tickled his temple and James had to suppress a shiver.
“I know.” Richard chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a plan, besides wishing that they’ll wake up during the night and we’ll be miles away by then or that it snows heavily again.”
James wished he didn’t have to worry, but he couldn’t relax. The problem wasn’t so much the thieves that could pursue them at any moment, but the man behind him. He was too close, too comforting, and all too desirable. James shifted in his seat again, trying to find a comfortable position. One in which he wasn’t pressed up tightly against Richard’s groin. One in which he didn’t imagine he felt the length of his cock hard against him. Because, he was convinced it was his imagination. Otherwise, how could a man like Richard be interested in him? It didn’t make any sense. In his experience, men like Richard were ladies’ men. They seduced, fucked and discarded women. He wasn’t a woman and he’d been rejected too many times in his life. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need more pain. Richard’s fingers brushed against his side, the fingers digging into his flesh and distracting him as arousal flared in every centimeter of his flesh.
“What got you into thievery?” he asked, attempting to forget how close their bodies were.
Richard grunted in reply and he fell silent once more, fishing his mind for a topic of conversation. It came up blank. He thought about asking Richard to stop. Faith was probably tiring though she didn’t show it and surely, they were safe by now. He should ask. James knew he should, but he couldn’t. He was losing his mind, falling prey to the liquid fire that was consuming him inside and outside. He wasn’t sure if the man was hard, but he was. His cock was stiff and throbbing, the idea of taking or being taken by Richard flashing through his mind every time Faith bounced.
What would it feel like?
Flesh both silky and hard as steel brushing against him, an intimate caress, deep and longing. They’d become one man, writhing, gasping, and moaning. James’ breath hitched, the tightness in his breeches becoming uncomfortable. He clenched his teeth together and grasped the reins so tightly the material cut into his hands. He scrambled to regain his bearings, to remember whom he was with and what had occurred in the last 48 hours. He couldn’t trust Richard, but neither could he trust his treacherous body. He was not a beautiful man. Surely the thief didn’t want him. The thief. That’s right, Richard was a thief. He had no morals, no scruples, no—James groaned as Faith skipped over a fallen log, throwing Richard’s body against him, the erection he was sure he was imagining grinding against his bottom.