My Books!

Showing posts with label fathoms of forgiveness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fathoms of forgiveness. Show all posts

Friday, February 28, 2014

Fathoms of Forgiveness

If you came for Fashionista Friday scroll on down, but why not enjoy this post first?



Fathoms of Forgiveness

By

Nadia Scrieva

 

BLURB:  


Meet the brave and fearless Visola; a woman unlike any you've ever encountered. Her wit and humor take her through the darkest of dangers with a smile always on her face--and her smile only grows larger as the odds become more impossible. With no concern for her own safety, Visola dives headfirst into the throes of battle to protect the people and country she loves, even if it means facing her worst enemy--the one man who can get inside her head and break her down like no other: her own husband...   


Excerpt:



When Aazuria entered the room, her eyes were immediately drawn to Visola’s wild red hair, which had recently been a lustrous mass of audacious curls. Now, her hair was limp. It hung against her head flat, frizzy and defeated. Aazuria’s eyes darted to the warrior’s sunken cheekbones and gaunt face. She saw the bruises on Visola’s neck before her eyes traveled further to the withered, wasted limbs. Every visible part of her friend’s body was covered in fresh scars. She saw the bandaged hands. Visola had been starved and tortured.

 

Perhaps in these modern times, even under the surface of the sea, kings, queens, and the aristocracy had close to zero significance. Perhaps the words and decrees which left Aazuria’s mouth would have minimal consequences. No one in the throne room felt this way as they awaited Aazuria’s judgment with bated breath. Sionna was standing aside, with her arms crossed. The newly-crowned queen gripped her husband’s sword tightly in her fist as Trevain and Elandria entered the room behind her.

 

Aazuria shifted her eyes to the man standing beside her friend. Her face was expressionless.

 

“Approach me, Vachlan,” she whispered.

 

The man began walking toward her. Although his stride was dignified, there was hesitation on his face. Visola began speaking, pleading words which Aazuria could not hear over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.

 

When Vachlan was close enough to strike, Aazuria gazed at him with death in her eyes.

 

“Kneel,” she commanded him. Her chest was rising and falling perceptibly.

 

Vachlan knew that this would be a very unwise thing to do, but he owed it to Aazuria. He owed it to Visola, and to Adlivun—the nation he had once called home.  He lowered his head and dropped to one knee before the queen, saluting her across his chest. His eyes were level with the sword she held, and he could see the veins bulging through her translucent pale skin from how tightly she clutched it.

 

“It would be futile to order you punished,” she said slowly. “No one can even attempt to hurt you as much as you have hurt her.”

 

“I know,” he answered quietly.

 

“But it is my duty to try.”

 

She struck out with her sword, slicing the air until the blade collided with his face, knocking Vachlan off his knees and onto the floor. Aazuria could vaguely hear Visola screaming for her to stop, but she was already standing over Vachlan and forcing the tip of her sword between his teeth. Her previous strike had resulted in a huge bleeding gash along the side of his handsome face, but it had not been enough to kill him. She was poised to finish the job.

 

Vachlan moved his tongue against the steel, tasting the freshly-sharpened metal edge garnished with the metallic taste of his own blood. It is rare that the wine so perfectly accompanies the main dish, he thought as he swallowed the coppery fluid accumulating in his mouth. Kind of like a German Pinot Noir. He looked into the azure eyes of Adlivun’s queen and realized that this was no longer the innocent, charitable philanthropist he had known hundreds of years ago. She was hard. He wondered what percentage of the tempered rage behind her eyes he was responsible for generating.

 

“One reason.” Aazuria was demanding. “Give me one convincing reason that I should not thrust my blade directly through your skull.”
 
 


 

AUTHOR INFORMATION:

 

Nadia Scrieva lives in Toronto, Canada with no husband, no kids, and no pets. She does own a very attractive houseplant which she occasionally remembers to water between her all-consuming writing marathons.




Contact Information








Fathoms of Forgiveness

 

Purchase Links





Nadia will be awarding the box set of Sacred Breath Series or the box set of Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak (winner's choice)to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour. You can find her schedule at http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/02/book-blast-fathoms-of-forgiveness-by.html

Monday, July 16, 2012

Do You Believe in Mermaids?




Welcome to Nadia Scrivea's blog tour. Nadia, we're glad to have you.  Tell us a little bit about yourself.

      I’m a peculiar Canadian gal, with a mix of deplorable and endearing qualities. I’m aggressive, greedy, and brutally honest, in addition to being a devoted and loyal friend, curious, and brave. So if we factor in the positives and negatives I probably end up working out to be completely normal and average.


2. I had professor at school who described most people as neurotically normal which I’m sure fits me!  Which of your books is your favorite?  Why?

This feels rather like picking a favorite child, but I would have to say Fathoms of Forgiveness. The process of writing the second novel in my series was emotionally taxing—I might say even maddening. FoF hit too close to home in many ways, and it was extremely upsetting to write. I felt like it was killing me; I needed to take frequent breaks from writing to drive around the city and clear my head. However, the response from fans has been astounding, and I have heard from many people that it became their new favorite book. That alone made it worth every ounce of pain I experienced during its creation.  


3. I don’t especially like that question when people ask it of me.  I can’t really pick. What should readers expect when they pick up your book?

I would prefer for readers to have no expectations and allow themselves to be surprised and swept away. If I must list expectations, I would say that they will experience a full range of emotions. They will often grow to hate the characters they love the most, for even the best of people make mistakes and do horrible things. Sometimes they will grow to love the characters they once hated in unforeseen redemption. Ultimately, they should expect to feel.


4. What has been your greatest challenge as a writer?

If I really consider this question I realize that most of my challenges have been exterior influences. The bane of my whole existence was being able to afford the time to work on a book. I always knew I would want to be a full-time writer, but I had to be extremely creative and make a few great sacrifices in order to be able to manage it less than a year after graduating. In fact, sometimes I wonder if I should have gone to school at all. I incurred massive debt and wasted five years of my life that could have been spent writing.
      I love learning, and I’m not downplaying the importance of education, but having had the experience, I feel that I have learned more about writing from endless practice and personal study. I wonder what my life would have been like if I had been brave enough to begin following my passions earlier, but I suppose that I wouldn’t have had as many adventures and awful situations to inspire me. I have learned that sometimes you have to fight against the world to pursue your personal path.

 Super answer!  And now let’s read some blurbs and excerpts. The first one is from Drowning Mermaids.
BLURB:
Deep under Arctic waters lies an ice kingdom carved into a glacier. Those who dwell within it possess magnificent biological secrets. Due to the dangers of impending war, the Princess of Adlivun is forced to flee her undersea utopia and regroup with her sisters in Alaska.

Captain Trevain Murphy is a successful king crab fisherman who has spent his life building his empire above the sea, and knows nothing of the empire beneath it. When he meets a mysterious dancer whose father has recently died, he extends kindness towards her, unaware of her unique genetics and royal lineage.

Trevain's attraction to the enigmatic Aazuria Vellamo will involve him in dangerous designs that will forever change his life, and his perspective on himself and his world. He embarks on perilous journeys in which he will need to release all of his insecurities and inhibitions in order to survive.

excerpt:
When she could no longer rest her face on the frozen carpet, she forced herself to cease her sniveling and straighten into seiza. She was still on her knees, but not in the same pathetic way as before. She was on her knees not as a servant, but as an equal. Not as a beggar, but as a warrior. Aazuria closed her eyes. She imagined her organs untangling themselves from their knotted, jumbled mess and aligning themselves properly. She imagined the natural ease with which her breath and energy traveled through her body; all the channels which had been blocked with the rocks and lumber of anguish and the caulk of vitriol opened one by one as she willed it. She sat for hours more in long solitude and reflection, until she felt healed.

She opened her eyes and saw the small sheet of ice on the carpet that had been created by her tears. She smiled at it, knowing that she had cried all the weakness and negativity out of her system. She looked up at her father’s body, and she smiled at him too.

This blurb is from Fathoms of Forgiveness.
Blurb:
There is no divorce in the undersea kingdom of Adlivun. Marriage is a bond that lasts until death—even if death comes in several centuries, and in that time your spouse happens to become your sworn enemy. This is the conflict that General Visola Ramaris faces when she learns that the mighty Vachlan is behind the attacks on her kingdom. She has sworn to protect Adlivun with her life, but long ago, she also swore to love and honor her husband...
Visola must choose whether she will destroy Vachlan once and for all, or attempt the hardest thing conceivable: communication. After two hundred years of desertion, she has no faith in their feeble bond and knows she can never forgive him. When he threatens the person dearest to her, she must take action. Confronting Vachlan on enemy territory would be nothing short of suicide. She knows that if she falls into his custody, the deranged man would relish breaking her down and making her lose her sanity.
Princess Aazuria forbids Visola from taking matters into her own hands; she will do anything it takes to protect her friend from the man who wants to crush her. Alas, Visola is a crazy, uncontrollable warrior woman with the blood of Vikings in her veins. Why would she ever consider doing the safe and predictable thing?

Excerpt:

Meeting the scrutiny of his steel-grey eyes made her feel sweltering hot and bitterly cold at the same time. It was a thousandfold more difficult to tolerate the intensity of his gaze when it was penetrating her skull from the front instead of the rear. She felt like her eyes did not offer as much protection as the dense bones of her skull had. He was already piercing beyond her eyeballs to knead her memories with his knuckles, and to dissect her thoughts with his fingernails. She tried to get past the pain in her skull to objectively observe her enemy. His jet-black hair was pulled back into its classic ponytail at the nape of his neck. Had he not changed his hairstyle in all this time? Had he not grown hideous with all the horrible deeds he had done?

It did not seem possible, but he looked exactly the same. Except for his eyes; those vicious grey-blue eyes would have terrified any lesser woman to tears. Visola could not help seeing the blatant resemblance to her daughter in his face. Although Alcyone’s coloring was closer to Visola’s own, there was still so much of Vachlan in her. Seeing this; seeing the glimpses of Alcyone in this man who was little more than a stranger, drew her spirit to him involuntarily. Visola realized that she had to face the terrible truth.

She was not strong enough to face the father of her child.


AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Nadia Scrieva was born in 1988 in Toronto, Canada. She studied English and Anthropology, graduating with an Honors B.A. from the University of Toronto in 2011. She likes knives. Writing has been the most meaningful part of her life since she was a child. Nadia loves receiving feedback from readers, so do not hesitate to contact her with any of your comments, questions, ideas, or just to say hello.