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I am participating in the Tasty Virtual Book Tour for BEAUTY'S BEAST by Amanda Ashley, Sept 1st - Sept 12th, 2014. Kensington is hosting a Tour Wide Giveaway of Three Print Copies of BEAUTY'S BEAST. Here is the link for the rest of the tour: Tour Link.
Beauty’s
Beast
By: Amanda Ashley
Releasing September 2nd, 2014
Zebra/Kensington
Beauty
Fair of face and figure, Kristine is young, innocent, pure. Yet she has
been condemned to the gallows for killing a man. The only one who can save her
is a lord so infamous that some say he is the son of the Devil himself…
And the
Beast
Erik Trevayne is called the Demon Lord of Hawksbridge Castle, but few
know of the curse he lives under. Or the terrifying changes slowly gnawing away
at his humanity. When he weds her, all he wants of Kristine is a son. But when
he beds her, a wild hope is born—that love that can tame even the most
monstrous of beasts...
Erik
Trevayne, seventh lord of Hawksbridge Castle, stood at his wife’s bedside. He
watched in quiet
horror
as she strained to bring their firstborn child into the world.
His
wife’s mother, Charmion du Lac, the witch of Cimmerian Crag, stood across from
him, her gaze
fixed
on the midwife.
“Erik.”
Dominique reached for his hand, her body convulsing with pain as the life
slowly ebbed from
her
body. “Erik . . .”
The
sound of her anguished cries rose to a crescendo, slashing through the dimly
lit bedchamber like lightning through storm-ravaged clouds, leaving a great
gaping hole of silence when, with her last feeble breath, she expelled the tiny
wrinkled infant from her womb.
A
low moan, rife with a sorrow so deep it would never heal, issued from
Charmion’s lips. Stunned, he watched the tall, dark-haired woman grasp her
daughter’s limp hand as if, by the sheer force of her indomitable will, she
could restore Dominique’s life.
Erik’s
gaze moved to the midwife as she quickly cut the cord.
“The
child?” he asked hoarsely. “Does it live?”
Slowly,
the midwife shook her head. “I am truly sorry, my lord.” After wrapping the
infant’s body in a
piece
of sheeting, she placed it on the foot of the bed. “There’s naught I can do.”
Bowing
to the lord of the manor, the midwife backed out of the chamber, afraid, as
were so many others, to turn her back on the witch.
Charmion
lifted her head to regard the man standing across from her. “I warned you,
Trevayne,” she said with quiet menace. “You should have listened.”
“You
cannot blame me for this, Charmion.”
“I
can, and I do.”
“It
was not my fault!” He shook his head in denial even as he accepted it for the
lie it was.
“I
begged you not to marry my daughter. I warned you she was not strong enough to
give you an heir.” Charmion lifted the stillborn child from the bed and cradled
the shrouded infant in her arms. “But you would not listen . . . you would not
listen! And now my daughter is dead, and her son with her.” She stroked the
infant’s head. “You should not have planted your seed within my daughter’s
womb.”
“It
was what she wanted.”
“It
was what you wanted!”
“No.”
He had never wanted to marry, never wanted to be the lord of Hawksbridge
Castle. For as long as he could remember, he had dreamed of dedicating his life
to the priesthood, of losing himself in the silence and serenity of cloistered
walls. But then his brother, Robert, the rightful heir to the estates, had been
killed in a hunting accident and the title had fallen to Erik. It had been his
father’s dying wish that Erik marry Dominique du Lac and sire an heir to
continue the family name. Stricken with grief, hoping at last to win his sire’s
favor, Erik had knelt at his father’s bedside and sworn to do as he wished.
Charmion
had vigorously opposed the marriage, but for the first time in her life,
Dominique had defied her mother to marry the man she adored. At Dominique’s
sweet urging, they had been married in
secret.
She had conceived within the first month.
“Look
at me, Trevayne.”
Unable
to resist the power in Charmion’s voice, he looked up, felt himself impaled by
the hatred blazing in her witch-black eyes. Her heated gaze trapped his,
holding him immobile so he could neither move nor look away.
“A
rutting beast you were, a beast you will become. Not all at once, my selfish
one. Day by day, the change will come upon you, until you have suffered for
every tear my daughter wept, for every drop of blood she shed this day.”
“No!”
She
nodded once. “As I have said it, so it shall be.”
“Is
there to be no end? Your daughter’s pain is over, yet you would condemn me to a
lifetime of suffering.”
Charmion
placed the babe on its mother’s belly; then, sitting on the edge of the bed,
she drew mother and child into the cradle of her arms. Bending, she kissed her
daughter’s waxen cheek. “When Dominique
forgives
you, so shall I.”
“Charmion,
listen to me—”
But
it was too late. With a wave of her hand, the witch was gone, Dominique and the
babe with her, leaving him alone with his grief, while the ominous portent of
the witch’s last words rang like bells of mourning in his ears.
Amanda
Ashley is one of those rare birds—a California native. She's lived in Southern
California her whole life and, except for the earthquakes, she loves it. She
shares a home with her husband, as well as an adorable Pomeranian named Lady, a
wild house sparrow named Tweety, and a tortoise who remains nameless. Amanda
and her alter ego, Madeline, have written 60 books. Not bad for someone who
started writing just for the fun of it. Her books regularly appear on the New
York Times and USA Today bestseller lists.
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