Paranormal Romance Tour Julie D’Arcy and Whisper of Yesterday.

Paranormal Romance TourWelcome to this week’s Paranormal Romance Tour guest

Julie D’Arcy with her gorgeous book Whisper of Yesterday.

Julie D'Arcy Whispers of yesterday

Publisher–iHeart Publishing
Genre–Paranormal, Ghost, Historical, witchcraft,
Sensual Romance

About the Author
Julie A. D’Arcy – lives in Wangaratta, Australia. Her love of Fantasy and anything Mystical or Magical since a small girl led her to writing. A writer for nineteen years she been published for almost as long. Her first two novels Time of the Wolf and Silverdawn were originally published in 1999 and the year 2002 and Shortlisted for several prestigious awards, including the PEARL and Sapphire, with Time of the Wolf winning the 1999 RIO (Reviewers International, Dorothy Parker Award) in the Fantasy category for Women’s Fiction. Both books were also runners up in the prestigious Australian, R*BY Award run by the Australian RWA.
Julie began writing seriously in 1994, and has been published by ImaJinn Books, Mundania Press, Double Dragon Press, Eternal Press, Noble Romance Publishing LLC, Moongypsy Press, Secret Cravings Publishing, Sweet Cravings Publishing and iHeart Publishing. With several books under consideration by Wild Rose.
Watch for Julie’s Tarlisian Sagas with iHeart Publishing, coming soon. Legacy of the Black Dragon, and Elven Magick, and the re-release of The Cross of Tarlis, Book 1 and 2 and The Realm of the Wolf.
Her single titles include: Silverdawn, and Whisper of Yesterday with iHeart Publishing, and Night’s Eternal Promise, Face of a Stranger, Whisper on the Wind and her short story, The Siam Encounter.” Coming soon with Wild Rose Publishing.

BLURB
Whisper of Yesterday

A cry for help, echoing through the ages, inspires a young nobleman to
rewrite history– and rediscover a passion he had only dreamt of…

Cole d’Morgan is contacted by a lawyer telling him he has been left a castle in Cornwall, but to inherit he must arrive at Castle Thornwood on All-Hallows-Eve.
As he pulls his car to a halt at the castle gates he sees a beautiful red-haired woman clutching the bars in the rain. However, before he can climb from his car she vanishes into the night.

On arriving at the Castle he is told the tragic tale of Aidan and Alyssa d’Morgan …
A love story that spans three hundred years.

Alyssa d’Morgan burned as a witch for refusing to wed her dead husband’s father in 1644 haunts the castle where she was put to death. She has sworn she will not rest until she is reunited with her husband and soul mate, Cai.

Aidan d’Morgan, re-incarnated soul of Cai d’Morgan is reborn in the 1800’s and wins back Castle Thornwood on the turn of a card.

On entering the castle he cannot shake the feeling he is being watched, and soon learns that the castle is haunted by a beautiful red-haired woman who speaks to him in his dreams. However, these are not simply dreams, but a past life, which he is forced to revisit in order to find an answer to an age old curse…

What transpires is an interwoven tale of chilling betrayal and a haunting love story that traverses three centuries…

Buy Links
Smashwords– https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/578942
Kindle http://www.amazon.com.au/Whisper-Yesterday-Julie-DArcy-ebook/dp/B015NE5LZG/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1442895680&sr=1-2&keywords=Whisper+of+Yesterday
Kobo https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/whisper-of-yesterday

Print Book https://www.createspace.com/5753201

Excerpt

Whisper of Yesterday-

Aidan stared down into the courtyard. All was darkness. Nothing moved. Not a night creature called. He swung to face into the room. It was lit by only the faintest of moonlight and a low-burning fire.
It had to have been a dream.
Naked; the breeze was cold, but sweat still trickled down his back. He stared down at his hands. They trembled. “It was a dream.” If he repeated the words emphatically enough, perhaps he would believe them.
He ran a hand through his hair. He had been in Cai de Morgan’s body. He had seen what he had seen, done what he had done, and thought what he had thought. It was as if he was a spectator in another time and all had been beyond his control. Yet as incredible as it was, he had been there. And who was Cai de Morgan? What was the man to him? And more so, who was the woman? Why did she remind him so much of the woman in the fire? Countess Llewellyn, the woman who supposed to haunt this castle?
He strode to the dresser, lit a candle, and crossed to the large freestanding mirror in the corner. Critically, he viewed his features. Was it his imagination, or was there the slightest hint of another image superimposed over his own? Did the face look more angular, the jaw harder? He held the candle closer to the glass, and a chill prickled the back of his neck. The hair on the man in the mirror waved and curled past his shoulders, and there standing behind him was a woman. A woman with a riot of deep red hair, brilliant emerald eyes, full lips, and fine brows—a woman with the face of an angel—the woman in his dream. His hand tightened on the candlestick. It felt as if it were frozen; his fingers glued and could not be uncurled.
She no longer wore the yellow gown and headdress, but instead the white shift she had worn the first night he had seen her amidst the fire in the courtyard.
Their eyes met and held in the reflection.
He swallowed, trying to free up his throat, trying to force words that would not come. As he watched, she drifted closer, yet no step could he hear on the polished wooden floor.
“Who are you?” he managed at last, his words a strained whisper. He twisted around. She vanished. He swung back and stared into the mirror. She stood behind him with a look of accusation in her green eyes. It was as if he was a moth and she pinned him with her diamond bright gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I had to be certain.” He spoke quietly, afraid to raise his voice least she disappear. “Will not you speak to me? Will not you tell me your name?”
She opened her mouth, and just a soft sound issued forth, almost a sigh, as if it was coming from a long distance. “Cai.”
Cai. Had she said Cai? The man in the dream had been Cai. The man whose body he had inhabited for a short time. Inhabited. The thought disturbed him, but he could think of no other word to describe the happening. Was he going crazy? But no crazier than seeing and talking to a ghost. Again he wondered what Cai de Morgan had to do with him. How Cai was connected to the murdered Countess.
“I have so many questions,” he said, holding her reflection in the mirror.
She moved closer, pressed her warm soft body to the length of his back, and encircled his waist.
His mouth went dry. He couldn’t swallow. He had always thought a ghost would be cold, but he had never felt such heat as that which now filled his body and hastened to pool in his loins at the soft caress of her silken hair and the touch of her hands on his sweat-damp skin.
She leaned her smooth cheek against his shoulder, and his body hardened with desire as she tilted her head to the side to watch him for several painful heartbeats through sooty lashes, her eyes dark, intense, wanting.
Suddenly he swung to seize her, but his hand passed through a draught of cold air. Goose bumps raced up his arm. She was gone, and he cursed himself for a fool. He should have known better than to try to capture something as elusive as an angel…
You can find more about the author and her works here:
Website— www.julieadarcy.com
Blog— www.juliedarcy.weebly.com

SNIPPET OF REVIEW
It is always hard for an author to find a creative way to involve a ghost with the limitations of a spirit’s body in the tantalizing, heated love scenes of a romance. Julie A. Darcy’s method is smooth, superb, and original. I found myself so attached to the intriguing, fully fleshed out characters of Alyssa and Aidan that I know they will haunt me for some time to come. Whisper of Yesterday is a page turner from a familiar Gothic beginning, when an American Scientist braves a blinding thunderstorm on Halloween to reach a castle he unexpectedly inherited, to a surprising, thrilling, and joyful twist at the end. Whisper of Yesterday is an enchanting read that should not be missed. This one’s a keeper.
REVIEWER-
CORNELIA AMIRI- Virtual Writing Assistant

Julie A, D’Arcy-Author 16 years, http://www.julieadarcy.com
http://www.juliedarcy.weebly.com—-blog
Whisper of Yesterday-ghost-witchcraft-re-incarnation historical
Legacy of the Black Dragon-Medieval Fantasy Romance-elves, dragons and action romance
Elven Magic-Medieval Fantasy Romance-Elves, witchcraft, action romance
Face of a Stranger-Modern day-time travel, witchcraft fantasy romance
Night’s Eternal Promise-Vampire time travel, crime, vampire romance.
Silverdawn-Urban Fantasy -witchcraft, sorcery, time travel, urban romance.
Whisper on the Wind-Erotic Fantasy Romance.
Siam Encounter-M/M romance
The Cross of Tarlis The Awakening-Book 1
The Cross of Tarlis-The Reckoning-Book2
The Realm of the Wolf

Other participants in the 2015 Paranormal Romance tour are:

http://flossiebentonrogers.com/blog/
https://woodsadrienne.wordpress.com/  
http://www.MargoBondCollins.com
http://princessofthelight.wordpress.com 
http://shadowspastmystery.blogspot.ro/
www.pennyestelle.blogspot.com 
http://juliedarcystoryweaver.blogspot.com.au/
http://cassandraulrich.blogspot.com/ 
www.kimkasch.blogspot.com 
http://lindalyndi.com/ 

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Tuesday Treat A chilling tale.

nice strawberry lady

Welcome to Tuesday Treat. I’m treating you to an excerpt from one of my stories as my guest for today has electrical problems and couldn’t get their post to me. Therefore, I am offering you an excerpt from my ghostly romance published with Liquid Silver Books, Your Heart My Soul.

I love this story, I loved it when I wrote it, when I got the contract, the cover art and even through edits I loved it. Please enjoy this excerpt, which is in the Tuesday Treat frame of mind as it is a first. This is the first time Libby steps inside the old pawn shop she’s inherited. I do hope you enjoy it.

yourheartmysoul

The wonky grin on the lion-faced boot scraper in its niche in the wall welcomed her as, no doubt, it had welcomed thousands of others. The thick metal bar ran across from the face end of the scraper to the tail and looked dependably solid. The piece of street furniture offered a sense of permanence, a crumb of hope. All of the age-related decay to the building, it could be superficial. The bones of the building might still be strong and the rest—it could be repaired.
The chilly wind managed to sneak into a gap in her scarf, making her shiver. She angled the little spray nozzle on top of the can into the lock mechanism and squirted the pungent liquid for a good minute, left it to allow the fluid to sink in for a second or two, and repeated. Trickles rolled down the door scenting the air and her fingers. “This had
better work.” Fitting the key into the lock once more, she turned it and though still stubborn, finally, with a creak and a rasp, the lock turned. She pushed the door another time, hard enough to make it shudder and open.
At last.
She placed one foot on the grubby black-and-white tiles in a small lobby. She shoved harder at the door to gain full access and get out of the cold wind.
“My God.”
Cobwebs, the kind normally associated with Miss Haversham’s wedding breakfast, festooned both of the inner doorways. A trailing rent showed at least one person had been inside recently. Heaven knew how any visitor had opened the door. Suddenly afraid to find herself alone in the dark, she sorted through the bag and dragged out the flashlight. She angled the wide beam so she could see and checked through the rest of the keys, to find the one to the internal door to the store. The cobwebs shimmied in the breeze, because the whole time she’d left the street door open behind her.
The building has been unoccupied since the mid-nineteen fifties. The shop was unused for some time prior to this date. Much of its nineteenth-century stock remains in situ.
The words on the letter that lured her to the place returned.
More sprayed lubricant. Three times she tried with the key before she bested the lock on the internal door. The rank odor of mildew greeted her as the inner door to the store opened with a creak. A strange smell soured the air.
God, its freezing in here.
The icy chill seeped into her bones. She pointed the flashlight and peered inside.
One step forward and gooseflesh not caused by the temperature rippled along her arms. The back of her neck tingled, and though she knew no one else could be in the shop, the sense she wasn’t alone added to her disquiet.
The huge amount of clutter, dirt, dust, and decay revealed by the sweep she made with the flashlight defied logic. What kind of shop had this been?
“Get a grip.” She edged forward until she stood in the one clear space in the center of the room. The unpleasant odor she inhaled caught in the back of her throat and forced her to cough. The flashlight beam wavered in her hand until she balanced it on the top of the bookcase to illuminate as much as it could while she fought for breath. How she wished she’d asked Trudy or Hugo to accompany her. Grateful for the sense of safety the cell phone offered, she clutched it in her palm as she swallowed to calm her tickly throat.
Surrounded by baskets of trash, each stack and pile outlined by the invasive light, she fought off a fresh and powerful wave of despair. The dreadful sense if she touched a thing in here, she’d never be clean again kept her hands in her pockets.
What is all this?
Images of the experiences tracing her journey to this point raced by—the day the letter came, the phone calls with Trudy, the hours she’d spent in Frank’s office. The effort she’d put into the loan application to the bank, the day she got her passport, booking the flights, and her friends surprise about the trip.
All for what?
A fresh catch in her throat and she blinked back tears. This was a development property, for sure, and she’d expected some renovation work would be needed.
But this much?
She looked up. More bad news greeted her in the gloom.
The bulge in the ceiling above where she stood didn’t offer much hope for upstairs.
The place should be demolished and rebuilt from scratch. I don’t think I’ll be able to fund a refurbishment. I should just go home.
A sigh echoed around the room, and for the life of her, despite what she’d discovered so far, she didn’t think it was hers. She never sighed. Slow and deliberate, she lifted her chin, stood as tall as her low-heeled boots allowed, and looked over the room to make a full assessment of her enemy. “From today, this place is mine and everything in it, lock, stock, and barrel. This store is going to be a store again and…” She’d no idea whom she addressed. “You’d better get used to it.”
The crash of a fallen picture frame sent ripples of adrenaline through her. Accident. It had to be. Maybe an old nail? Or a hook loosened by her body warmth alone working on the powdery, disintegrating plaster. She took a step over a big basket full of dust-laden cloth and picked up the framed print of a ship from where it had tumbled.
A three-masted tall ship struggled for life in impossibly wild seas. The white sails swirled in tattered shreds. The body of the ship plunged into waves that promised to overwhelm it. She squinted at a title to the picture etched on a small plaque and rubbed her thumb across the dirty little brass roundel until she could make out the words. “The cruel and brutal destruction of the Hannah Bright.”
“Is everything in here about doom?” She shoved the picture into a small basket of others and turned to the door.
Another crash, the sound of metal hitting wood, rang out as she closed the door behind her, but it didn’t stop her from locking the door on her way out.
Why the heck do I feel so filthy?
Her skin felt grimy as though she’d rolled in the dirt and dust, like she’d need to shower for weeks to be clean on the outside. It might take longer to purify her on the inside. “Ugh!”
A shudder raced over her. The place was disgusting.
Out in the cold and clean air of the street, she lifted the cell phone and scrolled through the premade contact list.

Buy Your Heart My Soul here Liquid Silver Books

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