Friday, May 1, 2015

Daisy Banks shares her new release Marked for Magic.

Today, we celebrate the recent release of Daisy Bank's latest book,
Marked for Magic
published by Lyrical Press, a Kensington Imprint, on the 28th of April 2015.

But first find your hands, because Daisy is going to tell you about 
palm reading: 

Take it away, Daisy!


Thanks, Liza.

I decided that as palmistry was the initial inspiration for this fantasy romance I’d offer you and the readers a little something on palmistry marks.
This image is of the main lines most people have on their palm:



1: Life line - 2: Head line - 3: Heart line - 4: Girdle of Venus - 5: Sun line - 6: Mercury line - 7: Fate line

These main lines above and their meanings are fairly well known, but the lesser lines are not quite so well understood and it was these I was studying when I got the idea for Marked for Magic.

For this post I have chosen some marks regarding something people often ask about in a palm reading: money. Will I ever have some? Will I have enough? Will I be rich?

There are some minor marks that can indicate answers to money questions.

These aren’t in order of importance but can indicate you may get extra money soon.

The fish.
Look beneath your Jupiter finger, that is your forefinger. On the pad of flesh there, the Jupiter mound you might see a little fish symbol, very like the sign the original Christians used as a secret code to let others know their religious belief. This little fish symbol on the Jupiter mound is a sign money is coming your way. Not your ordinary pay day check but something additional.
There are people who think the lines on their palms never change. This is not true the lines can alter and some of the small ones come and go quite often. Find fish and smile.

The curve.
Another indicator, this time of inherited wealth is a fine curved line between the forefinger Jupiter and the Pinky, Mercury finger. Don’t confuse this with the Girdle of Venus which is deeper line.

Finger length.
The third indicator is a Jupiter finger longer than an Apollo finger, (ring finger). If the Jupiter finger is longer it’s a usual sign of someone who will attain money.

Thanks so much for reading. I’d love to know if any of you discover some of these signs of money in your hand. Let me know.

Unsolicited comment from Liza: It appears my life line is very short. However, my middle finger says I will attain money...and no doubt the day before I die, which might be next week... Before I fret too much, let's check out Daisy's fabulous new book, shall we?





The witch mark on Nin’s hand is a curse. She has no magic powers, whatever the lore says. But the village believes. The old crone’s wisdom is to see her banished. Ragged and hungry, she must serve the Mage. Alone in his tower, she is his chattel. But Mage Thabit is not what Nin expected—the bright green eyes and supple form under his cloak are not the stuff of nightmares, and kindness hides in his brusque heart. Thabit senses that Nin is more than she seems, too. When true nightmares haunt the land, it is precisely her elusive powers that might deliver them…




“Once she prepared all she’d picked, the gloom could not disguise that the vegetables wouldn’t fit in the small pot. She drummed the table. Even though she’d eaten a few of the carrot slices raw, her stomach clenched. She needed this meal.

       She toyed with the idea of calling up to him, but she’d promised not to disturb his work, and his temper certainly burned short. If she didn’t call him, she couldn’t cook, and he’d be angry. Yet chances were if she did call him, he’d be angry, too. By the end of her deliberations, she’d grown angry herself.

       She might as well get on with it. I’ve got to have a bigger cauldron!

The door to the stairs creaked on its hinges as she opened it. About to call up, she stilled when his tread sounded at the top of the stone steps.

       “You have no need to yell up the stairs.” His voice echoed in the lofty darkness.

       “I didn’t.” Was this part of his magic? What else could he do as well as hear what she thought? Only Alicia had ever heard the mind singing, but neither she nor her friend thought the trick was anything but a game. Mind singing couldn’t be magic.

“I distinctly heard you yell.” He hesitated, as though waiting for an explanation. When she offered none, he continued down the stairs. “The cooking pot is here.”

       She moved out of the way. He brushed past to reach up to the top of the cupboard where she couldn’t see, and handed her a much larger cauldron than the one on the table.

       He glanced toward the hearth and demanded. “Where is the small pot?”

       She froze. Was he angry?

       A spasm crossed his face and his lip twitched.

       “I emptied it in the stream. I meant to use the small pot for the soup.”

       “Gods, I am doomed!” His stare blazed green fire. “You have thrown away the finest batch of seeing mushrooms I have made in years.” He ran his hand over his hair. The blue coils around his wrist seemed to writhe like live, spring-woken snakes. “Foolish brat, did you not think to ask?”

       She shook her head, gritting her teeth to keep silent.

He glowered. “Nin, a new rule. Here you touch nothing if it contains anything.”

 “That’s stupid. You can’t say I mustn’t touch anything. You should have said not to use the small cauldron. I didn’t know.” Ready to bolt, she edged to the door.

 “Well, you know now!” His yell almost lifted her feet. “Do you know what a seeing mushroom looks like?”

“Yes,” she murmured. Aunt Jen had pointed them out, so both she and her cousin Lettie knew them. Her aunt had always warned they should never go in the pot, no matter how hungry they all were. The seeing mushrooms were small, sour, but most of all, dangerous. “I’ve seen them.”

 “Then go out and pick more. I’ll need twenty-four, at least. I want them before nightfall.”
 She backed around to the other side of the table. Safe with something solid between them, her heart hammered less. She quelled her fear. His green robe, it wasn’t so fine. A tear ran up to his knee on one side. It needed stitching. “I’ll make the soup first, shall I? I’ll need a collecting basket.”

He opened the tall top cupboard and yanked down a wicker basket. One of his sleeves bore a patch at the elbow. For a Mage, he wasn’t so well off.

“Here.” He shoved the basket toward her. “And don’t come back without them.”

       He stomped up the stairs. She could have spat after him. Several of the more unpleasant names the villagers screeched when she left raced through her mind. He deserved all of those names.

       “I heard that,” he called. “Don’t let me hear you cursing again!”

       Ice water ran through her veins. He was the Mage, yes, but no one had told her that he could hear thoughts. Agnes had said hundreds of vile things. Most of them she refused to think of, but the wise woman had never mentioned he would know what she was thinking.

       Desperate to get out of the room, she threw the vegetables in the big pot and sloshed in a jug of water with a quick prayer to the gods to look after the meal. She fumbled in her haste as she slung the heavy pot on the hook over the fire, but it stayed in place. Certain the soup would cook, she grabbed the basket to flee from his wrath
* * * *

By early evening, she’d only found twelve small seeing mushrooms. They rolled around in the bottom of the collecting basket. Her feet ached, for in her search she’d walked farther and farther into the darkened shadowy spaces. Worse than sore feet, though, she stared to find her way through the trees until her eyes burned and stung. She had no clue how to get back to the tower. She recognized nothing here through the welter of close-knit leaves.

Maybe he wanted the wolves to eat her. She’d be a nuisance to no one then. How could he be so mean?

She huddled down at the base of a large ash tree where she ran her fingers over a blade of grass so it squeaked. How would she find his tower before dark? Her empty stomach rumbled.

Anger that he’d sent her out here evaporated with the need to find him again. There was no one else who could help her. The twilight shadows grew deeper, wrapping the woods in their embrace. Tiredness blurred her vision. Even if she hadn’t been lost, she’d have been afraid to go back without all the mushrooms he wanted.

The sun sank lower. The first white stars shone in the deepening night-shaded sky. She curled up, wrapped her arms around the basket, and waited for death.

By moonrise, still the wolves hadn’t come, but her fear continued to grow. Her breath shallow, she darted her glance to the trees, to the dark shadows between them, and back again.

 If only he would come to find her, she would do anything, she’d be so grateful. A leaf brushed her cheek, so she looked up as she moved it away. If she climbed the ash tree, perhaps light from the tower might lead her back.

 Hope warmed her. She swung up onto the lowest branch of the tall tree, gave the next bough a tug to make sure it would take her weight, then clambered up where she clung tight.

 The morsel of hope grew as she searched in all directions, but it withered when she saw only more branches and leaves. She grasped the next branch above.

“What, may I ask, are you doing?”

Relief slid over her. Though he didn’t sound pleased, the Mage had come to find her. She swung down onto the first branch, but caught her lip at his frown. He reached up to yank her down into his arms.

“If I discover you have done this to plague me”—his nose loomed tip-to-tip with hers—“I will renege on my promise, and I will beat you soundly before I turn you into a sparrow.”
The sensation and safety of his arms took the spleen from his words. She didn’t care if he might beat her, as long as he took her back to the tower. “I got lost.”

 “Hmm, did you? And my mushrooms?” He still held her. His mouth twitched in a half smile.

 “I got some. They’re in the basket.”

To her surprise, he didn’t put her down, but strolled over, bent with her in his arms, picked the basket up, and hooked it onto his elbow. His brow wrinkled in obvious displeasure as the little mushrooms rolled around. She closed her eyes, praying they would double or treble in number. Sadly, they didn’t. She hoped he’d not beat her hard.

 “You can tell me about it on the way back. I’m sure I will enjoy the tale of how all the mushrooms went away.”

She wriggled. “Put me down. I can walk.”
He shook his head. “Nin, since noon this day, you have destroyed the best batch of seeing mushrooms I have made in an age, interrupted my meditations not once, but twice, put out the kitchen fire, and achieved what I’d imagined to be the impossible. You got lost in the forest but a few yards from the tower. I think you are best where you are, for now.”

The reel of her day’s blunders was meant for one whose wits had wandered. She squirmed, but it was futile since he didn’t set her down. “I didn’t put the fire out.”

“But the soup did. You left it with no lid, and the pot boiled over, so we have no fire to return to.”

She closed her eyes. He thought she was stupid.

A sudden pain caught in her chest. She missed Aunt Jen, Cousin Lettie, too. She wanted to go home where the fire often smoldered sulkily, but at least the stew pot hung with something in it most days. She turned her face to his shoulder.

Aunt Jen and Lettie had stood stone-faced with the others to make her go that morning. Only Alicia might have sorrowed to see her leave, but any tears were well hidden behind a scrap of heavy weave fabric her friend called a veil.

With the night dark like her thoughts, the one semblance of comfort came from his embrace.
“When we get back you will sleep. You need to. Tomorrow we will begin again.











 Daisy Banks writes sensual and spicy romance in the Historical, Paranormal and Fantasy genres. She is an obsessive writer and her focus is to offer the best tale she can to readers. Daisy is married with two grown up sons. She lives in a converted chapel in Shropshire, England. Antiques and collecting entertain Daisy when she isn’t writing and she occasionally makes a meal that doesn’t stick to the pan.
Daisy Banks Links

Twitter @DaisyBanks16
Amazon



3 comments:

  1. What an awesome post, both the excerpt and details about the novel and palmistry!
    Best of luck, Daisy, in finding new fans!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks so much for commenting, Carmen. I'm glad you enjoyed the post.

      Delete
  2. Interesting post. My lines are all messed up. I think I'm broken! The excerpt was great and I loved the cover!

    ReplyDelete

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