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
Website:
www.NadiaScrieva.com
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/NadiaFans
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/NadiaScrieva
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.
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...
When Visola awoke, she realized with a start that she was
not alone. The warmth of another body so close to hers had made her sticky and
uncomfortable, and she was quite sure that it was not a puppy cuddled up
against her back. No, as advertised, it was one of Aazuria’s half-naked,
well-muscled, exotic men indigenous to the Southern Continent. She groaned, and
slammed her elbow backwards into the man’s stomach, shoving him away from her
with disgust. He hit the floor with a loud crash and an oof as the wind was knocked out of him. At least I have a story to tell Sionna when we get home, she
thought to herself. She snuggled back down happily between the sheets. Then it
occurred to her that she was no longer on the beach.
Excerpt:
He hit the floor? Visola frowned and opened her eyes. She
saw the wooden patterning of her bedroom wall on the ship. This confused her as
she had not remembered returning to the boat. She had brought a Yawkyawk man
back to the ship? What had she been thinking? What about Aazuria? Visola was
reminded of the fact that she should never party, because she always partied
too hard. Was it really worth ruining days or weeks of her life over one night
of pleasure? Pleasure that she could not even remember, for that matter.
The man she had accidentally shoved off her bed made a
grunting noise. She turned over to face him, and propped herself up on her
elbow so that she could speak to him in sign language.
“Please leave my room
immediately,” she told him. Even as she commanded this, she observed his
features and physique. He was wearing trousers, but unclothed from the waist
up; she was surprised by her evidently impressive subconscious taste. She kept
her face stern, and did not betray that she found his appearance pleasing. “I was drugged last night, and I apologize
for anything I said or did, but I do not remember any of it, and I did not mean
any of it. You must leave immediately or I will employ force to remove you from
my quarters.”
The man rubbed his head where he had hit it on the floor.
“God almighty, are you always this grumpy in the morning?”
“I am not gru…”
Visola froze. He had spoken in English. With a thick British accent. She
noticed his fair skin and precisely groomed black hair which was swept back
into a small curled tail. “You are not a Yawkyawk man,” she said slowly.
“No,” he said, yawning.
“You’re King Kyrosed’s new advisor.”
He nodded, closing his eyes and stretching sleepily. “I
tried to explain that to you last night, but you were convinced that I was a
bird.”
“You swine!” she yelled. She pounced on the man, and punched
him in the face viciously. “You scoundrel!”
“Now hold on a moment,” he said, grabbing her wrists. He was
surprised to find that he could not easily subdue her. “You’re being a tad
judgmental.”
Visola straddled him and forced his hands above his head,
pinning them there with one hand before punching him in the face again. “I was
delirious! I was drugged! I expect you to know better—you are civilized!”
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