When the vampire wakes up in Atlantis . . .

Hey! The world didn't end! So VAMPIRE IN ATLANTIS will still be out June 7th! Yay! Here's a sneak peek of when Daniel finds Serai again . . . after eleven thousand years:

Excerpt from VAMPIRE IN ATLANTIS, June 7, 2011, by Alyssa Day:

For the first time, Daniel took the time to look around at his surroundings and saw the two fallen guards lying unconscious on the ground, but when he looked up to ask her about it, the sight in front of him stunned him to speechlessness for several seconds.

“What?” Serai snapped. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking, although now that you’re a nightwalker, can’t you hear their heartbeats to confirm my claim?”

He pointed, still unable to form words. At the dome. The freaking glass dome that surrounded them as far as he could see—and the deep, dark blue currents of the ocean beyond it. A dark form swam past, and a single giant eye blinked at him

“Is that . . . is that a whale?” He stared, feeling like his eyes would bug out of his head at any minute as it finally hit him. “Are we . . . are we in Atlantis?”

She rolled her eyes, apparently a timeless gesture. “Where else would we be? Now move.”

She raised her arms and began to sing. Sing. The woman he’d loved and lost eleven thousand years ago—loved all of that time, if he wanted to be honest, although he didn’t—was singing.

In Atlantis.

Or else, and he sighed as he came to the obvious realization: he really was dead. Somehow he’d ended up in the good grace of the gods instead of in the nine hells. He was here with Serai and she was singing and …

… she’d stabbed him. With a spear.

“Nope. Probably not any form of heaven,” he muttered.

A shimmering oval of pure light appeared in front of Serai, and the smile that crossed her face in response blinded Daniel more than the light. She was so beautiful. Every bit as beautiful as he remembered, and more. Her silken dark hair was so black it had blue highlights in it, and longer than he remembered, swinging past her perfect, curving hips. Her eyes matched the ocean waves, just as blue. Just as deep.

And her lips—oh, her lips. He reacted just as strongly to their sensual curve now as he had when he was a young apprentice, showing off a little with his metal-working skills and his muscles for the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She still was.

The oval grew larger and wider, and he knew what it was. He’d seen Atlanteans use its magic before.

“The portal. You’re singing to the portal? I’ve never seen the warriors sing.”

She cast an amused glance at him. “They are barbarians. The portal only gives fully of its magic to those who understand and appreciate it.”

“Ven did mention how capricious it could be. Dumps them in the middle of the ocean sometimes.”

She laughed and then looked as startled as he felt, before she touched her fingertips to her lips. “I haven’t laughed in so very long,” she whispered, but then she took a deep breath. “Portal, take me where I need to be, I ask and beseech you.”

A wave of golden light shimmered over the silvery surface of the portal’s oval form and Serai smiled. She took a step forward, then hesitated before turning back to Daniel.

“Come with me?”

She held out her hand, and the ocean itself took a deep breath. She held out her hand. To him. He reached for her, and then paused, as a horrible thought struck him.

“To where? It was full daybreak where I came from, and if the sunlight strikes me, I’ll die in flames. I would risk that for you without hesitation, but I would not have you in danger from the fire.”

“We have no time for this. Conlan and his guards will be after me, or these guards will wake up . . .” She broke off mid-sentence and smiled at him, and he realized he would follow her smile into the fires of all nine of the hells, without question. “Trust me?”

He took her hand and they stepped forward into the portal, but as the light surrounded them, she cried out and doubled over. He caught her in his arms and held tight to the beautiful woman, who was his past and his future, as the world fractured around them in a vortex of spinning light, and he prayed to any god who would listen. He couldn’t lose her again.

Never again.

#

Taking Back My Space! And a CONTEST!

I have let Twitter and Facebook overtake my online time, and Facebook's decision this week to disallow contests when I was in the middle of a big one really ticked me off. But more than that, it made me realize I need to take back my space, and put content that's important to me up here, instead of where the social media sites can limit my words or change rules on me. (Of course, blogger could do the same thing, I suppose, but let's pretend we're safe here for now!)

SO here we are at only 3 weeks until VAMPIRE IN ATLANTIS hits a bookstore or an e-book reader near you!! Woohoo! June 7th! For chapter one and pre-ordering info, go HERE.

Which brings me to the contest. It's a PREORDER extravaganza!! Publishers love pre-orders; they let them know how many books to get out to stores. So if you pre-order VAMPIRE IN ATLANTIS (Daniel!! At last!!!), email me a copy of your receipt at mail@alyssaday.com with your name and mailing address and you will be entered to win one of two genuine Japanese Kokeshi dolls, purchased on my travels.

And EVERY SINGLE READER who emails me your preorder receipt will receive a personalized, autographed bookplate for your brand-new book (the stamp's on me!) just for entering.

Enter today! The contest runs through June 1st. Good luck!

hugs,
Alyssa

If only my bookcases would organize themselves like this!!

Like THIS ONE does!

Had a lonely, homesick for the U.S. kind of day. Made blueberry pie & felt better!

Only one tree was blooming this early at the Plum Blossom Festival, but I got a great shot:



Figured out another plot twist for the secret project today, and it's terrific! I'm so excited about this book!!

Happy weekend, everyone!

A hair crisis & a plum blossom festival

Yes, I'm feeling *that* shallow today. Hair color update went a little extreme yesterday, so now I'm so blonde I REALLY look like Writer Barbie. This would not bother me so much if I didn't have appointment for haircut this morning and new pictures for website and book cover this afternoon. But it's all good. Hair, in the grand scheme of things, is SO not a big deal.

Am going to try microblogging since the idea of huge updates always makes me procrastinate until I don't blog at all. So, here are a few pictures from our trip to the Asakusa Plum Blossom Festival this weekend:


Very crowded. On the upside, there was much shopping. MUCH shopping. Got Brennan a new throwing star (whee!) and a lovely handmade leather purse for me. Hand-painted silk ties for Navy Guy and ninja gear for Science Boy. Princess came out with many goodies, as she usually manages to do. The upside, even in this kind of crowd, is that I'm at least a head taller than most people so I never have to worry that the kids will get separated and not be able to find me.



Sensoji Temple is one of the most famous in Japan. Dedicated to Guan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy, and I loved that. I understand it's even more beautiful lit up at night so we'll definitely go back. This is the gate to the temple and it's just as amazing.

Evidently I can't put more pics here so I'll add more tomorrow.

So you want to role play!

What is RPG? Role-playing fictional characters has been around for a long time. Many fans who love a fictional world want to participate in it in more ways than just by reading the books, and they create online personas based on that world and interact with each other. When Alyssa first became aware of this, she had admittedly mixed feelings, but ultimately she recognized this tradition for the honor it is.

In her words:

Hello, readers! Thank you to everyone who is interested in role-playing (RPG) with my characters and my worlds. At first I thought “Oh, no! They’re putting words in my characters’ mouths!” – because authors, by nature of what we do, are mostly admitted control freaks. But then I realized what an honor it is that you love my worlds enough to spend your own time and hard work to create facebook pages, worlds, etc. However, legal stuff being what it is, my publisher insists that I make you aware of the rules below, and if you are part of any RPG group based on my creation, you agree to this by default. Please read and repost at your world site.
- Alesia Holliday, aka Alyssa Day

[NOTE: A huge thank you to Dianna Love and Sherrilyn Kenyon for direction on how to approach this and for the basis of the agreement.]

Also, my publisher asked that official RPG groups post the following agreement on their sites acknowledging Alesia Holliday/Alyssa Day’s ownership of her worlds and trademarks and copyrights. Please copy and paste at your site. I’m working on an official banner and button you can post that names you an official Alyssa Day RPG site, as well.

PLEASE NOTE: Alyssa does not host, participate in or read any of the RPG groups out there.

RPG RULES AND AGREEMENT:

For your records, here is the agreement you are making in order to participate in any Alyssa Day role-play game (RPG).

Thank you for wanting to participate in an Alyssa Day RPG.

By being added to the Alyssa Day and/or any website, Facebook page, myspace page or any other internet web site, group, loop or other entity that exists currently or in the future involving Alyssa Day’s worlds, you are agreeing to the following:

1) Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day owns the Warriors of Poseidon and all other universes she created and all they/it entail(s), but does not monitor any kind of RPG and/or fanfic, loop, group, etc. As such, she has no control over their actions or comments and cannot be held responsible for any action or inaction those groups or individual members may or may not take. By participating on or in any loop, group, page, site, etc. you acknowledge and agree to hold Alyssa Day, her licensees, sub-licensees and associates innocent and free of any misconduct by those who are active on said loop, group, page, site, etc.

2) The characters, places, names, plot points and any and all other content contained herein are Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day’s copyrighted material and property. She is permitting them to be used by others for nonprofit entertainment purposes only. Portrayals of these characters, places, and all matters contained herein do not necessarily reflect the characters, places, and all matters as portrayed in the works of Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day. Anything portrayed herein should not be taken as fact or indicative of any characteristic of any character, place, or matter that may or may not appear in any past, present or future works of Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day.

3) Furthermore you agree to all the following statements:

A. Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day owns the intellectual property rights, copyright and trademark of the content of this loop/group/website/web page and all of her universes (past, present and future) and all pertaining therein. The content on this loop/group/website/web page is made available to visitors for noncommercial, personal, entertainment or educational purposes only. The content may not be modified in any manner from its original post and the intellectual property notice must be included on every display and copy of the content. No other use is permitted.

B. Nothing contained herein shall be construed as conferring any right under any copyright or trademark of Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day in the content provided on this loop/group/website/web page. All characters and series related terms are copyrighted terms of the series and/or universes of Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day. The display of copyrighted terms, trademarks or trade names on this loop/group/website/web page does not convey or create any license or other rights in these marks or names. Any unauthorized use of these terms, trademarks and/or trade names is strictly prohibited.

C. These sites enable visitors to post comments, characters, places and other content to the site. If you post comments, or other content on any loop/group/website/web page that involves her worlds and/or universes, you grant Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day and her affiliates a non-exclusive, royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable, and fully sub licensable right to use, reproduce, modify, adapt, publish, translate, create derivative works from, distribute, and display such reviews, comments, or other content throughout the world in any media. You also grant Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day and her affiliates and sub licensees the right to use the name that you submit with any comment, or other content, if any, in connection with such comment, or other content. You represent and warrant that you own or otherwise control all of the rights to the comments and other content that you post on any loop/group/website/web page and that use of your reviews, comments, or other content by Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day and her affiliates will not infringe upon or violate the rights of any third party.

D. You understand and accept that this agreement is subject to be changed and fine-tuned from time to time to keep up with the latest trends and advancements. As such. you agree to periodically review and update this text on any and all sites that pertain to Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day’s worlds and/or universes and to abide by any changes and/or additions and/or deletions.

By accepting membership and/or being added as a friend or member on any loop/group/website/web page that pertains to the worlds and/or universes of Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day you agree that you have read, understood and acknowledge the above terms and agree to be legally bound by them.

Copyright notice � and TM 2011 Alesia Holliday writing as Alyssa Day. All rights reserved.

Sick sick sick sick

Pneumonia and bronchitis. Taking massive drugs. Please send all cyber chicken soup and "get healthy" thoughts my way. Thank you thank you.
Sneeze.
Cough.
Ugh.
Alyssa

Winner!!

We have a winner from Caridad Ferrer's fabulous giveaway!! She says: "Well, random.org gave me #4, Highland Hussy!"

So a very happy Thanksgiving indeed to you, Highland Hussy.

Alyssa

Happy Thanksgiving!!

I have two pumpkin pies, stuffing, cornbread muffins, and Navy Guy's green bean casserole all baked and on the cooling racks and ready to go when the turkey pops out, and I wanted to take a moment to wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving (if you're in the U.S.) and--no matter where you are--tell you that when I give my own thanks today, my wonderful readers will be high on the list. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

hugs,
Alyssa

Welcome guest author Caridad Ferrer!! And prizes!

I’m thrilled to have my dear friend Caridad Ferrer, the fabulous author of terrific young adult novels, drop by to talk about her new release, WHEN THE STARS GO BLUE, which is in bookstores today!! OK, tomorrow morning is Tuesday for you in the U.S., but I wanted to get a jump on this since it’s already Tuesday over here.

Since you, my darling readers, always tell me you prefer to get to the “juice” instead of a lot of background, I have for your reading pleasure an EXCLUSIVE excerpt of Caridad’s new book!! Also a chance to win prizes!! One lucky winner will win a signed copy of WHEN THE STARS GO BLUE and another will win a special, limited edition t-shirt created especially for the book. So dig in, and for more of the deets about Caridad, please check out her website HERE!

WHEN THE STARS GO BLUE, copyright 2010 Caridad Ferrer

A dancer driven to succeed.

A musical prodigy attempting to escape his past.

The summer they share.

And the moment it all goes wrong.

Dance is Soledad Reyes’s life. About to graduate from Miami’s Biscayne High School for the Performing Arts, she plans on spending her last summer at home teaching in a dance studio, saving money, and eventually auditioning for dance companies. That is, until fate intervenes in the form of fellow student Jonathan Crandall who has what sounds like an outrageous proposition: Forget teaching. Why not spend the summer performing in the intense environment of the competitive drum and bugle corps? The corps is going to be performing Carmen, and the opportunity to portray the character of the sultry gypsy proves too tempting for Soledad to pass up, as well as the opportunity to spend more time with Jonathan, who intrigues her in a way no boy ever has before.

But in an uncanny echo of the story they perform every evening, an unexpected competitor for Soledad's affections appears: Taz, a member of an all-star Spanish soccer team. One explosive encounter later Soledad finds not only her relationship with Jonathan threatened, but her entire future as a professional dancer.

* * EXCERPT * *

"Soledad, you ready?"

While Raj backed away with a whispered, "Break a leg," I ventured further out onto the floor, assuming my opening pose, breathing deep as I sank into my zone.

Okay, yeah, it had been tempting to choose something from Carmen, in a d'uh, sort of
way. Or, if I wanted to stay within the realm of classical ballet, Firebird, especially since it was polished to a diamond shine for the showcase.

But the last couple of days, weighing the pros and cons of everything I had in my repertoire, I'd kept coming back to this one piece—"El Tango de Roxanne" from Moulin Rouge—as being perfect. Dangerous, raw, sexy, angry, and above all, passionate. All of it building from a deceptively quiet and mysterious introduction. Only way to make it better would be chocolate.

While the piano and guitar traded delicate riffs, I prowled the expanse of the floor in a rough figure eight. At the strings' dramatic entrance, my footwork mimicked the sharp staccato precision, my upper body remaining taut as a wire. In contrast, my arms were fluid and sinuous, mirroring the vocals in telling the story of a professional seductress, paid for her favors, forced by circumstance to hold herself aloof until she meets the one man who's so different, who really wants her for who she is and who desperately tries to convince her she no longer has to sell herself. As the narrator's passion and fury grew, that fluidity traveled down my fingers, through my arms, into my body and legs, the precise, deliberate movements giving way to something more; something untamed and wild, as I veered between the security of a wealthy customer and the temptation of unconditional love.

During one quiet passage, I skirted the edges of thefloor, meeting all those eyes, weighing… deciding… finally extending a hand and pulling a smiling Raj—my chosen customer—up. Taking the cue, he fell into step with me, the two of us swaying together, perfectly matched for a few brief moments until the music crescendoed once again and I pushed him away, bursting free, covering the floor in a huge sweeping series of turning leaps. Soaring, feeling the familiar, glorious stretch and burn of my legs in full extension, lost in the beauty of the music, in the story, building toward that one moment—where the strings, the brass, the vocals all joined together in a brilliant cacophony, prompting one last series of rapid-fire steps before I began spinning on one leg, turning in the classic fouetté en tournant, my free leg whipping around and around, faster and faster, never touching the ground until the last, final crashing note where I dropped to both knees, head thrown back, both arms thrust up and out, imploring my lover to return.

My eyes closed, the only thing I heard was the sound of my own harsh breathing, whistling through my throat and nose. After a few seconds I managed to get my breathing under control, and still… nothing. My arms dropping to my sides, I blinked, the room fuzzy and gray for a second then, as it sharpened into focus, the first thing I saw was the owl convention in the bleachers all focused on a tight group that included Gray and Jonathan's dad, all of them whispering like a bunch of viejitas at one of my family's holiday barbeques. And clearly, they were whispering about me, since, well, they kept looking over at me and gesturing at me and then looking some more, the bleacher creatures following their every move.

"Um, hello?"

Did I suck?

Don't be a moron. You didn't suck.

I rocked back onto my heels and stood, fisting my hands on my hips and trying for bravado as all eyes turned my way. And really wishing I'd driven myself, 'cause if I had sucked, I wanted to eighty-six this joint in a hurry and there's no way that could happen, not with Jonathan having to play at Responsible Guy. I looked up at him and found that he seemed to be stuck staring at the small group of instructors with that intense gaze of his I'd first seen back in the dressing room at school.

Like he was trying to will them to make a decision. The right decision.

"Anyone?"

Finally. Gray broke away, leaving the others huddled together and whispering.

Handing me a towel and a bottle of water, he said, "You can quit looking like that darlin'. You did fine. Better than fine, actually. And I think you know that."

"Thank you," I replied, meaning the bottle as well as the compliment. I took a long drink of water and ran the cold bottle along my forehead. "And yeah, it felt great, actually, but what do I know from your standards for suckage? Could be that it wasn't at all what you had in mind."

"No, it wasn't," he admitted, which sent my heart doing a dive into my stomach.

Good— but not good enough. Or too different. Or something.

A part that should be mine, slipping away.

Again

Damn.

"But you know what it was?"

I couldn't look at him. Instead, I stared down, carefully pointing and flexing one foot against the floor. "What's that?"

"The missing piece."

Slowly, I lifted my head. "What?"

"Yeah. You've just changed the direction of the whole show."

My grip tightened on the water bottle, plastic giving beneath my fingers with a loud crack. "Say what?"

"Using 'El Tango' is a perfect way in which to bring in a contemporary twist yet still keep within the show stylistically speaking. It's exactly what we've been missing—keeping Carmen from being the same old, same old and it's brilliant because really, Roxanne, Carmen… both opportunistic characters—creates a beautiful symmetry." And no matter how slow and easy that drawl of his was, each word still sounded sharp and measured—this wasn't any kind of a whim. He knew exactly what he was saying. In the four minutes and forty-four seconds it had taken me to perform, he'd completely reformulated the corps' show. Wicked impressive, even if it left me feeling just this side of queasy.

"We'll have to get started on new arrangements rightaway and new drill and we'll need to start brainstorming your exact routine—and I can already see your costume."

I swear, even the palm trees on that butt-ugly shirt were perking up with every idea he kept throwing out. The other instructors who'd joined us looked as hyped as Gray—all except for one whose expression was going more granite and hardass with every word.

"Three weeks before tour?"

"Not like we haven't done it before, Marc," Gray replied mildly. "And what else are the first few weeks of tour for, other than tweaking? Come on, name me one corps that's ever come out of the gate with the final product? What we need to do right now is get this girl set up—get the forms filled out, arrange for the stipend—"

"Hel-lo, 'this girl' is still here and what is the matter with you people that none of you know how to actually ask any damned thing?" I glared up at Jonathan in the bleachers, looking like he was going to crack up—and felt the temper that Mamacita kept warning would one day be my downfall ratchet up another notch.

"I mean, I haven't exactly said I'd do this yet."

* * *

So go forth and buy this wonderful book for yourself or for the teenager in your life. The holidays are coming! Here's a little help from me:

You can find WHEN THE STARS GO BLUE at Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Borders
or Indiebound

For a chance to win a book or a t-shirt, please answer this question in the comments: Dancing With the Stars, American Idol, Survivor, or Amazing Race: which show would you be most likely to go on?

Rainy day here in Japan

Perfect for staying indoors and getting work done after the Migraine From Hell finally subsided. Had a *great* as in gave-me-shivers great idea for a new book this weekend and can't wait to get started. Also bought my turkey for Thanksgiving. I CANNOT believe it will be December next week!!!! Almost 2011! Wow. This has been one crazy year. I think I need to start on my goals for 2011 . . . hmm. How about WRITE MORE BOOKS? :)
hugs,
Alyssa

Trip to the bazaar

 

And bought a few gifts! Japanese Christmas ornaments on the right and a Kokeshi doll with scroll (the scroll unrolls so you can write things or have your friends write things to save for posterity) on the left with a jade elephant.

If I hadn't just moved here and vowed, after unpacking all those boxes, never EVER to buy things again, I think I could have gone a little crazy there. Beautiful beautiful traditional Japanese art and furniture and antiques. I may go back tomorrow (remembering my camera this time) so I can show you some of the amazing things.

Lovely, lovely new cover art!!

Oh, Daniel, how deliciously hot you are!!!!

Changes, ch ch ch changes

Sushi happiness at the local market

I have to remind myself that change can be great, sometimes, and open myself up to the possibilities. Right now I'm having a little bit of a stress meltdown from this move.

In other news, it's a glorious sunny day here and the kids just headed off for an adventure on their bikes, which it was too hot all summer long for them to do in Florida, so that's good news.

I'm hoping you're all enjoying your Novembers so far. The 9th was my birthday and Navy Guy went out of town for 3 days so I was feeling a little sorry for myself, but wallowing is over! Optimism is back! LOL. And the end of the book is finally in sight! One of my birthday promises to myself is to remember to chat and reconnect via the blog, at least with tiny snippets. I'm also going to highlight guest authors, because who wants to hear from me all the time? Stay tuned; all good news begins after I turn in this book next week.

hugs,
Alyssa

Typhoon on its way

Not sure if trick or treating will be a go or not. We have a LOT of candy, since the kids here on the Navy base plus the local Japanese kids all come by, so we've heard. Fingers crossed the weather holds off or your friendly neighborhood author will be marooned with 60 lbs of candy.

This would NOT be good.

Busy day - crazy happiness in writing and then to homecoming football game to see my son perform in the band at halftime (my first time to see him!). Hope you have a great weekend, dear readers!

hugs,
Alyssa

Travels with Alyssa: A brief expedition

So yesterday we had an expedition over to Camp Zama (the nearby Army post) where my son goes to middle school, and I took pics along the way. The route is 5 miles through town, town, and more town, so it's not the most scenic route, but I'm going to the tours office tomorrow to sign up for something much more "real" Japan. But for now, I thought I'd share my (admittedly jet-lagged) impressions of the trip.



Even stop signs look exotic to me.



And even more mundane notices look like art.

Road signs are very clear:


and my son is waiting for me to go on a walk so more later!!

Atlantis Betrayed is a New York Times bestseller!

#18 bestseller of all mass market fiction!! All I can say is thank you from the bottom of my heart to all my readers!! What wonderful news to arrive right in the middle of moving stress.

hugs,
Alyssa

ATLANTIS BETRAYED IS HERE!!

ATLANTIS BETRAYED is in stores now!! And at all your favorite e-book retailers! Rush out and buy the book that RT Book Reviews and Night Owl Romance both gave Top Pick reviews!

Hunky Atlantean warrior Christophe finally meets his match in the famous cat burglar known as the Scarlet Ninja – and sparks fly when they realize they're both trying to steal the same jewel!

See below for:
1) Excerpts
2) A link to the coolest music video in the world
3) Book release donation
4) More news

1. Excerpts!! We have excerpts! Go HERE for chapter 1 :

And here's the exciting teaser:

Poseidon's warriors have learned that the battle to protect humanity produces unexpected enemies--and alliances. And one of the most powerful of all Atlantean warriors will soon find both…in one daring beauty.

A warrior's mission, a woman's desire…

What could Christophe, powerful Warrior of Poseidon, have in common with Fiona Campbell, prim and proper Scottish illustrator of fairytales by day and notorious jewel thief known as the Scarlet Ninja by night? Answer: The Siren, a legendary Crown Jewel that Fiona has targeted for her next heist. It's said to be worth millions, but to Christophe it's invaluable. For the Siren also happens to be one of the missing jewels from Poseidon's trident.

And the unnatural evil that could destroy them both.

But breaking into the Tower of London is a two-person job, so Christophe and Fiona team up to commit the crime of the century. As newfound passions fire their motives--and cloud their judgment--they realize they aren't the only ones after the priceless gem. A dark force is shadowing their every move, and threatening to shatter their trust with revenge, betrayal, and a haunting revelation about the past.

2. The coolest music video in the world!
Radiator Music, a new and exciting music production company, contacted me because they loved my books and wanted to write an original song about them! Of course I said sure, and then they decided what's a song without a music video?? So I spent a few days living the glam life of a film producer (OK, without most of the hard work) on beaches in St. Augustine, the historical fort of Castillo de San Marcos, the lighthouse, and the haunted jail at Green Cove Springs. I think you'll LOVE the result!
HERE'S THE VIDEO!!

3. Book release donation: I have always done this informally, but this year I decided to formalize. I am so lucky and grateful to be able to do a job I love, and from now on, I will make a donation to a charity suggested by a reader with every book release. This time, since I didn't have a chance to get the request process in gear, I've donated to a cause near and dear to my heart, the Pug Rescue of Florida.

4. More news! They're packing my house today with the express shipment (important things that will go by plane) for my move to Japan. 2 more weeks and the ship-bound household things go. I'll be in touch from there, but be sure to keep in touch through Twitter and Facebook where I'll be posting interesting snippets and video from my travels.

As always, feel free to share this newsletter with any readers who may enjoy it, and thank you all again for reading my books. I appreciate it more than I can ever express.

Hugs,
Alyssa

Special excerpt day!!!

Go HERE on my website to read Chapter 1 of ATLANTIS BETRAYED. Go ahead, you know you wanna. :) OK, are you back? Great!!

Now just take a peek below at chapter 2 -- this is an exclusive excerpt never seen anywhere else1

Chapter 2

Christophe soared through the air in mist form, circling the Tower of London as he had many times before, but this time with the goal of finding a way inside, instead of admiring the exterior. He recognized the irony of planning to steal William the Conqueror’s sword, famously and prophetically named Vanquish, from the tower whose construction old Will had first begun. Technically, he didn’t need the sword, and Prince Conlan probably wouldn’t like it if he took it—interfering with sovereign possessions and so forth—but just taking the Siren from the sword’s jeweled hilt seemed like a waste of opportunity.

Not that he had much need for what rumor claimed was a ceremonial-only, badly balanced sword. His own, left in Atlantis this trip, was utilitarian, simple and deadly; undecorated except for the single emerald on its pommel. A line from an old nursery tale flitted through his mind, though perhaps in a different form than he’d heard as a child.

The better to fight evil with, my dear.

But, after all, why not? Calculating the ways and means of how he might remove the entire sword from one of the most fortified locations in the world made for an amusing way to pass the time. An endeavor that didn’t bore him.

Passing over the main gate and the long-unused moat, he floated over the bridge where millions of tourists crossed into the Tower grounds every year. He could have taken the easy route and made his way in as a tourist during the day, except first, he didn’t like crowds of smelly humans, and second, when had he ever done things the easy way? Not to mention that asking himself rhetorical questions was probably one of the unpaved steps on the road to insanity. Not far up from talking to pigeons.

The pale yellow brick glowed in the night air, resonating with the quiet dignity of walls that had stood sentinel, indifferent and stoic, as the tempests of humans had ebbed and flowed over the centuries. If walls could talk, as the old saying went, these would offer a history lesson on power—or a cautionary tale for those in search of it.

Somewhat like the ancient tales of Atlantis herself.

Floating over the spot where the Duke of Wellington’s statue had been before somebody decided to banish it to the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich—ha, the fleeting nature of fame, Duke, old boy—he examined the exterior windows of the Waterloo Barracks, opposite to the scaffolding and white stone of the White Tower. A flicker of light glinted off a gargoyle as it . . . moved.

Damn.

Either imagination or adrenaline was working overtime, because Christophe was sure that the gargoyle had moved an inch or two. He approached it, still suspended as mist, only to find exactly what he should have expected: there was no way the gargoyle had moved since somebody put its butt-ugly self there in the first place.

He must be having hallucinations.

It was adrenaline. The excitement of doing something different for a change, instead of the same old same old. He’d had enough of killing vampires and smiting shape-shifters to last a lifetime. And Atlantis was no better. It was getting crowded in the palace, with all of his fellow warriors finding women. Not temporary women, either. No, these were keeper women, the long-term, asphyxiate-a-guy kind of women.

No, thank you. Not for him. He was going to steal the Siren, the enormous aquamarine that graced Vanquish’s hilt, and take it back to Atlantis so it could be reattached to Poseidon’s Trident, where it belonged. Hand that sucker straight over to Alaric. Or better yet, instead of to the high priest in person, to one of his minions, so there would be no repeat of Alaric’s most recent lecture: Why Christophe Was Wasting His Magical Abilities by Refusing to Join the Priesthood, Part 784.

He didn’t want to be a priest. He wanted some fun. Like this job. It was a heist, pure and simple. Fun.

The jewels were housed on the first floor, with nobody but the Tower Guard, various electronic devices, and the Yeomen Warders to protect them. Of the three, only the Yeomen Warders concerned him at all. The shape-shifters in that group were rumored to be pretty damn tough, and no few of them claimed to be descended from the shape-shifters who’d been among the original Warders back in 1485.

Of course, back then, shifters weren’t roaming around in broad daylight, with everybody knowing who and what they were. Vamps, either, for that matter, but the past decade-plus had brought big changes to the world.

Mostly for the worse.

The Tower Guard was part of the Queen’s Guard, according to the handy tour guide a tourist had conveniently left on a bench for Christophe to find. They didn’t live in the Tower, but the Warders still did, unfortunately. If only everybody trusted their electronics these days. Atlantean magic wreaked holy hells on electricity.

The thought of powerful Brennan, locked in that electric cage with Tiernan, flashed through his mind, and his mood soured. Sometimes the electricity won.

Christophe eyed a tiny crack in the casement of a third-floor window on the tower, just to the left of the main doors. Not even a large insect could fit through that crack.
Mist, however, could get in just fine.

* * *

Fiona had timed out the midnight-to-eight A.M. shift patterns of the Tower Guard and the Yeoman Warders on multiple occasions over the past several weeks. One thing was certain: the men and women, human and shifter alike, who guarded the Jewel House, were serious, dedicated professionals. No mere thief would get anywhere near those jewels.

Good thing she was no mere thief. She was world class.

Stealing onto the grounds had been child’s play, but breaching the Waterloo Barracks and the Jewel House would be a little trickier. She knew her . . . talent would keep them from seeing her, but shadowing only completely fooled living eyes and cameras. Motion detectors made for trickier adventures.

From her position leaning against a tree in the courtyard at an angle to the main doors, she saw the team of two stride around the corner of the building exactly on time. Two A.M. on the dot; one could set her clock on the punctuality of the guards. These were two enormous, burly men, probably shifters, having a lovely conversation about rugby or something else vital to England’s national stature.

She slowly leaned farther back into the rough bark of the tree, concentrating fiercely. Shifters were tougher to hide from than humans—she’d have to bend air as well as light, and the shifters’ minds were not as easily amenable to clouding.

Ribbons of silken moonlight danced through the air surrounding Fiona and the tree, circling her with nearly imperceptible shadings of dappled light. A spill of liquid darkness spread over her—through her—so gradually that only the keenest observer would have felt even a tingle of awareness. Light and the very air itself bent to her will as Fiona focused on dispersing her scent and disappearing from view.

The shorter of the guards stopped suddenly, his body tensing and leaning forward in the unmistakable sign of alert. He held up a hand, and his partner whirled to face the direction from which they’d come and settled into the same wary crouch. Precision back-to-back stance; these were no decorative guards put in place to amuse and delight tourists with their furry hats. These were the guardians of the dark hours between dusk and dawn, and their honor stood guard with them. For a shifter to lose face over the theft of a jewel under his care would be a gut-wrenching, soul-deadening failure.

For an instant sympathy encouraged hesitation in her mind, but she forced herself to visualize the rebuilding of Wolf Hall as a headquarters for the United Kingdom shifters. More than one hundred million euros of public money had been thrown into the project thus far, with much more to come. Now that the family of Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII, were rumored to have been shifters, the press were tantalized, and even Hollywood had come to call. Anyone who questioned the extravagant expenditure was drowned out in the usual British religion of celeb worship.

Shape-shifters with ties to royalty: the new rock stars.

Fiona clamped down on her mental wanderings when indignation made her focus waver for a split second. The taller guard lifted his nose into the wind and leaned forward, staring into the shadows around her tree. His sense of smell wouldn’t be nearly as keen in this form as when he was a wolf, but still better than that of any human.

Deeper. She sent her mental command arrowing ever more deeply into her own brain, until she felt the almost audible click that signaled total control of her Gift. Air and light bent to her will in the space surrounding her. The scent of her body dispersed into the vestigial odors of the millions of tourists who crossed this courtyard. Her image vanished, hidden by the shadows caressing her. Even the sound of her heartbeat and breath floated away, broken up and scattered with the obedient winds. To any of the guards’ five senses, she simply did not exist, so long as she didn’t get close enough to touch.

Damn the luck, though. Her Gift had no control over the sixth. Intuition. Hunches. The peripheral senses of shifters who trusted their own instincts—they’d come near to unveiling her more than once in the past. Her lips quirked at the idea of how unhappy Hopkins would be if her outrageous streak of good fortune chose now to desert her.

She caught her breath and tightened her hand on the grip of her tranq gun as the shifter took a step toward her. There was no possible way she could outrun a wolf, not even one in human guise. It was the matter of a moment, anyway, for the more powerful shifters to transform, and these looked anything but weak.

The guard with his back to her glanced over his shoulder at his partner. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” the one with the nose said. “Nothing. Something. Maybe.”

The first one snorted out a laugh. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“I don’t know. But whatever it is—”

The sharp sound of pebbles clattering to the ground interrupted him, and Fiona and the guards all turned their attention to the sky. Or, more specifically, to the roof of the building, from where the pebble shower had originated.

“Maybe a bird?”

“That was no bird.” The guard lowered his gaze and aimed one long last stare at the tree where Fiona stood—perfectly still, perfectly silent—with her gun at the ready. “But maybe what I thought I sensed over by the tree was.”

“Or maybe we’ve got vamps playing games,” the other one snarled, as he turned sharply on his heel and started running back the way they’d come. “I warned those freaks the last time they tried to hang out here—”

“Bloodsuckers don’t listen to warnings.”

Neither do ninjas, Fiona added silently, as the pair vanished behind the building, presumably making for the particular side door that was the guards’ preferred entrance. But with just a bit of luck, they’d call in for replacements who might choose a different door. The main entrance not thirty feet away from her, for example.

It took her fewer than ten seconds to make her way to the side of the double wooden doors and plaster her body up against the wall. Another ten seconds and the sound of pounding feet approached, and the doors swung open, spilling out a new pair of guards. This time, they were both human, but their reflexes were almost shifter-quick.

Fiona wasted no time in ducking under the arm of one guard to enter the building, seconds before he yanked the door closed. Still shadowed, she slowly stood, careful not to move until she’d scanned the area for further guards, either human or shifter. Glowing carriage lamps with modern bulbs lit up the dark hallway, their illumination dimmed for night but still bright enough for their light to pounce on any unwanted visitor.

It was a familiar sight and one she’d toured often enough, usually with guests from elsewhere. A left turn would take her to the Hall of Monarchs with its various and sundry thrones and coats of arms. Glorious, but not really what she was after tonight. Nor was the cinema room with its video of Elizabeth II’s coronation, or Processional Way, with its walls of shining maces, or even the Temporal Sword of Justice. No, Fiona wanted a jewel from a quite different sword and it was in the Treasury. The jewel part of the Crown Jewels.

One jewel in particular.

And all she had to do was liberate William the Conqueror’s sword to take it.

No worries.

[Excerpt of ATLANTIS BETRAYED, by Alyssa Day, out Sept. 7!]

The Music Video!!!!!

Here it is!! A sneak peek at my amazing music video by Radiator Music, complete with original song Every Time You Read My Mind, both based on my Warriors of Poseidon novels. It's absolutely breathtaking. This video is based mainly on the first book in my series, ATLANTIS RISING, and my newest, ATLANTIS BETRAYED, will be out next week. Go HERE to my website for all the deets and excerpts! Thanks!

Atlantis Alive Video Final from Radiator Music on Vimeo.

OH NOES I WAS WRONG!

The lovely folks at Fresh Fiction invited me to blog today -- please check them out HERE for a chance to win a signed copy of ATLANTIS BETRAYED!! (Out a week from today! Yay!)

But I gave them a snippet that I think was too hot for them to post! (That naughty warrior, Christophe.) [EDITED TO ADD - I was totally wrong, I think it was my browser. The whole snippet is up at Fresh Fiction. Yay, Fresh Fiction! But here is the end anyway, just cause I love it! hee!)

So pop over to Fresh Fiction and comment for a chance to win!

Here goes:

. . . She blushed to think her brother had heard the last part of what she'd said, but she forgot her embarrassment with Christophe's next words.

"Is that what I did, Princess? Be honest with yourself and with me. Which one of us cast the spell on the other? Because I can't seem to get through five minutes without wanting to kiss you. To strip you naked and taste your skin. Right now I'd bend you over that table and drive into your perfect body if I thought you would let me, so tell me, Fiona. Who is in control, here?"

Whew!! That man is HOT!! Only one more week!!
xoxo
Alyssa