Today the spotlight is on award-winning author Mia Jo Celeste and her book, Other Than. Her writing is absolutely beautiful, and she brings her characters alive on the page. Other Than is published by the Wild Rose Press. Expect a fabulous read.
Blurb-
It only takes one drink
from the Water of Immortality to kill Evie Woods—halfway. Trapped in undead
flesh, the world’s last skin-slider wakens on an island purgatory where a
cursed spring bubbles with immortality, and zombie cannibals crave living
flesh.
Her only hope of escape
rests in the hands of the one man who would see her fail. Bound to her by cords
stronger than death, Lord Victor Lowell is both the man of her dreams, and her
darkest nightmares. Contrary and intractable, Victor preys on others to
maintain his angelic charisma and preternatural prowess. Drawn to the
compellingly gallant and vulnerable soul behind his mercurial humors, Evie can
only watch as protecting her forces Victor to sacrifice yet more of himself to
the ancient evil long tethered to his soul.
Trapped
in an ever-escalating war they can’t stop, Victor and Evie fight time for a
cure, but as the long days pass blackness tears at Evie, ripping her thoughts
from her one memory at a time. Victor will to do whatever it takes to prevent
her from deteriorating into a rotting husk, even if it means dooming himself,
but Evie won’t surrender his soul
without a fight. Battle lines drawn, the soul mates resolve to find redemption
or die trying.
Genre- OTHER THAN, a Gaslamp Fantasy/ Paranormal Historical
Romance
Author
Bio- Mia Jo Celeste comes from a family of
writers and English teachers, so it was no surprise when she chose to pursue
both careers. She grew up watching horror movies and reading romances. To her,
the two genres go together like salty and sweet in kettle corn.
Interview with author Mia Jo Celeste:
How do you come up with your
characters? I people watch. I think they/ we are incredibly interesting. I have
a t-shirt that threatens, “Careful or you’ll end up in my novel,’ and it’s
somewhat true, but don’t worry. I usually write fantasy, so even if someone I
knew did appear not even their family would recognize him/her.
Does writing
energize or exhaust you? Writing energizes me. I love brainstorming, creating new
characters and scenes and then I love working out their kinks.
What types of books do you enjoy
reading in your free time or what do you like to do with your free time? I read
all kinds of stories, everything, really but my favorite way of appreciating
stories is listening to audiobooks or digital downloads.
If you didn’t write, what would you do for work? I can’t imagine not
writing. I’m an English teacher, and I come from a family of writers, so words
are my life pretty much.
What real-life inspirations did you draw from
for the worldbuilding within your book? Other Than probably is the result of all the Gothic romances I devoured
as a teenager and still add to my reading list today. Another example might be
my novel Dark Bringer where I combined my childhood fantasies about the dark
with a week-long power outage I lived through. I really missed the lights, heat
and electronics I usually take for granted.
What
do you hope readers take away from your work? That
people can change and grow. They can start again. I’m really a strong believer
in second changes and in starting over, so many times my characters are on that
journey. Most often, they succeed. We all have a broken place in our past and I
write the story of its mending.
Does your family read your books? Yes.
My husband is my first reader and the dude I sometimes bounce ideas off. My
kids think it’s cool that I write although romance isn’t their genre.
Quick Draw:
Coffee or Tea? Tea.
Jeans or sweats? Jeans.
Beer or Wine? I’m from Milwaukee, so
beer, but I like wine, too.
Chocolate or Chips? Ghirardelli Chocolate
Excerpt:
Her mad dash brought Evie skidding into a wondrous sight. The
whole kitchen was awash in a yellow blaze. The bread ovens’ bricks glowed a
vivid orange. Sparks like fireflies rode eddies of the heated air that felt
soothing under her wet quilt. The water gave her the notion of safety within
the beautiful and deadly inferno.
Boots paced above her. A door swung shut.
Hope fluttered in her belly. Mayhap she might just do it—race up
the steps, rescue Victor and be out of the kitchen before the flames caught
her. She dashed through and mounted the stairs.
Adrenaline fueling her speed, she attempted to outrace the
flickering destruction climbing the stairs along her heels—and
succeeded. Amazingly succeeded. Apparently, the fire was slowing, as though
sated and content to toy with the kitchen.
Perhaps Sesha and Jessup had convinced their Almighty to aid her
even after she’d reneged on her promise. She owed them—she’d save the cure in
their memory. She sped into the ruined conservatory and got to the table, but
the rack was empty. No vials. And the top of Jessup’s desk was clear. His
journals and notes were gone.
On the floor, splattered blood led to and from the threshold. She
followed it to the phoenix room and sensed Victor
beyond the door.
He was alive. She’d found
him.
For a moment, she gave in to
giddy relief. Then, she turned the knob and entered.
Victor was before her.
Surrounded by smoke, but before her.
His hair singed, the right
side of his face blistered from heat, the left a deadly pallid, he slumped on
the red-quilted bed and mopped at a red gushing hole in his abdomen with his
torn off shirt. Seeing her, he straightened. Hope gleamed in his eyes. “You
came. I called and you came.”
“You called?” She wanted to
lift and twirl him in the air like he did her. Silly maybe. She was as dazed as
the phoenix in the wall paper.
Real flames gnawed the
hand-painted vines. “Why? Why are you here?”
“You don’t give me much
credit.” His eager grin flattened. “Where is that trust, you’re working on?”
She wrung her hands. Their
future depended on his next words. “You came because of the Maiden, didn’t you?”
“Damn right. I shan’t spend
the rest of my life with her egregious murmurs in my mind nor can I allow her
to inflict her will on others.”
She searched his eyes, and then his skin, those small tells, the
nuisances of expression that hid deception. They weren’t there. He was earnest.
He hadn’t intended to use the statue but destroy it. She swallowed to clear the
lump in her throat.
“What did you think?” He
waved a bloody hand as if warding off a blow. “No, don’t say.”
Blood. She jerked straight. Hoff had shot him. Here she was
fretting over their future while he bled.
“Mayhap, I don’t deserve credit.”
Victor’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile.
Always so good at wheedling
out her feelings, he’d likely read her concern over his wound. Her vision
blurred in the heated air.
“I know I’ve done unspeakable things. Things that need now to be
set right. I began last night with you and our relationship. I thought I’d
succeeded, but no.”
“You did. You have. It’s me
who’s at fault currently. I doubted you, but I don’t now. It’s your health that
alarms me. You, I’m sure of. Very sure.” She
blinked hard and focused on the goal—Victor.
Buy Links
Author Links
Amazon author page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01N9JGDVI
Facebook fb.me/ Mia.Jo.Celeste
Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts and Other Than on your blog.
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