Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch - Release Blitz

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Length: 78,000 words approx.

Blurb

Lord Thornby has been trapped on his father’s isolated Yorkshire estate for a year. There are no bars or chains; he simply can’t leave. His sanity is starting to fray.

When industrial magician John Blake arrives to investigate a case of witchcraft, he finds the peculiar, arrogant Thornby as alarming as he is attractive. John soon finds himself caught up in a dark fairytale, where all the rules of magic—and love—are changed.

To set Thornby free, both men must face life-changing truths—and John must accept that the brave, witty man who’s winning his heart may also be about to break it. Can they escape a web of magic that’s as perilous as love?

***

“Magic, folklore, dark deeds, and hot romance combine in this wildly enjoyable, inventive story set in a lovely alt-Victorian Gothic world. More please!”

—KJ Charles, RITA™-nominated author of THE MAGPIE LORD and SPECTRED ISLE

"Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch is the sort of book you want to read again the moment you reach the end. Beautifully written, with a romance that is by turns sweet and scorching, it belongs on the keeper shelf of any lover of paranormal historical."

—Jordan L. Hawk, author of the WHYBORNE AND GRIFFIN and HEXWORLD series

Excerpt

Thornby was walking along the moorland path, calm as you please, nose in the air, apparently admiring the autumn colours in the distant oaks in the park.

“Stop, Lord Thornby! I want to talk to you.”

Thornby walked faster, slight limp becoming more pronounced.

“Stop, I say!”

John felt in his pockets for his vials and pouches, then changed his mind and simply put on speed. He’d come to this remote part of the grounds in the hope of a rest. He’d not slept much last night with the walls of Raskelf muttering and whispering, and the antiquities from Egypt shrieking muffled curses from the other side of the corridor.

The thought of Thornby had kept him awake as well; so resistant to the Judas Voice—that had given John an unpleasant moment—and so unapproachable, with that aristocratic hauteur you could never breach. And so strange. Why did the man wear such peculiar clothes? Today it was tight black pantaloons and a high stock that would have been fashionable forty years ago. And over this bizarre Regency costume was a rusty black greatcoat with wide cuffs, and a tricorn hat that would have looked well in the previous century.

And, yes, Thornby was handsome—heart-stoppingly so—with arrogant grey eyes, a mane of brown hair that almost reached his collar, and a preposterous red mouth. He was tall and thin and carried himself like a fencer. There was, too, something whip-taut about him, some unbearable tension that made you feel he might lash out. Or suddenly kiss you. Thornby had looked John up and down when he was introduced, finally unbending so far as to give John a slight inclination of the head. And John’s mouth had gone as dry as if Thornby had extended one of those elegant white hands and given his balls a gentle squeeze.

It was tiresome, really. It made it so much harder to concentrate. He must make sure he didn’t allow his attraction to the man to cloud his judgement. Possibly Thornby was using a glamour spell. John couldn’t sense one, but sometimes by their very nature they were difficult to detect.

So, he mustn’t think about how good it would be to slide his fingers inside Thornby’s old black pantaloons, how good it would be to taste his lovely mouth, and wipe that damned snooty expression off his face. If John had been in London, he would have gone to one of the houses that catered to men of his taste, and tried to forget about it. Here in the middle of rural Yorkshire it was far too dangerous to approach anyone, and in any case, farm lads were not his type. He’d simply leave as soon as he could tell Catterall he’d done his best.

They walked in single file for perhaps five minutes. The path smelt of rotting leaves, and a biting wind began to make its presence felt as they crossed into an open piece of moorland. Splashes of muddy water were spotting the back of Thornby’s coat. John used the close proximity to feel for magic. Like last night at dinner, he could sense nothing emanating from Thornby. There was certainly no demon reek, so Thornby probably wasn’t a theurgist, or if he was, he was a very fastidious one.

But then Thornby didn’t feel like a materials man either, and John could generally recognise his own kind. So, how had Thornby broken those charms? Now John was closer, and had longer to concentrate on Thornby alone, he thought there might be something magical, at the very edge of his awareness, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Most magicians used demons or materials, but there were other ways, so perhaps Thornby used some unfamiliar method.

John charged his ward stone, and put it back in his pocket. He patted his bag of salt and checked his Gelomorous twine and the demon trap, just in case. Whatever spells Thornby cared to throw at him, he was ready. In fact, he was almost looking forward to a fight.

They reached an open place a hundred yards from a small pine spinney. The dark trees were contorted sideways as if fleeing the icy wind. The sun, behind its grey pall of cloud, was beginning to set. Thornby suddenly stopped and swung around.

“Well, Mr Blake? I suppose you’d like to explain yourself?” Thornby’s chin was up, beautiful mouth curved in disdain.

Review

Salt Magic, Skin Magic is a wonderful combination of magic, danger, myth, mystery, and romance with a few comical moments thrown in for good measure. To say the book captured me from the very start, would be a huge understatement. So much is going on between the opening paragraph and the last line and yet, the story never felt overpowering or confusing.

Allow me to list everything that captured not only my attention but also my admiration in this book.

Lord Thornby’s captivity and the fact that it physically hurts him whenever he tried to leave his father’s estate, captured my imagination immediately. The reason why, when the truth was revealed came as a huge surprise and yet was as fitting as it was inspired.

Because homosexuality was still a severe crime at the time this story takes place, the developing relationship between aristocratic Thornby and ‘commoner’ Blake would have made for an interesting story on its own. Add magic and mystery to this dynamic and what you’re left with is a thrilling and unputdownable tale of love against all the odds.

Which brings me to John Blake’s magic. Lee Welsh has created a world in which magic is an ability people are born with and which is further developed through schooling, in the appropriately named ‘Dee Institute’. The idea that practitioners of magic would choose a specialization according to their abilities made so much sense to me. Although I have to admit that the moments when John Blake had to ignore everything he’d been taught and make up new rules to fit the situation fascinated me even more.

If I’m honest I have to admit I’m not sure what aspect of the story captured me most. The (almost reluctantly) developing attraction between Blake and Thornby was fascinating and enticing. Blake’s magic intrigued me, and the mystery of Thornby’s confinement kept me on my toes from start to finish.

It’s always a special treat when I discover a new (to me) author who manages to surprise me, keep me hooked, or is hugely talented at creating a captivating world. In Lee Welsh I found a storyteller who manages to do all three in one intriguing story. Suffice to say I will have to investigate what other treats this writer may have in store for me.

Author Bio

Lee Welch wrote her first book aged seven (a pastiche of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe) and first had an idea for an m/m romance aged twelve. She loves books and comics, and when she’s not writing, she’ll probably be reading. Her favourite authors include Ursula Le Guin, Graham Greene, Linda Medley, Dylan Horrocks and KJ Charles. By day, Lee works as an editor and business communications adviser, mainly persuading people not to say ‘utilise’ when they mean ‘use’. Her job has led her to work in areas as diverse as mental health, nursing, accident prevention and the criminal justice sector.

Lee loves to hear from readers. You can find her at:
www.leewelchwriter.com
Twitter: @leewelchwriter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/leewelchwriter

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Spectred Isle by K.J. Charles (Green Men #1) - Review

271 Pages

Buy Links: Amazon US | Amazon UK

The blurb

Archaeologist Saul Lazenby has been all but unemployable since his disgrace during the War. Now he scrapes a living working for a rich eccentric who believes in magic. Saul knows it’s a lot of nonsense...except that he begins to find himself in increasingly strange and frightening situations. And at every turn he runs into the sardonic, mysterious Randolph Glyde.

Randolph is the last of an ancient line of arcanists, commanding deep secrets and extraordinary powers as he struggles to fulfil his family duties in a war-torn world. He knows there's something odd going on with the haunted-looking man who keeps turning up in all the wrong places. The only question for Randolph is whether Saul is victim or villain.

Saul hasn’t trusted anyone in a long time. But as the supernatural threat grows, along with the desire between them, he’ll need to believe in evasive, enraging, devastatingly attractive Randolph. Because he may be the only man who can save Saul’s life—or his soul.

Review

“I should love to complicate matters with you and see how we go.”

I’m tempted to limit this review to one word and leave it at that. What word, you ask?

Fabulous!

I adore this book on so many (dare I say ‘all’) levels.

To begin with there’s the story as a whole; a stunning combination of historical fiction and highly imaginative paranormal fantasy. These two, seemingly at odds, sub genres melted into each other as if they had always been meant to be used together. I found myself at times forgetting where one ended and the other began, almost accepting the ‘shadow cabinet’ and ‘War Beneath’ as fact and wondering why I didn’t know more about them.

Then there’s the language in which the story is told. Every word in the book feels appropriate to the time the story’s set in. And yet it read as effortlessly as if I was reading more modern words and sentences. And then there’s the pictures those words paint; you can see the scenery, feel the atmosphere and almost smell the aromas. In fact, the words put me in a spell and transported me to the 1920’s and England not quite as the history books describe it. J

As for our main characters… Both Saul Lazenby and Randolph Glyde were such a wonderful combination of needy and weary. Both have resigned themselves to a life of solitude. Of course there’s the little matter that their attraction for those of their own gender is illegal, but it’s more than that. Saul fears that his disgrace will forever keep him separate from others while Randolph’s life is too dedicated to his duty for him to image ever having somebody by his side; especially someone uninitiated.

I loved that after his initial cynicism with regard to his employer’s theories, Saul accepts what Randolph tells him without drama. He has experienced the inexplicable, therefore he doesn’t deny its existence. It’s such a relief not to have one of the main characters exclaim something along the lines of ‘this can’t be happening, it’s impossible’ while clearly whatever it is, is happening all around them.

And I adored how these two men, once they get of their initial suspicions, just click. They are exactly what the other needs in every way imaginable. The witty, at times snarky exchanges between them had me smiling while their coming together was as hot as it was sweet.

To make a rather long story short; this book was amazing on every level imaginable. There are few experiences as good as completely losing myself in a story and Sceptred Isle captivated me. I can’t wait for the next book and will have to get and read The Secret Case Book of Simon Feximal asap. As for everybody else: Do yourself a HUGE favour and go and read this book. It’s Fa. Bu. Lous.

“It was, he’d discovered, very easy to imagine walking into a palatial flat, taking hold of Glyde’s face, kissing him fiercely and wordlessly, sliding to his knees. He could picture any number of acts of pleasure and need carried out in panting, hungry silence, and he did imagine them on his own in his bare room. What he couldn’t imagine was an actual conversation that would lead them there.”