Gods and Thunder
Genre: Paranormal/Fantasy Romance
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Date of Publication: July 6, 2020
Word Count: 41030
Tagline: The gods who protect the world know evil is coming, and it can't wait to show itself - vainglorious in its efforts, it will make itself known soon
About the Book:
THE APPROACHING STORM
Punished and shamed, the divine mother of nature, the goddess Net, was stripped of her powers and made mortal. Were it not for the shifter god, Fenrir, she wouldn’t have a home or protection, and with evil rising in all the realms, she is more than vulnerable, she’s a target.
For Fenrir, protecting Net is more than a favor, it’s a way to ensure she will not lose her life on his watch. As threats become a real and present danger, he is forced to admit his long-hidden feelings and intends to make Net his forever, if she will have him.
The Gods and Thunder series is a spin-off of the Black Ridge Wolf Pack Series
Read an Excerpt:
Net stood, admired her handiwork, and smiled. She may not have her powers back yet, but she could plant flowers instead of using her magic to bring them to life. She enjoyed doing this. Getting her hands dirty, connecting with the earth in a way she hadn’t felt before when she willed things into existence.
It had been many months since the judgment, and she was still settling into her new home. Net was under house arrest at the shifter god Fenrir’s home. He was seldom here, leaving her lonely, yet giving her time for introspection. Without her powers, Net was vulnerable to attack from not only the demon population, who would love nothing better than to pick off a goddess, but the other gods as well. Some gods were known to be petty, quickly taking offense over any little thing. As was the way with most politics, an individual was never really sure a god was gunning for them until it was too late.
Typically, when she had her powers, Net had no fear of her brethren. She shared their strength, immortality, and she had her unique magic. At full power, Net wasn’t an easy target.
Fortunately, for now, things had been quiet. Fenrir’s protection spells held, and no one had tried to attack her. She would be happy if she made it through her punishment unscathed. She had to admit, she missed her connection to the greater natural world. As the goddess of the forests and the plants, divine mother of nature, she used to be able to feel the ebb and flow of every being big or small, animal or plant. Now, in a world without her powers, things quieted in her mind and body in a way that made her feel she’d lost what made her Net. Yet, at the same time, the narrowness of her existence made her appreciate every little thing. She scanned the front yard of her new home, and prison of sorts, pleased that the rows of flower beds overflowed with blooms of every color and size. Net wasn’t sure what she’d do with herself once she’d completed the planting. Perhaps she should plant a few vegetables and add fruit trees to the mix. Even strawberries would serve her well. She loved the sweet fruit. It wasn’t as though Fenrir’s home was a hovel. Quite the opposite. The large cottage was set in a glorious forest, keeping her in touch with her core strengths, and giving her lots of space to roam. She picked up her small shovel and watering bucket, deciding that the last flower bed had been enough for today. She stowed the implements in the little shed and was on her way back to the house when an alarm sounded.
The first of Fenrir’s defenses were under attack. Fates. Another alarm sounded, and she began running for the safety of the cottage where protection was the strongest. She had barely stepped over the threshold of the front door when the third and last alarm sounded. She’d tempted fate to have thought about the quiet and calm. She felt somehow she’d sent out a challenge. When would she learn to keep her thoughts to herself?
She bolted the door, sealing the last spell in place. Fenrir was going to be angry someone messed with his home. The inside of the cottage held an iridescence, which covered the exterior walls, doors, and windows, a visual confirmation the protection spell was in place and holding.
“Sister. Won’t you come out to play?” a familiar voice yelled from the front yard. It couldn’t be. Net went to the window to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind and gasped as Vengier waved at her from his perch in the center of one of her new flower beds. He stood in what was left of her plants. So like him to destroy every beautiful thing in his path. The former god of beauty was too vindictive to allow anything that held promise, hope, or abundance exist around him.
Taking a closer look, she had to say Vengier wasn’t looking himself, unless he was going for the zombie version of the god of beauty. Perhaps it was his vile nature finally showing through, much like the human story The Portrait of Dorian Gray, with one not-so-small difference: Vengier was dead.
About the Author:
Lilli Carlisle lives in the country near Toronto, Canada. She is the mother of two wonderful girls, wife to an amazing man, and servant to the pets in her life, and she’s a member of Toronto Romance Writers. Lilli writes paranormal/fantasy romance, and believes love should be celebrated and shared. After all, everybody needs a little romance, excitement, intrigue, and passion in their lives
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