Love Hop Intended For Mature Audience (18+ please.)

Hi there and welcome to Cherrie Mack’s stop on The Love Blog Hop.

I’m new to the Evernight family and by sheer coincidence my book, A Late Summer Bloom, released yesterday, 2/6. The first in my newest series, Witches Of The Bayou, is my favorite story so far. Writing paranormal reminded me of how much I loved to read it and has stoked my passion to rip through the latest and greatest in paranormal.

I wanted to pose a question to you all. As a reader, I never liked too much description in a book. (scenery, clothing, weather etc.) As an author, it’s essential to set the scene but, how much is too much? Do you like a lot of description to put you inside the story? Or do you like just enough to make the point? After reading my excerpt, please comment if I hit the mark or if my scene is overdone. Besides helping me strive to become a better author, the one who gives me the best advice will receive a free copy of A Late Summer Bloom.

I find it easier to write about a place I’ve been. So, when I visited New Orleans and an old southern plantation in the heart of the bayou, this story came to me in a whisper and took on a life of its own. So, welcome to the world of witches, travelers, watchers and warlocks. I hope you take a chance on this book, you will not be disappointed.

Please enjoy an excerpt from A Late Summer Bloom. At the end of the excerpt be sure to comment and click on the links for the next stop.

**Excerpt**

Giselle awoke to the sounds of trickling water and the smell of the damp earth. Cocooned in Julien’s arm, she felt warm and safe. Completely unaware of the details surrounding her present circumstance, she strained her memory to recall the past few hours or days, unsure how she’d gotten here. Lifting herself gently up on her elbows, she looked around.
Astounded by the magnificence of her location, Giselle studied her surroundings, admiring the beauty of the cavern walls. The limestone and stalagmites resembled shapes any active imagination could ponder. To her, the walls resembled guitar strings attached to a massive drums playing the old music of the gypsies Angelique was so fond of. But it was the steamy pool at the base of the cave that captured her interest. The water looked inviting, so much so, Giselle’s decision to explore the beauty of this natural wonder came easily to her. Ever so gently, she removed Julien’s arm from her body. Her tattered tee-shirt, covered with dirt and blood, made her gasp. Looking further, she slipped the blanket down, revealing his mangled torso. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she stifled the scream rising up from the base of her throat.
Deep claw like cuts jutted along his sides, angry in color. The purple and red wounds wrapped around him, as if he were still in the grasp of evil. Noticing the healing process at work, she pulled the blanket the rest of the way, to reveal his legs. Giselle saw the same knifelike wounds that marred his once stunning body and legs.
With the onset of panic, she examined the rest of him, finding his hands and arms scarred too. Looking to his face, she steeled herself for a shock. Gently brushing his hair away from his cheek, she breathed a sigh of relief upon gazing at her beautiful Julien, his perfect features untouched. But, when she rolled his head to rest on the other side, it revealed the same mauling evidence. Covering her face with her hands, she quietly crawled away from him, crying into her hands.
He was beyond recognition. And she was responsible. While he fought a valiant fight against the warlocks, she faints? Like a little girl? With an undeniable reflex to run away, Giselle stood on shaky legs. Infused with a sudden burst of energy, she quickly took off her clothing, checking her body in the hopes that she too would bear a scar. She was disappointed to find she endured not even a scratch.
As her persistent tears fell, she prayed to the gods to heal Julien. She must let him rest, she must not disturb him. Hearing the water trickle and echo throughout the cave, she turned to gaze at the pool. Maybe she should clean his wounds? She walked to the edge of the pool. Surrounded by rock, it reminded her of a huge bowl filled with muddy water. It called to her. Unsure of its depth, she bent down, straining to see to the bottom.
As the tears fell from her eyes, they plopped into the pool, transforming its contents from thick cloudy water, to crystal clear. Shocked at the sudden change, she quickly sat up and studied the liquid. Trusting herself enough to lean forward and gaze into its depths, she noticed the bottom. It looked like a rounded marble bowl. Dipping her finger in to test the temperature, she was surprised to find it very warm. She turned her gaze back to Julien. He slept soundly.
Already naked, she convinced herself it was safe to go in. Giselle wiped her tears and put her legs over the side, slowly lowering herself into the pool. Sinking down into the pleasing water, she slowly waded out to where a fine layer of steam gathered inches above the surface. Completely fascinated by its velvety touch, she moved her arms gently. Gliding through the liquid, she swam with ease, quite comfortable in the strangeness of her surroundings. The water was still, completely still. There was no ripple, no movement of any kind. Although she moved her limbs, it displayed a calmness that enveloped her, fueling her with renewed vigor. Feeling her power from the depths of her being for the first time in her life, she innately knew she could heal him. She would take away his horrendous wounds or die trying. But first, she would practice.
Giselle was waist deep when she stood up straight and outstretched her arms. With her palms down, her hands hovered inches from the surface. She chanted under her breath, concentrating. When she felt the first tremble underneath the pool, she smiled, lifting her hands higher. Commanding the water to rise up, the trembling gave way to shaking.
“You must stop at once, Little Witch!” Julien’s voice sliced through the silence.
The shaking diminished. Giselle swirled around, watching Julien, out of breath and holding his side, stumble toward the water. His chest was bare, his jeans shredded, his hair tousled and bloody. And still he made her heart pound. Reaching the edge of the pools, he climbed in. “You mustn’t use your powers in here. This is a holy cavern, one that must be held in the utmost of sanctity.”
She watched him move closer to her nakedness. A heat consumed her body, pulling her toward him as he tried to explain.
“It is like that of a great cathedral to humans, the Vatican if you must. The elements are held in the highest esteem to witches. It is where witches derive their powers and travelers are healed.”
He was out of breath, his wounds turning a foamy white as the water swallowed them up. Stopping a few feet from him, she watched him gaze at her breasts. Giselle made no attempt to cover herself.
He smiled. “Little Witch—you—you’re beautiful.” She felt heat spread on her cheeks.
He reached out to touch her when she noticed him look at his hands. He looked up the length of his arms, then pulled back in retreat. “My ugliness must surely repel you, but it was a necessity. The healing pool will turn these wounds into scars.”
“The healing pool?”
“Yes, you’re standing in it. This is not water. It’s a mineral bath that had taken centuries to fill. The limestone and stalagmite stones excrete oils with special healing powers known only to our kind. I’ve been in caves all across the south tending to my injuries. It’s a slow process but I’m healing.” He looked at the water more intently. “But—I don’t recall the pools quite so clear before.”
Giselle knew her tears had purified the pools. Did she deplete its power or enforce it? “Is that why I felt renewed when I got into the water?”
“I would imagine so.”
She looked away in shame, unable to meet his eyes. “What in the world would I have to recover from?”
He stepped closer, inches from her. “Look at me.”
She slowly turned her head, meeting his eyes.
“You saved my life,” he whispered.
The raw emotion in his voice was more than she could bear. Her body responded with a tremor, a whoosh of raw urgency, as her skin prickled with the tingling sensation of desire. Reaching out to him, he pulled back. “If you don’t touch me, Julien—I swear I’ll combust. Please don’t turn away from me. Your wounds don’t repel me. They only prove your greatness.”
He slowly shook his head no as he reached up, touching the side of his marred face. “I cannot. I will not have you look into this face for your first time.”
“Please.” She approached him, slowly. “For the first time in my virginal existence my body is begging for relief.” He stood frozen when she pressed her breasts against his chest. He flinched and pulled away. Walking out of the pool, Julien said nothing.
Tears stung her eyes as rejection balled up in her chest, the pain so real, she felt it burn her. Bereft and void of pleasure, Giselle felt numb. Watching him walk away, she noticed him glance down at his body. Swiftly turning to face her, his expression was one of wonderment, then horror, as he placed his hand over his chest. His torso and chest were healed completely. No cuts, scabs or scars. His other wounds remained, except for where she pressed her own body to his. Rushing towards her, he stared at her breasts. He shouted, “No! No, please. You mustn’t!” He stopped within a few feet of her, breathless and afraid to touch her.
Giselle slowly glanced down at her breasts. She wore Julien’s wounds. Every abrasion. Every gash.
“Undo this immediately.” He pleaded.
She smiled. “I don’t know how. And even if I did, I wouldn’t.”

Available today at http://www.evernightpublishing.com/a-late-summer-bloom-by-cherrie-mack/

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