Morning everyone. My name’s Jianne Carlo and I write sexy, suspenseful romance books.
My sincere thanks to Kirsten for hosting me today.
Today, I’m celebrating my latest release, SOUL DEEP. The tale of the White Wolves, who originate from the region around the Great Lakes, begins in the tiny town of Chabegawn located in Michigan. Chabegawn is entirely fictional, but it’s based on an amalgamation of the small towns I’ve visited over the years.
Mike’s the son of a founding father of the community, and he’s considered local royalty. Melanie is from the very definite ‘wrong’ side of the tracks. Both Melanie and Mike are White Wolves, though neither’s aware of the other’s heritage.
Melanie is a White Wolf spirit healer—a maggishahwi–who hears the last call of a dying soul. She inherited her talent from her grandmother who, unfortunately, died before she could pass on all her knowledge to her granddaughter.
Here’s a scene which explains the three rituals a maggishahwi performs for a dying soul.
In this scene Mike’s brought a black bear cub who’s been mortally wounded into the veterinary practice where Melanie works.
Mike Dorland—carrying a dripping, bloodied beast of unknown species—stood in front of the reception desk. There was no mistaking his distinctive profile, the profile that had star billing in her most lurid fantasies even after all these years. Melanie scooped Clooney to her chest and headed to the waiting room.
The animal wouldn’t make it. She didn’t even have to peek at the dying creature to make that assessment. Its soul had already begun the journey to the other side and had latched on to Melanie’s maggishahwi in a bid for comfort. This aspect of being a spiritual healer tore her heart apart. But never could she deny any living being that last solace.
Before she could voice a greeting, Mike shifted to face her.
“Where’s Doc Glancing?” He barked the question.
Melanie flinched, swallowed, and pointed to the open examination room. “Put him on the table. Doctor Glancing stepped out. He should be back any minute.”
“What’s the matter with you? Do something.” Mike glared at her and strode in the direction of the gurney sitting in the middle of the room.
She needed to get out of his sight to do her duty as a maggishahwi. Melanie cradled the speckled kitten. “I’ll just put Clooney away and be right with you.”
Melanie hurried into the narrow hallway leading to the kennels. When she rounded the bend, she leaned against the wall and opened her senses.
A bear cub, his soul so new to the world she saw only his last imprint— the image of his mother’s dying eyes filled with rage and agony. She couldn’t protect her son. He had watched her die. The cub’s acute pain, anguish, and confusion crashed through her in fainter and fainter waves, like a storm ebbing and then dying on a last, futile gust.
Clooney meowed when the cub’s spirit faded into nothingness. She closed her eyes and recited the ancient blessing passed from one maggishahwi to another, the prayer for his spirit to merge with the earth and multiply. Both mother and cub had been murdered today. Within moments of each other. Melanie willed back the tears and buried her face in the kitten’s soft fur. On autopilot, she kissed Clooney between the ears, tucked him into a temporary crate, and went through the staff entrance to the examination room.
She ducked her chin, gave Mike her back, and wheeled the table with the cub into the hallway. One of the cub’s small paws peeked out from under the sheet, the black claws somehow an obscene contrast to the stark whiteness of the coarse paper. Smoothing a finger over the hard nail, she bowed and recited the prayer for an easy journey to the spirit world.
The three rituals completed—accepting the last call, the blessing, and the prayer—she set about the practical tasks at hand, grateful that the activities required concentration.
Later in the story, Melanie discovers the secret danger of being a maggishahwi—she begins to absorb the pain of the dying souls that call to her. And when one soul’s evil and insane, she becomes comatose.
I hope you enjoyed learning about the maggishahwi. In SOUL DEEP, the legends of the White and Black wolves are explained in more detail.
Two of my books—SINNER & PRYMAL LUST— are FREE on Amazon this month, so please download them! Here are the links:
Once again, much thanks to Kirsten for hosting me SOUL DEEP today.
Genre: Contemporary Paranormal Suspense
Publisher: Hartwood Publishing
Date of Publication: April 7, 2016
Number of pages: 186
Word Count: 82,486
Cover Artist: Georgia Woods
Melanie is a White Wolf spirit healer—a maggishahwi–who hears the last call of a dying soul. She’s loved Mike Dorland forever. But her Cinderella hopes and glass-slipper dreams of a happy ever after with her Prince Charming are shattered the day her father kills Mike’s while driving drunk. Now Mike hates her, and when Mike returns to their home town, she’s both devastated and thrilled.
Mike’s the eldest son of one of the original three founders of the quaint town of Chabegawn, and a half-breed wolf who’s found his mate—Melanie. Mike returns to find the town torn apart by a series of vicious and malicious black bear slayings. Then the town’s beloved, world-famous horse breeder vanishes and his ravaged remains are found.
Melanie’s bent on saving black bear mothers and cubs, and she will risk her life to bait and capture the killers. But Mike will gamble everything to protect his mate.
Download two of Jianne’s other ebooks FREE
Soul Deep Excerpt
“I apologize. I was totally out of line.”
Her heartbeat went into overdrive. Melanie clutched her chest. Anger came to the rescue. She spun around. “Apology not accepted. You were plain mean and nasty. Just because you’re worth a fortune doesn’t give you the right to treat people like that.”
“I only ever apologize once, Melanie. And I never say anything I don’t mean.” Mike folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.
He knew her first name? Doc G. must’ve told him. She fought the fluttery belly quivers that always assailed her in his presence. Jutted the jaw Mama said was too square for any female. “Fine. Apology accepted. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
“Doc G.’s closing up. He says he’ll do the autopsy tomorrow. I’ll be here for it.”
Nooo. What in heck is wrong with Doc G.? Melanie gritted her teeth. Why does Mike want to see the autopsy?
“Do you want to wash up?” Mike angled his head toward the sink to the right. “I’ll drop you home. Doc got a call from Jim Balden. He thinks his mare’s dropping the foal tonight.”
So not what she needed. Or wanted. Mike Dorland driving her to the reservation and seeing the broken-down three-bedroom shack the White family occupied. Poor and proud and shunned, even by the rest of the tribe. Melanie straightened her shoulders. Tough titties. She was what she was and wasn’t nothin’ nohow going to change that.
“I’ll call a cab.” She made to move around him, and he caught her hand and drew close.
He smelled like paradise. Like a warm sea so blue and clear and sparkling it hurt to see when you stared at the glinting waters. Like equatorial sun baking her skin and raising a hot sweat. Like a tropical breeze whipping exotic aphrodisiacs every which way and creaming her sex.
“Little idiot. I bet you intend to walk the fifteen miles. You always did act as if I stunk up your air.”
Had the floor turned liquid? No, her knees had. She grabbed the counter and tried to shake off the thick fingers circling her wrist in a steely but somehow gentle grip. “Stunk up my air?”
“Half-breed not good enough for a full-blooded Cwaatchii? For the daughter of a Ska Awhi? For the granddaughter of Ixota Migziwa?”
His nose was so close she had to blink to get his features in focus.
Her mouth opened. Nothing came out. She licked her suddenly dry lips.
“That’s it.” He picked her up and jammed her against the wall. Her face was level with his. Then he kissed her, and the world turned upside down and inside out. He tasted of all her pumpkin-coach dreams, of all her tortured teenaged visions of knights, rescue, and happy every after, of every single, furtive pleasuring of herself with his image in her head. Smoky, citrusy, and stomach-clenching delicious.
His hold on her firmed. His arm went around her waist, and when he nudged her legs apart, she surrendered. Worked her fingers into the silk of his hair and kissed him back, touching her tongue to his.
About the Author:
Award winning author, Jianne Carlo’s motto is simple: Alpha Me Please.
While strong heroines, exotic locations, and cultural differences are her forte, she goes weak in the knees for bad boys, warriors, and alphas. Send her a man with an attitude and she’ll find the right woman to tame him.
Jianne loves hot and spicy food, stomach-plunging park rides, and is kept on her toes by her Viking husband of thirty-five years, and three, handsome grown sons. Jianne’s a Zumba addict who loves to cook. Her favorite possession is her ‘Robo-stove. There’s nothing she likes more than hearing from readers.