The lovely Daisy Banks is here today to tell us about her gorgeous new book and to enlighten us on a bit of Palmistry!
Thank you so much, April, for helping me celebrate the release of my latest book,
Marked for Magic, published by LyricalPress, a Kensington Imprint.
I decided that as palmistry was the initial inspiration for this fantasy romance I’d offer you and the readers a little something on the less well known palmistry marks.
Some of the lines of the hand in Palmistry
1: Life line
2: Head line
3: Heart line
4: Girdle of Venus
5: Sun line
6: Mercury line
7: Fate line
There is a mark that many writers have on their palms. It is called a writers fork. This can be seen at the end of the head line, which is the middle of the three main lines in your palm.
Chances are if you write fiction or nonfiction, if you do a deal of writing you will have this mark. The fork can be a double or triple line at the end of your head line. If the fork heads down and across toward the edge of your palm, into the lunar mount, then you may well write fantasy of one sort or another.
If you aren’t sure from my description you can see an image of one here.
I’d love to know if any of you have a writer’s fork, do let me know.
The witch mark on Nin’s hand is a curse. She has no magic powers, whatever the lore says. But the village believes. The old crone’s wisdom is to see her banished. Ragged and hungry, she must serve the Mage. Alone in his tower, she is his chattel. But Mage Thabit is not what Nin expected—the bright green eyes and supple form under his cloak are not the stuff of nightmares, and kindness hides in his brusque heart. Thabit senses that Nin is more than she seems, too. When true nightmares haunt the land, it is precisely her elusive powers that might deliver them…
Once she prepared all she’d picked, the gloom could not disguise that the vegetables wouldn’t fit in the small pot. She drummed the table. Even though she’d eaten a few of the carrot slices raw, her stomach clenched. She needed this meal.
She toyed with the idea of calling up to him, but she’d promised not to disturb his work, and his temper certainly burned short. If she didn’t call him, she couldn’t cook, and he’d be angry. Yet chances were if she did call him, he’d be angry, too. By the end of her deliberations, she’d grown angry herself.
She might as well get on with it. I’ve got to have a bigger cauldron!
The door to the stairs creaked on its hinges as she opened it. About to call up, she stilled when his tread sounded at the top of the stone steps.
“You have no need to yell up the stairs.” His voice echoed in the lofty darkness.
“I didn’t.” Was this part of his magic? What else could he do as well as hear what she thought? Only Alicia had ever heard the mind singing, but neither she nor her friend thought the trick was anything but a game. Mind singing couldn’t be magic.
About the author.
Daisy Banks writes sensual and spicy romance in the Historical, Paranormal and Fantasy genres. She is an obsessive writer and her focus is to offer the best tale she can to readers. Daisy is married with two grown up sons. She lives in a converted chapel in Shropshire, England. Antiques and collecting entertain Daisy when she isn’t writing and she occasionally makes a meal that doesn’t stick to the pan.
Daisy Banks Links