Tag: romance
Cover Design for Alice and the Warden by Autumn Rain
Alice had lost her sense of self. She had fallen in with a stereotypical bad boy named Damon, and as the mistakes heaped higher the more trapped she felt in the rebellious life she led. However, when Damon pushed circumstances to their breaking point, and Alice fell into legal troubles that there was no escape from. A chance encounter with the local Warden began a process of self-discovery for Alice, as she she asked herself the question, “What does it mean to have dignity?”
Base image created with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added in Canva.
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Cover Design for The Black Magus by Autumn Rain
What happens when the world’s most powerful magus falls in love?
Ainmire has long since lost his connection with his humanity, existing as more of a shadow that looms over the Order of the Magi, focused more on doing what was necessary rather than on what he wanted. However, after the Order gave the orders for the assassination of the Red Magus, Ainmire has a chance encounter with the Red Magus’s beautiful and vivacious daughter, Lily … and changes his mind. He refuses to follow through with the assassination, and instead pursues Lily with the intent of marriage, rediscovering the human side of himself along the way.
It doesn’t matter how many enemies he makes with his change of goals, because no one comes even close to matching his ability to wield magic. After all, who’s going to stop him?
Base image generated with Stable Diffusion, and everything else added using Canva.
Redesigning the covers for my novels.
Still feeling rather insecure about the process, particularly since I’m not as visually motivated as everyone else, so I don’t really know what it is about covers that scream, “Buy me now!” (Same way that I don’t really understand why arranging food in a fancy way makes people think it tastes better). But I’m perfectly aware that covers are what initially hook people into cracking open a book, so I’m doing my best to learn.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Runemaster 3.1
Malachi was all that anyone ever talked about. Lyra spent the next couple of days listening as women buzzed about him, excitedly conversing about how the Runemaster was helping to heal the sick, cure bad habits, and comfort the broken hearted. Lyra still hadn’t seen him since he had asked her to repair the hem of his cloak, and the smallest part of her was starting to feel left out.
She was among the broken hearted, wasn’t she? Why didn’t he care enough to provide his services to her?
Lyra knew that he had tried, and she had chased him away. Otherwise, perhaps she would be contributing her two cents about Malachi, instead of silently listening to everyone else talk about him. Why had she done that?
He must have taken it personally, she thought to herself. She had been rude and dismissive with him every time they had crossed paths, and after she had gone out of her way to drop off the cloak at the boarding house rather than wait for him to pick it up himself, he had good reason to think that she was avoiding him. Rather, because she had been avoiding him.
Lyra was beginning to regret it.
What was it about Malachi that everyone liked? It hurt to be left out – at least, that was what she told herself. She imagined that he was constantly surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans, all laughing and hugging him as they thanked him for his latest spell, and her chest grew tighter. What would have happened if she had let him stay when he had asked? What if she had listened to his reassuring voice and let him cast his runes for her sake instead of acting so defensive … then she could have found out what it was that everyone was so enamored with, instead of being left to guess.
But despite her growing curiosity, she was also extremely anxious about running into him again, certain that she had given him good reason to dislike her.
Another evening came around, and Lyra found herself working late in the dressmaker shop, sewing lace onto a pretty blue dress by the light of a lamp. She hated walking home in the dark, but with the garment due to be picked up early the next day, she didn’t have the luxury of waiting until the morrow. The stars were out by the time she stepped outside and locked the door behind her. She walked down the empty street and looked up at the pale moon, then despite feeling silly over it, she couldn’t help but wonder if Malachi was looking up at that moment as well.
Lyra halted when she thought that she had seen a flicker of movement beyond the line of trees, but after staring for a moment, she decided that it was simply a trick of her eyes. But her nerves were now shot. Her mind had begun to race with fears, and she was helpless to make it stop. She picked up the pace, determined to make it home as quickly as possible, wishing that her house wasn’t so close to the forest. There was no one around to judge her for hurrying.
Unexpectedly, there was a small cough, and her head snapped around to find Malachi crouched a few feet away just off the side of the road, almost completely hidden in the darkness. He made no move to approach her, but merely sat quietly and calmly, as if in a deep reverie.
“The stars are rather lovely tonight,” he said softly.
She swallowed hard. “W-What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying to hide her fear. The last thing she wanted was for Malachi to know how much she was trembling, so she took a step back, hoping that the darkness would shield her from his gaze.
He tilted his head, but Lyra couldn’t see his expression as he replied, “Perhaps I am here to show you a star that you haven’t yet seen.”
She took another step back, wishing to get home and lock herself inside.
Why was she always fleeing from him?
“I’ve seen all the stars,” Lyra replied, her voice quivering. “I’m sorry Master, but I’m on my way home. I just … was surprised by you, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” Malachi’s tone was almost teasing, and Lyra’s eyes widened in surprise. Had he been playing with her? Her hands were sweating and she had to remind herself to breathe.
“Yes …” she hesitated, then asked timidly, “Do you like the trim on your cloak?” She felt about ready to faint now, wondering why she had spoken the question out loud when she was so terrified of a negative response – when she was already so close to the edge of what she could handle. She felt compelled to cover up her nervousness, and began babbling, “I put in a lot of extra care when I sewed it on. I hope that my stitching is adequate … and that you feel that you got your money’s worth.”
She watched as the stranger tilted his head again, the pale moonlight illuminating his features in an otherworldly light. He said nothing as he looked at her, then finally asked, “May I read your fortune, Miss Lyra?”
Lyra wanted to say “no” and be done with him, but instead she found herself stepping forward and nodding. She had spent a couple of days listening to everyone else gush about how wonderful Master Malachi was, and she thought that if she rejected him once again, she would be permanently left out. She wanted to see the Runemaster’s work for herself.
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Runemaster 2.1
Lyra sorted through the dressmaker’s orders to place the day’s highest priorities on top as she listened to the rhythmic snipping of Mrs. Elwood’s shears, and the thought crossed her mind that she liked those quiet busy moments best of all. She supposed that one day – assuming she didn’t get married first – the responsibility of sales and customer support would fall on her once she opened her own shop, and she hoped that she would feel more equipped to handle the responsibility in the future. For the moment, she liked being the assistant, without having to think too hard about anything.
“Hello! How may I help you?” Mrs. Elwood called out cheerily, and Lyra carefully tucked the orders into a slot on the top of their “business desk,” as they liked to call it.
“I seem to have snagged the hem of my cloak,” a deep yet all too familiar voice answered, and Lyra’s head snapped around, her heart leaping up into her throat.
“Allow me to take a look, Master,” Mrs. Elwood replied in a voice that was far more saccharine than Lyra thought becoming of a widowed woman. She avoided looking at Malachi, instead quietly making her way towards the backroom in what she hoped was a subtle get-away, knowing all the while that he had already seen her. “Oh yes, the stitching has been pulled out, and there’s a hole torn in the fabric as well. Lyra! Come here, please.”
Lyra’s heart sank, but she turned around and forced a smile. “Good morning, Master Malachi,” she echoed Mrs. Elwood’s tone, though she couldn’t keep the edge of sarcasm at bay.
“Would you find trimming to match Master Malachi’s cloak? We could easily patch the hole for you, but I think that the best solution would be to put a new hem on entirely. The repair would be entirely invisible.”
“I trust your expert judgment, madame.” Malachi smiled back at Mrs. Elwood, and Lyra swallowed down the embarrassment at having to silently watch a Runemaster flirt with her employer.
“Mrs. Elwood,” Lyra ventured timidly, “You have a fitting in two hours, and the dress has yet to be basted.”
“You’ll have to excuse me, Master, but I must get back to my work. Lyra here will assist you, and I assure you that she is very bright and talented. Your cloak will be better than new.” Mrs. Elwood smiled broadly, then retreated back to her cutting table to continue working.
Lyra examined the damaged hem, then murmured, “The tailor is just down the street, Master, if you would feel more comfortable in an establishment that is more suited to male clientele.”
“Hmm … but you don’t work over there, do you.” He grinned, and Lyra couldn’t stop the flush that colored her cheeks.
“I don’t know what I did to gain your attention, Master,” she replied with false politeness, “but I have no intention of responding to your advances. It would be in your better interests to move on.”
“You misunderstand!” Malachi chuckled as he removed his cloak and handed it to Lyra. “I am not pursuing you romantically at all.”
“And yet here you are,” Lyra replied tersely. She took the cloak and retreated to the back room, to search through their supplies to make the repair. She couldn’t quite place the fabric, but it was some sort of warm velveteen and Lyra compulsively touched it to her cheek before she stopped herself. Her training as a dressmaker took over then, and she knew exactly which trim she wanted to line the bottom with. She retrieved it and hurried out to seek Malachi’s approval for the project that was blossoming in her mind.
“We would need to order in matching fabric,” she said as soon as she was back in the Runemaster’s presence, “but I think that this would be a beautiful accent that would far surpass an invisible repair.” She presented the roll of trim to him, which consisted of thick metallic threads expertly tied in an swirl of knots and cords. It had taken Lyra’s breath away when she had first unboxed it, and she had been waiting for the project that would give her the opportunity to work with it. Somehow she doubted that the cost would be a problem for Master Malachi.
He took it from her hands and studied it closely, rubbing the end between his fingers and holding it up to the light. “You’re correct, Lyra. This would be an elegant addition to my cloak … assuming it holds up well in my travels.”
“I assure you that the metal threads are quite strong, and they would hold up well against the dirt and mud of the road,” she almost purred, subconsciously slipping into the same mannerisms that Mrs. Elwood used to drive a big sale. The idea of spending the next hour stitching that trim onto the soft fabric of Malachi’s cloak was too tantalizing to let slip away.
“It might also inspire bandits,” Malachi replied, then gave Lyra a sly wink. “But I would be a fool to turn away the magic that you are offering me. Yes, Lyra, I will order this trim for the repair.”
“Allow me to measure out the length of your hem, and I will write up your receipt for you. The work will be done this afternoon.” Lyra couldn’t suppress the smile that bubbled out from the center of her chest. She had taken the job at the dressmaker’s purely to make ends meet after her father had died, but the process and materials had grown on her in the weeks since, and for the first time she felt deeply excited about this project.
It didn’t matter that it was for Master Malachi, she told herself. It didn’t matter that he had visited their shop specifically for her, either. She repeated that to herself after he had left, and she worked intently on his cloak, carefully applying the trim with her neatest stitches, savoring the soft fabric that rested in her hands.
It didn’t matter at all.
Thank you for sharing my work!
Runemaster 1.2
The gossip about Master Malachi continued through the rest of the day. Through her silent assistance in Mrs. Elwood’s work, Lyra felt that she had learned everything there was to know about the mysterious stranger that had wandered into their town. He was a Runemaster, skilled but soft spoken, trading his services in divination and healing for very little. “A man of the Old Gods who understood the challenges of modern life,” a particularly chittery client had gushed, before describing how he had told her that a blue dress would bring her good fortune, so she had rushed right over to book a fitting. Lyra wasn’t certain how legitimate he sounded, but everyone who met him was buzzing with excitement. Her imagination wanted to insist that she had felt something special about him during the brief period that she had spoken to him, but she forced the thought away. She hadn’t felt anything at all, she told herself repeatedly. He had seemed very ordinary.
The day had lasted forever.
Lyra was grateful when Mrs. Elwood informed her to close up the shop, then left her to put the supplies away and sweep the floor on her own. She wondered if Mrs. Elwood was eagerly seeking out Master Malachi, and amused herself with wondering if her employer would ask how to make her business more profitable, or about matters of love.
Once she was finished and locked the doors behind her, Lyra stopped by the butcher to pick up a small cut of beef for dinner, then continued home. She hoped that this Master Malachi character would leave soon, so that her sleepy little town could continue on as it had always been.
She stopped short and found herself staring at the front porch of her home. There he was, sitting on the top step with his strawberry blonde hair catching the late afternoon sun, his white hands contrasting sharply against the deep black of his clothing. The fabric had to have a nap to it like velvet, Lyra found herself thinking, to stay that dark against the light. Their eyes met, but he made no indication of moving.
Lyra carefully suppressed the groan that attempted to escape her lips, then forced her feet to start moving again. When she was close enough to begin a conversation, she awkwardly began, “I’m sorry about the last night. I didn’t mean to, um … be rude.”
He stood and silently descended the stairs to approach her. She found herself blushing, and focused her gaze down on his leather boots, her grip tightening on her basket.
“It would appear, Miss Lyra, that no one knows much about you outside of your name and occupation,” he said.
She took in a sharp breath, and looked up at his face. “You asked about me?”
“I asked about the first house on the eastern road.” He turned and looked back at the front door. “I merely commented that it looked empty.”
Lyra scowled. “Somehow I doubt that you could only learn my name and occupation,” she grumbled, then skirted around him to continue up her front steps. Discovering that he had already knew about her put a sour taste in her mouth, and she was ready to lock herself inside again.
“I also heard about a recent death,” he answered quietly, and Lyra froze. “An unexpected accident.”
Her throat tightened painfully, so she took in a deep breath then croaked, “That’s everything. There’s nothing else.”
“I thought that we had gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday,” Malachi said. “I came to apologize for frightening you.”
“You didn’t … mention anything about that to anyone … did you?” She turned to face him again.
“Not a word.” He smiled.
“Please don’t talk about me.” Lyra tried to wrap her arms around herself, but remembered that she was still holding the basket as it thumped against her side. She moved awkwardly, trying to play off the mistake in a nonchalant manner, but her face burned with embarrassment. Get hold of yourself, she silently reprimanded herself, then opened the door. Malachi grabbed it to prevent her from shutting herself inside.
“Lyra,” he said, then let go of the door and stepped back with his hands up. “Allow me to divine your future.”
Lyra couldn’t stop the skeptical expression that crossed her face. “In the same way that you knew about the Taylors?”
Malachi chuckled sheepishly. “Sometimes it’s beneficial to leave certain facts to the imagination. But for you, I fully intend to use real magic.”
“I don’t know.” She frowned, then shook her head. “No. I’d rather not.”
“Very well.” He stepped back once more. “I’m certain that we’ll meet again.”
Lyra quickly went inside, shutting and locking the door behind her. She hoped that Malachi wasn’t planning on staying in town for very long.
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Runemaster – 1.1
Lyra sat on the front steps of her home, her hands cupped around a lukewarm mug with her father’s old flannel shirt draped over her shoulders. Despite the creeping chill of Autumn, the crickets still sang to the darkening sky, and she listened with her eyes half closed as her mind slipped into the solace of emptiness.
The crunch of gravel under a heavy boot cut sharply through the serenity, and jolted Lyra back into herself. She stood and peered at the line of trees, her grip tightening on her mug as a man dressed head to toe in black materialized out of the shadows, and for a moment he was completely unaware of her as he walked down the road, his hand loosely holding a rope tied to a plodding donkey, both of them with the downcast gaze of a long and weary day. Then the man stopped, seemingly taken aback as he lowered his hood, revealing strawberry blonde hair that hung loose around his neck, and he looked directly at Lyra.
A strange sensation filled her chest. She felt like she could see through this stranger and into the depths of his inner self in just one glance, though she was certain that she had never seen the likes of him before. He felt eerily familiar, and it made her uncomfortable. Lyra unconsciously reached to clasp her father’s shirt more tightly around her neck.
“Hello!” he called out towards her. “Have I reached Leavenworth?”
“The outskirts, yes,” Lyra answered stiffly, nodding towards the road. “Keep going, and you’ll reach the town proper.”
“Thank you,” the stranger replied, but gave no indication of moving.
As the silence stretched on, she began to think that they were locked in some sort of stand-off, and she could almost sense the stranger taking in her appearance. She became acutely aware of how disheveled she was, with her brown hair tied back into a loose braid, and the dirt still packed under her fingernails from digging in her garden earlier. She hadn’t checked her reflection, but she was certain that there was an embarrassing smear of dirt across her forehead. Suddenly, all she wanted was to get away.
“The Taylors take in lodgers. They’ll feed you, too,” Lyra said tersely, then turned to open her front door. In her hurry, she let it fall shut behind her with a slam, and she quickly slid the bolt across before taking in a deep breath.
Perhaps she had overreacted.
When her father had died, she felt like her security had been ripped away from her. It was impossible to not cave into anxiety and flee the first moment something unexpected popped up. She took a sip from her mug and made a face when she realized that her tea had gone cold, then walked to the kitchen to pour it out and wash the mug.
She decided that it would be a good idea to turn in early that night. There was another busy day of work waiting for her on the morrow, and there was a good chance of her rest being disrupted by bad dreams.
Lyra was focused on taking Mrs. Gambee’s measurements, jotting them down with a pencil after scribbling a quick star in the corner of the paper to indicate that a couple of inches needed to be added to the waist and hip numbers before cutting the dress pattern. She only half-listened as the older woman gossiped with Mrs Elwood, the dressmaker, in between browsing through fabric swatches.
“He arrived last night, I’m told, and immediately asked for the Taylors,” Mrs. Gambee practically hummed, “Though when they asked how he knew about them, he smiled in a way that was quite secretive.”
“Do you think he divined it, then?” Mrs. Elwood replied.
“He might have!” Mrs. Gambee giggled. “There’s no other explanation!”
Lyra clenched her jaw for a moment, then quietly asked if Mrs. Gambee would please hold her arm out while she worked with the measuring tape.
“What did you say his name was again?” Mrs. Elwood asked, increasingly interested in the topic.
“Master Malachi, I do believe. I haven’t met him yet, but Ellie Jones told me that he has the most gorgeous orange hair she has ever seen.”
Lyra’s heart skipped a beat, but she bit the inside of her cheek as she set down her paper and pencil, then carefully folded up the measuring tape. She was so distracted that she almost didn’t hear Mrs. Elwood say, “Lyra dear, if you’re done, go grab the french lace for me,” but she caught herself and quickly replied, ‘Yes ma’am,’ then left for the back room.
Master Malachi?
She paused to put her hand against her forehead, feeling oddly faint for reasons she couldn’t explain.
Master?
It wasn’t her fault for not knowing his station. It wasn’t her fault if she left a bad first impression of the people of Leavenworth either, considering that he had popped out of the gloam so unexpectedly when she had been trying to enjoy a moment to herself. He should have known better than to stop and stare.
Master?
Lyra had to squeeze her eyes shut as she took in a deep breath. She was getting herself worked up again, and it wouldn’t do her any good to have the townsfolk thinking that she was losing herself to hysteria. She was going to keep it together, no matter what it took. At least on the outside.
She found the french lace samples and plastered a smile on her face, returning to the two women with the determination to be as helpful and efficient in her work as she could be. She was going to make it through the day, and she was going to forget about her short encounter with Master Malachi as quickly as she could. She wasn’t going to dwell. She wasn’t going to feel foolish.
She was going to pretend to be normal, like everyone else.
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Christian Erotica
Mary (Biblical name) lives in a small town with her parents, but she doesn’t know what she’s doing with her life despite the fact that she’s, like, 27 and should have at least gone to college or worked a full-time job by that point.
Kevin (non-Biblical name) has a cute butt, his own company, and visits his grandma for dinner every Sunday, but is religiously confused. He takes an interest in Mary and flirts with her at the grocery store. She likes him, but is deeply concerned that he doesn’t attend church.
Mary attends church and refers to them as her “family.” The pastor belittles her for being seen in public with a non-member. Mary sobs in shame. Mary’s parents warn her that she’s going down a dangerous path. Mary questions God.
In a moment of weakness, Mary goes on a date with Kevin. They have a really good time, and she agrees to go back to his place. They kiss. They kiss more. Kevin takes off his shirt. Mary thinks he’s really hot.
Mary is about to remove her own clothing, when she instead starts to think about Jesus. Mary sobs in shame. Mary explains to Kevin about how much Jesus loves them, and how disappointed He is in their behavior. Kevin also sobs in shame.
The next day, Kevin is converted to Christianity and begins to attend church.
They talk about maybe getting married in ten years, after Mary flakes around a lot then panics about missing her window of fertility. Kevin is inexplicably okay with the wasted time.
Wide shot of a church with the choir singing in the distance, while Mary serves jam at the church social. Everyone is smiling.
~Fin~
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Pagan marriage advice
As a romance author, I keep an eye on the trends for relationship/marriage advice. Most of it comes from Christian sources.
I once listened into a social audio conversation that was ostensibly about secular marriage, but the general consensus of the group was that, if you truly loved someone, you would go away so they could focus on their career. If I had a smarmy salesperson personality, I would have taken the opportunity to pitch my novels to them as romantic escapism, because that is some hardcore dedication to loneliness.
Anyway
I have a unique perspective, because while I grew up Christian, I married as a Pagan.
The overwhelming impression that I get from Christian sources is that the women are too picky when it comes to men. I guess they aren’t getting hitched because no one is good enough.
Once upon a time, during my early days of marriage, someone pulled out his Bible and read a lot of verses about the sort of wife I was supposed to be. Heck if I can remember much about it, but by the time he started reading about how I was supposed to earn extra money to help with the household finances, I knew beyond a doubt that I would have to develop a serious cocaine habit in order to have that much energy. I have never come close to being a perfect biblical wife.
Thank god I don’t believe in the Bible. (har har)
But lets go back even farther, to when I was a Christian teenager. This was when I really began to shine as a misfit, because when my church leaders advised me to date around a lot and aim to marry as close to perfect as I could, but I was more like, “Husbands are human beings, and marriage isn’t like buying a car.”
Yeah, I was bullied rather badly in church. Can’t imagine why /sarcasm.
But apparently, plenty of other women took that sort of advice to heart, and now the Christians are moaning that they aren’t getting married at all.
I think my husband is pretty great. I won’t go into slathering specifics, but he’s wickedly smart, he helps take care of me, and he plays with the kids — I can’t imagine wanting to be married to anyone else. He also doesn’t fit any of those bullet point lists that I was given in church during my teen years.
He cusses, he loves a good whisky, and he doesn’t believe in God.
Oh no!
But I fall short, too.
I go to bed with dirty dishes still in the sink. 😀
So we’re a couple of heathens who take our children to the park on Sunday instead of church. We’re happy.
Marriage isn’t shopping for a car, and you shouldn’t go out with a list of requirements, make comparisons, then pick the one with the most cup holders. Marriage is building a deep bond with another human being. A connection between souls.
And stop blaming women for being what you raised them to be.
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Good Enough
Despite being a self-described “hopeless romantic,” I also have a hopeless pragmatic streak as well — don’t be afraid to settle for Good Enough. Because face it, there’s no such thing as perfect.
Good Enough is hard to come by in this modern age.
For starters, finding someone who isn’t going to up and bail on you in a society that actively encourages breakups and divorces is a feat in and of itself. Consider yourself lucky.
Honestly, that was one aspect of marriage that I didn’t expect. When my husband and I hit financial difficulties, people I barely knew started telling me to leave him — as if somehow the job market was going to magically embrace me with a lucrative career as the result. Uhhh, no. That was 2011. Everything was burning. And I liked having someone to endure with.
Don’t discredit how much it means to have someone you can always count on, no matter what.
So, at this point, you’re probably wondering what inspired me to write this. Is there trouble in paradise? Dark secrets behind the scenes?
Always. 😉
I don’t frequently watch youtube videos, but I do occasionally read over the recommended titles when I venture over to the site in my search of knowledge. Some people kill brain cells by huffing aerosols, but I do it by peaking at what the mainstream is doing.
I saw this:
At this point, I’m pretty convinced that therapists consider a no-strings-attached booty call to be the only “healthy” relationship, but that’s a different topic.
I chortled when I saw that recommended video, because I know that all of my fictional couples would be labeled with things like, “toxic,” or “codependent.” Heck, I’m currently working on a story that begins with an unapologetic kidnapping, so clearly, appealing to modern values is not something I concern myself with much (they’re all Christian-based anyway, and I’m not Christian). Rather, I don’t think that the path to happiness is so straight and narrow as we were led to believe.
I write my own philosophies.
By Autumn Rain 