Friday Spotlight: Tmonique Stephens on Egyptian Gods
We have author Tmonique Stephens stepping under the spotlight this week to tell us about her new book, Eternity. She will also shed some light on why she chose to write about Egyptian Gods. My personal theory on this would be that Egyptian Gods hold some serious hotness potential but Tmonique is probably a little deeper than that. Let’s find out, shall we?
Why did I choose to write about the Egyptian Gods?
About five years ago, I decided I wanted to write a series. I’ve always loved paranormal romances, vampires, werewolves, the fey, shape shifters, novels about other worlds inhabited with different species. Naturally, I gravitated to what I enjoyed reading, but I was tired of the usual books populating the genre. Fangs, claws and fur, oh my. I considered writing about the Greek Gods, but I had recently started reading a popular series about the Greeks and I felt I had no new ideas to offer.
Then I thought of the Egyptian Gods. Ancient Egypt is one of the most well documented cultures. Although the Egyptian Gods have a wealth of history and folklore, there aren’t many fiction books about them. Their story still remains untold.
With hundreds of deities to choose from, I settled on the four: Nu, mother of the pantheon. SET and Nephythys, estranged spouses and their unwanted son, Anubis. I added two humans, twin brothers Roman and Reign. As their stories unfold, so does the treachery, avarice and lust of the Egyptians gods. I’m having a blast writing discovering these fascinating characters.
Eternity is a story of reincarnation and redemption. Roman Nicolis, a mercenary falls in love with the Elyssian, the wrong woman. He seduces her, taking her virginity and cursing them both. For two thousand years, Roman wanders the earth searching for the only woman he can love. Time and again, Roman finds her, only to lose her horribly. Now, in present day New York City, they meet again. And this is his last chance to get things right.
Curled on his body in the middle of Central Park, Roman let Stella sleep. Holding her wasn’t a hardship as his mind wandered to the future, their future. Foolhardy, definitely, but what else could he do when he held the object of his obsession in his arms?
Remember your promise and let her go.
He stroked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and slid his fingers down her silky cheek. She nuzzled him, turned her face into his palm and kissed him. Every noble intention evaporated like a bead of sizzling water in a hot skillet. Cock rock hard, he had to kiss her, feel her breath on his skin, in his body. In the deserted park, he needed her now.
The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled. He froze. Battle instincts surged to the forefront, screaming for action, instead, he listened to the night surrounding him and waited. Though not a hub of wildlife, the creatures of Central Park were silent. They also waited. Somewhere, nearby, a predator stalked.
He nudged Stella. She stretched, making him aware of every curve and hollow she possessed, and purred, a sexy rumble deep in her throat. Before she could say a word, he cupped her head and pulled her into a quick kiss.
“Shhh, we’re in danger,” he whispered against her lips.
Her head popped up and she eased off him. In the gloom, her frightened eyes met his. “What?” She mouthed.
“We have to get out of here.”
Crouched low, he took her hand, together they crawled along next to the hedge. He looked over. His keen eyesight picked up nothing and no one. So why did the same excitement he used to get before a battle race through his veins? Stella squeezed his hand. Her wide eyes sent him a question he couldn’t answer.
He drew his gun from the small of his back and the silencer from his jacket pocket.
“Roman?” Her voice wavered.
He spared her a glance. “Whatever happens, do exactly as I say. Understand?”
Her head bobbed on her neck.
“Walk beside me, not in front or behind. Got it?”
Not far from the nearest road, they stuck to the trees and away from the open expanse of the Great Lawn.
Leaves crunched behind them. He’d never run from anything in his life. Even before the curse and his immortality, he stood his ground and killed everything in his path. Now, whatever stalked him, stalked her. His senses told him only one lurked in the darkness, but with Stella to protect, he couldn’t risk it.
The Delacorte amphitheater loomed ahead. He guided her into the shadows. Stationed behind a statue, he aimed and watched the route they had just taken. Stella clutched his jacket, her shivering body pressed close.
“There’s someone out there.”
“It could be anyone, ’kids maybe?”
“Maybe.” He agreed purely to reassure her. But as he spoke, one hundred yards away, something peeled away from the shadows of a large tree and charged.
“Stay.” He ordered. Through his jacket, her nails dug into his back. He pulled away, but she wouldn’t let go. He shrugged out of his jacket and advanced. She called to him, begging him to return, but the blood rushing in his ears drown out her voice. He rushed forward and focused on the attacking foe.
Wait. He skidded to a halt. He had a shot, but . . . something was wrong. The height was too short. Whoever ran toward him must be a child—or running on all fours. He squinted at the slice of darkness closing the distance between them. The tree coverage ended and speckled moonlight dotted the Great Lawn, uncovering the thing barreling forward. For a split second his mind tried to unravel the impossible nightmare quickly shrinking the distance, before he fired three shots between its widely spaced eyes. It roared and charged faster.
“Run, Stella!” He fired running back to the theater. She hadn’t listened. Instead of running away, she met him. He grabbed her hand and ran, but she couldn’t keep up and the thing behind them closed the distance.
“Is it him, The Strangler?” she shouted breathless.
They ran past The Preserve, rounded a column and then stopped. Shrouded in gloom, the outline of the pond appeared in front of the Belvedere Castle. He didn’t want her to see what chased them, but before he could stop her, she turned. Her scream pierced the night. Yards away, a bellow replied. He jerked her around and shoved. She stumbled and fell into the water.
“Go!” This time, she didn’t fight. For a second, he watched her swim. Then turned in time for claws to dig into his side.
Tmonique’s Bio -
Tmonique Stephens wrote her first novel about a reporter and a hockey player after the U.S. hockey team won gold in the 1980 Olympics. She loves writing flawed characters who reflect the emotional baggage we all carry. She writes complicated stories for complicated people. She loves paranormal and fantasy romances and will read anything about fairies, demons, or angels. She also enjoys Stephen King and Dean Koontz.
She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Creative Writing from City College of New York where she won an English Department Award for her play Tea with Salt in 1987.
She was born in St. Thomas USVI, but she grew up in The Bronx, New York one mile from Yankee Stadium. She loves SyFy and the History channels, and Asian cuisine. But her heart and stomach longs for anything from the Caribbean.
Thanks for visiting, Tmonique. Your excerpt definitely caught my attention.