Blog Tour Guest Blog and Giveaway: Spell Cat by Tara Lain
Vampires and tigers and wolves, oh my! Readers love paranormal romance. Heck, I love paranormal romance. Then why you may ask did it take me eight books to write my first paranormal novel? Truth be told, I adore contemporary romances. I love creating characters that are just slightly larger than life and putting them in complicated and sexy situations. Running off to places where elves and werewolves abound is just not my natural train of thought. Even in my new release, Spell Cat, I cheated a little. Spell Cat is about witches. Not the “learn to do it in the woods” kind but the real paranormals–born as witches. But they live in the modern day. They look like regular people. They do not turn into anything else when the moon is full. Still, they can manipulate energy and control the weather. They can make people see things that aren’t there. So they are like regular people–but better!
In fact, I guess all terrific paranormal romance is just another way of showing us something important about our human condition. Vampires in the hands of great writers like ZA Maxfield and S J Frost reveal the complexities of true devotion when extended to eternity. Great shifter stories like Lynn Lorenz’s Bayou Dreams make us smile at the delights and frustrations of daily life when you have a bit more power than most of us. In Spell Cat, we get to see how excluding any group from our society robs us of richness and steals our own power. So I guess I answered my own question. It took me eight books to figure out that becoming furry is just another way of being different. And a witch may be powerful but love is the greatest power of them all.
Would you like to visit my witchy world of Spell Cat? I’ve posted an excerpt below.
And now for a CONTEST. Enter the Magic at Midnight Blog Tour Contest celebrating the release of Spell Cat on March 20th and Tara’s new contemporary fantasy, Sinders and Ash, on April 1.
- Leave a comment here with your EMAIL and you’ll be entered to win one of two $10. GCs in drawings on March 25th and April 10th.
- Want to win a poster of the gorgeous Spell Cat cover? Want to win a Volley Balls T-Shirt? Or other fun prizes? Go over to and enter the contest. There are lots of questions to answer and lots of fun prizes like drawstring backpacks, notepads, mirror compacts. We’ll have a bunch of winners so you have a good chance of getting a prize!
Tara Lain never met a beautiful boy she didn’t love – at least on paper. A writer of erotic romance, mostly ménage and male/male, Tara loves all her characters, but especially her handsome heroes. A lifelong writer of serious non-fiction, Tara only fell in love with EROM in 2009 and, through perseverance and lots of workshops, had the first novel she ever wrote accepted for publication in 2010. She’s now on book six. After an exotic life of travel all over the world and work in television, education and advertising, Tara settled in Southern California with her soul-mate husband and opened her own small marketing business. She paints, collages, and started practicing yoga “way before it was fashionable”. Passionate about diversity, justice, inclusion and new ideas she says on her tombstone it will read, “Yes”.
When Killian Barth, history professor, meets Blaine Genneau, quantum physicist, they ignite their own big bang. But sadly, Killian walks away. He doesn’t do physics professors. In fact, he doesn’t do humans, because Killian is the most powerful male witch in 10 generations and, though gay, he’s expected to save his declining race by reproducing.
He can’t even have sex with Blaine, because he’s been taught that sex with humans depletes his power. But if that’s true, why can young human, Jimmy Janx, dissolve spoons with a thought? Somebody’s a lying witch.
With his powerful cat familiar, Aloysius, on his shoulder, Killian brings the lightning against deceit and greed to save Blaine from danger and prove love is the greatest power of them all.
Available from Loose Id and
Excerpt: Spell Cat by Tara Lain; MM Paranormal Erotic Romance
He looked at the feline, whose head was curved around and practically tucked under his chin. “What the hell. Okay, Al, let’s go.” Since the cat wasn’t budging from around his neck, Killian got up, hugged his mother, and pulled on his jacket against the early spring chill, all with a fur necklace. He grabbed the carrier, heard a soft growl by his ear, and set it down. Okay… Cat three, Killian nothing. “Thank you, Mother. I’m sure I’ll find him very, uh, useful.”
Evangeline trailed him to the foyer of the house where a maid waited to open the door, looking slightly startled at his new accessory. He kissed his mother on the cheek. “So I guess I’ll see you Saturday.”
“No guessing about it, young witch. It will be a grand occasion. I’m already discussing details of the wedding with Nicholas Karonoff.”
He sighed. Better not to argue. Wrapping his jacket and fur cat a bit tighter around him, he stepped out into the early spring chill and headed for the car. His mother’s house — his house actually — sat on a grand street in New York. He preferred the bohemian flavor of the neighborhoods near the college, but still, all these trees coming into leaf, shimmering in the streetlights, made the place look like fairyland.
He glanced down at Al, whose head rested on the shoulder of his jacket. “Good thing I brought the car, cat, or you’d be demonstrating your flying skills on the back of my motorcycle.” He opened the door of the electric sports car and slid in. The cat didn’t slip an inch. “Don’t think this car is an indication of my lifestyle. I just happen to be a fool for the occasional technological toy. You’ll find the rest of my accoutrements pretty sparse.”
Killian wasn’t sure what that meant, but he didn’t comment. “So, what do you eat? Shall I stop and get you some kitty kibbles?”
Oookay, that meaning was pretty clear. “I’ve got some canned salmon. Will that do?”
He swore the damned cat smiled.
Driving into SoHo, where his apartment was, even the hum of the little car couldn’t keep his mind from the sorry state of his life. The stupid cat purred in his ear. “Glad you’ve got something to purr about.” Powers that be, the whole universe was closing in. He wanted a life. Every cell ached to be loved. He yearned for someone like… No. He just wanted someone to love him. And he was signing away that chance on a marriage license. It would be great to be noble, but — face it — he wasn’t. He was no Witch Master. Why couldn’t he have been born human? What kind of prankster gods gave him more power than any other witch? He felt like the lead performer in a giant cosmic joke.
He pulled into the very expensive parking garage — his other indulgence — got out, and locked the car in its stall beside the motorcycle. He walked the block to the old brownstone, the top floor of which he called home. The mail was boring. Okay, cat, check out your new digs. He opened the apartment door.
Aloysius leaped off his shoulder, hit the floor with a soft thud, and began exploring. Make yourself at home. He closed the door. “I know. I told you, it’s not much.” Of course, it was perfectly decorated, though in flea market finds and amusing hand-me-downs from friends. So what? It interested him to see what he could do, living without any of the resources to which he had title. No one understood it. Maybe he didn’t either.
He walked into the small bedroom and took off his coat and shoes, stripped off the semigood clothes he’d worn to his mother’s, and pulled on a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a comfy sweater. The cat followed on his heels into the kitchen. “Okay, I know I promised.” Aloysius watched carefully as Killian opened a can of salmon and dumped it in a dish. He started to put the dish on the floor and got one paw crossed over the other and a patient stare. “Oh hell.” He set the dish on the counter. Al hopped up and dug in.
Killian sat on the little chair by the breakfast table. He’d remodeled this kitchen with his own hands, scrounging used subway tile and pieces of granite. He’d only used magic when he couldn’t lift an object or make two pieces fit. And he’d spent a bit extra on the appliances. “So what do you think?” The cat kept eating.
Killian leaned his head against the wall. “What am I going to do, Al? Everyone expects me to do this marriage. I guess it really could mean a lot to my people. My people… Well, you know what I mean. But gods, producing kids with a woman! I don’t swing that way.” He got up and walked down the short hall back into his bedroom. When he looked down, Al was right there.
Killian sat on the edge of the bed. “If you’re supposed to be my familiar, I guess you better know that your witch is a fag. And not a very good one. Can’t really do the job for witchery, but I’m no better at doing the job for myself.” He fell back on the blue bedcover, a bedcover that had hardly seen anyone on it but Killian since he’d gotten it. The cat jumped up and looked at him as if he understood. Okay, he was losing it. But he had to talk to somebody.
“I haven’t ever had a serious relationship. When I was young, my mother managed to scare off any boyfriends I could find, and she wouldn’t let me anywhere near human boys. I guess she was just protecting me, but still, no boyfriends for me. And now, I just get users who think I’m some kind of road to the top of witchery. I hate it so much.” Damn. His eyes blurred. “You’re going to think I’m some kind of witchy wuss.”
The cat walked over and licked his hand. The sandpaper surface tickled his thumb. That did it. When had he last felt even a tiny lick done with true affection? His mother loved him in her way, but she was a Master Witch and cared far more for power and scheming than she ever had for love. She couldn’t understand why he didn’t value the same things. She had carefully selected his father for his good breeding potential, and she’d sent him on his way as soon as she’d shown signs of being pregnant. She’d gotten just what she wanted. The most powerful witch in the world, or at least one of them. Well, no. He guessed she hadn’t wanted a flaming gay witch who would give his last spell to be held by a lover who truly cared for him.
Tears began to drip from his eyes. Hell, what’s the use? He might as well cry. A moan escaped him, and he rolled into a fetal ball. “Oh, Al, I’m so lonely. So very, very lonely.” He cried until he slept from exhaustion.
Aloysius stared at the lean body and the long dark gold hair. He slipped under the man’s arm so he could lie close to his chest and hear his heartbeat.