WIP it Real Good: Romantic fantasy author Jennifer Ivy Walker + giveaway

My new WIP is a novel about a sullen, solitary, chivalrous knight and his impossible love for a Viking princess who will be forced to marry a man she loathes. As her personal royal guard, he teaches her weaponry and equestrian skills, battling a horde of invading pirates to defend her beloved kingdom like a Valkyrie shield maiden of Nordic lore.

Snippet:

The Viking Princess of Finistère

He loved watching her long red hair billow in the briny wind, sheathed sword strapped at her slender hip, black cloak unfurling like enormous swan wings of a Valkyrie shield maiden. Marivée, her fleet footed gray Andalusian, flew across the heathered moors, the horse’s incredible speed a sheer, thrilling delight to the free spirited, flame haired, fire hearted Gabrielle.

The Wild Rose and the Sea Raven Book One
by Jennifer Ivy Walker
September 5, 2022
Genre: Fantasy/Medieval Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
ISBN: 978-1-5092-4568-0 Paperback
ISBN: 978-1-5092-4569-7 Digital
ASIN: B0B8XNMYBS
Number of pages: 377
Word Count: 111,565
Cover Artist: Rae Monet
Mirror, mirror on the lake. Reveal the path the queen will take.

In this dark fairy tale adaptation of a medieval French legend, Issylte must flee the wicked queen, finding shelter with a fairy witch who teaches her the verdant magic of the forest.

Fate leads her to the otherworldly realm of the Lady of the Lake and the Elves of Avalon, where she must choose between her life as a healer or fight to save her ravaged kingdom.

Tristan of Lyonesse is a Knight of the Round Table who must overcome the horrors of his past and defend his king or lose everything. When he becomes a warrior of the Tribe of Dana, a gift of Druidic magic might hold the key he seeks.

Haunted and hunted. Entwined by fate. Can their passion and power prevail?

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Excerpt 1 from “The Wild Rose and the Sea Raven”

He opened the brilliant blue eyes that she’d seen in the vision.

As she gazed into them, the earth tilted. Her heart raced; her bearings were lost. In the depths of his eyes, she glimpsed a fountain in a forest. The turquoise waters of the ocean. An underground well encased by sacred stones. She, the forest fairy, was immersed in the blue waters of the warrior’s eyes, the waves emanating from him flowing through her, cleansing her. Beckoning her.

In Tristan’s eyes, Issylte glimpsed a black bird—a sea raven—soaring over an open sea, hovering now before her. A small dove fluttered in her breast, called forth from her soul. White wings unfurled as she took flight, rising into the azure sky alongside the black seabird—-floating together through the diaphanous clouds scattered across the vast ocean.

In the breadth of an instant, Issylte was bound to this warrior, the Blue Knight of Cornwall, as if fate had indeed entwined them. Through the windows of his eyes, she peered into his soul, her own blending with his, as if they were the forest and the ocean, encircled now within the three layers of protective stones, the holy trinity of sacred elements of the Goddess.

About the Author:
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Enthralled with legends of medieval knights and ladies, dark fairy tales and fantasies about Druids, wizards and magic, Jennifer Ivy Walker always dreamed of becoming a writer. She fell in love with French in junior high school, continuing her study of the language throughout college, eventually becoming a high school teacher and college professor of French.

As a high school teacher, she took her students every year to the annual French competition, where they performed a play she had written, "Yseult la Belle et Tristan la Bête"--an imaginative blend of the medieval French legend of "Tristan et Yseult" and the fairy tale "Beauty and the Beast", enhanced with fantasy elements of a Celtic fairy and a wicked witch.

Her debut novel, "The Wild Rose and the Sea Raven"--the first of a trilogy-- is a blend of her love for medieval legends, the romantic French language, and paranormal fantasy. It is a retelling of the medieval French romance of "Tristan et Yseult", interwoven with Arthurian myth, dark fairy tales from the enchanted Forest of Brocéliande, and otherworldly elements such as Avalonian Elves, Druids, forest fairies and magic.

Explore her realm of Medieval French Fantasy. She hopes her novels will enchant you.

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A paranormal romance, dark fantasy adaptation of the medieval legend of Tristan and Isolde, blended with Arthurian myth, Druids, Avalonian Elves, magic, and French fairy tales from the enchanted forest of Brocéliande.

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#paranormalromance #medievalromance #medievalfantasy #vikings #tristanandisolde #mythsandlegends #arthurianlegend #steamyromance #medievalfrenchfantasy

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Excerpt: Shadow of the Shapeshifter (Book One of the Vanquish Trilogy) by David Lee Stone

Shadow of the Shapeshifter (Book One of the Vanquish Trilogy)
by David Lee Stone
March 31, 2022
YA Fantasy, Fantasy
Two strangers in the wrong place at the worst possible time…

….a lone assassin prepared to do the dirtiest of jobs…

…and a guard sentry determined to stop him.

A dark enemy is about to rise in Illmoor, something even more chaotic and twisted than the citizens themselves. Step forward Enoch Dwellings, master sleuth, who boasts a reputation built entirely on an intricate web of carefully calculated lies. Together with his hapless but increasingly inept assistant, Doctor Wheredad (no medical training whatsoever), he will do anything it takes to solve a crime that might actually end up costing him more than his own life.

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PROLOGUE
‘I don’t like this,’ the traveller whispered to his friend. ‘I don’t like this at all.’

Having been caught short of common sense in the wilderness north of Crust, they’d been delighted to discover a dilapidated coaching inn amid the fierce woodlands. However, their delight had soon changed to dubious apprehension when the place turned out to be full of strangely inhospitable locals. They could forgive the sniggering dwarves at the corner table and the odd looks from the group of farmers huddled beside the bar, but there was something seriously amiss with the hooded man who sat next to the fire, rhythmically cracking his jaw, not to mention the deeply lugubrious innkeeper hulking behind the bar who was quite clearly two teeth short of a beaver. To make matters worse, there was now a silent yet unsubtle exchange running between the two, albeit from far ends of the room.

‘I bet it’s about us,’ said the first traveller, licking his trembling lips. ‘Did you see that bit where the innkeeper walked his two fingers along the bar top? That might be code for “hitchhikers”…’

The second traveller rolled his eyes.

‘Oh, don’t be so paranoid,’ he said, smiling nervously.

‘I’m not being paranoid – why aren’t they just speaking to each other, like normal folk?’

‘Perhaps they don’t want the farmers listening in.’

‘Ha! I doubt that. Look: the bloke beside the fire just ran a finger under his jaw – ‘sa death signal, that! I just knew it was a bad idea to come in here! I mean; what kind of place is open at nearly three o’clock in the morning...?’

‘Go, then!’

‘Aren’t you coming?’

‘Nope: I’m far too tired to go on, just now.’

Time passed. One by one, the farmers began to drink up and head out into the early darkness. They were followed by the dwarves, who were all the worse for drink. Eventually, the inn became quiet, with only a crackle from the fireplace to hold back the silence.

‘Let’s get out of here; please,’ whispered the first traveller, anxiety creeping into his voice.

‘And go where? There probably isn’t another inn for miles, at least not one that’s open! Besides, we haven’t even finished our drinks...’

The traveller stared down at the tankards.

‘I don’t like this ale, anyway,’ he muttered. ‘It tastes funny. I tell you, this place is knee-deep in the bad stuff…’

The man beside the fireplace abruptly folded his arms, then seemed to change his mind, and reached up to caress his jutting jaw.

The first traveller leaned close to his friend.

‘You’re not telling me he’s balanced,’ he whispered.

‘Why, just because he’s not running over here to engage us in conversation?’

‘No, because he’s wearing a hood and playing with his jawbone: that’s proper mental.’

His friend gave a dispassionate shrug.

‘Look, I’m cold, I’m hungry, and I’ll be damned if I’m walking through the woods for another six miles. I’m staying here and that’s that!’

‘Fine,’ snapped the traveller, snatching up his backpack and clambering to his feet. ‘Well, just so you know, the innkeeper has dried blood all down the back of his coat: I saw it as I ordered the drinks...’

The traveller slung on his pack and departed. When the door had slammed behind him, his friend made a disgruntled face and took another large swig of ale: it did taste funny, he had to admit.

The clock struck three. As the last of its chimes sounded throughout, the door of the inn creaked open, and a thin, spindly man with bulbous eyes and a strangely active tongue sidled his way in.

‘We’ve got it, massster,’ he spat, apparently addressing the hooded man. ‘It’sssss in the yard.’ That said, he hurried outside again.

The traveller looked on in a not-looking-on sort of way as the stranger beside the fire got carefully to his feet and followed.

‘Open up the back,’ the stranger called, as he passed the table. ‘I’ll give them a hand.’

‘Right you are,’ the innkeeper shouted after him, stomping off into the dark recesses of the inn.

Then, there was silence.

As the room’s enormous fire crackled away, the traveller – now totally alone in the bar – began to feel very uncomfortable.

‘Maybe it’s an ale delivery or something,’ he said to himself, but aloud, so the room didn’t seem quite so menacing. ‘Yeah, that’ll be it: an ale delivery.’

Then it happened: a terrible scream, a cry of pain that pierced the silence of the inn and nearly caused the traveller to bite clean through his tongue. He jumped to his feet.

‘What the hell was that?’ he gasped, glancing around at the empty room. There was still no sign of the innkeeper.

He quickly snatched up his backpack, left an overly generous tip on the table and made his way to the door, but he hadn’t gone more than ten steps when a deep, booming voice said:

‘And where do you think you’re going?’

The innkeeper had appeared at the bar, his spindly associate standing beside him.

‘I - er - thought I might head off…’ the traveller said with a forced smile, sweat beginning to bead on his brow.

‘Oh, you did, did you?’

‘Er...yes: I’m afraid so. It’s getting late. Goodnight!’

There was a ‘click’ from behind him, and the traveller spun around: the hooded stranger from the fireplace had re-entered the inn and was lowering a bar across the door.

‘Wh-what are you doing? What is this?’

He made to step around the man, then thought better of it and turned back to the innkeeper.

‘What’s going on here?’

The innkeeper smiled, displaying a grim formation of broken teeth, but neither he nor his snake-like companion spoke a word.

‘LET-ME-OUT!’ said the traveller, gritting his teeth, partly to show some mustard but mainly because it stopped his jaw from shaking. ‘I’m going home, do you hear me? I don’t belong here!’

‘Oh, we know that,’ whispered the hooded man, putting a hand on the traveller’s shoulder. ‘But tonight, for us, is a very important night, when something we’ve planned for a very long time has come to pass.’

‘W-what’s that got to do with me?’

‘Nothing. It’s got nothing at all to do with you, but when your friend left earlier, he did so at a very inopportune moment...and he saw someone that he shouldn’t have seen. He was in the wrong place at the worst possible time...as are you.’

The traveller’s eyes filled with tears, and his lips began to tremble.

‘B-but I’m not g-going to tell anyone…’

‘Not good enough. Besides,’ the stranger said, removing his hood. ‘You’ve seen my face.’

The traveller stepped back, his jaw dropping. ‘B-b-but I don’t understand: aren’t you Viscount-‘

There was a sudden, sickening thud and then...there was silence.

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About the Author:
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Between 1998 and 2016, David wrote fantasy and YA books for some of the biggest publishers in the world. These included The Illmoor Chronicles (for Disney and Hodder), Gladiator Boy and Undead Ed (for Hodder and Penguin), Davey Swag and Outcasts (for Hodder). His books have been converted into audio works for BBC Worldwide and Random House and translated into fifteen different languages by companies including Sony in Japan. David’s short stories have also appeared in a variety of anthologies, including the celebrated Knights of Madness (with Terry Pratchett, Tom Sharpe, etc) for Orbit and Penguin, edited by the late and great veteran fantasy anthologist, Peter Haining. David has also written review columns for Interzone and SFX and fictional histories for Games Workshop and their Warhammer universe.

Fantasy Author Cate Pearce: Adding Layers of Danger to the story + giveaway

Layers of Danger

When I was building the world for Traitors of the Black Crown, it was important to me that my protagonists Raena and Aven didn’t have a relationship filled with unnecessary conflict. One of the things I can’t stand in romance plotlines is when the two characters keep shying away from being together, when they are clearly interested in one another. It gives you that sense that the writer is creating obstacles to their happiness on purpose and can pull you out of the story. That being said, there are consequences to rushing too fast, and we see those play out (minor spoiler!) in the second book of the series, Defenders of the Black Crown.

I also wanted to keep the focus on the hurdles of their relationship limited to external factors, not conflict between them. Raena and Aven are young, attractive, and available. From their perspective, why shouldn't they be together? But the world they live in has more than one reason, hence the "layers of danger".

In Raena’s home kingdom of Candor, she pretends to be Sir Rowan, a man. If it were revealed that she was a woman, she would be imprisoned or put to death for it. But when Raena and Aven fall in love, this danger is extended to Aven for knowing the truth and not revealing it. We learn it’s possible that their love puts both women in danger of grave consequences.

Additionally, their stature and position complicates things. As Sir Rowan, Raena is a Knight without much authority or renown. Aven, a duchess, is common-born. Even if they choose to have a relationship, they would be outcasts in multiple kingdoms. In Candor, the lack of Aven’s “noble blood” would be the issue. In East Shore, where Aven is a duchess, she may not be punished harshly but her citizens would be displeased with the pairing.

All of these layers add elements to their romance that go beyond the typical pining, misunderstandings, and conflict resolution that usually constitute a romantic subplot. There is constantly an element of looming risk.

In Chapter 13, Raena and Aven are beginning to recognize the clear signs of attraction growing between them. Raena reflects on what it might mean for her, in this excerpt:

Without a word, Aven stepped forward, taking Raena’s arm in her hands. Aven inspected the site where Raena had been gashed, pulling at the cloth sleeve.

“It’s not as bad as it seemed,”Aven whispered, “but still needs to be dressed. I’ll get a clean cloth."

Before Aven could set to her task, Raena grabbed hold of her hands. Their eyes locked, and Raena whispered something she meant very deeply. “I am glad I was there, to protect you.”

Aven’s eyes narrowed. “What were you doing, away from your own camp?”

The pause between them was unnatural. Aven’s countenance was curious and open. The weight seemed enough to shift the very air, giving Raena a chill. They were staring, breathing in tandem, connected in a magical pulse. Raena didn’t understand what she had said or done to ignite it, but she recognized the blatant fire. She knew she didn’t have to explain or give any answer, at all.

Aven didn’t wait longer than a few seconds. She turned away, leaving Raena feeling breathless and exposed. Had the men around them noticed the air thick with heavy glances between the knight and the Duchess? If they had noticed, would they punish Raena for it? In Candor, the knight would be held accountable. Raena had not been able to bring herself to ask anyone how such a pairing would be treated in East Shore, as she felt it would ring too suspicious.

“We should prepare to leave this camp, or we risk another raiding party,” Guon said, kneeled over another bandit. “Go on and make yourself useful, Rowan.”

Social standing and nobility status are overarching themes in Traitors. Therefore, the trials of the romance between Raena and Aven run parallel to the main plot. Raena’s alias as “Sir Rowan” protects her and allows her to move about the world on her quest to avenge her family. But Raena’s adoration for her duchess jeopardizes her self-appointed purpose, as well as both of their lives. The reader feels the graduated tension as the characters drive the story forward, until it all comes together at the end.

You can currently find Traitors and expect a sequel, Defenders of the Black Crown, releasing in September of 2022. Additionally, Cate Pearce has contributed another sapphic love story to Elixir: Stories of Hope and Healing from Hansen House, available January 2022.

Traitors of the Black Crown
by Cate Pearce

September 22, 2021

Publisher: Hansen House

Cover Artist: Elizabeth Jeannel
Genres: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Medieval
Three women will betray the black crown. A Knight. A Duchess. A Queen.

Raena Schinen narrowly escaped when the Queen’s guard murdered her entire family. If Raena’s survival is exposed, she’ll be next. For fifteen years Raena has hidden as a male Knight, “Sir Rowan”, consumed by her vengeful desire to assassinate the Queen.

The moment Raena is close enough to exact her revenge, she is unexpectedly exiled to a foreign land. There she serves the common-born Duchess Aven Colby, whose suspicious kinship with the Queen further threatens Raena’s delicate secrets.

Just as they become united in a common goal to curb a looming invasion, unexpected heat and romance blossoms between “Sir Rowan” and Aven. The peril demands they set out on a journey to form clandestine political alliances, risking the Queen’s wrath, and drawing Raena and Aven closer together.

But no one in the kingdom could have imagined the sinister foe rising from below the surface. In order to save themselves and those they love, Raena, Aven, and the Queen must recognize who are the oppressors and who will unite against the Black Crown.

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CHAPTER ONE
RAENA’S SPRING
“Knights of Hawk’s Keep. Come with me, you’re next.”

Raena and Finn stood from the wooden bench and left behind their weapons and armor. Clad in fighting pads over their tunics, they followed the man into a sitting room. The humble space held nothing but five chairs and was lit by candle sconces on the stone walls.

“Sit.” The man gestured.

Finn and Raena’s chairs scraped the stone floor as they settled into them.

Raena studied the man as he paused to look through a scroll bearing the Prince’s mark. Like most elder men of Candor, he had chestnut hair to his shoulders and a clean-shaven face. Raena thought his countenance was pleasant, though his skin was marked with deep crimson blemishes as if wine had soaked into it. He wore a decorative silk tunic of emerald and gold, the colors of House Payton; colors of the Queen’s house. It made Raena’s chest clench.

The man spoke with a low timbre. “You two are the only knights from Hawk’s Keep? I thought Lord Sylas was sending three.”

“Aye, we are the only two,” Raena answered. “I am Sir Rowan, son of Brande. This is Sir Finley, son of Wain. Sir Cames was the third, but he fell from a horse yesterday and has broken his arm.” Raena took care to deepen her voice and speak with authority, as she had practiced. There was an art and science to passing as the man she claimed to be, and confidence made all the difference. She disliked the notion that she may appear arrogant upon a first introduction, but better to be represented as an arrogant man than to reveal her secret.

“I see,” the man grumbled, “did he at least come with Lord Sylas, to spectate the events today?”

Raena glanced at Finn, whose eyes narrowed with concern.

“No, sir,” Finn said. “He was told to stay in the tents and rest. He was given several teas of nightflower from the healers.”

“Hmm. Very well, but the Prince will be informed,” the man retorted. “Let's begin. I'm called Sir Han'gahan, I'm a personal guard and knight to Queen Zarana and Prince Zander. I'll be explaining the events of the Knight's Trials to you, and I'll also be getting your history so we may tell it to the crowd."

"Our history?" Finn asked, scratching at the russet stubble that coated his cheeks.

"Aye," Han'gahan nodded, "there will be the greatest crowd you've ever seen, probably the greatest crowd ever assembled in all six kingdoms. The Prince wants every knight to have a story to excite the spectators. You should tell me all your achievements so I may share the details the Prince prefers. He is rather particular, as this is the first Knight’s Trial he’s ever conducted.”

Raena resisted the urge to look again at her friend Finn at the mention of sharing “everything”. She felt a ball of worry growing inside her gut, clenching her insides.

“Alright, both of you are a bit young,” Han’gahan said. “How long have you been knights for Sylas?”

“Two years,” Finn replied. “We are the same age, twenty-three.”

Han’gahan shrugged. “As I thought, you are barely men. Well, it might be a short tale of your conquests, as we haven’t seen war in Candor since you were likely born. But we’ll do our best. Let’s start with you, Finley, since you are apt to sharing. Was your father a hero of the Equinox battles?”

Finn rubbed his hairy face again, an anxious tic. “Not particularly, no. He was a guard for Hawk’s Keep, so he stayed and defended it from any chance of invasion by Ediva. He would have fought for Candor, if he’d been needed in the legions.”

“Hmm,” Han’gahan grunted. “Well, Ediva didn’t make it that far into Candor’s borders since the soldiers held them off at the Calam mountains, didn’t they? That’s all right though, lad. Anything else your father did, of note?”

Finn shook his head.

“Very well,” Han’gahan said. “How about your own notable achievements, what have you done as a knight? Have you killed any bandits or…whatever you do, in Hawk’s Keep?”

“We have seen bandits and the forest-raiders; the Ruvians,” Finn bit his lip. “I haven’t killed any, no. They are usually scared away, back into the pines. We do train for war, spar, and fight one another. We learn about the kingdoms and the famous battles of the Equinox.”

“As all knights do,” Han’gahan muttered. “Maybe you hunt, then? Have you killed anything at all?”

Finn shrugged. “I’ve killed boars.”

Raena grew restless with Finn’s simple humility. “We have a demonstration, sir. Every year Lord Sylas hosts a festival and we display our skill for combat. It’s swordsmanship, poleaxe defense, and archery. Finn, er, Sir Finley, has taken second prize. Many knights compete from a variety of Candor’s noble families.”

“There you go, lad,” Han’gahan clapped. “We can use that. Let’s talk about you then, Rowan. You’re a Boen-looking thing, aren’t you? Pardon me for saying it, but I haven’t seen golden hair and hairless pink flesh like yours in twenty years or more. You must have some Boen ancestors, long ago?”

Raena straightened up and raised her chin. She had never been in a position to tell her false origin story alone. Lord Sylas had always introduced her as Rowan to visitors, and answered if they had questions about her heritage. Telling it now to one of the Queen’s knights, no less. “Perhaps. I’m a bastard, so there’s no telling.”

Han’gahan smiled. “Aye, nothing wrong with being a bastard. Your mother must’ve been Boenish. I’ve met your father, Brande, and he is as dark as any Calamytan. What a dog then, to go after another woman’s bed. I know he fought in the Equinox, so we will mention that when we speak of you. How about you? I don’t suppose you’ve killed bandits, or anything bigger than boars?”

Raena shook her head, “I haven’t. I trained as a squire under Lord Sylas and was knighted by him, the same as Finn.” Those were easy words to say, as all of them were true, at least.

Han’gahan waved his hand. “No matter. Perhaps you boys can prove yourselves in the Knight’s Trial today and have something to start telling tales about.”

“Rowan is being humble, sir,” Finn said. “He shared that I was second in the knight’s demonstrations, but he neglected to mention that he was first.”

About the Author:

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Cate Pearce was homeschooled on a Christmas tree farm in rural Western Washington. At age eight she was fed-up with a plotline on Star Trek TNG so she wrote her own episodes on a Commodore 64. She has been a writer ever since, but only recently decided to share that information with you and the world.

Cate has two children which she delivered at-home with the assistance of saintly midwives. Cate is unapologetic in her fervor for feminism, queerness, and Christian faith. Aside from writing, her "day job" is to prepare organizations for response and recovery from catastrophic disasters. She lives in the Pacific Northwest.

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Excerpt: Rumpled Rhett (Once Upon a Duchy Book 3) by Rachel Rossano + giveaway

Rumpled Rhett (Once Upon a Duchy Book 3)
by Rachel Rossano
August 31, 2021
Genre: Romantic Medieval Fairytale Retelling
Rhett is a Huntsman, skilled, secretive, and mysterious. A wanted man, he spends his life on the move. His sole retreat is the outskirts of an isolated village in the northern reaches of the duchies. Then one fall, he arrives to find his hovel burned to the ground and the village reeve offering a new arrangement.

Catherine knows her father, the village miller, only cares about what she can bring him. The latest scheme of marrying her to the Huntsman is not the miller’s first attempt to sell her. Cat’s dread wanes when she meets the Huntsman. There is something honorable about him, and he treats her with respect, unlike her father or brother. Perhaps she can escape her father’s influence forever.

Despite his suspicions, Rhett agrees to the deal and frees Cat from her father’s tyranny, at least for a time. But can he protect her when enemies from his past catch up to him?

Inspired by Rumpelstiltskin.

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Excerpt
Rhett
“Ah, the nomad returns!” Duggan raised a half-filled beer mug to take a swig. A rotund man, the reeve’s belly sagged over his belt as he got to his feet.

The few other patrons warily quaffed the last of their drinks and made their way to the door. All of them avoided even glancing my way. I didn’t care. I had business with the man before me, not them.

“My house burned down.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I narrowed my gaze on Duggan’s flushed features.

“It went up in flames one night.” Duggan huffed out a dramatic sigh before draining the last of his beer. “We tried to stop the blaze, but—” He shrugged one of his plump shoulders beneath his fur-lined robe.

“We had an agreement. I protect the village, and in exchange, I get land and its tending while I am away.” I let the facts and my glowering silence sink through his thick skull.

He owed me. The village owed me. My reputation as the Huntsman kept most thieves and bandits from targeting the community. Only the foolish and foolhardy occasionally attempted to harass me, but I swiftly enlightened them.

In return, I had requested only two things. I wished to live at peace for a few months every winter, and I needed someone to guard my shelter when I was gone the rest of the year.

“We tried to save it,” he protested mildly.

“And didn’t bother to rebuild it,” I pointed out. Frost-tipped grass had peeked through the ash heaps. Months had passed since the fire by the looks of things.

“We considered it.” His voice was even and calm, but he continued to avoid looking at me. “But we needed the wood to expand the mill and—”

“The tavern.”

“We had none left to rebuild your house as well. So, we decided to work out a better situation.”

I let my silence speak for me. I had been content with my situation. It suited me well.

True, I hadn’t been particularly fond of the hovel I had been allotted, but it had been enough. I valued its attributes: warmth, isolation on the edge of the village, and comfort enough for my winterly retreat from my reputation.

“Come, let me show you.” He motioned toward the square outside.

“No.” He had planned this for all I knew, and the village’s enforcers awaited me beyond the expensive new tavern windows. “First, you explain.”

Duggan pursed his mouth like a spoiled child who had just been reprimanded by his mother.

“Explain.”

“We all discussed it…asked ourselves what a man needs…decided there were a few ways to improve things…”

I cleared my throat.

“So, we took it upon ourselves to—”

“The point?” My voice lowered and warned of my waning patience.

“We have chosen to give you land, a house, and a wife.” Duggan turned and banged his mug on the bar top. “Another!” he bellowed.

“A wife?” I stared at him in complete confusion. “How did you come to the conclusion that I needed a wife?”

“A house without a wife is empty.”

Exactly how I like it, I thought. But Duggan continued.

“She can cook for you, clean for you, and fill the house with comforts that make it a home. There is nothing like coming home to a warm meal on the table, hot mulled wine in one’s cup, and the pleasures of a woman’s company to keep one content.”

The image in my head was much less appealing—chatter, demands for expensive accouterments, expectations of me being home on time, and…children. My mind caught on the last thought. I did need children to carry on my family name and the traditions of the huntsman. Distant memories of my mother’s stories impressing upon me the importance of my father’s lineage and the bloodline I carried pressed in on me. Shaking free from their hold, I grimaced. That didn’t mean I had to do it now or even ever.

“Don’t discount it until you have tried it, Huntsman. A woman’s touch is what you need.”

“No. I need a secure place to rest.”

Duggan shouted his approval. “A house, a wife, some land, it is about time you settled down.”

“I have no intention of…”

Duggan was already out the tavern door and yelling to someone across the village square. “Master Billier! The Huntsman has returned. Bring your daughter to the meeting house.”

My lip curled of its own accord. Billier was the town miller, and fat, thanks to his position running the only mill for miles around. That didn’t stop the man from being despicable. I avoided him when I could and wrestled my temper and conscience every time I couldn’t. I wanted nothing to do with any scheme in which he was involved. Last year he had claimed that his daughter could spin straw into gold in an effort to sell her off to a traveling nobleman. I wouldn’t entrust any living thing into his care, not even a cat, and I cherished no love for the furry creatures, thanks to their effect on my eyes and nose.

Duggan beckoned from outside. “Come, Huntsman. Billier fetches his daughter to the meeting house. She’s as fair and biddable a lass as any other.”

A woman was far less deserving of Billier’s care than a cat. I decided to allow the farce to continue a bit longer, the better to understand their intentions. Surreptitiously checking my access to my weapons, I followed the reeve in the direction of the dark meeting hall.

As Duggan rushed about lighting a fire in the hearth and a few of the lanterns against the walls, I staked out the corner farthest from the door. The reeve had only lit the corner nearest the door before it opened to admit the greasy-haired miller and his daughter.

She was small. Petite and barely a handful of feet high, she could fit beneath one of my arms, and I could carry her off without much effort. Not that I would. However, there was a dignity, a solidness to her tiny frame that made her father keep his distance despite his evident eagerness to sell her assets.

“She cooks, cleans, and keeps house well enough for a girl. Has a fair enough figure, so I am told. Come on, girl, show off your wares.” Billier shoved his daughter forward so that she stumbled.

Only a brief glare in her father’s direction betrayed her anger. Still, she obeyed. Back straight and shoulders tight, she walked with confidence despite a slight limp. Perhaps she had an injured hip, knee…no. I watched for a few more steps. Something was wrong with her foot, and walking on it pained her, causing a slight hitch in her breathing. Her betrayal of the weakness was so minute that I had almost missed it.

My attention swung to her father. Had he injured her? It would fit his malicious personality. What he could not bully, he humiliated. One look at his daughter’s tightly wound body, and it was easy to imagine him pressuring her to do something solely for his benefit. But what was he getting out of her marrying me?

“Leave,” I demanded.

“What? If she doesn’t please you—” Billier sputtered.

“You two.” I jerked my chin at the two men. “Leave.”

“Come.” Duggan caught Billier’s arm. “Best let him talk to her.”

Billier’s glare at his daughter intensified as the reeve guided him toward the door outside. “You mess this up, girl, and—” Whatever he intended went unsaid as Duggan closed the door behind the two of them with a sharp tug.

The girl relaxed infinitesimally. However, she also eyed me warily and oriented herself to duck behind a table should I become more clearly dangerous.

“What is your name?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her about the village before, but then I rarely spent any time in the village.

“Catherine, but everyone calls me Cat.”

I laughed. It came out as a rusty sound, as though I didn’t do it often, which I didn’t.

Her eyes narrowed. “My name isn’t funny.”

“No, but the irony is.” Then I realized by her blank expression that I would need to explain. “Cats make me sick, the four-legged variety that is.”

She didn’t smile. Instead, she simply nodded. “Then it is good I am not that kind of cat.”

“It is.”

Silence descended between us. Faintly through the door behind her, we could hear her father raging. My concern for Cat’s safety grew. I didn’t think Billier was capable of murder, but one never could tell by looking at a person. Also, accidental murders happened, like beating someone to death in a fit of rage.

About the Author
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Rachel Rossano is a happily married mother of three children. She spends her days teaching, mothering, and keeping the chaos at bay. After the little ones are in bed, she immerses herself in the fantasy worlds of her books. Tales of romance, adventure, and virtue set in a medieval fantasy world are her preference, but she also writes speculative fantasy and a bit of science fiction.

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What the Flockery? MM Fantasy Author Lee Colgin + giveaway

Top five crazy facts about Lee:

1) My real job is an actual circus. No, really. You can google it. Circus Stella, named after my dog. Over the years I’ve performed trapeze, aerial silk, fire-eating, stilt-walking, juggling, contortion, and my favorite: dog trainer!

2) I have six rescued dogs, and they all work with me in the show. Three have been featured in a commercial for a bank of all things.

3) I’m an introvert and very shy in social situations, but no one believes me because I fake extrovert like a boss. I’ve no problem picking up a microphone and speaking to hundreds of strangers, but I need anxiety meds to attend your kid’s birthday party at the mini-golf place.

4) I’ve been on The Ellen Show. Twice. #notsosubtlebrag

5) And possible my best quality for last. Drum roll please. I know all the words to like every Dolly Parton song ever written. Come at me, bro.

Across the Sapphire Sea: Immortal Jewels Volume II: (MM Medieval Fantasy Romance)

by Lee Colgin

April 14, 2021

256 pages

Love at first… death. “Do it. Kill him for me. Take me with you.”

Elias—plucked from indentured servitude at nineteen and turned into a vampire—is caught in a downward spiraling relationship with his possessive sire.

Valeri—a damaged soul who guards his secrets and his fledgling alike—balances on a razor’s edge of good and evil.

In a race to save one of their own from a deadly sickness, Valeri and Elias lead an unlikely team on a dangerous voyage to pry secrets from an ancient group of vampires. But these vampires are hidden for a reason, and they’ve been known to kill trespassers.

The closer the team comes to discovering the truth, the wider the rift between Elias and Valeri grows—until Elias doubts the relationship can be saved.

Will they find a cure in time? Can Elias and Valeri make it to the other side together, or will ancient secrets shatter their bond forever?

***

Across the Sapphire Sea is an MM Paranormal romance packed with adventure, a steamy love story, and danger at every turn. This is book two of a series and contains its own story and HEA with no cliffhanger, but author recommends reading Beneath the Opal Arc first for the most enjoyment. Novel contains scenes intended for mature readers, full warnings inside.

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Excerpt:
The stranger rose and stalked forward.

Elias fought a threatening wave of panic, forced himself steady, and cleared his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Valeri.” He drew a blade from his belt. “Yours?”

“Elias.” Had he avoided the whip only to be stabbed to death?

But no, Valeri reached high, took Elias’s wrists in one hand, and cut the rope with the other. When his arms tumbled free, he lost his balance and landed with a thump against Valeri’s chest.

“I’ve got you.” Valeri held him with gentle hands. Hands that just slaughtered Elias’s cruel master. In cold blood. In front of witnesses.

Numbness in Elias’s arms gave way to pins and needles, but he found his feet. He made to pull away.

Valeri tightened his hold. “Not yet, you’ll catch a chill.” He unclasped his dark wool cloak and brought it around from his shoulders to Elias’s. He refastened the clasp and smoothed the thick fabric along Elias’s collar bones. “Better.”

“Thank you,” my lord lingered on the tip of his tongue, but Elias didn’t want a new master, so he dared use his proper name instead, “Valeri.”

“You’re welcome.” Valeri raised a brow as if he recognized the bold choice Elias had made. “Elias.” The syllables rolled from his lips slowly. They stared at one another, eyes locked, until Elias gave in and lowered his gaze.

The whip was tucked into Valeri’s belt. So they’d be keeping it, then.

Elias threw a glance over his shoulder. As he suspected, the other bondslaves had stopped their fieldwork and stood gawking at the events transpiring before them. What would they think of a stranger murdering one of their overlords? Did they know Elias was complicit? They couldn’t have heard the exchange, but the whole thing would look suspicious.

“What if we’re caught?” asked Elias, his focus back on Valeri.

“We won’t be.” Confidence dripped from Valeri’s tone like blood from the jowls of a predator.

“What happens now?”

“We leave.”

Elias’s heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to follow. “And go where?”

Valeri gave a casual shrug. “Wherever we want. But for now, to my sanctuary because you’re hungry and should eat.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It is.”

Valeri wanted to feed him. Elias wouldn’t say no; it was too late for that anyway. And they couldn’t stay there.

“You’re free,” Valeri murmured, taking Elias firmly by the arm.

Elias wished he could believe him, but even though it wasn’t true, he’d no urge to argue.

Catch up on the series with

Beneath the Opal Arc: Immortal Jewels Volume I: (MM Medieval Fantasy Romance)

by Lee Colgin

November 12, 2020

243 pages

The love story of a witch who saves the world and the vampire who saves him.

As the battle rages around him, Laurence stops to witness a witch casting a powerful magical arc. Werewolves race past, running for cover, but Laurence can't tear his gaze from the vulnerable spellcaster.

When Remy is injured, he doesn't expect a vampire to come to his rescue. What is he to Laurence if not dinner? But Laurence carries him to safety, ensures he gets treatment, and protects him from a pack of angry werewolves.

No one knows how long the magical arc will hold. Frightened by what might happen when it falls, Remy needs to escape the frontlines and find a safe haven before his own people hunt him down for treason.

As sparks fly between the unlikely pair, can they find solace in love, or will the supernatural war claim two more victims?

Beneath the Opal Arc
~A vulnerable witch lost on enemy soil
~A lonely vampire fighting to protect his charge
~A love story neither of them saw coming

Beneath the Opal Arc is an MM Paranormal Romance packed with adventure, a steamy love story, and danger at every turn. This novel contains violence and scenes intended for mature readers. This is book one of a series, and though some threads are left for book two, there is no cliffhanger. These characters get their HEA with another adventure yet to come!

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Lee Colgin has loved vampires since she read Dracula on a hot, sunny beach at 13 years old. She lives in North Carolina with lots of dogs and her husband. No, he's not a vampire, but she loves him anyway. Lee likes to workout so she can eat the maximum amount of cookies with her pizza. Ask her how much she can bench press.

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E-set of Immortal Jewels series so far (2 ebooks)

Enter the giveaway HERE for your chance to win!

Welcome to the 2019 Hawthorn Moon Blog Tour + giveaway

Welcome to the 2019 Hawthorn Moon Blog Tour

If you’re looking for some summer reading, you’ve come to the right place! My Hawthorn Moon blog tour is a great time to catch up on the latest titles, find out what’s coming soon, and get a behind-the-scenes peek at the characters and the series. 

Come check out what’s new and have a look at the coming attractions from Gail Z. Martin and Larry N. Martin!

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I Smell Sheep is spotlighting The Splintered Crown, the first in a brand new series by Larry N. Martin because... 

Look. At. That. Cover! Love it!

The Splintered Crown: A Tankards and Heroes Novel

by Larry N. Martin

April 25, 2019

200 pages

A medieval fantasy with a party of adventurers all ready to make a name for themselves and earn some gold.

Tankards and Heroes is set in the city of Kortufan, where spies, assassins, mercenaries, arms dealers, rebels, smugglers, and informants do dirty deals dirt cheap.

The Poxy Dragon is a rough bar outside the worst part of the medieval Silk Road. It takes serious courage just to walk into the place, not only from its reputation but because of the rough clientele, questionable food, awful beer, and abysmal hygiene. Lots of taverns in Kortufan are home to ruffians and illegal dealings, but the Poxy Dragon is the proving ground for heroes - with a cemetery out back for the ones who don’t make the cut.

Lady Leota, the resident demigoddess at the Poxy Dragon, sends would-be heroes to different realms on quests. Once committed, there is no turning back, and if they want their reward, every party member must return through the portal – dead or alive.

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The Splintered Crown
Excerpt One:
“Got any ale that doesn’t taste like donkey piss?”

The stranger’s companion laughed heartily at his friend’s joke and didn’t seem to notice that the regulars at the bar took a step away from them. The bard in the back stopped his song mid-stanza.

“Don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Tom, the bartender, replied. “That’s a step up. Used to taste like donkey’s balls. And before that—”

“Gods and cuttlefish, man! How about your whiskey then? I just want something that doesn’t taste as bad going down as it might coming back up, if you know what I mean,” the stranger said.

He looked like the sort of man who would find his way to the Poxy Dragon tavern—big, tall,
inked, and mean as a wolverine. His shoulder-length dark hair was greasy and tangled, and his long beard had braids and brass beads in it, like that made him a pirate. Tattoos in black and red wound around both arms and peeked from the throat of his tunic. One, a black snake, slithered its way up his bicep. Tom figured that was as good a name as any for the stranger, Snake. Not like it mattered. He wouldn’t be back.

Snake’s buddy stood half a head shorter and maybe twenty pounds lighter, probably his
lookout and lackey, Tom thought. No tattoos. Reddish blond hair and a beard to match, he looked at least a decade younger than Snake. “Red” would do.

“Suit yourself.” Tom poured a glass of the house whiskey and slid it to Snake. He kept his expression unreadable, although if Snake and Red knew what was good for them, they’d have taken note of the way the regulars leaned in to watch but didn’t get any closer.

Snake tossed off the shot and thumped his chest like he’d proven something. Red hooted, as if taking the drink was an accomplishment. Tom and the others waited for the reaction.

Three…two…one….

“What…what…” Snake tried to say something else, but between the way he gasped for air,
lips working like a fish out of water, and the tears running down his face from the potent liquor, he was in too much distress.

“What did you give him?” Red demanded. “You poisoned him!” His face grew as red as his
hair, and he looked as if he intended to go over the bar at Tom.

Tom wasn’t worried. Red probably weighed less than the sack of cabbages in the kitchen.

“Should I dig a hole out back?” Thaddeus had wandered in at the first sounds of distress. The old undertaker had his favorite shovel, Bessie, slung over one shoulder. Mud caked his pants and dirt streaked his face and hands. Tufts of white hair stuck out over his nearly bald head and peeked from inside his ears. He looked at Tom with great excitement, anticipating the task.

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Read a copy of Gail Z. Martin's Deadly Curiosities urban fantasy short story Catspaw for free: https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/UAjd6 

Check out Gail Z. Martin's epic fantasy Ascendant Kingdoms short story Reconciling Memory here for free: https://claims.prolificworks.com/free/JQorl

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