Excerpt from BABYFACE FIRE by Nicholas Andrews

SYNOPSIS:

All Loebo wants in life is to lead the best team of adventurers in the kingdom, get filthy rich, and marry the prettiest lady he's ever met. Is that so much to ask? 

But when Loebo and the Chosen Squad set out to rescue his love from her overprotective father, he finds out a bounty has been placed on his head, courtesy of his own grandmother! 

While the Squad tries to unravel this mystery, Loebo comes across a wrestler-turned-adventurer named Bleg, who agrees to protect Loebo from the bounty hunters. But first, Bleg is hired to escort a young woman named Seren to her new job at OWW, Bolognia's premier wrestling league. As Bleg confronts a bitter past with the company's powers-that-be, Loebo finds himself the focal point of the biggest wrestling storyline of the year.

NICHOLAS SAYS:

This passage is part of a chapter that gets into what the daily life is like on the road working for a pro wrestling organization. One of the challenges of writing Babyface Fire was working out the logistics of how a wrestling promotion would operate in a world with no television, planes, or cars. I came up with the idea that they would travel and live together in a caravan, sort of like a traveling circus. 

EXCERPT:

Being in the OWW camp was like staying in some kind of wrestling shantytown. In addition to the workers and security, other personnel traveled the road as well. Some referees stood in the line of the catering wagon behind him, waiting to get their meal from the on-road chefs. In front of a wagon to his right, a blacksmith worked on hammering out a new ring post as several workers did lift training with the smith's weights. To his left, the band was rehearsing entrance songs.

     In addition to Mucus and Ivy, there were other couples as well, some of whom had children that would intermittently run through the camp in innocent play. A seamstress walked arm in arm with one of the horse wranglers, and he also saw Selky stop over to plant a kiss on the cheek of Roach Hanson, the lead singer of the Eclectic Eight. It made him yearn for Alyssa's company, remembering the many times they had strolled hand in hand through the well-kept gardens of the Royal Ward in Foeny.

     Chairs had been set up around a bonfire, and a number of workers congregated there to eat their meal. Loebo recognized 'Mo Tuff, Fawdry Pike and a tag team called the Twilight Feeders, consisting of Marcus Kavian and Ben Torea. Their gimmick was that of a couple of pretty boys who made the ladies swoon. With their long, flowing locks and chiseled faces, it was easy to see why. They had also apparently played vampires at one time.

     “Hey, guys.” Loebo sat down with some effort. His legs still didn't seem to want to work right. All conversation stopped when he touched his seat, and they merely stared at him as he began to eat. Pike gestured toward another bonfire and all four men rose and walked away, taking their food with them.

Loebo saluted them with his spoon. “Nice talking to you.”

      “Rough morning?” Seren sat down next to him, holding a salad bowl.

      “What's their problem?”

     “Well, most of us have dreamed our whole lives of being here, and it took us years of hard work to land a contract,” she said. “You kind of walked in and went right to the top of the card without paying any dues. Some people are going to resent that.”

      Loebo hummed in understanding. “I'm not exactly running through the meadows, you know. I miss my fiancée, every time my wagon hits a rock it jars my bones, my whole body hurts... I'm all sorts of out of sorts. And what the hell is this stuff anyway?” He lifted a spoonful of the goop the cook had given him and let it dangle until it oozed back into his bowl.

     “I think it's designed to keep us on a strict road diet so we can stay in shape,” Seren said. “You know, making sure we get the right nutrients and all that.”

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Excerpt from THE CHOSEN by Annette Gimsby

SYNOPSIS:

The neighbouring kingdoms of Oscia and Arcathia have been at a tentative peace for three years after centuries of warfare. Prince Severin of Arcathia has been brought up to put duty before all else and as the only son of the King and Queen, it is his duty to marry and produce an heir.

His parents want him to marry an Oscian princess to cement that tentative peace. Unfortunately Severin isn't interested in princesses. Now, if he had his pick of princes that would be another matter.

Havyn has been a slave all his life. When his aptitude for wizardry is discovered, he finds himself purchased and freed by Prince Severin and apprenticed to the royal wizard, Ildar. His duty is to stay chaste to keep
his powers strong, but his feelings for Severin sorely test his resolve.

With kingdoms at war, the throne hanging in the balance, magic in the air,
and outside forces trying to keep them apart, can the two men find
happiness together, or is duty more important than love?

ANNETTE SAYS:

This is Prince Severin's 'coming out' scene to his father and it's one of the turning points of the book, because
Severin is a prince he needs to get an heir. But what is a gay prince to do?

EXCERPT:
“No? You turn down the best offer of marriage you’ll ever have and you say you have nothing to be sorry for?”

“I don’t want to get married!” protested Severin. “I already told you that.”

“You’re twenty-one years old, and the only heir to the Arcathian throne! What happens when I’m gone and you’re left a bachelor? There’ll be bloodshed if you don’t sire a son and soon. Do you want to bring us back to the brink of civil war? That’s what it will come down to. Leave us,” Faran commanded the falconer. 

The man bowed and hastily made his retreat, the birds squawked when he did so.

“Chayal told me what happened at your initiation,” said Faran in a much gentler tone. “That you were not pleased by any of the eligible women.  There is no shame in it for them or for you, Severin. The prince’s first chosen is an honour and one not lightly bestowed. But why didn’t you go through with it?”

Severin blushed, and mentally made a note never to speak to Chayal again. The man was supposed to be his friend. Then he realised that being the head of the Raven Brotherhood, Chayal’s first loyalties were to his king. They were his father’s bodyguards, not his.

“Have you lain with anyone at all? Perhaps you preferred to keep it private between the two of you?”

“No, Father. No one.” Heat crept into his cheeks as he spoke.

“But don’t you see? This is even better. Anyone offering for you will have to offer a much higher dowry since you’re a virgin, which is unusual for Arcathian males. You could have your pick of princesses,” said Faran, trying to coax him.

Why couldn’t his father understand? Severin didn’t want his pick of princesses. The idea of lying with a woman didn’t interest him. He didn’t dislike women, in fact, Kelandra was one of his best friends, but the
thought of being intimate like that with any of them wasn’t something he had ever wanted.

“Father, I am not interested in princesses, or any other women,” said Severin wondering how to tell his father what he really wanted. Severin took a deep breath and just decided to come right out with it. He was
already a disappointment to his father, what was one more? “I don’t want to get married, Father. I am not interested in women like that. I’m interested in men.”

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Excerpt from GUINEA PIG by Greg Curtis

Guinea Pig 

By Greg Curtis

SYNOPSIS:   

Ten thousand dollars. 

It was a lot of money for a simple injection. It was a lot of money for a student. And the one thing that William Simons knew about the research trial was that it was safe. 

Of course he said yes. 

But that was before he discovered that Doctor Millen had a secret agenda. Before he discovered that what he'd been given wasn't the same as what the other subjects had been given. And it was before his body started to transform into something else. Something not human. 

It was also before a series of inexplicable natural disasters started to destroy Los Angeles. 

GREG SAYS:

I particularly liked it for its over the top description as it showed the clinic room, but also because it contrasts so completely with what happens in the room. Doctors in white coats, in white clinic rooms we sort of associate with professional medical care. They are in our thoughts places where only the highest possible standards of care exist. By contrast mad scientists live in abandoned castles and underground labs and concepts like professionalism and sterility go out the window. And I wanted very much to make my mad scientist the consumate professional so that it became almost impossible for the hero to understand what he had done when things started going wrong.

EXCERPT:

The clinic room was sterile in every sense of the word. While there was no chance of any bacteria having survived on the sparkling white tiles of the floor or the lustrous white laminate walls, there was also no chance of any human warmth surviving there either. It had no personality. No colour – literally. Nothing of any real interest. Even the air stank of antiseptic without the benefit of the usual fake floral bouquets found in hospitals.

But that was as it was meant to be Will supposed. And at least the chair was comfortable. A nice leather recliner that would have been more than welcome in his tawdry student flat. Except for the colour of course. It too was sterile white.

The only things that really stood out against the tyranny of white were the ring of machines surrounding him which had patches of colour here and there, the faces of Doctor Millen and his assistants, and the little flashes of colour on the various monitors as they displayed his vitals. It might have helped if the medical staff weren't all wearing white full length lab coats done up tight. But they were probably worn for reasons of sterility as well. Either that or to blend in with the walls.

But why the need for so much white? That was the thing he didn't understand. It was over the top and then some. Sure, it was a clinic and medical settings seemed to go for the white look.  But it wasn’t as if it was a surgery. He wasn't about to be cut open. It was a simple injection. It could be done in a field with a plastic needle and an iodine swab.

Still, when there was ten thousand dollars riding on the procedure he guessed he could live with a little white.

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Excerpt from Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale By Tracy Falbe

Werelord Thal 

A Renaissance Werewolf Tale

By Tracy Falbe

Synopsis: 

Thal is wanted for Devil worship and shape shifting but still boldly walks the streets of 16th century Prague. Jesuits hunt him. Mercenaries fear him. Musicians sing his praise, and women are captivated by his alpha swagger.

Born of a witch and a sorcerer, Thal is burdened with his mother’s magical call for vengeance. His hunt for the men that killed her is complicated when the Magistrate’s stepdaughter Altea Kardas crosses his path. Horrified that her community is burning women to death, she can confide her doubt and fear only to Thal.

He desires her greatly but knows he will bring ruin upon her. Across Bohemia and beyond people who are different are labeled heretics in a restless world hobbled by tyrannical ignorance. The Renaissance has thrown the Holy Roman Empire into turmoil. Printed books are spreading radical ideas. Firearms are triggering a new age of warfare. And the human spirit is shaking off obedience.

Thal embodies the ancient magic of the pagan past. He challenges a world conquered by a spiritual system that denies the flesh and forgets the Earth. And he awakens within Altea recognition of these truths. She believes any risk is worth loving him until she becomes the bait in a trap set by Thal’s enemies.

 

Tracy says: 

In this scene Thal has been summoned by the noblewoman Lady Carmelita. He lives among her servants because he travels with three musicians she has hired. Her lover Valentino has already seen Thal transform into a werewolf and now Carmelita wants to see it happen. As part of a group of Protestant conspirators she is a very daring woman but nothing can prepare her for what Thal can show her. When writing the scene it came to me quickly. Throughout the novel I had fun with Valentino’s jealousy of Carmelita’s attraction to Thal, but Valentino is also obsessed with Thal and wants him as an ally.

Excerpt:

Thal waited for Carmelita to speak. She regarded him thoughtfully. His unique eyes could no longer be dismissed as a trick of birth. Some sorcery had altered them.

“I’ve been told something very extraordinary about you,” she said.

“People like talking about me,” Thal said with playful disinterest.

“Can you show me?” Carmelita said.

The request surprised him.

Valentino balked. “My Lady, you cannot imagine how it will effect you. The world will cease to be the same. Don’t be so hasty,” he said.

“I want to see,” she insisted.

Thal glanced around the room. “We should move the furniture,” he said.

Carmelita gasped. She had expected him to protest.  His quiet acceptance of her request frightened her with oncoming reality.

He tossed aside his cloak and revealed the beautiful wolf fur. He spread it on the table next to Carmelita and closed the drapes.

Valentino jumped up and locked the door and pushed back the chairs and embroidery frame. Carmelita ran her hand over the fur. Despite the empty eye slits and dried nose, she almost expected it to breathe.

Thal flipped over the fur so she could see the blood writing. Valentino leaned over it as well. A thin band of sunlight from a gap in the drapes fell across the skin, making the strange characters glisten as if wet and fresh again.

“I’m trusting you with my secret,” he said.

Carmelita gaped as Thal walked to the clear area and started taking off his clothes. Valentino took her hand and stood close. The scratches and bruises on Thal’s body were revealed when he disrobed. Carmelita leaned back when he approached the table. He had no concern for modesty and his physique filled her eyes with a perfection worthy of Italian sculptors. He grabbed his fur, took a few steps back, and held it around his hips.

“I’m no mad beast. I won’t hurt you,” he said.

She nodded nervously.

When he began to recite the words of the spell, the unknown language provoked all her superstitions. She covered her ears, afraid that each syllable spelled out her damnation. Her curiosity had brought her to this terrifying moment.

She came to her feet when the transformation started. Valentino held her back. Thal’s painful cries made her want to help him, but then his manhood was enveloped by wolfen monstrosity. When it was finished he rose onto his back feet.

The flopping and groaning during his shift had summoned a pair of servants. They were banging on the door, begging to know what was wrong with their mistress. Thal dropped to all fours. He approached Carmelita. His claws clicked on the wood floor until he reached the rug.

“Go away! I’m fine!” Carmelita finally responded to her servants’ pleas. Her voice was shrill, but she cared nothing of what her servants might assume she was doing locked away with two men.

Thal’s huge head reached to her chest even when he was on all fours. His wide nostrils sniffed her. She reached out with a shaking hand. His fur was reddish brown, much like his human hair, except that more streaks of silver and black were in his coat. His animal eyes gleamed with an intelligence perfected during the long ages of Creation.

Gently she ran her fingers up his snout and then along his fluffy cheek. He was equal amounts fearsome and beautiful. He was worthy of the Devil and God all at once.

About the Author: 

I've always written stories. When I was a kid I wrote stories and drew pictures for them and stapled them together to make books. My mother recently showed me one of these little books apparently based on my older brother's Dungeons & Dragons gaming.

When I was 14 I wrote a sci fi novel. When I was 15 I wrote a fantasy novel. I set them aside and never looked at them again. Then I grew up and had some adventures and became disillusioned about most everything except my dream of being a novelist. In 1997 at the age of 25 I started writing again. Now it's 2014 and I am working on my tenth novel. No publisher was ever interested in me. I stopped beating my head on that door in 2004. But rejection from people who would never care about my dream only emboldened me. I began self publishing my fantasy fiction in 2005. That was before being an indie author was cool. Despite relentless obscurity and general disrespect, I was always encouraged by a steady trickle of sales and the occasional kind comment from a reader.

To be honest, being a novelist is always a struggle. I get criticized in public and don't get called by any movie producers, but also every day someone somewhere buys my novels and that amazes me. I'm humbled by my readers. I will always do my best to craft stories worthy of them. I love the stories I write. I'm having a good dream.

You can find  Werelord Thal: A Renaissance Werewolf Tale and all my novels at my web store Brave Luck Books and at: Amazon  or Barnes & Noble  or Kobo.  Follow her on Twitter @TracyFalbe

Excerpt from Arlo and Jake: Galactic Boot Camp by Gary Henson

Arlo and Jake: 

Galactic Boot Camp

By Gary Alan Henson

SYNOPSIS: 

The adventure continues as our heroes are shipped to Camp Balator, a Federation of Thirteen Galaxies (FTG) boot camp, reserved for the cream of the crop recruits. The training is designed to push recruits to their limits and beyond. 

Jake and Arlo meet new friends and become part of a Triad, a group of three recruits and their partners. Together they struggle to make it through the intensive training and get back the FTG Triumph, where Pixie and Leeta eagerly await their return. But there are other forces in the Universe who have nefarious plans for the prestigious camp; deadly plans. 

Can Jake make it through boot camp a second time or is he headed for another Captain's Mast? 
Can they even make it out alive? Why does danger always seems to follow our intrepid duo? 


GARY SAYS:

This is the opening scene in the second book in the series. I love this opening because it brings the reader into story immediately and sets the tone for the whole book.

It took quite a while to get it 'right'. Not too descriptive but enough visuals to grab you and hopefully hook the reader. It introduces the main characters, shows Jake's sarcastic side and Arlo's funny side. I hope.

EXCERPT:

I can see the sleek orange and black space ship juking back and forth trying to evade our pursuit. I concentrate on the port particle beam cannon and mentally command “Fire!” A brilliant sparkling red and blue beam instantly leaps from below and left of my heads up display reaching out to the ship. It passes harmlessly above the ship by a country mile. I look at my HUD readout. Ok, more precisely I missed by 800 kilometers. Damn.  “Arlo, can you get that cannon gimbal tightened up? I’m having trouble with lateral targeting.”

Arlo’s voice comes through the interface, though I can’t see him. “I’m on it, cowboy. Gimme a second.”

 The ship is starting to pull away. “Any time now, Arlo, I’m losing him.”

“Got it, Jake! Nail the bastards!”

I get off two more shots in rapid succession but both miss, though I am getting closer. Any moment they’re going to fold space and I’ll lose them. That’s it I’m done messing around here. I concentrate on my weapons display and crank up the cannon’s power to twenty percent of full and stare at the wildly gyrating ship. The green targeting brackets jerk and twist around the ship as I try to frame it inside the brackets. Finally I get a good bead, the brackets start flashing red and the gotcha tone sounds in my head. Grinning maniacally I yell “Fire!”

Instantly a beam that’s almost as big as the retreating ship erupts from below me and nails the ship in the ass. The explosion lights up space in front of me like an exploding fireworks stand. The heated ball of melted metal becomes a rapidly expanding sphere of space goop with more and more explosions going off, getting bigger and bigger. Uh oh, this is not good. I’m about to yell for evasion maneuvers when the biggest explosion yet rips through the blinding white ball of death and crashes into me. Damn, that’s gonna hurt.

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Excerpt from The Story of the Mimosa by Paul Kater

The Story of the Mimosa

By Paul Kater

PAUL SAYS:

The Mimosa is a black wooden ship that sails through space and occasionally jumps through time. Its crew is a very strange collection of people from all times and places (read: planets).

At the point where the following part happens, a girl named Rebel (she is from the future, about 1000 years after the "Great Turnaround" in Oz - which of course used to be Australia), is explaining what the Great Turnaround is to her fellow travellers on the Mimosa.

I had a lot of fun creating this piece as I had the opportunity to add all kinds of silly things to this piece of text. Also, I tried to put in a bit of a warning for our generation, as the same things that brought down Oz, before the Turnaround, seem to happen here in our lives at the moment. The silliness just brightens it up a bit and I hope it works.

A personal grin for me comes from the name McAbercrombieson. Mc is Scottish for 'son of', and -son, well, that should be obvious. Basically it would mean the son of the son of Abercrombie.   Yes, that is how my mind works. 

Something else is the presence of the "Harmony Clan" in the book; they are fashioned after friends of mine who play in a successful Irish band called Harmony Glen. They are actually writing a song about the book for me!

EXCERPT:

The Great Turnaround had basically been the aftermath of a global war in which many layers of the population had had enough of all the money- and war-mongering of a few select high-placed people and a number of big companies. At first there had only been riots and some plundering, followed by an increasing amount of civil disobedience, but soon after that the people in charge noticed that their grasp on their artificially created reality of financial dependencies was slipping, so they resorted to more crude measures like military intervention and random acts of killing. That only went so far because the households of the military personnel were suffering under the same strain as the people that were revolting, so at some point there were more and more armies that turned against their commanders. This triggered the initiation of the Great Turnaround. Before that was a fact however, the planet had gone through the Big Shitpile as most symbols of the financial institutions were taken down brick by brick and concrete plate by concrete plate. That took a while for there were many bricks and concrete plates. After that a time of 'okay, we got this far and now what?' went around, during which a lot of voices uttered a lot of opinions and ideas, most of which clashed of course.

When finally old Gwyddion McAbercrombieson, the man whose name everyone on the planet knew, rose from among the bickering and finger-pointing, everyone was curious what the man had to say so they listened. He said: "We have to turn around."

And the people asked: "Why should we?"

And Gwyddion McAbercrombieson said: "To see what is behind us. What we left there. And then we should ask ourselves if we want that back, or if we want to go ahead and create a brave new world, because I had a dream - and to be honest it was more like a nightmare - that we would go back to the good old days that started all this shit. And trust me, people, this shit's gotta go."

Most people agreed that they'd had enough of that shit and that there should be a brave new world. So they went to Gwyddion McAbercrombieson and asked if he would lead the world into this new and shining future, because they understood that he understood how it could be done. He was, after all, the man that did not want to go for that shit. Gwyddion had heard all the people outside his house and came outside. And just before he could tell them what they needed to hear the roof caved in and killed him. This unfortunate event happened because of a microscopic shift in the earth's axis which sent a tremor along a specific line in the earth's core up to where Gwyddion's house was. In the rest of the world the tremor went unnoticed but the tiny incident had a large impact on humanity's view on life, some parts of the universe and nothing more for the time being.

Gwyddion's son Frank then improvised a bit, and somehow his words reached the ears of people who also knew what to do, despite not being so outspoken about that, and that was what started the Great Turnaround, the name honouring the name and insight of Gwyddion McAbercrombieson and also the improvisational skills of his son Frank.

"And from that we created this world," Rebel said, standing by the railing and spreading out her arms as if to span the rest of the globe. "Well, the generations before us did since all that happened some nine hundred and fifty years ago."

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Excerpt from The Way Home by Carol Holland March

The Way Home: Desert Song

By Carol Holland March

SYNOPSIS: 

The Way Home, a collection of visionary stories about finding your true home. 

Whether a place or a relationship, all the characters in The Way Home are seeking what they’ve lost, and the clues they follow are just beyond the veil. A metaphysical treat for those who like their stories off the beaten path, their fantasy balanced on the edge of reality. 

In Desert Song, a young woman embarks reluctantly on a road trip, where she is chased by a ghostly skeleton, and faces buried memories so she can open to herself to love. 

CAROL SAYS:

This is an excerpt from Desert Song, one of the stories in my collection of fantasy stories, The Way Home.  Franny has agreed to go on a road trip with Ray, from San Francisco through the Mojave desert even though she hates the desert and has bad memories of her childhood in Los Angeles.  This is not a true story, but the road trip that inspired it did happen. It was my first visit to the Mojave, and after driving well past dark, I ended up in the desert near Palm Springs. When I got up the next morning, the stark beauty of the desert─the sand, the mountains, the light─entranced me.  I will never forget that feeling of being somewhere sacred, a place empty of human life, but infused with spirit. I wanted Franny to feel some of that to ease her way into the trip that was going to change her life.  

EXCERPT:

“It won’t be so bad, being in the desert, Franny. It’s a big place, you know. We’ll camp under a palm tree.”

I thought he was joking, but just before we reached Palm Springs, Ray turned off the interstate, then onto a dirt road that took us past a row of tall date palms. He parked the truck. We dragged our sleeping bags onto a patch of soft sand and zipped them together. Lying beside him with only our hands touching, I thought about my mother and all the places I had lived since LA. I thought of the men I've been with, good and bad, and how Ray had lasted longer than any of them. Through the swaying branches of the trees, starlight pierced the utter darkness. Ray’s hand was warm and solid in mine.

"I love you," Ray said.

I was afraid I'd start crying if I said anything, so I pretended to be asleep. He rolled over and curled his arm around my waist. 

In the morning, everything was colored gold, lit by the rising sun. We were in a valley of sand dotted with cactus and scrub bushes with the ungainly palms soaring above us and nothing of civilization in sight. In the distance, desert mountains towered silent and proud; their nakedness held me still for more than a minute as I took them in. As I walked away from the protection of the trees, the sun seeped into my pores. I felt light and dry as if I could run all the way to those mountains and all the way back again.

Ray emerged from the camper carrying a coffeepot and two cups. It was a familiar ritual. I sat on a rock and took the cup he offered.

“How you doin’?” he asked.

The lines of worry around his mouth had already softened; sunlight works miracles with Ray. I shook my head. So many words crowded my throat, none came out.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Fine. The desert is warming me up.”

Something of what I meant must have shown on my face. His eyes crinkled. I placed my untouched coffee on a flat rock. Ray stood, took my shoulders, and drew me up. I buried my face in his neck and bit the tip of his ear lobe. I wanted to lie down on that warming sand with the sun in my face and the naked mountains watching over us, and I wanted to feel him reaching for me, all the way inside, as far as anyone has ever got, so my body would beat in time to the vibrations of that place. After I conveyed this to him with that one hard bite, he muttered into my hair that getting an early start was not always the best plan for the first day of your vacation, and so it was close to ten o’clock before we started east again.

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Excerpt from Winter by Sarah Remy

Winter

By Sarah Remy

Synopsis:  Winter's not your ordinary teenager.  While trying to rescue his sidhe family from exile, he mistakenly unleashes the monstrous Dread Host upon humankind.   Winter's mother wants nothing more than to find a way to break the curse keeping the sidhe imprisoned on Manhattan. New York City is driving Winter's family slowly mad. Winter's sister wears Chanel and longs for a Fairy Court she's never seen. And Winter's mentor is a talking mouse.  Winter wants to save the world.  When he discovers an unlikely changeling lost in the subway, Winter realizes he's been given a chance to finally banish the Host, and maybe even save his family. But the changeling isn't quite what she seems, and Winter's already unstable world beings to spiral out of control.

Sarah says:  When Jill asked me to pick an excerpt from my YA urban fantasy, WINTER, I had less difficulty than I expected. WINTER is the first volume in my Manhattan Exiles trilogy. So many things happen in this first book - I introduce the overlap of sidhe and human realms, I plant the seeds of upcoming war between worlds, and I throw in a murder/kidnapping.

But at its heart I wanted WINTER to be about young people trying to find their place in their own personal space - in their families, and around their peers. Who are they? How will they react to upheaval, how will they approach new challenges, and react to love and loss?

I'm writing the trilogy for my teenage daughter, and this excerpt romanticizes (a trifle) the way I'd like her to begin to fall in love one day, surrounded by candlelight, books, and mystery…

Excerpt:

“Have you heard of the Lough Gur?” Aine asked around her fingernail.

She’d tracked Winter to the library when she’d given up sleep. The flickering of his lamps led her past half-pulled tapestries and through empty rooms.

She’d found him sitting on a cushion, made lovely by the shifting lantern light, apparently lost in the pages of a large and dusty tome.

He’d grunted, but not looked up, so Aine borrowed one of his lanterns and took it to the map.

“Gair’s lake?” He translated without glancing from the book. “Not particularly. Siobahn had a young cousin, Daniel Gair. I believe he was killed by dysentery in the early 1900s.”

“Lough Gur,” Aine said pointedly, “is far more than a loch. It’s one of the dark places between, a dangerous place where our folk might cross into mortal lands and back again, and where time is terribly muddled.” She shuddered.

Winter closed a finger in his book. He regarded Aine thoughtfully, grey eyes sparking in the lantern light. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but she thought the side of his face looked less inflamed. Even scarred he was beautiful in the flickering light, more beautiful than any of the young fay who regularly swarmed about Gloriana.

Aine thought more than a part of his beauty was that he was so very different than the boys she had known at Court. Gloriana’s suitors were skilled at song and wordplay, quick with the sword and insult, eager to dabble in intrigue and insinuation. They were like lazy forest cats, wiling away the long hours until the sun went down and it was time for the hunt.

“A Way between, you mean.” Winter asked, “Are you going to tell me Smith dropped you in a lake and you surfaced beneath Chinatown? Although I suppose that might explain the lack of clothes. Perhaps you and dear Michael were skinny dipping?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so.” If she poked too hard at the gap in her memory it made her head hurt. She chewed her thumbnail. “Lough Gur isn’t the sort of place one visits willingly. It’s quite a long way from Court, east of Gairdin Mhuire. The Gardens are treacherous enough in themselves. I’d have no reason to journey so far from Court. In fact, I’m forbidden to leave the Queen’s Progress.”

Winter scoffed. “More to the point, Gloriana closed all of the old Ways five hundred years ago. I doubt Smith convinced your queen to change her mind.”

Aine had to agree. “Her Ladyship has very little use for mortals.”

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