20 June 2019

King's Envoy by Cas Peace





Cas lives in the lovely county of Hampshire, southern UK, where she was born. On leaving school she trained for two years before qualifying as horse-riding instructor. During this time she also learned to carriage-drive. She spent thirteen years in the British Civil Service before moving to Rome, Italy, where she and her husband, Dave, lived for three years. They enjoy returning whenever they can. Cas supports many animal charities and owns two rescue dogs. She has a large collection of cacti and loves gardening. She is also a folk singer/songwriter and is currently writing and recording nine folk-style songs to accompany each of her fantasy books. You can listen to and download all the songs from her website: www.caspeace.com 

See the video of her performing live at the King’s Envoy book launch here: http://www.caspeace.com/cas-peace/the-wheel-will-turn



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Taran Elijah's quest for knowledge uncovers a plot that threatens the world...

In Albia, the fourth realm, the precious Artesan gift is dying. Although born to the craft, Taran is struggling to achieve his potential. Against his friends' advice, he embarks on a foolhardy plan to acquire the teaching he craves. Alone, he crosses into Andaryon, the fifth realm, but instead of finding a mentor, he stumbles upon a treacherous plot.

In the wake of Taran's actions, Albia suffers a series of vicious raids. Major Sullyan of the High King's forces is sent to oppose them. But a dark and treacherous force is moving through the realms and both Taran and Sullyan will feel its power.







Snippet:

Are you quite sure about this, Taran?” Cal’s voice echoed in the gloom as Taran Elijah closed the cellar door behind them. He raised the lantern and sharp-edged shadows fled up the walls.
Taran glanced at his Apprentice standing three steps below him and ran a hand through his short brown hair. It came away clammy and he wiped it on his shirt. “I have to go, Cal. It’s my last chance.”
Cal frowned, taking in Taran’s tall but sturdy frame, clad in leather pants and boots, the sword belted at his side and the pack of supplies slung over his shoulder. He met Taran’s hazel eyes. “What if there’s something we haven’t thought of ?”

Trying to keep his voice level, Taran said, “I’ve tried every way I can think of to find another teacher. My father was right, there simply aren’t any Artesans left in Loxton Province. Maybe even in the whole of Albia. Entering the Fifth Realm might be dangerous, but it’s the only place I’m going to find other members of our craft.”



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19 June 2019

Owen by Tony Riches



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The Tudor Trilogy, Book One
Historical Fiction
Publisher: Presei Press

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Based on the true story of a forgotten hero, OWEN is the epic tale of one young man’s incredible courage and resilience as he changes the course of English history.

England 1422: Owen Tudor, a Welsh servant, waits in Windsor Castle to meet his new mistress, the beautiful and lonely Queen Catherine of Valois, widow of the warrior king, Henry V. Her infant son is crowned King of England and France, and while the country simmers on the brink of civil war, Owen becomes her protector.





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 Excerpt

Winter of 1422



I tense at the sound of approaching footsteps as I wait to meet my new mistress, the young widow of King Henry V, Queen Catherine of Valois. Colourful Flemish tapestries decorate the royal apartments of Windsor Castle, dazzling my senses and reminding me how life in the royal household presents new opportunities. My life will change forever, if she finds me acceptable, yet doubt nags at my mind.

The doors open and Queen Catherine’s usher appears. I have been told to approach the queen and bow, but must not look directly at her or speak, other than to say my name, until spoken to. Taking a deep breath I enter the queen’s private rooms where she sits surrounded by her sharp-eyed ladies-in-waiting. I have the briefest glimpse of azure silk, gold brocade, gleaming pearls and a breath of exotic perfume. I remove my hat and bow, my eyes cast down to her velvet-slippered feet.

‘Owen Tudor, Your Highness, Keeper of your Wardrobe.’ My voice echoes in the high-ceilinged room.

One of her ladies fails to suppress her giggle, a sweet enough sound, if you are not the reason for it. I forget my instruction and look up to see the queen regarding me with confident, ice-blue eyes.

‘You are a Welshman?’ Her words sound like an accusation.

‘My full name is Owain ap Maredydd ap Tudur, although the English call me Owen Tudor. I come from a long line of Welsh noblemen, Your Highness.’ I regret my boast as soon as I say the words.

‘Owen Tudor...’ This time her voice carries a hint of amusement.

I put on my hat and pull my shoulders back. She examines me, as one might study a horse before offering a price. After years of hard work I have secured a position worthy of my skills, yet it means nothing without the approval of the queen.

‘You look more like a soldier than a servant?’ The challenge in her words seems to tease me.

‘I have served in the king’s army as a soldier.’ I feel all their eyes upon me.

‘Yet... you have no sword?’ She sounds curious.

‘Welshmen are not permitted to carry a sword in England, Your Highness.’ I am still bitter at this injustice.

I remember the last time I saw her, at the king’s state funeral in Westminster. Her face veiled, she rode in a gilded carriage drawn by a team of black horses. I followed on foot as the funeral procession passed through sombre crowds, carrying the king’s standard and wearing the red, blue and gold livery of the royal household.

‘You fought in France?’

‘With the king’s bowmen, Your Highness, before I became a squire.’

The queen has none of the air of sadness I expected. Slim, almost too thin, her childlike wrists and delicate fingers are adorned with gold rings sparkling with diamonds and rubies. Her neck is long and slender, her skin pale with the whiteness of a woman who rarely sees the sun. Her golden-brown hair is gathered in tight plaits at the back of her head and her headdress fashionably emphasises her smooth, high forehead.

King Henry V chose as his bride the youngest daughter of the man they called the ‘mad king’, Charles VI. They said King Charles feared he was made of glass and would shatter if he didn’t take care. Charles promised Henry he would inherit the throne and become the next King of France and there were rumours of a secret wedding dowry, a fortune in gold.

Barely a year into his marriage, the king left his new wife pregnant and alone in Windsor. He returned to fight his war in France, capturing the castle of Dreux before marching on the fortress at Meaux, defended by Jean de Gast, the Bastard of Vaurus, a cruel, brave captain. The king never saw his son and heir, his namesake.

The siege of Meaux was hard won and he suffered the bloody flux, the dreaded curse of the battlefield. Men had been known to recover, if they were strong and lucky. Many did not, despite the bloodletting and leeches. The flux is an inglorious way to die, poisoned by your own body, especially for a victorious warrior king who would never now be King of France.

The queen has an appraising look in her eyes. She has buried her hopes for the future along with her husband. I remember I am looking at the mother of the new king, once he comes of age. One thing is certain; she will not be left to raise the prince alone. Ambitious men are already vying for their share of power and influence.

At last she speaks. ‘And now you are in my household?’

‘My appointment to your service was made by Sir Walter Hungerford, Steward of the King’s Household and constable here at Windsor.’

‘Sir Walter was one of my husband’s most trusted men—the executor of the king’s will.’

‘I worked as squire to Sir Walter for many years, in England and France.’

‘You speak French?’

‘A little, Your Highness.’ I answer in French.

‘Were you with King Henry at the siege of Rouen?’ Now she speaks in French.

‘I was, Your Highness. I will never forget it.’ I answer again in French. I learned the language on the battlefield and in the taverns of Paris and can swear as well as any Frenchman.

‘I heard the people of Rouen were starving... before they surrendered.’ Her voice is softer now and she speaks in English.

‘War is cruel, yet now there is less appetite for it.’

‘I pray to God that is true.’ She glances back at her ladies, who are watching and listening, as ladies-in-waiting do. Queen Catherine regards me, giving nothing away. ‘I welcome you to our household, Master Tudor.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness.’

Our first meeting is over. She is unlike any woman I have known, fascinating, intriguing and beautiful. More than that; there is something about her I find deeply attractive, a dangerous thing to admit. Perhaps my fascination is with the glimpse I’d seen of the real woman, the same age as myself, behind the title of Dowager Queen of England.

‘Aim high, boy,’ my garrulous longbow tutor once advised me, his voice gruff from too much shouting. ‘It’s not the Welsh way to play safe and wait until you have a clear shot!’ The man spits hard on the ground to add emphasis and stares knowingly into my eyes, standing so close I can almost feel the coarse grey stubble of his beard. ‘When you aim high,’ he points an imaginary bow up at the sky, ‘your arrow will fly far into the enemy ranks and strike with the full vengeance of God.’

‘Who, of course, is on our side.’ A daring, foolhardy thing for a boy like me to say to a man who can punch me to the ground or worse.

For a moment I see the old man’s mind working as he tries to decide if I am being disrespectful, sacrilegious or both. The moment passes. I notch a new arrow into the powerful yew longbow and fire it high into the sky, without a care for where it will fall.

I smile at the memory as I return down the long passage to the servants’ hall. Life as a king’s archer was hard, but I enjoyed the camaraderie of the other men and it taught me many things. As well as how to use a longbow, I learned to watch my back, when to speak up and when to remain silent. My tutor died in the thick mud of Normandy, yet his lesson serves me well. I know to aim high.

That night, wide awake in the darkness, I reflect on the unthinkable turn my life has taken. I always imagined I would become a merchant, setting up shop somewhere in the narrow, dirty streets of London, or perhaps an adventurer, sailing off to seek my fortune. I remain a servant, yet for the first time I have my own lodging room, however small and cramped.

My reward for long and loyal service as squire to Sir Walter has been this new appointment, a position of great responsibility. The queen’s wardrobe is a treasure store of priceless gold and jewels, as well as all her expensive clothes and most valuable possessions. Such a senior post in the royal household pays more than I have earned in my life and carries influence, allowing me regular and privileged access to the queen.

I resolve to become indispensable to her. High and mighty lords and dukes will come and go, with their false concerns and self-serving advice, yet I will see her every day, tending to her needs. I recall how she referred to Sir Walter as one of the king’s most trusted men. That is what I wish to become; Queen Catherine’s most trusted man.

óóó



About the Author

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Tony Riches is a UK historical fiction author living in Pembrokeshire, Wales. You can find out more on Tony’s website www.tonyriches.com and his blog ‘The Writing Desk’ at www.tonyriches.co.uk.  Find him on Twitter @tonyriches. Owen – Book One of the Tudor Trilogy is available in eBook and paperback on Amazon, where it is a #1 historical fiction bestseller.  There is a short video trailer for the book on YouTube http://youtu.be/ELH4IU5pxds



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Death at the Dakota by Marni Graff




Marni Graff writes two award-winning mystery series: The Nora Tierney English Mysteries and The Trudy Genova Manhattan Mysteries. She teaches writing workshops and mentors the Writers Read program, and is Managing Editor of Bridle Path Press. 



Graff also writes the crime review blog Auntie M Writes, www.auntiemwrites.com.



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Nurse Trudy Genova is making plans to take her relationship to NYPD detective Ned O'Malley to the next level, when she lands a gig as medical consultant on a film shoot at the famed Dakota apartment building in Manhattan, which John Lennon once called home. Then star Monica Kiley goes missing, a cast member turns up dead, and it appears Trudy might be next. Meanwhile Ned tackles a mysterious murder case in which the victim is burned beyond recognition. When his investigations lead him back to the Dakota, Trudy finds herself wondering: how can she fall in love if she can't even survive?

Readers of Death Unscripted, the first book in the Trudy Genova Manhattan Mystery series, will find the same pleasures in this sequel: fast pacing, engaging characters, twists and turns on the way to a satisfying close. From the award-winning author of The Nora Tierney English Mysteries, this second series is a winner. Once again M.K. Graff reveals her talents in crafting this delightful mix of amateur sleuth and police procedural.

Part procedural, part cozy, Death at the Dakota is a well-crafted and highly entertaining mystery.- Bruce Robert Coffin, #1 bestselling author of the Detective Byron mysteries.  

I fell in love -- not only with co-protagonists, Trudy and Ned, the richly detailed and historic setting of The Dakota, and the unique cast of characters, but with the unusual plot of Death at the Dakota. Sherry Harris, Agatha Award nominated author of the Sarah Winston Garage Sale Mysteries





Snippet:

Ned left the dining room and wandered back toward the living room, certain Trudy had said she would be here today, but he hadn’t seen her yet.

A cluster of people stood around an actress in a filmy white wedding dress standing near one of the tall windows. From Trudy’s description, he thought the man who fussed with arranging the back of the gauzy gown must be the costume designer, Rashid Something. Troy Benedict, dressed in tuxedo pants with his shirt hanging open, stood off to one side, tapping his fingers on the top of the grand piano. Meg approached him with a handful of shirt studs and a bow tie.

Afternoon sun cast muted fingers of light into the room, where three still photographers ringed around the woman, snapping away as of Phin Hill-Yorke directed. Egan and another man Ned knew to be Perry King stood on the other side of the room, hovering. Ned had seen the salt-and-pepper-haired King on his popular morning show, and was surprised by how much shorter he looked in person. But then Monica was petite, like Trudy, and King would look taller on television next to her.

The director’s assistant stood off to one side, out of camera range, holding a bouquet of flowers. Ned approached China and asked if she’d seen Trudy Genova. The woman grinned widely.

“Yes, I’ve seen her, and so have you, detective.” China gestured toward the actress.

“I suppose that fall will do,” Phin said, appraising the bride. “Turn away from the window a bit, please,” she instructed, and the bride turned slightly.

Trudy! Ned watched her move and recognized her profile. She wore a wig of blonde curls and the front of her hair had been sprayed a lighter blonde.

“Give her the flowers, China,” Phin continued, and China handed the lavish bouquet to Trudy. “And toward me a bit more, please.”

The cameras whirred and clicked once Trudy accepted the bouquet and moved into place. She noticed Ned and a bright red flush spread up her neck and into her face.


“Stop snapping! Trudy, what the hell—” Phin remonstrated, and turned to look in the direction of Trudy’s focus. When she saw Ned, the director nodded sagely. “Ah, the penny drops.”




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18 June 2019

Lacewood by Jessica James



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Women’s Fiction/Contemporary Romance
Date Published: 6/18/2019

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Sometimes love is just too powerful for one lifetime…

MOVING TO A SMALL TOWN in Virginia is a big change for New York socialite Katie McCain. But when she stumbles across an abandoned 200-year-old mansion, she’s enthralled by the enduring beauty of the neglected estate—and captivated by the haunting portrait of a woman in mourning.

Purchasing the property on a whim, Katie attempts to fit in with the colorful characters in the town of New Hope, while trying to unravel the mystery of the “widow of Lacewood.” As she pieces together the previous owner’s heartrending story, Katie uncovers secrets the house has held for centuries, and discovers the key to coming to terms with her own sense of loss.

The past and present converge when hometown hero Will Durham returns and begins his own healing process by helping the “city girl” restore the place that holds so many memories. As the mystic web of destiny is woven, a love story that might have been lost forever is exposed, and a destiny that has been waiting in the shadows for centuries is fulfilled.



Part love story, part ghost story, Lacewood is a timeless novel about trusting in fate, letting go of the past, and believing in things that can’t be seen.

A powerful and poignant tale that vividly conveys the heartache of war, the tragedy of loss, and the fulfillment of destiny…even when souls are separated by centuries. Lacewood takes readers on a journey that connects the past with the present—and the present with eternity.








Excerpt

Turning in a circle, Katie studied the room again. Faded wallpaper curled and peeled above the dusty wainscoting, but the walls themselves appeared sturdy. On the far side of the entryway, and dominating the wall, stood a mammoth fireplace with an ornately carved hearth. And above the mantle hung a captivating painting of a woman in nineteenth-century dress.

“Who is she?”

The sheriff turned to the dusty, sun-bleached portrait in the heavy carved guilt frame. “One of the previous owners, they say.” He shrugged. “The family history kind of got lost with the house. Everyone around here calls her the Widow of Lacewood.”

Katie stood spellbound. The woman was dressed completely in black, but the magnificence of the gown gave the impression of sophistication and class. Her chin was slightly elevated as if to project strength, yet there was more than a hint of sorrow and pain in her eyes.

“She looks so sad.” Katie spoke without removing her gaze. “And so young. How could she be a widow?”

The sheriff had already started to walk away, but he turned back and glanced at the painting. “Not sure, but they say she never remarried. She’s the one out in the cemetery, too, I reckon.”

Katie’s heart suddenly struggled to beat. The anguish in the woman’s eyes kept her riveted. She could see the pain. Feel a heart ripped apart. Something was missing that could never be replaced. Katie had felt such loss before. In a way, that’s why she was here.

“You coming?”

Katie heard the sheriff calling from the next room, and turned to follow. With one quick glance back, she noticed particles of dust now swirled and danced in a shaft of light, almost like a living thing. Her breath caught in her throat as the dust seemed to materialize into the form of a woman, her eyes dull with the same tortured despair and disbelief as the one in the portrait.

Katie jerked her head around for a closer look and blinked. The woman was gone.


About the author:

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Jessica James believes in honor, duty, and true love—and that’s what she writes about in her award-winning novels that span the ages from the Revolutionary War to modern day.

She is a three-time winner of the John Esten Cooke Award for Southern Fiction, and has won more than a dozen other literary awards, including a Readers' Favorite International Book Award and a Gold Medal from the Military Writers Society of America. Her novels have been used in schools and are available in hundreds of libraries including Harvard and the U.S. Naval Academy.



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Healing Hands by J.S. Jaeger






Parents to four wonderful children, Jerry and Stephanie Jaeger enjoy working together as J.S. Jaeger to write uplifting, entertaining stories. 

Jerry overcame bullying to earn his black belt in Kempo Karate. He served as a special agent for the FBI and currently works as a prosecutor. 


Stephanie ran her own accounting practice for several years before turning her focus to writing Scrolls of Zndaria with Jerry. 


Together, they are excited to bring readers of all ages into the magical world of Zndaria.






Denya’s excited to attend the Healing Hands Academy. It’s her chance to become a handmaiden, help others, and live a life of adventure.

But studying at the Academy isn’t everything she’d hoped. The headmistress and many of the students still look down on human handmaidens. It seems as quickly as she makes friends, she has to say goodbye. And just as she starts gaining acceptance, she puts the other students in danger.

Is Denya’s determination enough to see her through, or will she be sent home, back to the peasant life she’s trying to escape?
The second Short Scroll of Zndaria, Healing Hands parallels The Golden Wizard and allows readers to see the magical world of Zndaria through Denya’s eyes. Readers will be reunited with favorite characters from the main series as well as experience life in the Redwood Forest.
Buy this book today to get a glimpse into the world of Zndaria or delve deeper into the journey that began in The Golden Wizard!





Snippet:

Denya and Vern looked at each other. There wasn’t time to be sad. Denya reached the first soldier and removed his helmet. His breath came in short gasps. Blood surged from a gash across his face. Denya pulled a biting fern mixture from her pouch and spread it across the wound. The bleeding stopped. The soldier’s breathing evened out.





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17 June 2019

Stevie-girl and the Phantom Pilot by Ann Swann






Ann has been a writer since junior high, but to pay the bills she has waited tables, delivered newspapers, cleaned other people's houses, taught school, and had a stint as a secretary in a rock-n-roll radio station. She also worked as a 911 operator and a police dispatcher. 

Her fiction began to win awards during her college days. Since then she's published several short stories, novels, and novellas. She’s always reading and always writing, but even if she never sold another story, Ann would not stop writing. For her it's a necessity, like breathing. Most of the time, it even keeps her sane.


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No matter who dares you, no matter what lures you, do not go in the spooky old house…


When a small planes crashes behind Jase's rural home, the ghost of the pilot begins to haunt him. Jase can't figure out what to do until the day he sees his classmate, Stevie-girl, enter the legendary haunted house. That's when he decides if anyone can help him solve the mystery, she's the one. 






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Snippet:

“I was alone.” His voice was a whisper. “We all are.”
The wind kicked up as the words left his mouth. A gust caused Lady to shift her feet as the chill air ruffled her fur. The moonlight fell in slanted beams.
I had to say something to break that awful silence. “Sure you don’t you want to sit in my dad’s truck?”
He gazed down at Lady. “She knows I have to go.” He smoothed her fur absently. “She’s been there before.”
I remembered the day I’d found her half-dead beside the road, the victim of a hit-and-run driver.
The man’s gaze rose to my face. His eyes were the same silvery color as his hair.
The siren was deafening. I looked over my shoulder thankful to see the pulsing strobes. “Here!” I waved my flashlight at the emergency vehicle.
I turned back to the pilot, but he was gone.

There was only Lady, trotting off across the field.




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Karda



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Karda: Adalta Vol. I
Fantasy, Sci-fi
Publisher: Green Canoe, LLC


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On the beautiful world Adalta, an ancient threat emerges. Young Marta is dropped to the planet for her first secret mission alone. Raised by her father on an orbiting trade ship, he trained her for this - and to live by two rules: Don’t get attached. Don’t get discovered.

As cover for her mission, Marta joins the Mi’hiru, the all-female elite guard who patrol the skies on Karda, majestic hawk-headed flying horses.

On this planet where the only weapons allowed are arrows and swords, Marta discovers a high-tech weapon she knows could only come from her ship. Someone is smuggling them to use in the bitter power struggle between two noble brothers. She knows she must stop this threat, and she reluctantly joins forces with the handsome but arrogant Altan. As their connection grows, Marta struggles to keep her secret and to keep the rule of not getting attached.

As tensions rise and the ancient threat grows, will Marta accept the frightening elemental magic powers Adalta wants to give her to save the planet she loves?





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Other Books in the Adalta Fantasy/Sci-fi Series:




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Hunter: Adalta Vol II
Publisher: Green Canoe, LLC

Published: August 2018



Tessa, a young girl with a shattered dream, must unite with Galen, a young man with a shattered emotional shell.

Tessa’s dream to reclaim her trauma-blocked elemental talent and become a healer fractures when a powerful flying hawk-headed horse claims her as the Austringer, one who hunts with hawks. Instead of learning to heal, she must learn to kill the ancient evil arising on the planet.

Galen has no dream, and the emotions he can no longer hide threaten to explode. Assaulted by overwhelming elemental forces from the planet, he becomes the legendary Kern––with power over plants and soil he doesn’t believe in and doesn’t want.

When a blood-and-death magician releases an ancient alien imprisoned for centuries, its horrific creatures rise to kill everyone who threatens to block its returning powers and its invasion of the planet. Together Tessa the Hunter and Galen the Kern must fight this alien evil that threatens to enslave their planet.








Excerpt



The wagon slowed, and Bren poked an elbow into her ribs. Marta
caught herself on the side of the seat before she tumbled off and embarrassed herself. “Look there,” he said, pointing up through a break in the clouds. “Karda.”
Joy swelled in her chest, and she forgot to breathe. Two enormous
flying figures were high in the sky, wings outstretched as they circled
up a thermal. Sun glinted from bronze and gold wingtips. Their
forelegs were tucked under, hind ones stretched behind. Manes and
tails streamed.
“Oh, by the Lady Adalta,” Bren breathed. “Did you ever see
anythin' more beautiful?”
She watched the creatures rise ever higher into the sky, spread their
wings wide in a glide, and disappear into the clouds. And something
inside her shifted. Her whole body prickled with the need to see them
again. To get close to them. She grabbed the side of the wagon to
anchor herself. The few images the spy bugs had sent couldn't
compare. I can't believe I might fly on one of those beautiful beings. They are
magical. What if I’m rejected for the training program? What if my cover
story has too many holes?
Well-trained as she was at blending in on a new planet, the possibility of getting recalled or caught was too real. On this, her first mission alone she would not, could not, fail. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach. Getting expelled was not the only danger. She was going to have to guard against commitment that went too deep. That might be worse than not being accepted. The beautiful horse-bodied, hawk-headed Karda filled her mind. A sharp, involuntary shiver shot up her spine. How could she not become attached to them? But Adalta
wasn't her home. She couldn’t stay here forever.


About the Author

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Sherrill Nilson used to raise horses. Now she writes about flying horses--with hawk heads and wicked talons.

Author of the Adalta Series, she's been a cattle rancher, horse breeder, environmentalist, mother of three, traveler to exotic places-even a tarot card reader. She's lived in Santa Fe and Ruidoso, NM, San Francisco, and Austin after leaving the hills of Eastern Oklahoma and her ranch.

She has a Ph.D. in East-West Psychology, and those studies opened her to the world of ancient myth and story. The rigor of writing so many papers and her dissertation suited her. She loves science fiction and fantasy and is a prolific reader.

One day she put the book she just finished down and thought, "I'm going to run out of books to read. I love imagined worlds. Maybe I could create my own." So she took a leap of faith and embarked on writing Karda and Hunter-the first two books in the Adalta series. She's now working on Falling, the third book, and lurking in the back of her mind is another series about the trees deciding whether or not to leave earth.

She lives, writes, and reads SciFi/fantasy in Tulsa, Oklahoma--back where she started as the oldest of seven kids (don't ask to drive), three of whom are writers who love telling each other how they should write. "Sometimes," she says, "They're mean to me and use too much red ink."

She doesn't have a dog, a cat, or even a bird, but she does have an old Volvo convertible and loves to drive around with the wind blowing her hair. It's how she gets her vitamin D.



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