Furbaby Friday With Mageela Troche!

I’m glad to have Mageela and her delightful lovebird join us, a first on Furbaby Friday. I know feathered friends are also much loved, and most welcome.  Mageela is sharing her Medieval Scottish romance, Highland Scandal.

Mageela: For my birthday nine years ago, I was given my lovebird by my niece, sister-in-law and brother. The pet shop called the black-masked lovebird Houdini since she always escaped from her cage and then would let the other birds out of theirs.

Well, I call her Boobula. She is the first bird I have ever had. And I was overjoyed that I was getting a lovebird. Much like other people, I sighed when I saw lovebirds paired up. They were just so cute and romantic, looking like a heart when their heads were put together. Besides what is a better pet for a romance author than a lovebird.

Boobula is never mated so that makes me her mate, which I thought was so sweet. That is until I got to know my bird. Most people think lovebirds are sweet and lovable hence the name. Not true, lovebirds are called the pit bulls of birds and Boobula is a temperamental diva.

And I wouldn’t have it another way. She makes her demands for potato chips, steals my popcorn and has torn up all my books, among a dozen other things. But she is just feathery cuteness. I also don’t mind that when I clean her cage she watches over me to see that I’m doing a proper job (I suppose). I don’t mind that I find feathers everywhere and I mean everywhere from the pocket of my coat to the laundry. The fact that I’m calling Boobula she is something I discovered this year when she laid four eggs to my utter shock.

When I saw that clutch of eggs huddled together in the center of her house, I had to do more than I double-take. I did a ten-take. And she was such a good mommy bird, sitting on her eggs but sadly, they will never hatch.

She bounced back to her old self, which means demanding to be let out of her cage, demanding anything I happen to be eating, demanding my attention when she wants it and for me to leave her alone when she doesn’t want to be bothered.
So, in truth, I guess, she’s not my bird. I am her human and mate. I could do worse.

Highland Scandal Blurb:

How long does happily ever after take?

They call her banshee. The taunt has pursued strong-willed Rowen Mackenzie through the glorious Scottish Highlands. One man sees beyond the superstition—Lachlan Gordon. This brave highlander is the man she loves but duty requires her to wed another.

Wickedly charming, Lachlan Gordon has loved Rowen Mackenzie since his first glimpse of the ethereal beauty. As bastard of Chief Gordon, Lachlan can never claim her as his own. When his father, Laird Gordon, is murdered, Lachlan becomes the clan chief…too late to marry the woman he loves.

Years later, Rowen is now a widow and mother and her son is in danger. She jeopardizes her life and most importantly, her heart to protect her son. Lachlan is the only man who can help her. For a second chance at love, he must risk all—his clan, his life and his love to win even as secrets threaten their happiness and their very lives.

Will Rowen and Lachlan have their own happily ever after?

“Must read for lovers of all things Scottish”—Paranormal Romance and Author’s that Rock

“5 Stars”—Goodreads Reviewer

“The book has it all war, scandals, death and undying love.” —Spunky N Sassy

Excerpt:

Lachlan lingered in the courtyard. He refused to step inside. No doubt, he could find a widow to warm the night with. He just had to stay away from the Great Hall and Rowen. Damn, she was so beautiful sitting upon her horse. She was so near to him. He could have snatched her up and run away. He couldn’t go near her. He kicked at a rock. Why did MacLean have to permit the marriage here? MacKenzie Castle was fitting enough. But the lairdess had to be pregnant. Murray’s lands were just as fitting, but lacked a female touch. Och, weren’t there women in the clan? Such ruminations failed to matter. She was here.

He peered up at the tower. She was in there and tonight he would be also…unless there was an attack or a raid. He prayed for a raid.
Lachlan leaned against the wall. He straightened as Caelen took his spot beside him, as he had countless times before. They watched the castle people stroll by them.

“All is good?” Caelen asked.
“Aye. Your wife?”
“Fat with child again. She wishes for a daughter.” He crossed his bare arms.
“You wish for a son.”
“I know what men do with women.” Castle folk hurried on at Caelen’s scowl.
“This marriage should happen soon.”
“Aye, Father Murray is here. I heard about Father Sullivan.”

Lachlan chuckled. “A skeleton of a man. Why they sent that man—I do not know. He had been here for two days. He stuttered whenever Duncan laid his gaze on him. When he saw me, he looked like he smelled something most foul.”
“Women?”
“Sin, so I guess the daughters of Eve left a certain smell only priest can catch whiff of. He fled in the morning.”
“Did you really chase after him?”

“Aye, he said, ‘you are the devil’. Me and Duncan were standing like this, so I had to find out which one of us he spoke of.” Lachlan chuckled. “I ran beside his animal. He kicked his heels harder, but I stayed alongside him. When I asked him, that poor holy man paled and then reddened. He proclaimed we were both devils. I thanked him and told him I wouldn’t want to lose my reputation.”

Caelen laughed. Lachlan felt a lightness that had been missing since the wedding negotiations began. It was the damn hardest thing to make Caelen laugh.
His laughter cut off at the approaching riders. The Murrays arrived. Lachlan stared at Eacharn riding among his father’s men. Bile rose in his throat and its foul taste filled his mouth. He gulped back the burning spew.

He should hate that man. He was getting to spend the rest of his days with the woman Lachlan loved. But Eacharn, the plump bastard, was a good man. He was always in the center of a fight. He was sharp-minded and loved Lachlan’s humor. Hell, Lachlan admitted it—he liked him. Not that he’d say it to him.

One more thing denied Lachlan. Nay, he was not feeling pity for himself. Never. His temper roared like a hundred Highlanders on a charge. He pushed away from the wall, only realizing Caelen had left him. Halfway out of the courtyard, he turned back. His duty was to stand with MacLean.

Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Highland-Scandal-Mageela-Troche-ebook/dp/B07KQLLPQY/

Social Media Links

website: http://www.MageelaTroche.com
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blog: http://www.trocheauthor.wordpress.com
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Mageela-Troche/e/B00CHTIRFW/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7054733.Mageela_Troche

Author Bio

An Air Force brat, Mageela Troche has lived throughout the world then landed in New York City. She wanted to leave the same day she arrived. Yet, with her stubbornness, Mageela learned to like the place and the libraries were the main reason. Since she was a little girl, Mageela wanted to be an author and an actress, however, once in college, she changed her life plan in the pursuit of money. After all, college loans must be repaid.

With life’s twists and turns, she returned to writing and focused on the romance genre. Mageela Troche’s first break came when she sold a short story to a magazine. She sold two more before the publication of her historical romance novel, The Marriage Alliance. She has gone on to write four more novels and a novella.

Mageela is currently writing in the cramped corner of her Big Apple apartment. She is the proud owner of a Black-masked lovebird named Boobula. She loves to hear from her readers and can be found online at MageelaTroche.com

Thanks for stopping by. Please leave Mageela a comment!

Secret Lady Up For Book of the Month at LASR!

I welcome your vote for Civil War Time Travel Romance, Secret Lady, at Long and Short Reviews from Friday Feb. 1st through Saturday Feb. 2nd at:  http://www.longandshortreviews.com/book-reviews/horror/january-book-of-the-month-poll-which-book-do-you-think-is-best-based-on-the-review-2/

“I’m so glad I had the opportunity to read Secret Lady. Ms. Trissel never disappoints! I highly recommend Secret Lady to anyone looking for a sweet historical romance.” ~Poinsettia for Long and Short Reviews

Story Blurb:

At Lavender House, Evie McIntyre is haunted by the whispers from her bedroom closet. Before she can make sense of their murmurs, the house “warbles” between times and transports her to the Civil War. Past and present have blended, and Evie wishes she’d paid more attention to history. Especially since former Confederate officer, Jack Ramsey, could use a heads up.

Torn between opposing forces, Jack struggles to defend the valley and people he loves. Meeting Evie turns his already tumultuous world upside down. Will solving the mystery of the whispers return her home, and will the handsome scout be by her side?

Against the background of Sheridan’s Burning of the Shenandoah Valley, Jack and Evie fight to save their friends and themselves – or is history carved in stone?

Visit the complete Review at: http://www.longandshortreviews.com/book-reviews/secret-lady-by-beth-trissel/

Release Day and the Story Behind #CivilWar #timetravel #romance Secret Lady (Part Two)

Secret Lady is based on events that occurred to my ancestors and my husband’s Mennonite forebears during the Civil War in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

Historical accounts from the Civil War are a huge part of the inspiration behind Secret Lady. I grew up hearing about the war and its enormous impact on the family, and knew it would inevitably become the focus of a story or two.  But the initial challenge to write this story didn’t come from the war.

My eldest daughter, Alison, told me of the uncanny connection she and her friend, Cristin, have with the creepy closet in our house. It is, in fact, the only closet. Old homes were built without them, and it’s a slightly more modern addition. Throughout her childhood, Alison was terrified of this walk-in, but duck your head space, particularly unfortunate as it occupied the far-right corner of her bedroom. The extra creepy factor is the entry to hidden parts of the house lies at the back corner of the closet. Alison learned that Cristin, as a child, had recurring dreams (nightmares) about a closet in an old boxy white farmhouse that strongly resembled ours. In her dreams, Cristin ventured up the stairs, traveled to the end of the hall, and entered the last bedroom. She feared a black antique trunk (check—we have one from my great-grandfather) in the closet at the far right of the room where a disturbing presence dwelled. It wasn’t a huge leap to conceive a heroine with similar fears.

Story Blurb:
At Lavender House, Evie McIntyre is haunted by the whispers from her bedroom closet. Before she can make sense of their murmurs, the house “warbles” between times and transports her to the Civil War. Past and present have blended, and Evie wishes she’d paid more attention to history. Especially since former Confederate officer, Jack Ramsey, could use a heads up.

Torn between opposing forces, Jack struggles to defend the valley and people he loves. Meeting Evie turns his already tumultuous world upside down. Will solving the mystery of the whispers return her home, and will the handsome scout be by her side?

Against the background of Sheridan’s Burning of the Shenandoah Valley, Jack and Evie fight to save their friends and themselves – or is history carved in stone?

Excerpt:

She took a steadying breath, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the room. The fragrance of lavender greeted her. Grandma G. had tucked sachets under her mattress to help her sleep and left small cloth bags in the drawers of an antique dresser. A sachet of apricot scented agrimony lay beneath her pillow.

This age-old herb was thought to induce slumber and offer protection against the dark forces. Other powerful herbs scented the room. Angelica, St. John’s Wort, and sage were in the bunch on the bedside stand beside the antique brass lamp with an ornamental white shade.

The walk-in, but duck your head, closet at the far side of the room summoned her. Boxes of Christmas decorations, a Santa, and reindeer figures stored inside the slanted nook partially hid the steps leading to the attic and the presence she swore was there. She hadn’t encountered the being in question. Yet. It wasn’t cool for a nineteen-year-old to harbor terrors of a closet, but she did.

She threw her hands up after a particularly loud summons. “What do you want from me?”

There was a rap on the downstairs door. ~

Secret Lady is available in print and eBook from The Wild Rose Press and eBook from all major online booksellers.

In Kindle and print at Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Lady-Ladies-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B07KNL7K3Z

In Nook Book: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/secret-lady-beth-trissel/1129945225?ean=2940161956564

At iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/secret-lady/id1444455068?mt=11

At Google Play:  https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Beth_Trissel_Secret_Lady?id=s-2BDwAAQBAJ&hl=en

At Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/si/en/ebook/secret-lady

If you are interested in reviewing, leave me a comment or contact me. bctrissel@yahoo.com

For the fascinating story behind Secret Lady Part One visit this link: https://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/2018/11/17/fascinating-story-behind-secret-lady-book-3-ladies-in-time/

Traitor’s Curse now in Audio! #HistoricalRomance #Ghosts

“A wonderfully spun novel that will keep a reader engaged till the end.” ~Stephanie Lodes for InD’tale

Narrator Dawson McBride did an absolutely fabulous job reading this story. His low voice is so sexy and absorbing I could listen to anything by him, but I’m thrilled with how he narrated Traitor’s Curse. The audiobook is available at Amazon and Audible.

Deep intuition, visions, and research worked together to inspire this historical novel with a strong paranormal element. Like ghosts.

“I love a good ghost story and this one did not disappoint. In my opinion, a ghost story needs a mystery, both good and bad humans, some paranormal beings, and a love entanglement to create an interesting story. Traitor’s Curse had everything I ask for just in the right amounts.” ~Liza O’Connor

Blurb:

Halifax, North Carolina, 1783

Captain Stuart Monroe returns home from the Revolutionary War to find Thornton Hall threatened by a peacetime foe: debt. He knows the location of a treasure amassed to pay for the capture of Benedict Arnold that would restore his manor to its former glory. The catch: It’s hidden in the graveyard and coveted by old enemies.

Hettie Fairfax inherited the Sight from her Cherokee ancestors, and her otherworldly visitors warn her, and Stuart, away from the buried treasure. Half-dead from fever, she delivers a message: The treasure is cursed. But will he believe a girl half out of her mind with illness? Even when a very real enemy attempts to poison her?

Stuart soon wants to marry Hettie, but she fears her “odd ways” will blemish his reputation. The spirits have their own agenda, however, and the battle against darkness tests everything the couple holds dear, including their love for each other.

New Excerpt from Traitor’s Curse:

Stuart clasped her shoulders. She was flesh and blood beneath his grip, yet seemed not of this world. “What did he say?”

“To watch for your coming.”

“How could they possibly anticipate my visit?”

“That has not yet been revealed.”

Her answer baffled him, as did she. “Why did you call me master? Are you a servant?”

“No.”

He’d doubted she was in anyone’s employ. Her smooth hands, opulent coverlet, and refined manner, all bespoke gentility. And she smelled of violets, a costly scent.

He gazed deeply into those mesmerizing eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I seek the living among the dead.”

A peculiar reply from the haunting stranger. “Who?”

“You. Stuart Monroe.”

Again, the sensation of ants scattering down the nape of his neck. “How did you know I would come?”

“I was told. In a dream.”

She spoke like one in a dream. The cold mist, the woman—an apparition in the fog—seemed unreal. Yet she was no ghost.

“You can foresee events?” A sense of dread possessed him.

“In glimpses. Your father appeared to me.” Her barely perceptible voice faded entirely, and her eyes fluttered, then closed. She swayed against him, any further explanation muffled by his coat.

Stuart held her fast and kept her from sliding to the cold earth. What did his father have to do with this visitation? Was the woman in his arms some sort of witch?~

 Visit my Amazon Author Page where ALL my books reside.

old colonial cemetery

Fascinating Story Behind Secret Lady (Book 3 Ladies in Time)

Many stories lie at the heart of my upcoming January 9th release, time travel romance Secret Lady (Book 3 Ladies in Time) from The Wild Rose Press. The characters in this mystery/adventure aren’t related to the first two releases in the series as I began a new thread. While strongly historical, Secret Lady has enough paranormal in it to categorize the story as fantasy.

The setting for Secret Lady is as close to home as I can get, our old farm-house (with a slight upgrade) in the beautiful Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. I transformed our lush dairy farm into ‘Lavender and Lace Herb Farm’ and relocated it several miles up the road on the farm we once rented. During the Civil War, horses were hidden in the Alpine like woods beyond the house.

(Our house with the wild midsummer garden by Elise)
(Behind our farm by hubby Dennis)(Our pond by Dennis)

I gleaned inspiration for the story from events that occurred to my ancestors and my husband’s family, and their peers during the Civil War. My great-great-grandfather fought at Gettysburg and was captured at Pickett’s Charge, but the focus of this story is our richly historic valley. I grew up hearing about The Burning (autumn 1864) when Major General Philip Sheridan brought hard war to our green valley, called The Bread Basket of the Confederacy. In Sheridan’s ruthless destruction of farms, livestock, and supplies that might sustain Rebel troops, he unleashed Hell on countless innocents. Among the greatest sufferers in Rockingham County were the peaceful Mennonites, my husband’s ancestors among them. These plain, hardworking people are my adopted people and a vital part of the book.

(Old-Order Mennonite Buggy Passing our farm. Image by Dennis)

Our farm stands where the worst of The Burning took place, and it occurred to me that our Victorian house might have been built soon after the Civil War because its predecessor was destroyed. We knew our home dated at least to the mid 1870’s from an elderly woman who visited here decades ago and said she was born in the house. We dated our home even earlier after finding it on an 1866 map, plus our bank barn has original features that pin it to that era.

(Our old barn. Image by Beth. It used to be red.)

This past spring, in what was my last conversation with my father-in-law before his death, I asked him if he knew of a farm that once stood on our land that might have been destroyed during The Burning. His adamant ‘yes!’ surprised my husband who wasn’t aware of its existence. However, hubby never asked.

Dad Trissel told us he used to walk back the long lane that leads behind our farm up to the wooded hills beyond and there he saw the remains of a burned-out farm (woods have since overgrown the site). He also told us our farm used to encompass that land which was later parceled off. We decided to walk back to the woods and search for any remnants from the past. Fortunately, we chose April for our exploration as the only trace of earlier dwellers our untrained eyes could detect were the faithful daffodils outlining what must once have been a house, barn, and outbuildings.

(Daffodil discovery in dry early spring before rains came with me and granddaughter Emma. Images by Elise )

If we had chosen any other season for our walk, we wouldn’t have noted anything. We later learned foundation stones and usable timber were reused in rebuilding homes and barns after The Burning. Scavengers must have been at work, and nature has taken a toll over the years. I’m not sure what my father-in-law saw in the nineteen forties, but more than we did. The daffodils are an heirloom variety that used to grow in my garden, likely from those same bulbs. Not appreciating their historic value, I replaced them with more attractive varieties and must restore these blooms to a spot in the yard.

More research is needed to determine whether the farm behind us was, indeed, burned during Sheridan’s infamous valley campaign and whether that family built our present house or fled, and another took their place in the building. We learned the road that runs in front of our house used to cut through the meadow, which would account for a farm being located back there. The stream ran beside it in those days, and springs also provided water. It could be as Dad Trissel said.

A strong sense of history hangs over the woods, our farm, and our fair valley called Shenandoah, ‘Daughter of the Stars.’  Fiery war once raged here, but we survived and rebuilt. Of course, we did, we’re Virginians.

(The valley much as it would have looked then. Image by daughter Elise)

Secret Lady Story Blurb:

Torn apart by time, reunited by flames.

At Lavender House, Evie McIntyre is haunted by the whispers from her bedroom closet. Before she can make sense of their murmurs, the house “warbles” between times and transports her to the Civil War. Past and present have blended, and Evie wishes she’d paid more attention to history. Especially since former Confederate officer, Jack Ramsey, could use a heads up.

Torn between opposing forces, Jack struggles to defend the valley and people he loves. Meeting Evie turns his already tumultuous world upside down. Will solving the mystery of the whispers return her home, and will the handsome scout be by her side?

Against the background of Sheridan’s Burning of the Shenandoah Valley, Jack and Evie fight to save their friends and themselves – or is history carved in stone?

Excerpt:

She took a steadying breath, turned the brass knob, and stepped into the room. The fragrance of lavender greeted her. Grandma G. had tucked sachets under her mattress to help her sleep and left small cloth bags in the drawers of an antique dresser. A sachet of apricot scented agrimony lay beneath her pillow.

This age-old herb was thought to induce slumber and offer protection against the dark forces. Other powerful herbs scented the room. Angelica, St. John’s Wort, and sage were in the bunch on the bedside stand beside the antique brass lamp with an ornamental white shade.

The walk-in, but duck your head, closet at the far side of the room summoned her. Boxes of Christmas decorations, a Santa, and reindeer figures stored inside the slanted nook partially hid the steps leading to the attic and the presence she swore was there. She hadn’t encountered the being in question. Yet. It wasn’t cool for a nineteen-year-old to harbor terrors of a closet, but she did.

She threw her hands up after a particularly loud summons. “What do you want from me?”

There was a rap on the downstairs door. ~

Secret Lady will be out in kindle and print at Amazon and in eBook from all major online booksellers.

In kindle and print  at Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/Secret-Lady-Ladies-Time-Book-ebook/dp/B07KNL7K3Z/

In eBook from all major online booksellers.

Follow my Amazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/Beth-Trissel/e/B002BLLAJ6

Follow me on BookBub:  https://www.bookbub.com/authors/beth-trissel

***If you are interested in reviewing please contact me: bctrissel@yahoo. com

(Old barn behind our farm. Now torn down–sadly.)

Furbaby Friday with Karen Whiddon

I’m delighted to have Karen Whiddon here to share her love of boxers and the fine work she does for these wonderful dogs, and a book dear to her heart, The Texas Soldier’s Son (Romantic Suspense).

Karen: I was thrilled when asked to post about a beloved furbaby. Rescuing dogs is my passion and I’ve volunteered for years with Legacy Boxer Rescue here in north Texas. Over the years, I’ve fostered and adopted and currently have a full house – four personal Boxers (two foster-failures) and one foster who is currently considered a Keeper due to a medical condition.

So which one to talk about? I love them all in different ways. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to discuss my first foster dog, Katniss.

Katniss was brought into the shelter on the edge of death. Severely emaciated, she was anemic and covered in ticks. Her age was estimated at 4-6 years. When I stepped up to foster her, she was immediately taken from the shelter to the rescue’s vet. In addition to this, she had erlichia. My husband and I picked off over one hundred ticks off this girl. The vet said she was so anemic that if we let her run, her heart could stop, so she had to be crated. After a warm bath, we put her on a regimen of four meals a day and medicine.

Despite all she’d gone through, she still wagged her tail and was friendly. As she gained weight and her anemia cleared up, I rejoiced when she did her first Boxer zoom around the back yard. She got along with all my dogs except my grump old male Macadoo. The two of them got into several dog fights, so I ended up keeping them separated.

Katniss was adopted 7 months after I got her in April of 2013, but the adopter returned her in ten days because his vet learned she had kidney failure. Which explained the constant drinking of water and the fact that I had to take her out in the middle of the night every single night. I took her back, and she was put on prescription food and fish oil. This was in November of 2013.

In May of 2014, I took Katniss on a Home Visit for a potential adopter. The man (a single father) fell in love with her. Even the fact that she had kidney failure didn’t deter him. He took her to his own vet and had her checked out and then adopted her. She thrived there. I kept in touch and received many photos over the years.

However in October of 2017, her adoptive father called me. He was at the vet with Katniss and her kidney failure had won. She’d stopped eating and drinking and the vet had run tests and the time had come to help her to the Rainbow Bridge. He asked if I would like to be there – and said he didn’t think he could do this alone.

She remembered me. Despite her clear weakness, she wiggled her tail and kissed me. I was honored to stand with her dad as the vet helped her peacefully pass.

For me, Katniss will always signify all that is good about rescue. I still miss her, her dad does too, but she had 4 more years of a good life, being loved, than she would have. And in March of 2018, I found another dog for Katniss’s dad to love. A boy this time. The adoption is finalized and another dog will know a loving home.

Katniss’s pic and story can be read here: http://www.savetheboxers.com/beforeandafter2.php?dogID=3076

I have a book coming out in May called The Texas Soldier’s Son (Harlequin Romantic Suspense) To quote from my Dear Reader letter in the beginning of the book:

As a writer, every now and then it feels like a story is given as a gift from the cosmos. The Texas Soldier’s Son is one of these books. Writing it felt like telling the story of good friends, maybe even family. I was there with them, just recounting what happened. Moved to tears with them, frightened for them, rejoicing with them, and falling in love just as they did.

From the back cover blurb: “Jacob is your son.” A thrilling new Top Secret Deliveries story. Army Ranger Kyle Benning never expected to live again… or have a family. When he was believed dead in an explosion, Nicole Shelton gave birth to Kyle’s baby. Now she’s someone else’s widow and a prime suspect in a murder case! Everything Kyle once knew is a dangerous as a war zone, but he battles trauma and a killer to rescue the woman he loves.

Excerpt from The Texas Soldier’s Son:

No matter. He’d be setting things straight soon.
The 2013 Chevy Silverado he drove had been one of his lone expenditures. He’d paid cash for the used pickup, knowing he’d need something reliable for the drive west to Anniversary. Excitement jumped inside him, drowning out some of the ever-present anxiety. Excitement and, dare he say, joy. Because soon, he’d be with Nicole. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he knocked on her door, to pull her into his arms and breathe the fresh strawberry scent of her shampoo, to kiss her lips until they both felt as if they were drowning.
In his pocket, he had the only other thing he’d spent part of his savings on. An engagement ring. As soon as he and Nicole got caught up, he planned to get down on bended knee and ask her formally to be his wife.
They’d talked about marrying before he’d signed up for the army. He’d even given her his high school class ring as a token, proof that he was hers and vice versa. She’d taken to wearing it with a long chain around her neck, safely tucked under her shirt so her strict parents wouldn’t see.
God, he loved her. As his truck ate up the miles, he amused himself with imagining several different scenarios when they saw each other for the first time in over a year. His favorite was the one where she hopped into his truck, they drove out to the lake and made love right there in the cab.
Finally, he crossed from Louisiana into Texas. Not too much farther now. The hum of his tires on the asphalt soothed him and he felt more relaxed than he had since the explosion.
When the Anniversary city limits sign came into view, dusk had settled over the sky. The sunset colored the sky pink and orange, promising another hot East Texas day tomorrow. He remembered how everyone liked to complain about the summer heat. It would be a cakewalk compared to the temperatures in Kabul.
Instead of heading toward the small frame home he’d rented via the internet for the next six months, he drove directly to Nicole’s parents’ house, praying she’d be home. Parking out front, he jogged up the sidewalk, his heart pounding in his chest, and rang the bell.
A moment later, the door opened. Nicole’s mother stared at him, frowning. “What are you doing here?” she asked, the rancor in her voice startling.
“I’ve been discharged from the hospital, ma’am,” he said, figuring he’d kill her with kindness. “If you don’t mind, I’d really like to see Nicole.”
“Nicole?” She recoiled as violently as if he’d struck her. “Nicole doesn’t live here. She’s over on Broad Street in the house she shared with her husband and son.” A slow, malicious smile spread across her face. “Bill Mabry? I’m thinking you might remember him?”
He hadn’t gotten much past the words husband and son. When he finally caught up, the name Bill Mabry made his stomach churn. That had been the same guy her parents had tried to force her to marry when he and Nicole had been together.
“Well?” The older woman stared, her gaze hard. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?”
For a moment he couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the words out past the huge lump in his throat. Only when she’d started to close the huge oak door in his face did he think of the one other thing he needed to know. “Did Nicole even mourn me at all?”
“Of course not,” she said smoothly, without missing a beat. “Once the army notified your foster family of your death, she’d moved on. She was already married with a newborn by then. I didn’t want to disrupt her life.”
And then she waited, eying him with a certain mocking relish, waiting for him to reveal how devastating he found her answer. He refused to give her the pleasure.
Though his head spun, he turned on his heel, the military precision of the movement kicking in by instinctive habit. Somehow, he made it to his truck, unlocked the doors and slid inside. Turning the key, he started the engine, put the shifter into Drive and pulled away.
He started to head to the park by the lake, the same secluded place he’d intended to take Nicole, but instead he found himself heading toward Broad Street. He still couldn’t believe her mother’s words, couldn’t accept that she hadn’t waited barely any time at all before getting married and pregnant. For her to have a newborn, that meant she’d jumped into bed with this Bill Mabry guy right after getting the erroneous news of Kyle’s demise.
Had he truly meant that little to her?

Get The Texas Soldier’s Son in Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/Texas-Soldiers-Son-Secret-Deliveries-ebook/dp/B075XYJDHW/

Award winning author Karen Whiddon spun fanciful tales for her younger brothers as early as the age of eleven.  Growing up in the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she found enough magic in the rugged peaks to keep her imagination fueled for years.

Now making her home in North Texas, she shares her life with her hero-like husband and five doting dogs.  In her spare time she volunteers for Legacy Boxer Rescue, Inc.  She has published around 45 books.  Currently she writes for Harlequin Romantic Suspense and Harlequin Nocturne.

You can email Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.

Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Karen a comment.

Furbaby Friday with Christie Craig!

I am delighted to have animal lover and NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLING author Christie Craig here to share her wonderfully touching dog friends with us, and her new Young Adult romantic thriller, This Heart of Mine. Christie writes YA under the pen name C. C. Hunter, and she is giving away the eBook of This Heart of Mine, so leave her a comment!

(Christie and Jake gazing at her with the ‘You’re my person look.’)

Christie: One cold November day, a big black, mixed lab dog followed my son home from school. I’d only recently lost Bosco, a misbehaving and totally lovable Boston Terrier whom I’d had the terrible misfortune of seeing get run over. I was in the “Don’t-Want-Another-Dog” stage because it hurt too much. I was actually out of town on business. Hubby called and told me about a big black dog with a gray snout. I didn’t want a dog, but I especially didn’t want a big dog. Nope, I did little dogs. And I’d heard how much black labs shed. Nope, Hubby needed to find who owned the dog and get him back home. Not a problem, my hubby said, the dog had a collar with two dog tags. 

Unfortunately, one tag was for Chihuahua, and one was for a Great Dane. Hubby put out signs, but no one came to claim my son’s newest find. “He’s sweet, Mom,” my son told me over the phone. “He’s smart, too.” He tells me how the dog would follow all the basic commands of sit, shake, and roll over. But my heart was so broken, and I still had flashbacks of seeing Bosco run over, seeing the crazy dog that brought us so much pleasure, take his last breath.

“Don’t get attached,” I told my son. “When I get home I’ll find his owner.” Well, I was wrong. I didn’t find his owner, but that dog found his. He took one look at me, and I saw it in his big brown eyes. “You are my person!” Even hubby and son were shocked at how the dog ignored them and was all about me.

“Nooo,” I told him and left the room, but he followed. He followed me to the bathroom, to the bed, to my office where I spent hours writing my novels. Hubby would try to coach him away from me with food. Even bacon wouldn’t get this dog to leave my side. I relented to keeping him. How could I take him to a shelter when he was old and probably wouldn’t find a new home. But I still didn’t want to be his person. “Choose the boy,” I told him. “He’ll play ball with you. Or choose the hubby, he’s going to be the one to feed you. All I do is sit in my study and write, you don’t want me as your person.” But that big black dog, then named Jake, wouldn’t hear of it. I didn’t get a choice. I’d been chosen. I had a shedding, big, black labish dog as my sidekick.

Jake liked the boy, he liked my hubby, but Jake was one of those one-person dogs. And from the moment he looked at me, I was it.

I tried not to love him, but when someone, even a dog, loves you that much, when he looks at you with such devotion… When you can’t help but think how anyone could have abandoned a dog so sweet. Well, it was inevitable. I fell madly in love with Jake. The vet said he was probably around eight years old. He lived another six. For six glorious years, I had a big best friend who left a trail of black hair whenever he walked, a best friend who thought I walked on water. A best friend who broke my heart when he died with his head in my lap.

To this day, I miss my best friend. Yes, it took a while, but eventually hubby went to the junkyard and came home with Falcon Ranchero and a dog. A very sick dog. The vet said she wouldn’t have lasted another few days. She gained nine pounds in one week. Lady is not your normal junkyard dog, she’s sweet, sassy, and I love that girl. But Jake will forever have a special place in my heart.

(Lady)

(Lady and best friend Maggie)

I’ve always heard and believed that animals make us better humans. For that reason, almost every book I write has either a dog or a cat. This Heart of Mine, my latest Young Adult release, under my pen name, C.C. Hunter, stars a golden lab puppy, named Lady. (Wonder where I got that from?) Matt, Lady’s owner, had lost his father and now his identical twin brother. Lady offers Matt love, loyalty, and a lot of laughter.

‘A new heart saved her life—but will it help her find out what really happened to its donor?”
C. C. Hunter’s This Heart of Mine is a haunting, poignant tale about living and dying, surviving grief, guilt, and heartache, while discovering love and hope in the midst of sadness.

Seventeen-year-old Leah MacKenzie is heartless. An artificial heart in a backpack is keeping her alive. However, this route only offers her a few years. And with her rare blood type, a transplant isn’t likely. Living like you are dying isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. But when a heart becomes available, she’s given a second chance at life. Except Leah discovers who the donor was — a boy from her school — and they’re saying he killed himself. Plagued with dreams since the transplant, she realizes she may hold the clues to what really happened.
Matt refuses to believe his twin killed himself. When Leah seeks him out, he learns they are both having similar dreams and he’s certain it means something. While unraveling the secrets of his brother’s final moments, Leah and Matt find each other, and a love they are terrified to lose. But life and even new hearts don’t come with guarantees. Who knew living, took more courage than dying?

Excerpt from This Heart of Mine:

Matt gulps fear down his throat and stares at Leah’s front door. Lady, on her leash, is trying to chew herself free. Matt can relate. With what happened last night, and not knowing what her parents know, it was hard to show up this morning. Even harder to come back the second time.
A phone rings behind the door.
Nerves gnaw on Matt’s sanity.
If her father opens the door and says Leah’s still asleep,
Matt’s gonna know the truth. Leah is refusing to see him. And then what?
Damn it. She said she’d help. And with his mom riding his
ass, he could really use some help.
Why would Leah turn her back on him? Seeing him with
Paula?
Matt had explained that Paula wasn’t . . . his girlfriend, hadn’t he? Then again, how could she be upset about Paula when she was attached at the hip to Trent Becker, and all snug and warm wearing his coat?
Matt pushes that whole bitter thought aside. Leah and he are just friends.
Yeah, they kissed and it was awesome, but that was then.
An uncomfortable thought hits. What if Leah told her parents she has Eric’s heart? Maybe it’s her parents who don’t want him here?
Footsteps sound behind the door. He stands straighter. The door swooshes open. Mr. McKenzie, holding a phone in his hand, in a at-footed stance just stares.
“Sorry, I had a call.”
Matt waits to be sent packing.
“She’s getting ready,” her dad says. “You want to come in?”
Not really. But does he have a choice?
Matt remembers Lady. Maybe he does have a choice.
“I’ll wait. I have my dog.”
Mr. McKenzie stares at Lady. A jolt of nerves skateboard down Matt’s spine. The meeting-the-dad-of-the-girl-you-like kind of nerves. Not that this is a date. Does Leah’s father know that?
“Is he housetrained?” Mr. McKenzie asks.
“She.” Matt hesitates. “Sort of, but—”
“Then come in. The shower’s going. She might be a while.”
He pushes open the door.
Matt barely crosses the threshold when Mr. McKenzie looks back at Lady and says, “But if she’s the sort that poops and pees, you clean it up.”
“Of course.” He scoops up the squirming puppy. Her big yellow paws tread the air and her pink tongue is busy trying kiss his face.
Leah’s dad leads Matt into the kitchen. “Have a seat.”
Matt’s unsure if the man is being nice or is about to interrogate him. Matt pulls the chair out from the table, leaving room for Lady in his lap, then drops in the seat. Mr. McKenzie remains standing and staring. The dog starts twisting and turning, right along with Matt’s insides.
Her father finally speaks. “Want a Coke?”
“No, sir.” He remembers his manners. “But thank you.”
“How do you know Leah?” Mr. McKenzie settles in a chair.
Here comes the interrogation. “At school.”
“You tutored her once, right?”
“Yes, sir.” Lady barks, wanting down. She starts the whimpering. Matt sits her on the ground, but holds her leash and hears her sniffing around for table crumbs.
“You’re a senior, too?” Mr. McKenzie asks in a non- interrogation tone.
“Yes, sir.” Matt wishes he could drop the “sir,” but when you had a father in the army, “sir” is ingrained in you.
Her dad runs his hand over the edge of the table. “My wife mentioned you’re a twin?”
Was a twin. Matt’s nod is small.
“You two close?”
Matt nods again, this one slower. He’d done a lot of nodding with people who didn’t know. It hurts less than explaining.
“It’s Matt, right?” Mr. McKenzie asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s the last name?”
“Kenner.”
“Kenner?” Her dad tilts his head slightly to the right as if . . . His eyes round. Instant pity turns his blue eyes a shade darker.
“Your brother, he . . . passed away?”
Matt nods. This one hurts. Thank God, he didn’t say killed himself.
“I’m sorry. My wife hasn’t kept up with the news. And I didn’t put the twin thing together.”
“It’s okay,” Matt offers the hated pat answer and thinks shit. Then he smells it. Shit. Dog shit.
He ducks his head down and moans. Lady’s in full hunched
mode doing her business.
Mr. McKenzie leans sideways and peers under the table. Their frowns meet.
Effing great! “I’ll get it, sir.” Matt loops the leash around the chair, bolts up. “Paper towels . . . ?”
“On the counter.” Mr. McKenzie’s voice is muffed from covering his nose.
Matt, paper towels in hand, crawls under the table. “Not ladylike,” he scolds Lady, using his mother’s words and tone. The puppy plops down in a poor-me pose. Matt scoops up the crap and is attempting to crawl on three limbs when he hears footsteps.
Still under the table, he glances out and up. Leah’s standing in the kitchen doorway. She’s wearing soft-to-touch-looking faded jeans that aren’t tight but hug her every curve. The red sweater she’s wearing does to her top what the jeans do to her bottom.
“Where is he? You told him to wait, didn’t you?” Disappointment slides off her words. Matt almost smiles realizing she wants to see him.
Lady, past the pathetic mode, dashes from under the table, taking down a chair as she goes.
Leah squeals, jumps, then stares at Lady. “What . . .” She slaps a hand over her nose.
“He’s . . . uh, under . . . there,” Mr. McKenzie’s tight voice echoes from above.
Leah squats down. Their gazes meet, hold, then her focus shifts to his hand holding . . .
Damn! Of all the ways a guy didn’t want a hot girl to see him, down on his knees holding a towel of dog shit has to top that list.
Matt frowns. “Lady shi . . .”—he corrects himself—“had an accident.”
Leah’s surprise fades into something softer, sweeter. A sparkle lights up her blue eyes. They crinkle at the corners with humor, and her face transforms into one big, so-damn-beautiful smile. He’s captivated.
She giggles—falls back on her butt. Lady rushes her with puppy excitement.
Leah’s laughter is like a song you want to sing along with. One he hasn’t sung in a long time. He wants that back. He wants to be able to let go of the pain he’s felt since his father died, since his brother died, and laugh like that. Laugh so free—free of grief.
Then Mr. McKenzie’s laughter roars above. Even Lady makes happy puppy sounds. Then it happens. A light feeling swells in his chest and his own laughter spills out. He can’t remember the last time he’s laughed so spontaneously. But for these few seconds, he doesn’t want to think about it.
He just wants to enjoy it. He knows it won’t last long, because in just a minute his heart is going to remember everything he’s lost.~

Get This Heart of Mine in Kindle at: https://www.amazon.com/This-Heart-Mine-C-Hunter/dp/1250131650/

Christie: Thank you for having me today. I love reminiscing about my furbabies.

Beth: I loved hearing about them!

***Thanks for stopping by! Please leave Christie a comment and remember, she’s giving away an e-copy of her new Young Adult release, This Heart of Mine.

New #audiobook #historicalromance #Novel Traitor’s Legacy

Journey back to the intrigue of the American Revolution, where spies can be anyone and trust may prove deadly. This gripping era comes to life in the rich tones of the audio book narrated by Lisa Valdini. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the story unfold and I already know what happens. If you like mystery, history, adventure, and romance, Traitor’s Legacy is for you.

Traitor’s Legacy Blurb:
1781. On opposite sides of the War of Independence, British Captain Jacob Vaughan and Claire Monroe find themselves thrust together by chance and expediency.

Captain Vaughan comes to a stately North Carolina manor to catch a spy. Instead, he finds himself in bedlam: the head of the household is an old man ravaged by madness, the one sane male of the family is the very man he is hunting, and the household is overseen by his beguiling sister Claire.

Torn between duty, love, and allegiances, yearning desperately for peace, will Captain Vaughan and Claire Monroe forge a peace of their own against the vagaries of war and the betrayal of false friends?

Traitor’s Legacy is available in audio at Audible and Amazon. Also available in kindle and print at Amazon, and in eBook from all online booksellers.

While written to stand alone, Traitor’s Legacy is the sequel to award-winning historical romance novel Enemy of the King. Traitor’s Curse is book 3 in The Traitor’s Legacy Series.

New Community for #Book Lovers! #Mystery #Romance Reads + #Giveaways ~ #amreading #ABA Happy New Year

“Hear ye hear ye!” I summon in a raspy voice, after weeks of coughing. I’m a bit better now, thanks. I’ve crawled from my burrow to share some exciting news. I’m honored to be one of 12 super authors taking part in a fabulous new website, Moonlight and Mystery. This online magazine offers superb romantic suspense, mystery, and page-turning reads, some with a sprinkle of supernatural, time slips, urban fantasy, or magic. And gripping history mixed in–from me.

Look for:

Super reads and prizes
Sweet games and contests
Behind the scenes secrets
Free ongoing mystery reads
Compelling articles (Mine will probably have historical and herbal content, or cats…gardening… but darn compelling stuff)

We invite you to be part of the inner circle, contribute to the authors’ creative process, and share your favorite books and authors.

Like our Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/MoonlightAndMystery

Visit our website: http://www.moonlightandmystery.com

I spent days creating an author page with more about my books at: http://www.moonlightandmystery.com/our-newest-releases/books-beth-trissel/

For more of an insiders’ view, join our Street Team:
http://www.moonlightandmystery.com/street-team

We look forward to seeing you and growing as the year unfolds. Make reading more one of your New Year’s resolutions. I’m gonna try to do that, too.  Our list of stellar authors includes:

Kathryn Knight      
Casi McLean
Alicia Dean
Tamara Ferguson
Suzanne Jenkins
Beth Trissel
Kim Hornsby
Brenda Whiteside
Renee Johnson
Emma Kaye
Maureen Bonatch
Sharon Buchbinder

Furbaby Friday with Author Hywela Lyn

I am glad to welcome fellow Wild Rose Press Author Hywela Lyn to the blog with a very touching Furbaby Friday post as she shares her beloved horse, Harri, and her wonderful sci-fi romance Beloved Enemy.

(Harri–Welsh Cob)

Lyn: I had to think long and hard when deciding which furbaby – or furbabies to feature on for my spot for Furbaby Friday. Should it be one of my beloved dogs, now gone over the Rainbow Bridge, my first dog Bob, Bonny the beagle, Hans, the most loyal of little dogs who was by my side at the lowest times of my life, Bouncer, the dear little rescue, who had been cruelly abused by his previous owner but was the most loving and gentle little dog, my current ‘rescue’ Choccy, who is a real character… Dusty the stable cat? Then there are the ‘big furbabies’, the horses. Max, my very first horse, Smokey, Flikka, who was with me for thirty years, her daughter Star, and son Mr Fifty, and Sally, my little endurance horse, who worked her socks off for me on the long distance competitive trail rides in Wales, all now sadly gone to their rest.

The decision was made for me two weeks ago on a snowy Sunday morning. I’ve never been lucky enough to have my own land and for several years, have been renting some land and buildings about twelve miles from where I live. I received a phone call to say that my lovely black Welsh Cob gelding, Harri, who’d had arthritis for several years and was on permanent medication for it, had gone down in the field and couldn’t get up. Eventually with a lot of help he was able to stand, but there was a strong possibility he might lie down again, and be unable to get up, and if he was to be out in the snow all night, would be in a lot of pain and probably suffer from hypothermia, even though both he and my other horse T’pau have warm blankets, lying on the cold ground he would obviously get chilled and I was afraid if he was in the stable he might get cast, so the sad decision was made to save him from any further suffering and let him go over the Rainbow Bridge. He was twenty eight years old, which isn’t a bad age for a horse.

(Harri and Tpau)

I first met Harri (show name Pentrepiod Sovereign) about fourteen years ago when I bought him from Marie. I changed his ‘pet name’ slightly from ‘Harry’ to the Welsh version ‘Harri’. Over the years, Marie and I have become good friends and she always remembered Harri’s birthday and visited him at Christmas several times. I’d already contacted her about a couple of weeks before his passing, to let her know that putting him to sleep was a possibility and I’m really glad she came to see him straight away and was able to say her goodbyes to him.

He was very beautiful, jet black, apart from a tiny smudge of white on his muzzle, and a narrow ring of white around each hind foot. I retrained him from English to the western way of riding, having been riding ‘western’ for many years, since it first became popular in the U.K. He took to it like a duck to water, and looked very smart in his black western saddle and bridle, and bright purple and white saddle blanket. He was very laid back and unlike my other horse, a paint Quarterhorse mare, T’pau, he never spooked or bolted, but if something scared him he would plant his feet firmly on the ground and turn his head to look at me as if to say ‘mum, get off and protect me!’ T’pau, although really sweet-natured, is quite bossy and used to herd him around the field sometimes, and shoo him away from a patch of grass she had her eye on, and he’d just amble away with the equine equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders, not in the slightest bit bothered, but you could almost hear him mutter under his breath ‘bossy mare’! They were very fond of each other really though, and would happily munch together from the same hayrack, and share the stable together.

(Hywela Lyn on Harri)

Harri was one of the stars in a fantasy novella I wrote for the Wild Rose Press, and later republished myself as an ‘indie’ release ‘Dancing With Fate.’ He shared the limelight with Sal, and I sent them both back to fifth century Wales, where they became the mounts of a legendary magician, and a Greek muse, respectively. Harri will always have a special place in my heart and I like to think of him grazing happily with the other horses in lush pastures near the Rainbow Bridge.

BELOVED ENEMY

BLURB:
Cat Kincaid is obsessed with killing the man she believes is responsible for the torture and death of her sister, but when she eventually catches up with him, survival becomes a greater priority than revenge.

Kerry Marchant, haunted by memories, regret and self-blame, shields himself from the pain of the past by committing himself totally to the starship, Destiny, of which he is part owner. However, the beautiful, red haired woman who reminds him of his lost love, and who he suspects is working for a corrupt regime, represents a possible threat not only to the ship, but to his heart.

Marooned on an inhospitable planet, they need to work together to stay alive, fighting not only unknown assailants, but their growing attraction. But how can they learn to trust each other when he has vowed never to get close to a woman again, and she made a solemn pledge to destroy him?

This is the third book in my SF romance series, the ‘Destiny Trilogy’, each book being a ‘standalone’. It is the only one of my books that doesn’t feature a horse of some description, but it does have an alien ‘furbaby’, called ‘Shifter’ because he can blend into the background.
Here’s the bit where the main male character, Kerry, meets Shifter for the first time. (She has just saved his life, after a gun battle, and realising he is the man she has been searching for in connection with the death of her sister, has relieved him of his blaster.)

EXCERPT:
They reached the rock their adversaries had used as a shield. With her finger on the trigger button Cat swung round it, prepared to fire if anyone moved. Then she froze. The area was clear. Not the bodies she expected to find, no sign anyone had ever been there at all.

She looked at Kerry. “They were here. They can’t have just vanished.”

He shook his head. “Unless they can teleport—which has been proven to be impossible by mechanical means. It is just possible they may have psionic capabilities.”

“No point in worrying about them now. Seems they’ve gone, however they did it.” Cat gave a long low whistle and one of the nearby boulders morphed into the tawny form of Shifter.

“What the hell is that?” As if acting on instinct, Kerry reached for his gun and then swore softly when his fingers failed to close upon it. His gaze flicked toward her. He cursed again and stared pointedly at his blaster thrust through her belt.

She ignored his stare and nodded toward the animal. “His name’s Shifter. He’s…well, I call him a chameleopard, and I’d kill anyone who tried to shoot him.”

Kerry favoured her with a cold look. “Delightful pets you have.”

“It’s only one, and yes, he is quite cute actually. Are you going to be able to walk?”
“It was my chest that was injured, not my legs.”

She ignored his sarcastic tone. Gratitude obviously did not feature among his finer points.

Available from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Beloved-Enemy-Destiny-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B01BBCBYCS

And The WildRose Press: https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/all-titles/3770-beloved-enemy.html

AUTHOR BIO
Hywela Lyn spent most of her life in Wales and the beautiful countryside and legends inspired her to write. Although she now lives in a small village in England, she is very proud of her Welsh heritage and background. She enjoys weaving romantic tales of the future, and distant, mysterious worlds. Her pen name is a combination of her first two names.’Hywela’ is Welsh and her first name but it was never used and she has always been called by her second Christian name, Lyn. One thing remains constant in her writing: The power of love. Love, not only between her hero and heroine, but between friends and siblings, and for their particular world and the creatures that share it.

She is crazy about all animals, especially horses. She lives with her long suffering husband, Dave, and her horse, Flying T’pau, a feral cat, Dusty, and an adopted lovable but slightly manic terrier called Choccy.

Hywela Lyn’s debut novel, ‘Starquest’, a futuristic romance is published by The Wild Rose Press who also published her second book in the Destiny Trilogy, ‘Children Of The Mist’. Beloved Enemy, the third book in this series, was shortlisted for the UK Romantic Novelist’s Association Romance Novel Of the Year Award, 2017, 2nd Runner Up in the RONEs 2017 and winner of the ‘Best Banter’ Contest 2017, run by the MMRWA.

LINKS:
AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE: https://www.amazon.com/Hywela-Lyn/e/B002BMBXH4/

WILD ROSE PRESS AUTHOR PAGE – http://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/138_hywela-lyn
WEBSITE / BLOG – http://www.hywelalyn.co.uk
http://www.hywelalyn.blogspot.com

FACEBOOK – https://www.facebook.com/HywelaLynAuthor?ref=hl