New Banner for 2012...

Discover Kay Dee, behind the Royal best selling author....Give-away opportunity...

Curvalicious Heroine meets mysterious Werewolves in Kay Dee Royal's Best Selling 'HOT' novel "Big Girls Don't Cry Wolf". For a chance to win a copy,  leave a comment!

Kay Dee, welcome  to my blog. Thanks for being here today. Congratulations on Big Girls Don’t Cry Wolf over all second best selling book at Muse. It’s great to have you here today.

Hello Rosalie! Thank you so much for having me today. I’ve looked forward to this visit.

Me too Kay Dee, I had so much fun at your blog the other day. :)

Other than ‘author’ what are three words you would use to describe yourself?

Wow, only three words? LOL.  Okay…career-wise, “editor,” “blogger,” “reader/promoter,” in that order. Outside of career, “Grandmother,” “wife,” “mother,” also in that order *grins*. Yeah, my husband doesn’t always like it either.

Do they influence you as a writer? Or the genre you write?

Everything I do, read, watch, touch, smell, taste, or dream about influences or inspires my writing…“everything.”

That is so true Kay Dee, I believe an author relies on their experiences to bring a believability to their writing. Even in paranormal and fantasy genres.

What is it about your chosen genre/s that fires up your muse?

Paranormal has been part of my life since youth, when I saw my dead grandpa (and it scared the crap out of me). I grew up on Sci-Fi, and Dracula, Werewolves, ghosts, telepathy, etc. I loved anything to do with the unknown or unexplained. I believe it’s the open-minded creative license that most fires up my muse. Making it plausible is the fun part for my Muse.

Goodness, seeing your dead Grandfather sounds like a story in itself. No wonder you chose this genre! I understand the creative license too!

You have a best-selling book with more about to be published, what inspired your Big Girls Don’t Cry Wolf?

What first inspired me was a call for submission to a Curvalicious contest about a heroine who is strong and confident in her plus-sized body. I loved the idea of it. There’s a twin aspect in my story as well, which came from a news clip I’d read regarding the abduction of “a” twin. It made me wonder what would happen to one without his/her other. And the location takes place at a rustic-like vacation resort. My favorite kind of places of all time. 

I love your heroine, seeing herself as a larger person. Brea and her adventures with Grey make a great read. Obviously others feel the way I do.

Do you have a regime when writing? A special place, time, mood or do you snatch opportunities to pen ideas or write a few lines?

I’ve been writing full time for about ten years and I’m still working on a workable schedule for me. LOL

I’m not afraid to keep my hind-end in the chair, but selecting what’s a priority from my many irons in the fire is a whole other thing. I must love chaos. I always take a moment to write notes whenever they come at me. It’s usually the stars of my stories talking, telling me what comes next. I’ve learned to listen.

Does your Muse follow rules and plot lines or does she offer ideas on a whim?

Oh my. I write a Meet-in-the-Middle plot line, using Claudia Suzanne’s awesome little plot tool. (http://claudiasuzanne.com/) But, even with my fifteen lines of events, they change. Still, it gives me a starting point, a middle, and an ending so I have direction when I write my first word. It’s enough to streamline my focus. Also, if I stop for the day at a place where I know what happens next, I know I’ll start the next day in the flow of words (a Stephen King trick on how to never stare at a blank computer screen).

That's a great trick.

What are the most dramatic changes you have made to a story you have written? What prompted the change?

Under another name I write YA, there seemed a discrepancy with a few in my critique group, thinking my male protagonist came across too sensitive. I modeled him from a nephew, so I personally knew someone like that. I learned a tough lesson…my nephew isn’t like the average boy that age. So I went from first person, present tense, male protagonist, to third person, past tense, female protagonist. I’ve been working on this little gem for at least seven years. Geesh.

I know that feeling too. Hmm... Some stories write themselves, others take more effort.

Has there been one event in your life that changed/inspired your writing career? For example, meeting an author, finding a publisher, joining a critique group?

I virtually met an author/editor early in my career, Lea Schizas. I met her at MuseBigKids critique group, Muse On-line Conference, Apollo’s Lear magazine, bought her book on short story writing, took a couple of her on-line courses, ran into her here or there in different circles, until I heard she’d opened a publishing company. She’s been part of my writing life for a long time, so I took a leap of faith and submitted. AND, it did change my writing career. *smile* 

She is a major influence on my career too!! :) Here's to Lea Schizas.

Would you like to tell us about the main characters of your book? Brea and Grey. Would you like to share an excerpt? Either or both… we are keen to learn more about Brea’s story.

Ahhh…Brea. She’s a caring soul, wants to help her adoptive parents, misses her twin, Belle, and has never had a serious love relationship. Her plus-sized body holds nothing in her head or heart. She’s unhindered by it.

Grey, alpha pack leader, (werewolf) has a twin, Blake, who plays the part of guardian for Grey’s well-being. Grey works hard at keeping the pack running smoothly, rarely plays, too responsible and committed. Nary a time to seek a lasting relationship, he remains mate-less, until...

Now more about the book... Big Girls Don't Cry Wolf... 

 

Blurb:

After the tragic loss of her twin sister, Brea works hard to prove herself worthy of her adoptive parent’s extra attention. She focuses on the success of the rustic resort her parents deeded to her.

Priorities change when sexy twin wolves in human form walk into Brea’s life.

A dangerous rogue abducts her, but whom, if anyone comes to her rescue?

Excerpt:

Brea watched Grey’s truck drive down the dirt path until she couldn’t see it through the trees. She shivered, instantly missing the warmth of Grey’s body next to hers. She looked one more time down the path in case Grey changed his mind about leaving her.

            Did I misread Grey’s intentions? Gads, I threw myself at him. Maybe he isn’t into oversized women after all. I’m such an idiot! 

            Brea stepped through the door of her little stone cottage. She’d never questioned her size before, always fit her just fine. Not questioning it now either. Right now she needed cozy. As crappy as she felt over Grey’s quick departure, her head throbbed like the residual effects of a hangover, but it didn’t hinder her from throwing a few logs into the fireplace. Once a nice flame got going, she absorbed the comfort of its warmth. She lay back on her divan in front of the beautiful stone hearth. 

Brea pulled her favorite blanket with images of howling wolves over her and laid her head on a matching throw pillow. Her whole room reflected her love of wolves, through pictures, statues, lamp shades, and her shelves full of books about them. She needed their comfort right now to take away Grey’s rejection of her.

            Brea closed her eyes for a moment, fighting an overpowering sadness.  Exhaustion finally pulled her into sleep.

* * * *

            A haunting wolf howl crept into Brea’s dream. It wouldn’t stop; it was so loud…until Brea snapped awake. She sat up in darkness, not even embers glowed inside the hearth, moonlight streamed in through her sliding glass door with enough light to help her maneuver through the room. She went to the glass door to draw the curtains closed, but instead she was drawn to what lay beyond her porch.

            Brea opened the door, stepped out, and walked over to the railing of her ground-level deck. She saw the light of the moon cut a path across the calm lake water to the sandy shoreline fifty feet away. Chilled damp air settled over her bare arms.

            She glanced to the south tree line leading into miles of forest. Something shifted the shadows of the trees, maybe an animal hiding. She didn’t hear the rustle of dry leaves that usually accompanies animal movement in the forest. 

            A wolf howled a short distance from Brea. Its sound reverberated against the stone cottage wall behind her, sending a shiver from her skin into her bones. She knew wolves had been sighted a few miles away, but never at the resort. For as long as she’d lived in Northern Michigan, she’d never actually seen one. Now, she was about to have a very personal experience with one.

            Brea had studied them enough to know not to move or she’d spook it. She heard it breathing and slowly turned to look. Wet, warm moisture carried on the slight breeze, settling on, around, and inside her. 

            The moon and all its light vanished behind an ominous cloud. Two glowing green orbs appeared to float in front of her. Somewhere in her consciousness she recognized the green eyes and the assailing breath. 

A direct order, something she must do, jogged her memory, compelling her. She couldn’t look away. Her body became weightless, fluid and she wanted to follow. She moved forward, off the deck, following…following something that called her. She heard it and knew she must hurry. 

Suddenly hands gripped her from behind, stopping her progress. 

Another warm moist breath infiltrated her senses with the scent of pine, musk, and cloves. Her need to follow disintegrated like the ash of a spent campfire. Brea came awake in the middle of the forest. Strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“It’s alright, Brea. I think you were walking in your sleep.” Grey’s voice whispered through the layers of fog that began to break apart in her mind. “Brea, take a deep breath.”

Brea turned to face Grey. 

“What…I’m…it’s night.” She couldn’t seem to grasp a total thought, other than being in the middle of the forest and in Grey’s arms. What was she doing here? What was he doing here?

Grey picked her up and carried her. She heard a wolf howl, so did Grey. He stopped and raised his face. Brea watched him sniff the air. She shrugged it off, her mind in no condition to make a judgment call of what he was doing, especially for something as strange as Grey sniffing the air.

The muscles in his arms tightened, squeezing her closer to him. He ran. How he could navigate through the trees in the darkness and carry her weight, Brea couldn’t fathom, but then her brain didn’t seem to be functioning with all lobes either. She closed her eyes and tucked her head into his shoulder, like a child in his arms, safe and loved. 

Loved? Where did that come from? 

Grey stepped onto Brea’s deck, walking through the open sliding glass door into her cottage. 

“Gads, I left my door open?”

“Like I told you, I think you were walking in your sleep. Have you ever done that before?” Grey set Brea down on the divan and went back to the door to slide it closed. He switched on a small lamp in the corner and proceeded to re-build the fire in the hearth.

“I’ve never walked in my sleep that I’m aware of. I mean I’ve never woke up in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. I guess I’m lucky you were there. Why were you there?” 

Brea watched Grey’s sleek animal-like movements, stealthy, sure-footed, with muscles rippling. Again she saw him lift his head and sniff the air. His eyes glowed silver, reminding her of other glowing eyes and a shudder quaked down her body.

Where can we get Big Girls Don’t Cry Wolf?

BGDCW at Muse store: http://tinyurl.com/2gyh8gj

BGDCW at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/3qn6zoe

 

How can we follow your career?

Blogs: http://www.kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com   http://ravencraftrealm.blogspot.com

FB: http://www.facebook.com/kaydee.royal

 

Kay Dee, Thanks so much for being here today. Great to ‘virtually’ meet you!

Rosalie, I always enjoy time spent with you ~ just a few days ago the virtual shoe was on the other foot. I had the honor of interviewing you and learning about the stars of your Exile series…fascinating, wild adventure. *smile* You can still visit Rosalie here: http://kaydeeroyal.blogspot.com/2011/12/rosalie-skinner-talks-about-her-exiled.html

It was great to be a guest on your blog too, Kay Dee. Thanks. 

Food For the Poor Pod cast... A terrific Christmas charity appeal.

Food for Poor. Podcast

Listen to learn all about Karina's Christmas charity... This is a great idea...

 If you can't get the podcast to work.. here is the information again.
Thanks for your time and generosity.

Rosalie

Dear friends and readers,

This winter, I have two things in my heart and on my mind:  caring for those less fortunate than me (or indeed, much of the world) and my DragonEye, PI stories.  For Christmas, I’m combining them and would like to share them with you.

Those of you who are “Vern Fans,” know about my dragon who works in our world as a private investigator, and his partner, Sister Grace, a mage and nun in the Faerie Catholic Church.  They’ve saved the worlds and their friends in numerous stories and novels.  Last year, I wrote a story for Flagship about their first Christmas together.  Not only is Grace struggling with the Mundane idea of Christmas, but their home is threatened by a land developer who wants to tear down the entire neighborhood and make a mall.  When the Ghosts of Christmas come to visit him, however, Vern and Grace have to solve the mystery before the Christmas Spirits become Angels of Death.

I have revised and am publishing “Christmas Spirits” as a serial story to raise funds for Food for the Poor. This is a wonderful charity that helps people in impoverished nations help themselves. It allows donators to choose their gifts--whether rice for a family for a month, school supplies, livestock, tools or even houses.

I'm asking that you please check out the story, and, if you enjoy it and want to see more, that you donate even a dollar to the cause. Also, if you enjoy the story, let your friends know. I'll post every Tuesday and Thursday as the donations come in.   Right now, we have raised enough to send a family 20 baby chicks and are halfway to a fruit tree in addition.  Vern would like to send them a cow (he is a dragon, after all), but Sister Grace and I are dreaming of raising enough to buy someone a home.  Can you imagine giving a HOUSE for Christmas?  Will you help?

Find the story at http://christmasspirits.karinafabian.com.  You can also get to it via my website, http://fabianspace.com.  Look under the Christmas dragon for the link.   You can learn more about Food for the Poor at http://www.foodforthepoor.org.

Thanks for your attention!

Karina Fabian

Kay Dee Royal: Rosalie Skinner ~ Talks about her Exiled Series

Kay Dee Royal: Rosalie Skinner ~ Talks about her Exiled Series: Hello and welcome Rosalie…so happy to have you today as the featured guest author ~ I’ve been dying to hear all about your sci-fi fantasy...

Meet Penny Lockwood Ehrenkranz...and enter a Contest.. This post is due to be live on 3rd Dec

 Rosalie, thank you for hosting me on your blog today.  I wanted to announce a contest.  Everyone who posts a comment on one of the blogs during my tour will be entered into a drawing. There will be two winners picked.  I am giving away one copy of Lady-in-Waiting and one copy of Mirror, Mirror.

Welcome to my blog. Thanks for being here today and talking about your new releases Lady in Waiting and Mirror Mirror. The premise for your romance Lady in Waiting is captivating. “Will a case of mistaken identity result in true love or execution as a traitor?” That’s already roused my interest.

Penny you are a prolific author and editor. Other than ‘author’ what are three words you would use to describe yourself?

Wife, mother, and grandmother.

Do they influence you as a writer? Or the genre you write?

Yes being who I am definitely influences me.  Because of my children and grandchildren, I’ve written a number of short children’s stories, two picture books, and two middle grade novels.  Many of the volunteer activities I took on when my children were younger gave me the background and information I needed not only for a number of non-fiction articles, but also fodder for several stories.  I probably would never write erotica because I couldn’t imagine what my children would think! LOL.

As far as my adult stories go, I would say having a wonderful husband has allowed me to create strong, healthy relationships between my male and female characters. Even when I write fantasy and science fiction, I include a touch of romance.

You write in so many genres, but today can we focus on Lady in Waiting and Mirror Mirror, these are romance titles. What is it about this genre that inspires your writing? 

I love the idea of romance.  I readily admit it’s lacking in a lot of our lives, but it’s such a feel-good emotion.  Just looking at a sunset over the ocean invokes a sense of romance for me.  Seeing a couple walking hand-in-hand down the street, or sitting close together on a park bench is inspiring. 

I was headed toward a potentially dark place when I met my husband.  He jokes that he “saved” me, and in some ways he did.  I like to set up similar situations in a lot of my romances.  I allow my characters to become enmeshed in conflicts which could bring them down, but the love of their lives helps them to find happiness.

Do you have a regime when writing? A special place, time, mood or do you snatch opportunities to pen ideas or write a few lines? 

I do not have a regime.  Since I began my writing career when my children were still young, I had to fit in snatches of writing time.  I have never been one to force myself to sit every day in front of the computer and write.  When an idea hits me, I work on it.  Sometimes I can work on the story exclusively, especially now that I’m retired.  Most times, however, I find it works better to find a few hours here or there.  I generally write while I’m in my office, which is a small room off our library area.  It has a window that looks out to my garden, my reference books close at hand, and lots of pictures of family and friends on the walls.  I like it quiet when I write, so I don’t have music playing.  My dogs are generally lying by my feet, keeping me company.  I try to keep my cat out of the office, though, as his hair is a pain when it gets in my keyboard!

Does your Muse follow rules and plot lines or does she offer ideas on a whim?

I’m a total pantser.  I don’t outline, but I do jot down notes of things like descriptions or character traits, as well as the correct spelling on a character’s name.  I often end up someplace totally different from where I thought I would be when I begin to write a story.

What are the most dramatic changes you have made to a story you have written? What prompted the change?

The most dramatic change was a story I submitted early in my career.  I sold The Camp to a magazine called Pursuit.  I had written a story about a woman who had been treated brutally and confined to a camp for people who are “different.”  When I submitted the story, the editor liked my writing, but he asked me to rewrite the story for the period after she escapes.  He wanted to know how she survived on the outside.  My first reaction was “no.”  Then, I realized he was the editor.  He knew what his readers wanted.  If I wanted to sell the story, I needed to reconsider what he was asking.  I did a total rewrite of the story, and I did sell it.

Has there been one event in your life that changed/inspired your writing career? For example, meeting an author, finding a publisher, joining a critique group?

Since I was a child, I’ve wanted to be a writer.  My father used to make up stories for us and tell them at bedtime.  I was a voracious reader, and I would entertain myself by writing stories and illustrating them.  My high school English teacher first encouraged me to seriously consider writing.  I wrote for the school fiction magazine.  After graduation, I tried to submit stories to magazines, but of course I had no idea what I was doing. I think my first submission was to a national publication, Seventeen. I was promptly rejected.  I decided I wasn’t very good after all and put off my writing career for another twenty years.  Getting involved in grant writing for non-profits was the turning point for me to take up writing again.  Fortunately, this was at a time when there was a lot more support for writers, and I was no longer working in a vacuum.

Would you like to tell us about the main character of your new releases /or the villains?  

My main characters will be making stops at some of the blogs during the tour, so I hope your readers will be following along.  The complete tour list is available on my blog and my website.

Or would you like to share an excerpt? Either or both… we are keen to learn more about the story.

EXCERPT: LADY-IN-WAITING

“Today’s the day, Mabriona,” Princess Alana said as Mabriona entered the chambers.  She wiped tears from her eyes with an embroidered linen. “Prince Blayne will be here, and soon I’ll be his wife.  I think the worst part of being father’s daughter is marrying someone I’ve never even met.”

“You’ve always known your marriage would be arranged for the benefit of the kingdom, Princess, but I’m sure he’ll be very nice,” Mabriona replied as she opened the heavy drapes covering the windows. She looked at her cousin and sighed.  She wanted to feel sorry for Alana, but they’d had this discussion so many times. Mabriona was tired of it.  Alana had known from the time she was a child that she would not wed for love.  Why can’t Alana just accept her fate? Outside the day was as wet as the one before and the one before that.

“Nice?  Who wants nice?  I want someone handsome and dashing.  A knight in shining armor who will love me forever.  I certainly don’t want someone like my father who will make me do everything I don’t want to do.”

Short EXCERPT: MIRROR, MIRROR

After Stefany left, Lindsey adjusted the water spigots on her tub.  A few drops of bubble bath went into the water, and the soothing scent of lavender filled the moist, steamy air.  While the tub filled, Lindsey tried on her Renaissance outfit for the upcoming Faire. She couldn’t believe her good luck at finding the perfect pieces.  She tested the bath water to be sure it was the right temperature. Then she picked up her antique mirror to get a better view. Was this a scryer’s mirror at some point in time? It slipped from her wet hands into the bathtub.

“Nuts,” she mumbled as she leaned over the tub.  She pulled one sleeve up on her blouse and fished around in the bubbles for the mirror. When she pulled the mirror from the water, spots appeared in front of her eyes, and she felt faint.  While she watched her reflection in the old mirror, the background changed.  She no longer saw the inside of her bathroom.  She closed her eyes as the room around her went black.

Who is publishing your story?

Both books are being released by MuseItUp Publishing.

Where can we get this book?

Lady In Waiting released November 18^th. Direct buy link is http://tinyurl.com/6u4keh5

Mirror, Mirror will release on December 30^th. MuseItUp Publishing’s bookstore link is:  https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2 


While you’re there, be sure to check out the other fabulous titles available.  MuseItUp also publishes their books on a number of other sites, including Amazon and Smashwords.

How can we follow your career?

I welcome comments from readers at pennylane97053 at yahoo dot com

My website is: http://pennylockwoodehrenkranz.yolasite.com

My blog is: http://pennylockwoodehrenkranz.blogspot.com

My Facebook page is: http://www.facebook.com/penny.ehrenkranz

My Twitter is: http://twitter.com/pennyehrenkranz

My author page at MuseItUp Publishing is:

https://museituppublishing.com/musepub/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=130&Itemid=82

Penny, thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to be here today.   

Rosalie, you asked some great questions.  I want to remind your readers to be sure to leave a comment to be entered in the final drawing.

  Lady-in-Waiting

Through a series of misunderstandings, Mabriona is forced to live a lie, but when the man she loves awakes from his coma, will she confess her deceit? 


 Mabriona is cousin to the beautiful and spoiled Princess Alana.  When Alana is forced to marry a man she despises, Mabriona is torn between her loyalty to her cousin and her attraction to the handsome Prince Blayne.

Tragedy befalls the cousins on the way to Prince Blayne’s castle.  Servants, believing Mabriona to be Alana, refuse to listen when she tries to explain.

While she waits for Blayne to recover, Mabriona meets his equally handsome younger brother, Madoc, a bard.

When Blayne awakes, will Mabriona choose life with a future king, will she be sent home in disgrace because of her inadvertent lies, or will Madoc win her love with his poetry?

 Mirror, Mirror

Lindsay Baker’s purchase of an antique mirror sends her back in time to salvage a love torn apart by class restrictions.

Lindsay Baker is intrigued by everything about the middle ages, but when she purchases an antique mirror and a costume to attend a Renaissance Faire, she suddenly finds herself transported back in time.  There she finds she’s been called by a witch to right a terrible wrong. 

Graham loves Prudence, but he can’t marry her because he’s landed gentry, and she is only the baker’s daughter.  Before Lindsay can return to her own time, she must convince Graham to marry against his father’s wishes.  Unfortunately, she also finds herself falling for the handsome gentleman.

Can she find her way back to her own time, or will she be stuck in a time when women had no rights?

Temporary buy link: https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2

LADY-IN-WAITING, excerpt:

Mabriona assisted Alana down to the common dining hall as was her duty.  The big room was warmed at both ends by huge hearths.  In honor of Prince Blayne’s arrival, the boards had been scrubbed until they gleamed.  Warm, fresh-baked loaves of bread graced each table, and the delicious aroma made Mabriona’s mouth water as they entered the room.  Jars of honey mead sat within easy reach of all.  Pewter bowls piled high with fresh picked apples and pears were artfully placed. Serving wenches waited, poised, with huge pots of steaming porridge.

King Cedric already sat at the upper table with Prince Blayne at his right hand.  His face lit up with a smile when Alana and Mabriona approached.  His voice boomed as he greeted his daughter, “Here she is, the flower of my life.”

Mabriona’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes met Blayne’s.  As Alana had feared, the young prince was dark-haired with eyes the color of jet, his stature kingly.  Broad shoulders and well-muscled arms nicely filled out his deep purple brocaded doublet. A full beard of coarse black hair covered his cheeks and chin, but what stopped Mabriona was his smile.  Never before had she seen someone’s face light up like the sun rising on a summer’s morn.  Yet, this was what came to her mind.  Clearly, Blayne’s smile was meant for her, but why? 

He stood and walked toward the women.  “Princess Alana,” he said, bowing before Mabriona, his glance speaking words of heat and passion.

“Oh no, Your Highness,” Mabriona said, blushing.  “I am Princess Alana’s lady-in-waiting, Lady Mabriona.”  She felt Alana glaring daggers at her and quickly curtseyed to hide her embarrassment.  Alana made it clear earlier she wasn’t attracted to dark-haired men, why is she so angry?  It isn’t my fault the prince was confused. Alana looked down at the floor before glancing up at the handsome prince.

“Forgive me, Lady Mabriona.  I’ve made an unthinkable error.”  Prince Blayne bowed again and then turned to Alana.  “Your Highness, your beauty should have made it clear to me you are my intended.”

Mabriona’s heart sunk.  She saw Alana’s cold look as Blayne bowed and took her hand to kiss. She knew then that Alana hated him, yet Alana would marry him as her father decreed.  It was unfair, but Mabriona was already wise enough to know she couldn’t change her lot in life.  Alana would marry the handsome prince and live happily ever after, and she would remain the ever-faithful servant catering to Princess Alana’s every wish.

Blayne grasped Alana’s elbow and led her to the table to sit beside him. Yet as Mabriona watched them, Blayne’s gaze slid back to her, lingering as if he could imprint her image upon his soul.  Her knees felt weak, and Mabriona quickly took a seat at the far end of the board.  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest.  What was happening to her? Prince Blayne was not the first man to have caught her eye, yet he was certainly the first to have affected her so she could barely breathe.  Unobserved and temporarily forgotten, she watched the couple.  Just as she suspected, Alana kept her nose in the air and cringed each time Blayne looked at or touched her.  King Cedric would get an earful as soon as Alana got him alone, of that Mabriona was certain.  Her heart bled for the handsome prince.

She looked up to see Alana motioning furiously at her.  She went to the princess and bent near her.  “Yes, Princess?”

“Get me out of here, now,” Alana whispered harshly.

Mabriona offered her hand, and Alana rose from her place.  Blayne looked up, catching Mabriona’s gaze.  His eyes sparkled, and a smile spread across his face.  He bowed his head slightly.  He openly flirted with her.  This could not be happening.  If King Cedric saw the interplay, what would he think?  Blayne was the intended of Alana. Things could not get any worse.  Her thoughts tumbled like the bones the guards threw when they played at betting games. 

**************************************

MIRROR, MIRROR excerpt:

“Fool-born child!  Watch where you are walking. The master will have your hide for getting mud all over his clean shirts.” 

Someone pulled her ear—hard—and Lindsey yelped with pain.  She was tugged up into a kneeling, then standing position, before she opened her eyes.  She realized in the first moment she was no longer in Oregon.

“Where is your cap?  If the master sees you with your hair hanging down all over your face, he will switch us both.” 

She stared wide-eyed as a large, buxom woman bent down, picked up dirty white shirts from the ground, and thrust them into Lindsey’s arms.

“‘Tis not here. Take my extra one.”  The woman grabbed Lindsey’s hair, balled it, and shoved it into a long, sleeve-like cap, which came to Lindsey’s forehead and fell down around her shoulders.  Balancing the load of shirts with one hand, she felt the cap.  Not a shred of her hair was showing. 

“Um, thanks,” she said.

“Well, donna be thanking me now.  You just watch what you be doing next time, clumsy girl.  Now march back into the washhouse and get the mud off those shirts.  When you have finished, hang them out to dry. Then get you into the kitchen and help cook with dinner.”  The woman brushed her hands off; then she smoothed her apron and marched through a courtyard toward a large stone house.

Dumbfounded, Lindsey stood where the woman left her.  She looked down at herself and saw she still wore her second-hand clothes from St. Vincent de Paul’s.  Her feet were bare. Then she noticed the woman walking away from her was also barefooted.  Despite the muddy courtyard, the air was warm and so was the soil.  But where am I?  As she looked around, the structure of the buildings reminded her of pictures from her British History course in college.

In the opposite direction from which the woman took, Lindsey noticed a path leading to a small outbuilding.  Smoke rose from a chimney.  She trudged back to the washhouse, opened the door but stepped back outside when her eyes began to tear, and the heat blasted her face.  Do people actually work under these conditions?  With the door opened, some of the smoke and steam cleared, and she was able to see a large wooden tub sitting on metal legs straddling hot coals. Lindsey dumped the load of shirts into the tub, picked up a stick and stirred the load in the water.  Before long, her muscles ached, and she had blisters on her hands. Once the tears began, there was no stopping them.  Until this point, she hadn’t thought much beyond putting one foot in front of the other.  She collapsed on a small overturned crate and with head in hands, had a good cry.

With red, puffy eyes, and stuffed nose, Lindsey looked up when the door opened.  A wizened old woman leaning on a cane shuffled in.  She looked at Lindsey with questioning eyes.  “Is it really you, Mistress?” she asked.

“What do you mean?  Who am I supposed to be?” Lindsey responded between sobs.

The old woman began to dance.  “It worked!  It worked!”

Lindsey wiped the tears from her eyes with the bottom of her skirt.  “What worked?” she asked, realizing this woman might know what happened.

“Why the summoning I did for Mistress Prudence.  So you’re the one, eh?”  The old woman pinched Lindsey’s cheek and turned Lindsey’s face from side to side to get a good look.  “Well you do look like the young Mistress.

When are you from, then?”

“You did say when, not where?”

“Of course.  I know you’re not from now, foolish simpkin.  I brung you here.”

“This morning it was 2011.  I’m not sure what year it is now.”

“‘Tis the year 1421, and you need to get busy, little missy.  You need to get the Master to accept Prudence as his bride.  Soon as you do, we can send you back from whence you came.”

Lindsey stood and looked down at the little woman. “Just how do you propose I do that?  Who is this master, anyway?”

“Why, he be the master of the house.  He loves our Prudence, he does, but his father wants him to marry for money.  He’s just distraught our Master is.  I wager you be a smart woman. You can get our Master to marry you. I canna help you anymore, but I’ll be watching you.”  The crone turned and shuffled toward the door.


Great excerpts Penny... I am already eager to read more...Thank you for being my guest today and for your generous contest. Don't forget to leave a comment for your chance to win!!!