When a corrupt chief dies, the ancestors refuse to welcome him into their ranks. Instead, they send him back to try it again. With his short temper and confused memories, he faces a hard road to redemption. But he gets some help from spirits and friends, both living and dead.

About the Author
Kathleen Flanagan Rollins writes the award-winning Misfits and Heroes prehistoric adventure series about early explorers who reached the Americas. Her short stories have appeared in The Foliate Oak, The Sunlight Press, and Shark Reef Literary Journal.

She slumped against the rock and hugged her arm close to her body. "Do I have a clan? I bear the marks of my clan, my history from the day I left childhood behind to the moment I was accepted as a fully initiated member, right here, written for all to see, yet I ran away from my clan before they could finish killing me."

Lured to the mysterious rock by prophetic dreams, Nulo the dwarf discovers what he always knew he would find: a sign that his South Pacific tribe is not alone in the new land.

But not everyone welcomes the news. Some, including Nulo's wife, want to ignore the strangers, but Nulo knows they must meet the people who left the message carved on the stone. He doesn't know that others also roam the wild country, men pushed out of their villages and left to survive any way they can.

The third entry in the Misfits and Heroes series, A Meeting of Clans follows a group from the north coast and one from the south coast as they push across the wild interior of what is now southern Mexico, 14,000 years ago.

About the Author

Kathleen Flanagan Rollins worked as a composition and literature professor at Mott College in Flint, Michigan. While there, she developed an interest in early explorers in the Americas.

This interest only grew when she traveled to ancient sites in Guatemala and Mexico. Inspired by her adventures, Rollins began her popular Misfits and Heroes series. This includes Misfits and Heroes: West from Africa, which was listed as one of Kirkus Reviews' Best of 2011, and Past the Last Island. Both books received five-star reviews from Foreword Clarion Reviews.

The latest addition to the Misfits and Heroes series, A Meeting of Clans, is now available.

"With a gripping plot, mind-blowing storytelling, and unpredictable twists, Amulet's Rapture is going to be among my top three favorites of this year." —Readers' Favorite

"One of the novel's most ambitious gambits is its richly atmospheric blending of supernatural elements into the broader story. The tale features ghosts, animal familiars, shapeshifters, and all kinds of spiritual communications, and Tanner's skill at interweaving these elements is shown by how seamless the whole process feels...This is a strong entry in Tanner's enjoyable series." —Kirkus Reviews 

Blood stains her Celtic home and kingdom. The warrior Druid princess will do anything to retake her kingdom. 

Although Catrin is the rightful heir to the Celtic throne in Britannia, she is lucky to be alive. After witnessing the slaughter of her family at the hands of her half-brother, who was aided by the Romans, she is enslaved by a Roman commander. He disguises her as a boy in the Roman Legion with the belief that she is an oracle of Apollo and can foretell his future. The sole bright spot in her miserable new life is her forbidden lover Marcellus, the great-grandson of the famed Roman General Mark Antony.

But Marcellus has been wounded and his memories of Catrin and their secret marriage were erased by a dark Druidess. Though Marcellus reunites with Catrin in Gaul and becomes her ally as she struggles to survive the brutality of her Roman master, he questions the legitimacy of their marriage and hesitates to help her escape and retake her kingdom. If their forbidden love and alliance are discovered, her dreams of returning to her Celtic home with Marcellus will be shattered.

 

More Reviews:

2020 The Coffee Pot Book Club Award, 5 Stars

"Tanner pens a compelling narrative, and she writes with imagination and a great deal of energy. This is a book that is triumphant in all ways. If you are looking for your next great historical fantasy series set within a realistic Roman backdrop, then look no further than Amulet's Rapture...Fans of Jez Butterworth's Britannia will fall in love with this book. I highly recommend." —Mary Ann Yarde for The Coffee Pot Book Club

"…readers who seek a strong romantic feel to their fantasies will appreciate Tanner's writing. She peppers her plot with just enough of these steamy scenes to keep romance fans invested." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award) 

"The author, Linnea Tanner has done extensive research into Roman history, mysticism, anthropology, and religions. For those that had not read books 1 and 2, the author brings the story-line forward smoothly. I had read the previous two books, but it was good to have a little refresher. This trilogy is one of my favorite books of the year." —★★★★★ Reader Review

Author Bio:

Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids. 

Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book. 

A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

Shop the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series

 

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away—oh, sorry, that’s another story. But it could be this one, too. Could be the beginning of a lot of stories. All stories, really. But actually the galaxy isn’t far, far away, because nothing is far, far away, really…everything is just a thought away. Everything.

So in this galaxy that isn’t very far away after all is a very large room. Very large. Emphasis on very. And large. Oh, you wouldn’t believe the love and dedication that fills this room! This room spreads on for miles and miles and miles in every direction. You can’t even see its walls. But more about the room itself in a little bit. Right now we’re standing in front of an office. The sign on the office door reads MANAGER, ANGELIC AFFAIRS— which makes no sense at all, really, because everything, everywhere would fall under the category of affairs of angels. And we’d all be managers managing them. But anyway….

Henry, a plump, balding angel sits behind his large, angelificial desk. Now you might wonder why this angel would choose to be plump and balding and sitting behind a large, angelificial desk when he can choose to be anything, anywhere. Well, what do you think of when you see a plump, balding man? Wasn’t your favorite uncle like that? How about your favorite, old art teacher in that frumpy, navy-blue cardigan with the frayed elbows? And didn’t you just want to throw your arms around him in a big, sloppy bear hug? Well, that’s why Henry chooses to be plump and balding, and why anyone would choose to be plump and balding—because it’s all a choice. All of it, every last bit—it’s a choice. Maybe the choice isn’t made consciously, top-of-mind, but it’s made. Not sure how many big, sloppy bear hugs Henry, your uncle, or that old art teacher actually got, but I’m sure lots of folks thought about it.

Now as for sitting behind his desk, that’s another choice, because, as you now well know, anyone can be anything, anywhere. But Henry chooses to sit behind his large, angelificial desk to be of high service. And since he is a very organized angel and loves being an Angelic Resources Manager (you know, like the best Human Resources Manager in the best organization you ever worked for?), that’s what he chooses. And he chooses the angelificialness of his angelificial desk to weed out the ones who don’t really mean it. The chaff from the wheat. The angels from the, well, angels. Okay, the less-than-dedicated angels from the highly dedicated angels.

Henry looks to be about sixty-five—in Earth Time. Sitting in front of him is Brooke. Now Brooke is what you might picture an angel to look like...if an angel could be of Northern European descent, anyway: long, blond hair and big, blue eyes that soak in the worlds around her. She appears to be about twenty-five in Earth Time. But really, she’s as old as the universe. And so are you, by the way. Put in that perspective, you’ve been holding up very well. It’s truly amazing how wonderful everyone looks, considering.

Do angels have wings? Well, they do if they want to. Brooke and Henry don’t have them, nor do any of the angels in our story here, but many an angel or two have donned a pair of wings for that special occasion or two or eighteen million when they wanted to look especially angelic.

“Why would you want to do this?” Henry demands of Brooke. “It’s the hardest job in the universe!”

“It’s all you hear about,” Brooke answers, “all over every single galaxy: Earth, Earth, Earth. I figure if I can’t get in as a human, I could try it this way.”

“These humans can be as thick as wood. And just as pliable.” Henry looks at her over the top of his bifocals. Angels sometimes wear bifocals when they want to have that professorial look, too, just like humans. “Why don’t you go to Arcturus and just be content with peace, love, and instant manifestation?”

“This is what I want. More than anything in the entire universe.”

Henry sighs. “Alright then. Follow me. It’s not like we couldn’t use a willing volunteer down there.” But he smiles to himself, as if at some joke.

Henry leads Brooke out the door and through a tiny part of that seemingly infinite room. In thousands upon millions upon billions of cubicles, thousands upon millions upon billions of angels sit at their computer desks in groups of three, sometimes four, and sometimes two groups of three or four sitting side by side with numerous monitors in one bigger cubicle. The room has a distinct thrum as it hums with the voices of these thousands upon millions upon billions of angels. If you heard this thrum, you’d realize that, well, you do hear this thrum. All the time. The Earth has this thrum, the galaxies have this thrum, the universe has this thrum, and you have this thrum. The thrum is everywhere, resonating in one universal harmonic.

At first glance, a first-timer—which would be you— might think that the room’s vibrant radiance comes from the monitors and other external light sources. But a second glance would inform you that the monitors are actually somewhat dim and there are no other light sources. Oh, what love and devotion in billions of angels can do. Just imagine what love and devotion in seven billion—well, we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.

Henry and Brooke pass two angels conferring over their computer monitors while the third in their triumvirate whispers softly into a microphone.

“No, no,” one angel says to the other. “You can’t have them meet yet. They’re supposed to have a child that’s going to be the Senator of Tennessee in 2067, and they can’t conceive her until after the accident, which can’t happen for another two years.”

Brooke looks at Henry in surprise. If she were one of your teenagers, I believe she would be saying, “WTF?”

Before Henry can say anything, the second angel answers the first: “Okay, let’s send this schlub along. That’ll keep her occupied for a little while.”

The first angel appears shocked. “Schlub?”

“Okay, okay,” the second angel replies, somewhat abashed, “a drop of divinity cleverly disguised as a schlub.”

Brooke again turns to Henry. “They do this while their assignment sleeps?”

“Right. Their assignment is obviously a late sleeper. Could be a hooker.” And then, to the surprise on her face, “Not to worry, it’s all good. It’s all a divine path.”

He leads Brooke past a closed office door. RAINDANCERS, the elaborate sign announces.

“Raindancers?”

“Oh,” Henry shakes his head, “you’d be amazed at how many humans want to rain on their own parade, keep worrying about nonsense, look at the bad side of anything. Raindancers only perform when asked, but they are in hot demand. You want to be extra busy, sign up for Raindancing.” And to her still-surprised expression, he adds, “It’s all good.”

Henry and Brooke continue walking and arrive at a bank of elevators. While Henry presses the down button, Brooke notices a very serious angel nearby, closely watching graphs and trends appear on his computer screen. His piercing blue eyes, which peer out from under hooded eyelids, look like they belong in a bird of prey, not in an angel.

“What’s his gig?”

Henry puts his fingers to his lips, imploring that she keep her voice down. “Karmic enforcer,” he whispers. “A job nobody wants. They have to recruit from the dark side.”

“Dark side? There’s no such thing!”

“Tell him that. Anyone in creation can believe anything he or she wants to and create that reality.”

“But—”

“And he’s found a lot of people on Earth willing to participate in that reality.”

“Yuck!”

Henry leans close to Brooke’s ear. “Don’t tell him this, or the humans who want to participate, but karma can be changed the instant the intent to change it is there.” Henry stops for a moment to consider what he just said. “Actually, no, my mistake—your job is to tell humans that. It’ll save them a lot of time. If they can hear you, that is.”

Ping! The elevator arrives and they hop aboard. Out of two hundred and fifty buttons with different codes, letters, and numbers, Henry locates E.

“E for Earth,” he tells her. “But it’s not too late to choose A for Arcturus or S for Sirius.”

“I’m good with E,” Brooke responds.

“Just double-checking.” Henry presses the E button and turns to Brooke. “Love and remember. Love and wake up. That’s all these humans have to do. And you’d be amazed how many mountains they put in their own way.”

The elevator departs from the enormous angelic hall—okay, it’s really part elevator, part rocket ship—and shuttles across the galaxies. Brooke gasps as the beautiful blue orb of Earth appears through the window. “Oh!”

“Beautiful, isn’t it? One of the finest creations in the universe. And they insist on decimating it, even though they have alternatives.”

The shape of North America appears in the window, and in just a matter of seconds, California appears to be rushing up to meet them.

“But they’ll get it,” Henry assures her. “That’s their job—to get it—and they have eternity.”

“They do?”

“If not here, somewhere. But it would be a shame to waste this incredible creation. Do what you can about that, okay?”

“Absolutely.” Brooke gasps again as the Southern California coast is now right beneath them.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yeah!”

“What?”

“Yeah!”

“What?”

“YES!”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“You sure you’re sure?”

“I’m SURE I’m sure!”

THUD! The elevator lands on E. The elevator door opens and Brooke is too surprised even to gasp. They have landed in a small patch of grass by the 405 Freeway, somewhat near the Los Angeles airport. The trees, leaves, and grass shimmer and radiate with their own internal light. From Brooke and Henry’s vantage point, the veil has been lifted, and bending over every single blade of grass is an angel whispering, “Grow! Grow! Grow! Thank you for being here. You are so

loved. You are such a blessing. You are a miracle.”

As Brooke looks up and down the freeway, she sees more and more areas of grass, and she marvels at the amazingly stunning sight of more and more angels becoming visible to her.

The freeway is completely clogged. The cars are lit up by the light of the human occupants inside of them. But the exhaust from each car and the smog that hangs over the city seems to move, even dance, in a demonic way.

“What—what are they doing to themselves? Can’t they see what they’re doing?”

“It’s just wild how much denial humans can put themselves in. All of some can see, and part of the others can see, but they suppress it. It’ll be part of your job to help all of all of them see.” To Brooke’s confused expression, Henry adds, “You’ll see what I mean, all in good time.”

He gently takes her by the arm, and they float over the cars. “We landed a little too far east,” he tells her. “We have to cross over the freeway to that neighborhood over there.” The houses he points to are barely visible through the thick smog.

Brooke becomes aware of something that sounds like a beehive. And the beehive is growing louder and louder. As they glide over the freeway, she peers through the car windows. Inside each vehicle, accompanying but completely unbeknownst to the humans, are three angels—two are sitting beside their human and the third is in the backseat consulting a laptop computer.

A seriously suntanned man with a seriously bad hairdo shakes his fist out the window of his BMW to the driver that just cut him off.

“Goddamn son of a bitch! Where in the world did you learn to drive—on a farm?”

“Actually,” Henry chuckles to Brooke, “the answer to that is yes.”

They float over the car next to the boorish Beamer driver to find a woman who appears to be very composed—almost as if she’s about to step onto a ballroom dance floor. But inside her head, her thoughts are going a mile a minute.

“Oh, why didn’t I tell him what I really wanted to say? Why did I say what I said? What was I thinking? Should I call him and tell him what I really wanted to say? Oh, how could I have done that? What should I do?”

“Ouch!” Brooke winces, although she can’t feel pain. But she feels compassion—that’s her job. “That must hurt!”

“Oh, yes,” Henry sighs, “it does. Quite a bit. Takes most of ’em a long time to learn that—if they ever do, that is.”

The beehive, Brooke realizes, is really the cacophony of millions upon millions of thoughts drifting up to her.

Brooke and Henry float over the next car, where the driver is singing to his dashboard. “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt!”

They float over the next car, where the driver is doing the exact same thing. “I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt.”

Puzzled, Brooke turns to Henry. “That sounded a little different.”

“He was singing in Japanese. But you can understand everything, everywhere.”

“Why aren’t their angels talking to them, any of them?” Brooke asks.

“How in the world could they hear their angels if their minds are so overly overactive?”

They float over another car and no thoughts float up to them.

“She must’ve meditated this morning,” Henry answers Brooke’s quizzical look. “And every morning for the past thirty years.”

Brooke notices the woman has four angels sitting in meditation around her. “So why aren’t her angels talking? They could get through to her.”

“No need,” Henry replies. “She’s on her right path. They speak to her from time to time just for a touch of guidance and reassurance.”

One of the angels opens one eye to look at the graphs on her laptop and then returns to her meditation. One of the other angels breaks from his meditation to address the woman: “Thank you for all that you do. You’re such a blessing.” As the woman smiles, the angel returns to his meditating.

“See?” Henry says to Brooke. “Actually, every single person on Earth has an angel who says that, over and over, when he or she can get through all the noise of the TV, radio, and the human’s own thoughts. But, even then, so few hear it.”

They float over another car with two people inside and six angels accompanying them. The radio is blaring loudly. The angels have their hands over their ears.

Brooke notices one lone angel over one lone blade of grass growing through a crack in the concrete by the freeway.

“Grow! Grow! Grow!” whispers the angel. “You’re a miracle. Thank you for being here. You’re such a blessing to us all.”

They float over the freeway wall, and Brooke sees an entirely different world as they glide down an attractive, tree-lined street of lovely, little homes with tidy, freshly mowed yards and well-tended gardens. Henry leads her to one particular house with requisite tidy yard along with innumerable angels talking to each blade of grass, each flower, even each leaf on a shrub.

“When it gets too much,” he tells her, “just fade them. You’re not even seeing all the dimensions. Even I don’t, when I can avoid it. It’d make you crazy if you did. But if you do want to see other dimensions, just choose. The choice is always there.”

The angels in the yard fade away as Brooke makes that choice.

The two voyagers float into the house. A pile of shoes greets them and piles of who-knows-what line the foyer. They float down the hallway and into a large family room off the kitchen. Now if you had just walked into the room, you would see a man playing with his young son and a woman potatoing on the couch to an early-morning quasi-news show. And if you could see like an angel, you would see the three humans and nine other beings in the room—a committee of three angels for each human. And that’s not counting the angels for the plants around the room, who are working even more intensely because their charges haven’t been watered in weeks.

Jack. Ohhhhh, Jack. He’s the man playing with the little boy. Yikes—you just want to grab him by those tightly hunched shoulders and shake him loose! The only thing tighter than his clenched fists is his jawline. Jack could be very handsome if he weren’t so sad. And even if you weren’t particularly sensitive, and even if it was a rare moment when Jack had a smile on his face,

you’d still know he’s sad. You could feel it, even across the room. If you were to take one look at him, you’d probably want to close your eyes so you could reenvision him as a strong, beautiful, powerful man—what he could be, perhaps what his original blueprint depicted about thirty-five years ago.

“But it’s kind of like someone came along and deflated the balloon of his being,” Brooke says.

“If someone else actually has that power,” Henry replies. “Which no one does.”

Three angels surround Jack: Christopher, Sapphire, and Blake. Your quintessential computer geek, Christopher wears glasses over his sharp, black eyes (yes, as you probably already surmised, angels wear glasses, too, when they want to proudly present that intellectual look). His ebony skin contrasts against his red and blond Mohawk—even angelic geeks like to sport that alternative look from time to time. Christopher constantly studies his laptop to watch graphs, analyze trends, make mental notes from the running tick of information gathered from all corners of the universe, and calculate statistics. On occasion, he looks up from his computer, but it has to be quite the occasion—which you know will happen because you certainly wouldn’t be reading a book about a non-occasion. But basically picture an angelic actuarial services analyzer albeit from the very hip part of town, and Christopher’s your guy...well, your angel.

Sapphire whispers into Jack’s ear. She’s the sweet librarian type—you remember that truly great librarian, the one you wondered about and asked your friends if they thought she had a life? At least a life that didn’t involve reference desks and card catalogs? Or for those of you younger ones who have never researched away from the Internet and are wondering what in creation a card catalog could possibly be, picture instead a woman who loves to look on her computer to see what wisdom is found where. At any rate, this librarian from your hometown library just loved researching things and helping you find information. She was born to work in a library, and you thought, wow, it’s really good we’re all interested in such different things, so it all gets taken care of. (And yes, everyone thought she had a very boring life, but oh how wrong they were—you wouldn’t believe the life she had!) Behind Sapphire’s thick glasses and tightly wound bun, she is actually very, very beautiful.

They’re all beautiful. Honestly, have you ever seen an ugly angel? Or, if you’ve never seen an angel, have you ever imagined an ugly one? Impossible. Just like humans. Maybe there are some less-than-attractive humans, but most are pleasant looking. A small percentage fall in the absolutely-breathtakingly-beautiful category and an even smaller percentage fall in the far-less-than-absolutely-breathtakingly-beautiful category. But they’re all beautiful—all angels, all humans. You know what we mean.

Sapphire’s job is to whisper continuously in Jack’s ear, which is exactly what she’s doing now. And what does she whisper? A compendium that goes something like this: “Jack, you are so beautiful. You are loved. You are a blessing. Thank you for being here. Thank you for blessing us. Jack, you are such a wonderful being. Jack, you are loved. You are so dear. You are such a blessing. Thank you for all that you do.”

Well, you get the idea. Everyone, everywhere on Earth, has an angel whispering to him or her like that. So why isn’t life a steady stream of perfection? Because very few can hear these words. But that’s starting to change, at least here and there.

Next to Christopher and Sapphire stands Blake. Remember your favorite high-school coach? Well, he probably was very Blake-like. “Atta boy,” or “Atta girl,” he’d say to you when you did a particularly good maneuver on the playing field. Or, if sports were not your thing, he’d say, “Nice try, kid.” And you’d know that while he didn’t understand how in the world sports weren’t first and foremost in your every thought, he really could tell you tried, and he sure did appreciate that.

Blake pats Jack on the shoulder. “Jack, you’re a wonderful father. You’re a wonderful businessman. But you know what? There’s more for you to do, son.” He pats him again—if Jack could’ve actually felt that pat, he probably would’ve fallen over.

“Hey!” Christopher exclaims, watching a graph on his computer. “Check it out—his awareness just went off the charts! I think he heard you. It looks like he might finally be getting it—no, no, forget it…just a passing thought.”

“Nah, he didn’t hear me,” Blake says. “His heart is open from playing with his little boy. You’ve seen this before—happens every day when he’s with him. With his baby girl, too. But it doesn’t stay.”

Meanwhile, Sapphire simply whispers in Jack’s ear: “You are so dear. You are such a blessing. Thank you for all that you do.”

“Jack, Jack, Jack,” Blake practically hollers to him, clapping his hands. He bends over next to him, hand on Jack’s shoulders, like a coach trying to pep up a reluctant-but-necessary player sitting on the bench. “It’s time to run with the ball, son. Time to know there’s even a ball in play. Time to know you’re even on the ball field. Time to know there’s even a game going on!”

Henry looks at the clock on the mantle. “He’ll be off to work soon,” he tells Brooke, “but he’s getting as much as he can of the most joyous thing in his life before he drops him off at preschool. One of the most joyous things, anyway. The other joy is his daughter. And this is Lacey, his wife,” he says, pointing to a form that has very successfully merged with the couch.

Brooke glances over at Lacey, who’s still doing the most wonderful job of potatoing. Yes, well, everyone on Earth has his or her special talent, and if a higher talent isn’t cultivated and nurtured, the lowest common denominator talent tends to prevail. Lacey might have been prettier in her day, and she could be on this day, if she wanted to be. Nope, doesn’t want to be: the bulge is winning this particular battle, dark roots are taking over the blond in her stringy, shoulder-length hair, her hazel eyes have long gone slack.

Surrounding Lacey are her three angels. If this team’s computer aficionado was from Earth, you would think she’s from Southeast Asia, and she’d be gorgeous if she weren’t so bored. She watches Lacey for a moment and then sighs as she starts to play a game of solitaire on her computer. There aren’t too many charts to watch when the human is so, well, uninvolved with life.

A chubby, adolescent-looking angel plays paddleball while an even younger-looking angel plays jacks on the floor. Adorable? Off the charts.

“Have they given up on her?” Brooke asks.

“Oh, no,” Henry answers. “But they have to wait ’til she turns off the TV. They’ll work on her when she gets up to use the bathroom. Can’t work on people while their minds are fully occupied with rot.”

“Why such young angels for her?”

Henry laughs. “Those two are ageless, timeless, eternal beings, just like all of us. But young-looking ones tend to act more young-at-heart. Sometimes angels like that are the only ones who can reach people like Lacey here. Special assignment.”

Brooke looks over at the couple’s son.

“And that’s Ben, their three-year-old.”

Ben’s three angels huddle around him, devoted to their tasks for him. (You’ll never see an angel working hard, but always with immense devotion and diligence.) One whispers in his ear, one studies her computer, one watches Ben carefully.

“You are so loved,” whispers Ben’s whisperer into his ear. “You are such a light. You have so much to give.” A smile spreads across Ben’s face.

Brooke glances into the kitchen. Piles of dishes from meals obviously long past sit in the sink, drops of milk and cereal decorate the placemats on the table, and there are more piles of that who-knows-what everywhere. Brooke notices that piles even surround Lacey on the couch.

Brooke points to Jack. “So he’s my assignment?”

“In living color,” Henry says.

Brooke watches Jack as he and Ben work on their creation, a dinosaur made of Legos. Giggling, Ben adds pieces of Legos in the shape of what you could guess is an elephant’s trunk. Jack chuckles. Wow! His shoulders start to move down to a level far more appropriate for a human shoulder. Lacey laughs—snorts, really—as a television announcer jokes, however; even though he doesn’t look up at her, Jack’s shoulders zoom right back up to his ears and his jawline goes rigid again.

“He doesn’t exactly flow with the go,” Brooke sighs.

“Go with the flow,” Henry corrects her. But he ponders for a moment. “Actually, I like it better your way.”

“Oh, Jack,” Brooke whispers to him, this man who clearly could be so very handsome and vibrant, but for some reason lives far, far below where he could be living. His son looks like a happier version of him in miniature: curly brown hair, big brown eyes, irrepressible smile. As Ben adds a giraffe’s neck to the dinosaur, Jack’s demeanor softens and relaxes—until Lacey snorts again, that is.

“At bottom, everything is a choice,” Henry says. “Everything.”

 

"...elements of magic and mystery abound....Tanner also does an admirable job weaving in politics and mythology of a bygone people. A complex and promising start to a new fantasy series." —Kirkus Reviews 

"History truly comes alive under the pen of author Linnea Tanner, but there’s also plenty of room left for characters to breathe and develop under watchful narration. The plot is stellar: well-thought-out and executed with a great sense of beat and pacing as each moment of both the romance arc and the curse is portrayed. Overall, an un-put-down-able fantasy adventure from start to finish."  —Readers' Favorite

"An engaging historical fantasy, Apollo's Raven by Linnea Tanner is a captivating tale of triangles [and an] epic Celtic tale of magic and a curse.“ —2019 Pencraft Book of the Year Award

A Celtic warrior princess is torn between her forbidden love for the enemy and duty to her people. Award-winning Apollo's Raven sweeps you into an epic Celtic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia. In 24 AD British kings hand-picked by Rome to rule are fighting each other for power. King Amren's former queen, a powerful Druid, has cast a curse that Blood Wolf and the Raven will rise and destroy him. The king's daughter, Catrin, learns to her dismay that she is the Raven and her banished half-brother is Blood Wolf. Trained as a warrior, Catrin must find a way to break the curse, but she is torn between her forbidden love for her father's enemy, Marcellus, and loyalty to her people. She must summon the magic of the Ancient Druids to alter the dark prophecy that threatens the fates of everyone in her kingdom. Will Catrin overcome and eradicate the ancient curse. Will she be able to embrace her forbidden love for Marcellus? Will she cease the war between Blood Wolf and King Amren and save her kingdom?

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2020 Readers' Favorite Bronze Medal Fiction Magic/Wizardry

2019 PenCraft Best Book of the Year Award

2018 New Apple Book Awards: Official Selection Fantasy

2018 eLit Book Award: Silver Medal Fantasy/Science Fiction

2017 Global Ebooks Award: Bronze Medal Fantasy/Historical

2017 New Apple Book Awards: Official Selection Historical Fiction and Cross Genre

"...a captivating tale of triangles; love, lust and espionage, friend, foe, and spies., barbarians, civilized Rome and spiritual-supernatural beings. The author's knowledge of the mythology and the history of 43 AD Celtic tribes is astounding as she weaves a tapestry of intrigue, a Gordian knot of rivalry and a love story." —Authors Reading (2019 Pencraft Book of the Year Award)

"...a historical fantasy with strong elements of romance, political intrigue, and magic. Many surprising twists enrich the historically drawn plot. Points of view shift between different characters effectively, heightening the tension from one moment to the next." —Historical Novel Society Review

"If you're looking for something entertaining with a fast, action-paced rhythm, Apollo's Raven by Linnea Tanner is a definite must. For a women who is trying to figure out where she belongs in her world, this tale is relatable to other young women in our timeline who are also trying to figure out where they belong." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award) 

"... a soaring epic that carries its audience on an adventure full of ancient magic, passionate romance, and political intrigue."  —IndieReader (Indie Approved)

"The historical romantic fantasy takes readers to 24 AD to the Southeast Coast of Britannia, blending magic, romance, and politics into a satisfying tale of one determined Celtic woman who must choose between doing her duty and following her heart." —BlueInk Review

"Apollo's Raven is a good introduction to what life was like for the Celtic Brits when the Romans invaded. The plot is intriguing, and the forbidden love angle adds to the punchiness of the story." —Author Luciana Cavallaro

"An unpredictable, spellbinding tale, made so much richer by the historical integrity of the research carried out by the author, Linnea Tanner." —Author Ann Frandi-Coory 

"...an enticing avalanche of one revelation after another....I like to think of this story as a huge metaphor for history rewriting itself through fiction and allowing individuals to take charge of their own destinies."  —OnlineBookClub.org

"a rapturous read that mixes Celtic mythology into a good historical romance." —Foreword Reviews 

  

Author Bio:

Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids. 

Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book. 

A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

 

Book Excerpt:

Chapter 1: Raven’s Warning

24 AD, Southeast Coast of Britannia

Princess Catrin reined in her horse at the edge of the precipice overlooking the sea below to study the pattern of her raven’s flight, seeking an omen. Her dream of the skull-faced moon, bleeding crimson, still plagued her. It was as if she had glimpsed both into her soul and into the future, yet she did not know how to interpret it.

The Raven, her animal guide, shot like an arrow into the thickening mist that partially obscured the sun. The sudden nip of a cool, salty breeze made her shiver. Longing for the disappearing sun’s warmth, she nestled into her plaid cloak and focused on the bird’s aerial acrobatics, first diving at the sheer cliff, then darting up. This close to the edge, one misstep of her horse could dash them both onto the jagged rocks below. Only her raven, a divine messenger, had the power to overcome such a fall and rise into the heavens to soar with the gods.

The Raven disappeared into the fog. Out of the haze, the red-striped sail of a flat-bottom ship suddenly appeared. Driven mainly by oars, it thrust to and fro in the turbulent water; it was unlike the deep-hulled vessels of seafaring merchants powered by air currents over their sails. At the bow of the ship was a strange looking beam shaped like a bird’s beak.

Catrin’s gaze followed the Raven’s movement beyond the white cliffs, where more striped sails were emerging from the mist. She counted ten, but there might be more. A chill feathered up her spine.

Could these be warships?

From the distance, she could not determine the total number of ships or the country of their origin. She needed to see through her raven’s eyes for that. But to do so, she had to be alone to meld her thoughts with the Raven. Uneasy that her sister, Mor, and their companion, Belinus, might disrupt her connecting to the Raven, she scanned a clump of brambles some distance down the grassy slope where she had left them. A few weeks back, the couple had met at the Beltane’s spring festival and had since become intoxicated with each other.

Catrin was still rankled that Belinus had tricked her into weapons training. His real purpose had come to light the evening before, when he told her to wait on the hillside so he could finish practicing with Mor. A warm blush spread across Catrin’s face as she imagined their legs entangled with each other. Did they think that she was deaf and blind and that she was too dimwitted to understand what they were doing? The king would not think kindly of it if one of his trusted warriors charged with training his daughters for battle was seducing one of them.

Now barely discerning the couple through the thick brush, she surmised they were again fully occupied with each other, leaving ample time for her to take the next step with her raven before they again joined her.

She dismounted and raised her sword, a signal for her raven to return. The large bird swooped toward her like a dark shadow. She lifted an arm on which the bird landed. Its midnight-black plumage contrasted sharply with her fair skin and gold braided hair. On the threshold of womanhood, she felt closer to this creature than to many of her own kind. Still, she hesitated connecting with the bird.

A few years back, she had told her father of her ability to see the present and future through the Raven’s eyes. She desired to be a Druidess. He denied her request to be trained in the spiritual order, saying, “I have decreed that no one in my family can use the powers of the Ancient Druids.”

When she asked why, he responded with a grim frown. “The magic is too unpredictable and often alters in deadly ways. Foresight is not a gift but a curse in our family.”

The king’s answer confounded Catrin, but she dared not defy him openly or get caught when she secretly practiced her new mystical ability that the Raven had shown her.

The Raven first sought me out, she reasoned in favor of using her newly discovered powers. I must heed the Raven’s warning. If I am to assess the danger the ships pose, I need to study them up close.

She had to hurry, though. The fire between her sister and Belinus would soon cool.

Catrin lifted her arm and looked to the Raven, considering her decision. “What do I have to fear from you? I am a Cantiaci warrior.”

The Raven cocked its head and gawked at her, as if ready to answer her question.

She asked, “Did the sun god send me an omen about the warships offshore?”

When the Raven mumbled some gibberish, she tapped its beak. “What does that mean?”

The Raven screeched, bobbing up and down. She smoothed its ruffled feathers. “Do you know why the ships are here?”

The Raven grew still on her arm. She winced, recalling the image of the blood moon in her dream. She asked, “Do they plan to attack?”

The Raven nodded excitedly, as if in response. Encouraged, she asked, “If I saw through your eyes, could I learn who they are and the reason they’re here?”

The creature tilted its head sideways, the signal for her to enter its mind.

She hesitated. “What if Father learns that I've taken this next step? Will he punish me for disobeying him … for ignoring his warning?”

The Raven shrieked and arched its wings. She chuckled. “That is right. He did say to study the enemy before each encounter, but never hesitate in battle. That’s what I’m doing—exactly what my father expects. I’m finding out if enemies are aboard the ships, but to do so, I must see through your eyes.”

Catrin again hesitated. Once before, when she had melded and disconnected from her raven guide, she lost consciousness. It took awhile for her head to clear after that episode. If that happened again, it could spell disaster so close to the precipice.

She stepped away from the cliff ’s edge and stared into the Raven’s eyes, which glowed like amber gems. The bird’s talons emitted a bolt of electric heat into her arm. A light flashed in her mind, and the Raven’s essence permeated her core being. She knew that she had entered the Raven’s prescient mind.

The landscape appeared blurry until she adjusted to the Raven’s eyesight. Brightly colored wildflowers dazzled her with purple hues that she was unable to detect with her human eyes. A thrill rushed through her veins as she sensed the bird’s breast muscles contracting to flap its wings. When the Raven began its thrust into flight, she felt the misty air lift its outstretched wings.

When the Raven soared toward the channel, she could see her human form standing as motionless as a statue on the emerald hilltop clasped to the jagged precipice. The sheer chalk cliffs formed an impenetrable wall against the crashing waves. Beyond the cliffs, there was a sparsely vegetated shoreline toward which several ships were sailing and where other vessels were moored. Armored infantry-men were disembarking, wading to the shore, and marching across the beach. On higher ground, soldiers set up tents in a square encampment. One of the guards had a lion’s head covering his helmet. In his hands was a pole with a silver eagle on top. She assumed it meant powerful animal spirits were guiding them.

A palatial tent in the center of the encampment caught her eye. Its outside walls were made of twined linen sheets, violet and red, brocaded with eagles. Surrounding the central structure were crimson banners, each emblazoned with the sun god in a horse-driven chariot. At the tent’s flapped entrance were two foreign noblemen attired in purple-trim white togas. Another man, towering over the foreigners, wore a rustic toga and plaid breeches—garments that nobles from her kingdom typically dressed in. From the back, he looked familiar, his thick coppery hair draped over his shoulders like a lustrous wolf pelt.

To confirm her suspicions that she knew this tall, brawny man, Catrin directed the Raven to circle around, so she could get a closer look. When the man’s ghostly, disfigured face came into view, her heart wrenched. She recognized her half-brother, Marrock.

Grotesque images of ravens pecking tissue out of his face flashed in her mind. For seven years, she had believed herself safe from him, but there he was—a specter arisen from the cold ashes of her nightmares.

Why has he returned with an army?

A sense of doom crawled all over her when Marrock’s head tilted back, as though he knew her essence was flying overhead. His blue-green eyes began glowing and changed to the same amber-gem color as her raven whenever she harnessed its magical power. The Raven’s muscles suddenly paralyzed, freezing its wings. A strong force pulled her through a crevasse in the Raven’s mind and hurtled her into a tunnel of brilliant gold light.

She plummeted, tumbling out of control, toward a black portal in the center of a rainbow-colored arch.

Chapter 2: Secret Magic

Just before Catrin burst through the portal, she found herself lying on familiar, yellow-flowered grass on the cliffs. Above her, the Raven’s wings disappeared into a gray haze. A shiver of panic as sharp as needles prickled down her back.

Was this what my father meant about the magic being unpredictable?

With the landscape settling around her, she inhaled the briny air and felt her own world again. Still, a burning tingle lingered in her arm as questions barraged her mind.

Did Marrock do this to me? Did he somehow sense I was spying on him by using my raven’s eyesight? Did he put me into another world? Is this the deadly magic my father warned me about—the double-edged blade that others who detect my raven-sight can do me harm?

A woman’s shrill voice startled Catrin. She rolled on her back to find her sister, Mor, looking down at her, the reins of her bay horse in hand. Gusty wind swirled Mor’s ebony tresses around her face, which was etched with concern.

“What happened?” asked Mor. “Your horse was loose. From a distance, I saw a raven on your shoulder as you collapsed.”

“I slipped and fell,” Catrin said, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. “Help me up.” She grasped Mor’s extended hand and pulled herself to her feet. Still light-headed, she teetered while brushing the chalk from the cliff stones off her leather chest armor.

“Did that raven do something to you?” Mor asked. “Before you collapsed, you appeared frozen; your arms twisted over each other like broken wings. It was as if you left this world and became some-thing else. A wraith or a soulless corpse comes to mind.”

Catrin glanced around, thinking it odd that Belinus was not with her sister. Assuming he was nearby, she looked beyond Mor, but there was no sign of him.

“Why don’t you answer me?” Mor snapped. “This is the second time I’ve seen this happen to you this week. You know what Father said. You are not to do magic with that raven.”

The image of Marrock with the foreign troops flashed in Catrin’s mind, and she blurted, “I saw warships offshore. Marrock is leading them!”

Mor scanned the ocean channel, now thick with rolling fog. “I don’t see anything.”

Catrin pointed northward. “Look beyond the cliffs.”

Mor shielded her eyes with a hand to search again. A moment later, she gave Catrin a dubious frown. “There is too much fog to see clearly. When did you see Marrock?”

“A bit ago—” Catrin suddenly realized it could have been quite some time since she had been in the Raven’s mind.

Mor gripped Catrin’s arm and pulled her closer. “Did your raven cast a spell on you, and you imagined this? People say your raven makes you mad!”

Catrin bristled. “That is utter nonsense! I only connect to the Raven when I need its help and have complete control over it.”

When Mor’s jaw dropped, Catrin realized she had let her secret slip out. She bit her lower lip, but it was too late to take the words back. Upon further consideration, she didn’t know how to convince Mor of the threat posed by Marrock and the foreign army unless she disclosed her use of forbidden magic. She finally admitted, “When-ever I need help—like … like seeing something in the distance—I can enter the Raven’s mind and see through its eyes.”

“Explain exactly what happens when you see through its eyes,” Mor said. “Do you shape-shift into a raven?”

“My human vision turns off when I switch to the Raven sight. I can see below me when it flies. The Raven also sends me dreams of the future. Last night, I dreamt the moon turned into a bleeding skull. I took this as an omen that our kingdom is in grave danger. When I saw Marrock with foreign soldiers, I confirmed this was true.”

Mor paused, as if trying to absorb what Catrin had just said. “Merchant ships are always sailing near the coastline. How could you even tell they were warships from the distance?”

“Armed soldiers were disembarking from vessels moored on the beach beyond the cliffs—”

Mor interrupted. “Nobody can see that far, even through raven eyes.”

“Let me finish!” Catrin snapped. Mor’s lips clamped into a scowl as Catrin continued. “My raven flew over the bay, where I saw hundreds of soldiers setting up camp on shore. That is where I saw Marrock!”

“I find your tale truly hard to believe,” Mor said, shaking her head.

“I’m not a liar,” Catrin insisted. “We must heed the Raven’s omen. Soldiers would not be with Marrock unless he plans to attack us. We need to warn our father.”

“Warn him of what?”

“Marrock is back with a foreign army!” Catrin declared. “Remember, sister, Marrock swore to slay everyone in our family when Father banished him seven summers ago.”

“You’ve made a bold claim without proof.” Mor exclaimed. “I never saw Marrock with my own eyes and, for that matter, I never saw any warships. What if you’re wrong? You don’t have any evidence that he is plotting to attack our kingdom. Father will be furious when he discovers you used your raven’s magic. Besides, I want to stay here and finish training with Belinus.”

Catrin could feel her face flush with anger. Train with what—his sword? She pointed to herself. “I’ll accept the blame if I’m wrong, which I’m not. We must go back now!”

Mor put her hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving until I see these phantom soldiers and ships with my own eyes.”

Catrin, noticing her sister suddenly glance up, turned and spotted Belinus waving from the adjacent hilltop to signal weapons had been set up for practice. The last thing she wanted was for Mor to persuade him to stay so they could finish their tryst before slinking back home. Mor had lost all sense of propriety with a common warrior.

Of all days to practice, I should be warning Father!

When Mor pulled the reins of the bay and began walking away, Catrin yanked her by the arm to halt her. “What are you doing?”

Mor spun toward Catrin. “Belinus is set to go. I am getting your horse ready, so you can practice spear throwing."

Catrin wagged her head in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? We must go now and tell Father what we have seen.”

Mor glared. “I don’t take orders from someone who practices black magic with a raven. You see things nobody else can.”

Catrin ripped the reins from her sister’s fingers. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going. If Father asks me why you are not with me, I will tell him about your little meeting with Belinus.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

Wordlessly, Catrin mounted her bay and stared at her red-faced sister.

“Answer me!” Mor shouted.

Catrin pointed to the spear on the grass. “Hand me that lance.

I’ll tell Belinus about what I saw. You can load up your weapons and join us.”

Mor flung the spear up to Catrin.

Catrin adjusted the weapon and kicked her horse into a gallop. Gale breezes from the channel stung Catrin’s eyes as she drove her horse near the cliff’s edge and up the ridge to where Belinus was waiting. With thoughts running wild about a possible attack by Marrock, she ignored the perils of the precipice and the rocks below. With spear in hand, she clamped her legs against the horse and threw it.

The metal tip pierced the raven’s image on a shield that Belinus was holding. Clad in leather breeches and chain mail, he yelled, “Why did you do that? I wasn’t ready.”

Catrin halted in front of him. “We need to get back! Warships have landed; Marrock is leading them!”

Belinus gave a shocked look. “Marrock? Warships? Where?” Catrin pointed northward. “In the nearby bay.”

Hearing horses approaching, Catrin turned and found her sister riding the black stallion and leading a pack horse.

Mor huffed. “Why didn’t you wait for me? You’re lucky I don’t have to scrape your smashed bones and flesh off the rocks.”

“No time to argue!” Catrin snapped. She ordered Belinus, “See to the weapons. I’ll explain everything to you on our way back to the village.”

Mor blazed at Catrin as Belinus packed the weapons. After he mounted his horse, he told Catrin, “With the coming fog, it may be difficult to see the ships on our way home. Ride with me and tell me more about what you saw.”

Catrin rode with Belinus on the pathway while Mor followed them. As they descended the grassy hilltop, Catrin told Belinus about the warships and Marrock's return. Belinus appeared alarmed, glancing all around. He asked Catrin more questions and suggested they take a closer look at the seashore.

They directed their horses into a darkening forest in the valley. When they rode out of the woods and approached the beach, thick fog was swallowing the ships in the bay and marching out of the haze were soldiers heading their way.

Catrin glanced back at Mor. “See … there is the danger.”

Mor’s shoulders stiffened. “Keep riding.”

Belinus rode ahead and kept his hand on his sword’s pommel. “Follow me. Don’t look scared. These are Romans!” 

Shop the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series

** AMAZON TOP 100 BEST SELLER IN 2018 **

ONE OF THE GREATEST BREAKTHROUGHS IN HUMAN HISTORY.
A SECRET THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE FOUND.
AND A CRISIS THAT CANNOT BE STOPPED.

Deep in the Caribbean Sea, a nuclear submarine is forced to suddenly abort its mission under mysterious circumstances. Strange facts begin to emerge that lead naval investigator, John Clay, to a small group of marine biologists who are quietly on the verge of making history.

With the help of a powerful computer system, Alison Shaw and her team are preparing to translate the first two-way conversation with the planet's second smartest species. But the team discovers much more from their dolphins than they ever expected when a secret object is revealed on the ocean floor. One that was never supposed to be found.

Alison was sure she would never trust the military again. However, when an unknown group immediately becomes interested in her work, Alison realizes John Clay may be the only person she can trust. Together they must piece together a dangerous puzzle, and the most frightening piece, is the trembling in Antarctica.

To make matters worse, someone from the inside is trying to stop them. Now time is running out...and our understanding of the world is about to change forever.

About the Author
Michael C. Grumley lives in Northern California with his wife and two young daughters where he works in the Information Technology field. He's an avid reader, runner and gardener. He dotes on his girls every chance he gets. His email address is michael@michaelgrumley.com and his website is www.michaelgrumley.com

We burn them to ashes and then burn the ashes. In Ray Bradbury's FAHRENHEIT 451, that's the motto of the Firemen who hunted down and burned books wherever they found them. Bradbury warned of a world where our literary history is taken from us. In BURN THE ASHES, some of the best science fiction authors working today continue to explore the dystopic worlds they introduced in IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH.Edited bestselling author Hugh Howey and award-winning editors John Joseph Adams and Christie Yant, THE DYSTOPIA TRIPTYCH is a series of three anthologies of dystopian fiction. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH-before the dystopia-focuses on society during its descent into absurdity and madness. BURN THE ASHES-during the dystopia-turns its attention to life during the strangest, most dire times. OR ELSE THE LIGHT-after the dystopia-concludes the saga with each author sharing their own vision of how we as a society might crawl back from the precipice of despair.BURN THE ASHES features all-new, never-before-published works by Hugh Howey, Seanan McGuire, Carrie Vaughn, Scott Sigler, Cadwell Turnbull, Karin Lowachee, Caroline M. Yoachim, Adam-Troy Castro, An Owomoyela, Tobias S. Buckell, Tim Pratt, Rich Larson, Alex Irvine, Darcie Little Badger, Violet Allen, Merc Fenn Wolfmoor, and Dominica Phetteplace.NOTE: This title is a reissue of a previously-released book of the same name.

"Fantasy fans will take a dive dive in this lavishly detailed story." -Kirkus

Despite the success of their first adventure, Thurmond and his companions, Sarah, Roscoe, and Torgul, are out of money and about to be expelled from their new home at Grimsgard. The only solution-a raid on Castle Sathas, the home of an infamous witch-cult.

To get there, they must undertake a long and perilous overland journey through a wilderness rife with ruthless bandits, voracious wolf packs, and greedy robber-knights. Along the way, their every step is shadowed by an unseen nemesis bent on their destruction.

Beset by treacherous landscapes and deadly enemies, it seems their quest is doomed to fail. And even if they win through, will they survive the ancient evil waiting in Castle Sathas?

Throat-gripping and unpredictable, Castle of the Red Contessa takes the reader on a heroic quest of rousing medieval adventure.

About the Author
MacKenzie, Robert John: - Robert John MacKenzie is an experienced educator with an abiding enthusiasm for medieval history and literature. He has traveled extensively throughout Europe, exploring museums, castles, and battlefields. After living for years in Asia and Europe, he now resides in northern California.

A beastly fae king with a deadly curse.

A devious bargain to break it...

All Gemma Bellefleur wants is to leave her past behind and forget the day scandal broke her heart. But when she's captured by a trickster fae king who threatens to hold her for ransom, she'll find herself at the top of the gossip column yet again.

Unless...

Plagued by a curse that will soon claim his life, the human-hating King Elliot will do anything to save himself. And if Gemma can use that to her advantage, she might be able to bargain her way to freedom. All she has to do is help him break his curse.

There's just one hitch-to do so, they'll have to trick someone into falling in love with the beastly, brooding Elliot.

With a devious alliance made, their scheme begins, bringing Gemma and Elliot into very close quarters. Soon, an unexpected desire stirs where once there was only hate. But Gemma must fight it. For when the curse is broken, Elliot will return to his true form-a wolf-and be lost to her for good.

Can Gemma sacrifice her budding feelings to save the king's life? Or will love force her to give up something even greater...her heart?

ACOTAR meets Bridgerton in this standalone fairytale retelling of Beauty and the Beast. If you like slow burn romance, wolf shifters, and brooding fae royals, then you'll love this swoon-worthy story in the Entangled with Fae series.

*NOTE this book is upper YA/NA featuring mature situations and some adult language. The romance is slow burn but leads to moderate steam.

Curse of the Wolf King is a complete stand-alone novel set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy. Journey back to Faerwyvae or begin your adventure for the first time with this enchanting tale. Each book in the Entangled with Fae series can be read on its own and in any order. Happily ever after guaranteed!

"I highly recommend Dagger’s Destiny. For anybody with an interest in historical fiction, there is plenty to love in the setting Linnea Tanner has created. For those with an interest in epic fantasy...Dagger’s Destiny is a book sure to keep your interest. Both genres are blended together into a seamless whole with outstanding results." —Readers' Favorite

A Celtic warrior princess accused of treason for aiding her enemy lover must win back her father's love and trust. In the rich and vibrant tale, Author Linnea Tanner continues the story of Catrin and Marcellus that began with the awarding-winning novel Apollo's Raven in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series. Book 2, Dagger's Destiny sweeps you into an epic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia.

War looms over 24 AD Britannia where rival tribal rulers fight each other for power and the Romans threaten to invade to settle their political differences. King Amren accuses his daughter, Catrin, of treason for aiding the Roman enemy and her lover, Marcellus. The ultimate punishment is death unless she can redeem herself. She must prove loyalty to her father by forsaking Marcellus and defending their kingdom--even to the death. Forged into a warrior, she must overcome tribulations and make the right decisions on her quest to break the curse that foretells her banished half-brother and the Roman Empire will destroy their kingdom.

Yet, when Catrin again reunites with Marcellus, she is torn between her love for him and duty to King Amren. She must ultimately face her greatest challenger who could destroy her life, freedom, and humanity.

Will Catrin finally break the ancient prophecy that looms over her kingdom? Will she abandon her forbidden love for Marcellus to win back her father's trust and love? Can King Amren balance his brutality to maintain power with the love he feels for Catrin?

More Reviews:

2019 Readers' Favorite GOLD MEDAL Fiction Magic/Wizardry

2019 Global Ebook Award GOLD MEDAL Fantasy/Historical

"Imbued with both Roman and Celtic traditions, myths and legends, the story draws a contrastive parallel between the two cultures and civilizations. There are memorable scenes such as the brilliant description of the fertility rite meant to validate Marcellus's claim to kinship and to symbolize his union with the Earth Goddess who bestows rich crops and large livestock. If the realism of the story is ensured by the constantly changing network of political alliances and backstabbing, its beauty springs from the wonderfully interwoven mythological references and enlightening mystical experiences." —OnlineBookClub.org

"...a wonderful tale of romance, intrigue, mystery, and legend to create an entertaining and complex story...the magic of the druids was woven into the story, complementing the drama being created between Catrin's desire to prove her loyalty to her father, and the machinations of Rhan and Marrock. Everything meshes together to give the reader a truly entertaining story of love, magic, and betrayal." —The International Review of Books

"There is never a dull moment in this book...If you are looking for an exciting adventure that leaves you wanting more, do not pass up Dagger's Destiny. Boasting fully developed characters and a well-defined setting, this book caters to all readers. The romance, fantasy, action and subterfuge are sure to win over readers from several genres." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award) 

“Ancient Rome and Britain are the background settings for this epic tale of love, betrayal and political intrigue. The Roman era and the ensuing battles between the clan leaders in Britain during the first century AD do not often appear as the setting for fantasy novels—a pity, since this era is very intriguing. Dagger’s Destiny is historical fantasy at its finest, and a must read for anyone who enjoys history involving ancient Rome.” —Majanka Verstraete for InD’Tale Magazine

“Author Linnea Tanner is a master storyteller of historical fantasy. Set in first century Britannia, a fantastical isle, the theme of balancing duty with illicit love, the consuming lust for power, intrigue and Celtic magic provides conflict and twists in this spell-binding story.” —AuthorsReading

“Dark magic, familial revenge and an illicit romance. This story packs a punch and the author doesn’t hold back on the intrigue or the mystical power of the druids. You may have heard the phrase ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’, then this story has it in spades.” —Author Luciana Cavallaro

Author Bio:

Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids. 

Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book. 

A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.

Shop the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series

*** NAMED TO KIRKUS REVIEWS BEST BOOKS OF 2018 ***

Fire, splitting the atom, synthetic biology. There's a dark side to every invention, one which we have been fortunate to contain for most of history. But are we hurtling into the future too fast?

Detonation is an epic dystopian tale that is a cautionary reflection on our own innovation-obsessed culture. It follows two societies that are connected, but centuries apart, and their struggle against a superintelligent machine. Amid ideological clashes and political plotting, a diverse cast discovers this insidious threat, one which few can fathom, and fewer can challenge, and they are forced into an escalating conflict against a tireless enemy.

About the Author
Otto, Erik A.: - Erik A. Otto is a former healthcare industry executive and technologist, now turned science fiction author. His works of fiction include A Toxic Ambition, Detonation, Transition, and the Tale of Infidels series. Detonation has been named to Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2018, and is a finalist for the Foreword INDIES Book of the Year Award for 2018. In addition to writing, Erik is currently serving as the Managing Director of Ethagi Inc., an organization dedicated to promoting the safe and ethical use of artificial general intelligence technologies. He lives in Charlottesville, Virginia, with his wife and two children.

One taste of her is all it takes. He's playing for keeps...

Notoriously bad at peopling, Isadora Savoie spends most of her time in the greenhouse or at the local animal shelter, using her Conduit powers of growth and healing. Content to remain in the background of the Savoie sister shenanigans, she's reluctantly roped into the mystery of missing neighborhood girls. Now, she's partnered with a flashy, flirty vampire to find them before it's too late.

Devraj Kumar has seen and done it all. Three hundred years roaming the earth as a Stygorn-a legendary vampire warrior who operates in the shadows-has its perks. But ennui has set in. That is, until he has a run-in-literally-with an intriguing witch while on a new assignment in New Orleans. Fascinated by her resistance to his charms, Devraj can't help but push her buttons in an effort to get to know the shy witch. Fortunately for him, she's been recruited by the Lord of Vampires to assist Devraj on the case.

Between a Bollywood marathon, supernatural dating app, secret package, and sexy driving instruction, Isadora is in over her head. And Devraj? After just one taste, he's playing for keeps.

War is inevitable, with two enemies finding themselves fighting on the same side. But one wants peace, the other intent on murder

With his Oxford days over, Harry Brigandshaw spends an idyllic summer at Purbeck Manor in the heart of the Dorset countryside and home to his friend Robert St Clair. Harry meets the young and impressionable Lucinda who falls madly in love with him but the love is not returned. Lucinda is to never forget.

The utopia of summer comes crashing down when Harry receives a devastating telegram from Africa. He must return home. Immediately Together, Harry and Robert set sail for Rhodesia and to Harry's beloved Elephant Walk. What was a mapped out future has now been crushed.

The years pass and 1914 approaches with England declaring war on Germany. With the conflict now in full swing and those closest to Harry enlisting in the army, Harry's brother is killed in action. Devastated, Harry enlists for vengeance. As he moves up the ranks, a past acquaintance from Oxford is also making a name for himself - the invincible killing machine, Fishy Braithwaite.

Fishy becomes jealous and a burning hatred begins to simmer. The motive turns personal. Winning is not so important. But who is Fishy after? Who will he kill?

Elephant Walk is the second book in the gripping Brigandshaw Chronicles historical fiction series with Peter Rimmer bringing to life the savagery and futility of war in Europe and the sheer beauty of Africa. If you like real-life people and their situations facing crises beyond their control, then you won't want to miss this next instalment of Peter Rimmer's saga.

5 stars A light and enjoyable adventure that comments on human nature and the beauty of our world....Very funny, but it was the wider ethos of the tale that really grabbed me. Overall a brighter look at life today that is sure to keep you smiling from page to page.

Readers' Favorite

5 stars This truly is a wonderful story from a very talented writer. Smoothly-written prose, a fascinating, lightly-penned plot and a strong, slightly confused hero to cheer for.

The Wishing Shelf

Wrong place, right time? A starbeing was supposed to travel light-years across the universe to help humanity by working in Washington, D.C.--but she accidentally lands in a small Kansas town in the body of Missy. Join her on this whimsical journey as she discovers the beauty of life and love on Earth.

Author Ann Crawford's trademark optimism brings us a witty and wise book filled with memorable characters and insights into what makes us all so very human.

The BookTok hit: The Plated Prisoner Series continues in book 4. This dark adult fantasy romance is inspired by the myth of King Midas and the gold-touched woman who realizes her true worth.

"I was nothing but a road to Midas. A means to get to where he wanted to go, and I paved that path in gold."

My life as been made up of gilded lies. But death has been shaped from rot.

Like a phoenix caught fire, I will need to rise from the ashes and learn to wield my own power. Because my wings may have been clipped, but I am not in a cage, and I'm finally free to fly from the frozen kingdoms I've been kept in.

Yet the world doesn't want to let me.

That's the thing when you turn against a king-everyone else turns against you.

Good thing I have a different king in my corner.

But even with the dark threat of Slade Ravinger, the other monarchs are coming for me.

So I will fight for him and he will kill for me, and if we need to become the villains, then so be it.

Because so long as I live in this world, I won't be used again.

Please note: This is an adult fantasy series with dark elements that may be triggering, including past emotional and physical trauma, violence, adult language, and explicit romance. Read at your own discretion.

Will you be allowed to pass through to the Second World? Could you escape the terrors of Agenesis? There's only one way to find out...

Skye, your slightly above average teenager, has never left the boring little farm town of Alfaro. Her senior year at Black Pine High School ends up taking a stark turn of events as she meets Olli, who she thought was the school's handsome yet mysterious foreign exchange student. While juggling the challenges of high school, dating, and graveyard golf she starts to realize something is very wrong. Skye begins to see glimpses of an impossible future.

What was believed to be a simple head injury turns out to be much more. As she is taken into the magical Second World, surrounded by royalty, milkweed pixies, and even sorcerers, she is left questioning everything about the life she thought she had in the First World. Skye tries to embrace her new powers, but is also terrified by her discoveries. Can she even trust her own parents anymore? Who or what was the real Skye Hope, and could she live up to the truth?

A playboy prince in want of a decoy bride.

A servant girl desperate for a disguise...

Raven shifter Prince Franco is every social climbing debutante's dream. He's handsome, heir to the Lunar Court throne, and deliciously single. Every young woman wants to bed him, wed him, or steal a moment of his time. Except, of course, for Ember Montgomery.

Half-fae Ember craves freedom from her conniving stepfamily. As if they weren't enough to deal with, a chance encounter with the arrogant Prince Franco leaves her humiliated and in a fiery rage. Nothing could convince her the prince is anything but a rake. But when the opportunity to evade her scheming stepmother falls into her lap, she'll pay the price-even if it means impersonating the prince's newest flame...

To prove himself a worthy heir, Prince Franco must marry a princess. But after far too many unsatisfying trysts, he's given up on love. With the social season in full swing, and bringing with it a horde of husband-hungry socialites, he'll do anything to delay the pressures of both marriage and the crown. And what better solution than an alliance with a desperate servant girl glamoured as his false future bride?

Locked in a bargain, Ember must pose as a princess until midnight at the full moon ball. Until then, all she has to do is wear the glamour, pretend to court the prince, and above all else, not fall in love. But when feelings emerge on both sides, she starts to wonder if there's more to their contrived courtship than either of them planned...

Can Ember and Franco find love when the masks come off? Or will illusions and lies prove stronger than their hearts?

ACOTAR meets Bridgerton in this standalone fairytale retelling of Cinderella. If you like slow burn romance, fake engagements, and snarky fae royals, then you'll love this swoon-worthy story in the Entangled with Fae series.

*NOTE this book is upper YA/NA featuring mature situations and some adult language. The romance is slow burn but leads to moderate steam.

Heart of the Raven Prince is a complete stand-alone novel set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy. Journey back to Faerwyvae or begin your adventure for the first time with this enchanting tale. Each book in the Entangled with Fae series can be read on its own and in any order. Happily ever after guaranteed!

War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength. George Orwell once wrote of a world where abuse of power begins with an abuse of language and a bastardization of truth. Some of today's most exciting voices in speculative fiction explore the ramifications of those ideas in IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH. Edited bestselling author Hugh Howey and award-winning editors John Joseph Adams and Christie Yant, THE DYSTOPIA TRIPTYCH is a series of three anthologies of dystopian fiction. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH-before the dystopia-focuses on society during its descent into absurdity and madness. BURN THE ASHES-during the dystopia-turns its attention to life during the strangest, most dire times. OR ELSE THE LIGHT-after the dystopia-concludes the saga with each author sharing their own vision of how we as a society might crawl back from the precipice of despair. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH features all-new, never-before-published works by Hugh Howey, Seanan McGuire, Carrie Vaughn, Scott Sigler, Cadwell Turnbull, Karin Lowachee, Caroline M. Yoachim, Adam-Troy Castro, An Owomoyela, Tobias S. Buckell, Tim Pratt, Rich Larson, Alex Irvine, Darcie Little Badger, Violet Allen, and Merc Fenn Wolfmoor, plus a reprint by Dominica Phetteplace.NOTE: This title is a reissue of a previously-released book of the same name.

Out-of-this-world antics in this hysterical middle-grade adventure Sixth-grader Jacob Wonderbar is a master when it comes to disarming and annihilating substitute teachers. But when he and his best friends, Sarah and Dexter, swap a spaceship for a corn dog, they embark on an outer space adventure. And between breaking the universe with an epic explosion, being kidnapped by a space pirate, and surviving a planet that reeks of burp breath, Jacob and his friends are in way over their heads. Action packed with an added dose of heart, Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow is sure to captivate middlegrade readers all over the universe.

About the Author
Nathan Bransford is the author of How to Write a Novel, Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow, Jacob Wonderbar for President of the Universe and Jacob Wonderbar and the Interstellar Time Warp. He was formerly a literary agent with Curtis Brown Ltd. and now works in finance. He lives in Brooklyn.

Jacob Wonderbar must have hit a time warp on his way home after losing the election for President of the Universe, because fifty years have passed on Earth. What's worse, during that time the entire Astral society has come under threat of destruction, and it's up to Jacob to make things--including time itself--right. So, with the unlikely help of Mick Cracken, Jacob time-hops through the universe with Sarah Daisy and Dexter, encountering dinosaurs, Napoleon, and bad '80s fashion in their search for the one person who can help them--Jacob's father.Buckle your space-belts, the third book in the Jacob Wonderbar series proves that time travel is all fun and games until someone gets stuck in the wrong century

About the Author
Nathan Bransford is the author of How to Write a Novel, Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow, Jacob Wonderbar for President of the Universe and Jacob Wonderbar and the Interstellar Time Warp. He was formerly a literary agent with Curtis Brown Ltd. and now works in finance. He lives in Brooklyn.

Presidential campaigns are all fun and games until someone threatens to blow up your home planet When Jacob Wonderbar receives a message that he's been nominated for President of the Universe, he, Sarah Daisy, and Dexter immediately return to space. But Jacob's archnemesis, Prince Mick Cracken, is running as well, and his campaign tactics involve kidnappings and rogue space monkeys. After surviving corndog-eating contests and insult debates, Jacob discovers the stakes for this election are even higher than he imagined: A military group wants to destroy Planet Earth, and the President of the Universe is the only person who can stop them. Hold on to your space helmet - Nathan Bransford's second book in the Jacob Wonderbar series is packed with planet-hopping adventure, hilarity, and heart.

About the Author
Nathan Bransford is the author of How to Write a Novel, Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow, Jacob Wonderbar for President of the Universe and Jacob Wonderbar and the Interstellar Time Warp. He was formerly a literary agent with Curtis Brown Ltd. and now works in finance. He lives in Brooklyn.

A handsome fugitive seeking a marriage of convenience.

A selkie with a lethal kiss sent to seal his fate...

To evade a vicious sea queen's clutches, selkie Maisie hides on land surviving as a thief. But when she rescues a human from drowning and illegally brings him to shore, she must answer for breaking fae law. As punishment, she'll have to hunt down the man she saved...and kiss him. But with a kiss that can kill, Maisie's mission means more than seduction. It means murder.

Son of a notorious fae-killer, Dorian was never meant to survive the shipwreck that was orchestrated to assassinate him. Now that he's on the forbidden fae isle, he'll do anything to gain citizenship-even marry a fae bride. Desperate for a hasty marriage, he holds a bridal competition in the isle's most theatrical city, where displays of frivolity aren't just encouraged-they're expected. And if Maisie can act like a proper debutante and join the pageantry, she'll get near enough to deliver her fatal kiss.

But getting close to her target brings complications she didn't expect. As she pretends to compete for Dorian's heart, it starts to feel less like an act...and more like falling in love.

If Maisie doesn't deliver her kiss by sunrise on the last day of the competition, she forfeits her life. But if she succeeds, Dorian dies. When the pageant ends, will there be a true victor? Or only death and broken hearts?

ACOTAR meets Bridgerton and The Selection in this standalone fairytale retelling of The Little Mermaid. If you like enemies-to-lovers romance, bridal contests, and snarky fae royals, then you'll love this swoon-worthy story in the Entangled with Fae series.

*NOTE this book is upper YA/NA featuring mature situations and some adult language. The romance is slow burn but leads to moderate steam.

Kiss of the Selkie is a complete stand-alone novel set in the same world as The Fair Isle Trilogy. Journey back to Faerwyvae or begin your adventure for the first time with this enchanting tale. Each book in the Entangled with Fae series can be read on its own and in any order. Happily ever after guaranteed!

ONE OF MANKIND'S GREATEST LEGENDS HAS BEEN DISCOVERED. SOMETHING EVERY CIVILIZATION HAS SEARCHED FOR... BUT NOT WHAT ANYONE WAS EXPECTING. Facing the cold, clear glass, Alison Shaw stared nervously into the giant seawater tank. It was just one year ago that she and her team of marine biologists had stunned the world with their incredible breakthrough. And now...they were about to do it again. But an ocean away, something strange was unfolding. Along a lonely coast in South America, an experimental Russian submarine -- long thought to have been dismantled -- has suddenly resurfaced. And the U.S. Navy has taken notice, sending officers John Clay and Steve Caesare to investigate. The sub has been studying a group of unmarked soldiers. Disappearing into the jungle each night beneath the cover of darkness. Something has been discovered. Something big. Unfortunately, the soldiers are about to learn that making the find of the century is one thing. Keeping it, is another.

'Marvellous, powerful, beautiful' KIJ JOHNSON, multi-times winner of the HUGO AND NEBULA AWARDS
'Beautifully written, meaningful, top-drawer storytelling. An extraordinary novel in the tradition of great old-school literary science fiction like Atwood and Bradbury' - LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY AUTHORS

Longlisted for the World Fantasy Award

Misty woods; abandoned towns; secrets in the landscape; a forbidden life by night; the scent of bygone days; a past that lies below the surface; and a door in a dream that seems to hold the answers.
Paftoo is a 'bod'; made to serve. He is a groundsman in the last remaining countryside estate, once known as Harkaway Hall and now a theme park. Paftoo holds scattered memories of the old days but they are regularly deleted to keep him productive.
When he starts to have dreams of the Lost Lands past, Paftoo is thrown into a nightly battle for his memories, his soul and his cherished connection with Lifeform Three.
Includes an appendix of suggested questions for reading groups.
'I really didn't want this book to end; it's that good' - BUILD ANOTHER BOOKCASE

About the Author
Morris, Roz: - "Roz Morris published nearly a dozen novels and achieved sales of more than 4 million copies - and nobody saw her name because she was a ghostwriter. She is now proudly publishing as herself with two acclaimed literary novels and is frequently compared to Margaret Atwood, Ray Bradbury and Doris Lessing. She has also been a writing coach, editor and mentor for more than 20 years with award-winning authors among her clients. She has a book series for writers, Nail Your Novel (and a blog nailyournovel.com), and teaches creative writing masterclasses throughout Europe and for The Guardian newspaper in London."

“5/5 stars. Misfits & Heroes approaches a historical confluence of human exploration and geographic configuration from the viewpoint of two ordinary people thrust into extraordinary circumstances. Rollins has created an entirely believable prehistoric world with genuine characters and exciting adventures. The text is both lyrical and stark, where required, and Rollins' style is effortless and highly engaging.“  —Janine Stinson, ForeWord Clarion Reviews

A thief offers a woman a chance at a new life by cutting her bonds, beginning a journey that will take both of them downriver and out to the coast of West Africa. The time is 12,000 BC, and war is breaking out between the villages on the coast. Frantic to escape, the two travelers join others fleeing the chaos of battle. They think they'll be safe if they head down the coast by boat, but the sea sweeps them out into a new, very different world and a destiny they couldn't have imagined.

About the Author
After receiving her Masters degree in English, Rollins taught composition and literature, including World Literature and Latin American Literature, and became fascinated by the extraordinary wealth of ancient Mesoamerican culture, which is often overlooked in history books. This research, as well as travel to ancient sites in Africa, Mexico, Belize, Guatemala, and Honduras, provided the inspiration for this book. It deals with early explorers in the Western Hemisphere - amazing people who dared to leave everything they knew behind and create a new life in a new world.

 

Hell hath no fury like a man scorned.Isla learns that lesson all too well when she agrees to go to a party with her half-demon best friend, Alistair, to help him make his vampire ex-boyfriend jealous. Their plan backfires when Alistair's ex turns out to be more psycho than Isla realized, and she finds herself being kidnapped and sold on the supernatural black market.While Isla's only human, she's spent her life surrounded by supernatural creatures. Her situation is precarious, but she's pretty sure she knows what to expect. At least, until her buyer ends up transporting her to a completely different realm called Briya where nobody speaks her language.Isla is gifted to the four Guardians of Briya-Reule, Audun, Maalik, and Caelan. With the dreaded Beast's Moon looming right around the corner, the Guardians are expected to choose a mate. They're furious with their king for his scheming, and they're determined to help Isla find her way back home to Alistair. But the timing of Isla's arrival complicates everything, and they find themselves drawn to her no matter how hard they try to fight their instincts.

Into the darkness within; or else the light... When Margaret Atwood wrote these words, she left open the possibility that even our darkest tales may harbor a glimmer of hope. In OR ELSE THE LIGHT, the third and final entry of THE DYSTOPIA TRIPTYCH, over a dozen of the best minds in science fiction conclude their stories with a descent into darkness, or perhaps a ray of light.Edited bestselling author Hugh Howey and award-winning editors John Joseph Adams and Christie Yant, THE DYSTOPIA TRIPTYCH is a series of three anthologies of dystopian fiction. IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH-before the dystopia-focuses on society during its descent into absurdity and madness. BURN THE ASHES-during the dystopia-turns its attention to life during the strangest, most dire times. OR ELSE THE LIGHT-after the dystopia-concludes the saga with each author sharing their own vision of how we as a society might crawl back from the precipice of despair.OR ELSE THE LIGHT features all-new, never-before-published works by Hugh Howey, Seanan McGuire, Carrie Vaughn, Scott Sigler, Cadwell Turnbull, Karin Lowachee, Caroline M. Yoachim, Adam-Troy Castro, An Owomoyela, Tobias S. Buckell, Tim Pratt, Rich Larson, Alex Irvine, Darcie Little Badger, Violet Allen, Merc Fenn Wolfmoor, and Dominica Phetteplace.NOTE: This title is a reissue of a previously-released book of the same name.

Past the Last Island The South Pacific Islands, 14,000 years ago - crossroads of cultures from Asia to Australia After their island is ravaged by tidal flooding, some villagers turn to a brutal leader for protection, but others flee by night, taking to the open sea in a quest to find a new life. They meet others along the way, people driven to find whatever lies beyond the edge of the world. On the great open sea, they enter a world still ruled by spirits, a place of wonders where beauty and danger live side by side. Some give their life to the journey.

About the Author
Kathleen Flanagan Rollins taught composition and literature t Mott College in Flint, Michigan and developed a decades-long fascination with early explorers in the Western Hemisphere. Travels in Europe, Africa, Australia, and the Americas, especially ancient sites in Mexico Guatemala, and South America, provided the inspiration for the award-wining Misfits and Heroes series.

"...an incomparably mesmerizing read...and stunningly interwoven plot." —OnlineBookClub

She will sacrifice herself to save them all...

Once again, it's up to SeaQuarium volunteer Shannon Kendricks to protect her friends, an alien child, Essi, and a rare beluga whale, Juneau. Winning Juneau a "free pass" for one day out of captivity, Shannon eagerly awaits for the whale's return. But when an explosion of water washes her out into the chilling Alaskan Sea, Shannon must fight for her survival.

Unexpectedly, Essi returns to Earth riddled with a life-threatening virus that could easily wipe out the entire planet. Now, two aliens from another world are determined to find Essi to gain access to the virus. If unleashed, the virus will cause massive loss of life.

As Shannon embarks upon a strange and perilous journey to save her friends and everyone on Earth, the stakes are at all-time high.  Survival of life on another planet as well as on Earth rests on the shoulders of this strong-willed and courageous SeaQuarium volunteer. With a powerful alien on her side, her powers are multiplied, giving her a fighting chance to defeat her enemies. But will it be enough—or will she lose it all?

Author Bio:

Like her protagonist Shannon Kendricks, Cathy Parker is an attorney. She volunteered as a zoo keeper's aide for eight years and did have a very special beluga buddy, Mauyak. As to encounters with alien children, she is not saying. She was also a radio and print journalist and once was the 'Jill of all trades' for a small satellite paper in Wyoming. She did everything from taking to the photos to writing the articles and op-ed pieces to helping with layout and hauling the newspapers through blizzards once a week. As a result, she saw lambs being born and went on a cattle drive and ate her first (and last) Rocky Mountain Oyster. She has seen mountain gorillas in the wild in Rwanda and orangutans in Borneo and even rocked an orphaned baby orangutan to sleep on her chest. She has volunteered with a chimpanzee sanctuary for former research subjects. So you can see where her heart lies. Currently she is happy at home with her black brindle mastiff and her black cat. All similarities between her cat and Narcissus are purely and probably coincidental.

"The story was very entertaining and the characters wonderful!...Cathy Parker is a gifted writer and she knows how to tell a story. I would recommend it to anyone who likes a book that is hard to put down...It was so much fun to read. I started it and literally read it in one sitting."  —Book Garden Reviews

An alien child catapults by sheer chance to earth. A beluga whale longs for freedom from the cruel confines of her small blue pool. Two powerful other-worldly beings seek to plunder our world, destroying our people and our resources. 

In this fast-paced, science fiction thrill ride, it falls to the fiercely independent bystander, Shannon Kendricks, attorney and Seaquarium volunteer, to return the child Essi to her world. To find a way to free the desperate beluga, Juneau. To defeat the ancient aliens. On the upside, with the arrival of Essi, Shannon is startled to find not only does her physical appearance change dramatically, but she now possesses useful, near-magical traits to help her with barriers that appear insurmountable. 

But Shannon soon learns the most terrible threat comes from within: a bizarre lavender lightning strike has caused the minds of the beluga and child to enter Shannon’s own mind. Their presence consumes many more calories than Shannon can possibly take in. They are killing her. In a desperate attempt to finish what she’s set out to do before she dies, Shannon enlists the help of her friends. Not everyone will survive. And... who or what is the other dark force that Shannon discovers lurking in the shadows with the alien invaders?

SCROLL FOR SAMPLE!

Book Excerpt:

Part 1: Lavender Lightning
Chapter 1: Sunday

Shannon Kendricks burst through the SeaQuarium fish house door, whipped her unruly hair behind her shoulders, and spun around toward the towering figure following close behind.

“‘No’ means ‘no.’ We’re quits. Leave it alone. Now go,” she said, her voice firm, louder than she intended. She slammed the door in his face. Stood and scowled for a moment, poised for the mother of all pitched battles if the man dared open the door.

Do it. Double dare you.

All remained quiet. The hapless fellow stood outside, still and scowling, a distorted mirror image of herself. Then an angry fist knocked along the fish house wall, tracing the path of his footsteps back toward the Admin Building.

Shannon smacked the last of the fish buckets onto the counter and, with great splashy fanfare, filled the sink with hot steaming water to grind through scrubbing of the last of the day’s feeding containers. She spared a moment to catch her hair in a loose ponytail.

On her path back to the fish house from the last otter feeding, she’d been waylaid by her would-be suitor. Nice guy, good looking, bright, one of the marine biologists over at the Aquarium. But in recent weeks he had started asking for “emotional closeness,” as he put it. Where did they hide all those guys who wanted nothing to do with emotional closeness? She wanted one of those. But she always ended up with the softies most women would kill for. There’s irony for you.

Emotional closeness? Shannon refused to go there. Ever. And this fellow didn’t want to hear the message. Steam arose from the hot water in the sink. She plunged her hands in. Well. Now he understood.

But she hadn’t handled it well. She sighed.

“You always want to let them down gently. You’re too nice about it,” her supervisor and best friend Becky Anderson said from her stool without looking up from her logbooks, always knowing her friend’s unspoken train of thought much too well, to Shannon’s ongoing discomfort. “Cold. That’s the way to clear them off. Act as cold as a frozen mackerel.”

Not just cold; keep clear of relationships altogether; that’s the ticket.

The grit of her encounter still scraped on her mood and, she suspected, her voice. Poor guy, not his fault she preferred going it alone. Tears clouded her vision. She didn’t to turn around when she spoke.

“Otters looked good,” she said, in a raspy effort at normal. “Nome chittered up a storm, took everything I offered, but didn’t eat much. Katmai ate enough for both of them. Shuyak waited her turn like a good girl. The usual.”

Shannon could feel Becky’s gaze on her back at the sink.

“Okay,” Becky said.

Neither spoke for a moment.

A volunteer breezed in, grabbed his backpack, and as he took off out the door, hollered behind him, “Walruses all present and accounted for. Cleanest underwater windows this side of the Windex Company. Been fantastic as usual, ladies. See you Monday after classes, Becky. Next weekend, Shannon. Ciao.”

Even Shannon had to laugh to herself. Oh, for the untroubled energy and irreverence of the very young.

Silence resettled on the fish house, broken by the periodic scratchings of Becky filling out the daily paperwork and Shannon scrubbing buckets.

“You want to talk about it?” Becky asked at last.

“No.” The angry edge to Shannon’s abrupt answer surprised even her. Becky raised her hands as if to deflect her words.

“Okay. Don’t bite my head off.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Shannon said.

Becky nodded at her and kept right on nodding. “When’re you gonna get it through that brilliant yet thick head of yours that (a) some things come along that one person just can’t deal with alone, (b) even if people could do some things for themselves, others would love to share the load and thus make the load lighter, and (c) even if people could do some things for themselves, if they try, they make a piss-poor job of it? Not to mention any names, Shannon.”

Shannon muttered to herself. She wasn't some people. She’d deal with it. She always did.

“If you say so,” Becky said, and returned to her paperwork.

The minutes stretched on without the usual banter between the two friends at the end of Shannon’s weekend volunteer duty. Was it Shannon’s imagination or had the second hand on the wall clock started ticking like Big Ben? She listened, poised for each next click, as if hoping that something, anything, would disrupt the rhythm of the clock’s beat.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Tick.

Odin’s eye, as her Norse grandmother would say, and as Shannon always said in loving memory of the kind, patient old woman. Enough.

“What’s called for here,” Shannon said, “is some non-toxic glue to keep these scales on the fish.” She glanced over. Did Becky take the bait?

Her friend didn’t look up from her paperwork. “Mmm hmm,” she said.

Shannon made a face at Becky and returned her attention to her fingertips. She needed just one fingernail long and stiff enough to pry that last stubborn fish scale off her stainless steel bucket. A difficult task for a woman whose fingernails sported the tensile strength of wet tissue. Those damn scales stuck like a bad reputation on a fun-loving girl.

“Ah ha,” she said, spying an eighth-inch of nail, little finger, left hand. She applied it to the sticky translucent oval. “Victory is mine.” She dried the bucket and added it to the stacks on the rear shelves of the fish house.

“I will wash absolutely, positively, and unconditionally no more buckets today,” she said, trying one more time get a rise out of Beck, who looked up from her log sheet and said, “Okay, Ms. Kendricks, what if I absolutely, positively, and unconditionally will no longer permit volunteers to fraternize with any creature in the Ocean City SeaQuarium Marine Mammal Center unless said volunteers wash as many buckets as I say? That ban would include the sea otters, the

seals, the sea lions, the orcas, and yes, my dear, the beluga whales.”

Shannon ran her fingers through her long dark ponytail, as if pausing to ponder Becky’s words. “Then I would say—hand me another bucket.”

“Thought so. Lucky for you everything’s clean. Go away.”

“I still need to wash this counter….” Shannon said without enthusiasm. She’d worked her patooti off today. She slumped against the counter searching for one last tiny spark of energy. No luck.

She sighed. And yet, even a hard day at the SeaQuarium rated higher than the one facing her tomorrow. Back to her “real” job. She must finish a difficult legal brief on one of her cases, conduct a deposition, attend a staff meeting with her petulant, petty, pasty-faced boss, who was, unfortunately, the head of the County Legal Department, and work her way through a mountain of legal paper sitting on her desk. She once loved days like that. Where had the joy gone?

Ah well. Who needed joy? People admired her, respected her. Some of the jokers she faced in court even feared her. Satisfaction enough.

Becky bent over her logs, her feet curled over the bars between stool legs, her head nodding to music she alone could hear. After a moment, she put down her paperwork and looked at her friend. “You sound tired. Why don’t you skip Juneau tonight and get on home to your big-eyed kitty and giant dog—what kind of dog is Indy again? Elephant dog?”

“Elephant dog? Elephant dog?” Shannon crumpled a wet paper towel sitting on the counter and aimed at Becky’s head. “Sofa-sized, max.”

Becky watched the wad fly off to her left. “You are one lousy shot, lady. That the best you’ve got?”

“I missed on purpose. Lucky thing I know you love my babies as much as I do, or—right between the eyes, kiddo,” Shannon said.

“You dream. So go home and feed your sofa.”

As Shannon opened her mouth to protest, Becky lifted her hands in defense. “Don’t say it. What was I thinking, suggesting you go home without your dose of SeaQuarium’s most stubborn, most intelligent, chubby white whale? You’re addicted, sweetheart, might as well face it. Go see the spithead.”

Addicted. True.

No need to ask twice. “All righty then,” Shannon said. “And thanks.” She picked up her backpack and headed for the door. As she left, she turned and caught a glimpse of Becky burying her face back in her paperwork, one hand waving in Shannon’s general direction, a leg jiggling to that unheard beat.

Shannon called a farewell, pushed the fish house door closed and made her way down the behind-the-scenes pathway.

Eager to see Juneau, the infamous spitting beluga, she struggled to pick up her pace.

Wouldn’t happen. She’d run out of pizazz. A squashed-flat penny on a train track. She surrendered to her exhaustion, and ambled past the equipment lining her route, taking comfort from its familiarity.

The whales’ enrichment toys—hoops as blue as the deepest ice, slick and squeaky balls, hose sections, buoys.

The stretcher designed for the belugas, with soft padded holes for short beluga fins, hanging on the generator room wall. For emergencies. Never needed during the ten years Shannon had volunteered. With any luck, it never would.

Heading downhill, she could see Juneau floating alone in the middle of the back whale pool, the rounded top of her head, her blow hole, her wide, white back, bobbing above the water. The other four belugas lingered out front in the big public pool; Juneau chose to remain in the private pool. A loner, Juneau, just like Shannon.

“Becky called you a spithead,” she said as she approached the rim of the aqua-colored tank. “Feel free to give her a whacking big spit bath next time she comes down. But you won’t spit at me, right, my bright yet moody friend? I’m your favorite volunteer, right? And you’re, no question, my favorite whale. Pals don’t spit at pals, right?”

Right. Odds, maybe 50/50.

And the worst part—the staff biologists had started it all by design, when they encouraged the belugas’ natural ability to press ice-cold mouthfuls of water through their lips in forceful streams, creating lovely upward spraying fountains. The belugas performed the behavior on cue, a good husbandry measure and crowd pleaser. However, Juneau would often spit without warning to send messages like “take a hike.” Shannon’s kind of girl. Except when the whale lobbed a torrent of salty water right at her face.

Shannon reached the rim of the tank, three feet high on her side, and twenty feet down on the whales’ side. Juneau swam to greet her, the whale’s snow-white, plump body gliding through the water. The beluga raised her head, with the broad, unmarked forehead, ebony button eyes set well back on each side, short soft curving nostrum, and the mouth that reached so far around each side she always appeared to smile. Beautiful as ever. Shannon grinned at the sight—she couldn’t help herself.

Shannon studied her for a moment. No sign of her pebble today. Shannon had no idea where the whale hid it. For safety reasons, the staff removed rocks of any size from the pool area whenever they spotted one, yet they’d never found this little round pebble the size of a pea that Juneau loved to bring to Shannon. Clever girl. Shannon should’ve taken it from her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Often she would take the little stone off Juneau’s tongue and drop it for Juneau to dive and find. Perhaps she found the pebble hunt more of a challenge, preferring to search for this tiny dull-colored object rather than for those big bright rings and buoys the trainers sent her to retrieve. In any case, Juneau had elected not to play today. Today she wanted rubs along her back and fluke, and scratches under her small pectoral fins. She did love her back rubs.

Shannon reached out to give Juneau’s smooth white head a gentle stroke.

The whale floated closer to the pool’s edge.

Fingers met forehead.

At that instant, a bolt of lavender lightning flashed over the pool and surrounded them. A jolting pain, like the electric shock of grabbing a live wire rippled through Shannon. The crackle of a hundred firecrackers erupted. A strong scent, spicy and exotic, filled her nose. The taste of salt water bit her tongue. Her ears rang as if the lightning had touched off sirens.

What the—? Can’t move, can’t breathe.

A second piercing shock ripped through her, shaking her like hands on a jackhammer. She jerked as shimmering, lavender energy captured her and Juneau in a tight net. Flashes of lavender branded miniature strands of light on the inside of her eyelids and scalded her eyes. The pool began to slide up.

Correction.

The pool remained stable; Shannon began a rapid collapse. No! She gripped the rough, rounded pool rim until she couldn’t feel her fingers. She fought the dizziness.

No good. Blackness circled inward from the edges of her vision, stealing the view of a hazy twilight sky. Her legs buckled.

Shit. She never fainted.

She dropped to the concrete like an anchor in shallow water.

* * *

Shannon fought her way from a thick black void toward light. Her head hurt. Thor had taken his hammer to her skull and continued to pound. She raised a shaky hand to explore her scalp. Her fingers found a hard lump the size of a dinner roll. She must have cracked her head when she fell. An exotic aroma floated on her skin, mingling with the familiar bleach-washed smell of the pool deck.

What had happened? Why was she sitting on her keister next to the back beluga pool with a knot on her head and her mind imitating twirling helicopter blades? So confused…she was missing something important…oh no, Juneau! What had happened to the beluga when the lightning hit her? Shannon grabbed the pool rim with aching fingers and pulled herself to her feet.

So weak.

Panic bubbled toward the surface. She clung to the rim of the pool. Steady.

Steady.

She squinted down into the well-lit tank.

The water. Dive into the water. Safe. Cold water. Go. Now.

No! That made no sense. She stiffened her arms and pushed hard against the rim. She took a deep breath, then forced out the air and tried to push her head fuzzies out with it.

She surveyed the results. Urge to swim gone. Good. Head fuzzies just where she’d left them. Crap.

Forget that, focus on Juneau. She peered down again. One of Juneau’s listless eyes stared at her. The beluga’s body floated on its side, sinking, the blow hole inches from the water. Water in Juneau’s blow hole meant water in her lungs. And that meant death.

“Juneau,” Shannon said, her voice a whisper. She listened. The whale exhaled a weak breath. Still alive. She pulled the whale’s head toward her. Juneau’s tail fluke sank another few inches. No good. Shannon spun and stumbled toward the fish house, screaming for Becky and the SeaQuarium vet Andy Fernandez.

The wind had picked up. It pressed her back, like an ocean wave. She leaned into it, but too far—she fell forward, flat on her forearms, skinning them on the rough cement.

Tired. Dizzy. Hurting. Hungry.

Wait. Hungry? At a time like this? Forget hungry.

She rested her head on the pavement for a moment.

Her mind swirled and jumped, as if a greyhound ran around a race track inconveniently located in her mind. As if something inside her fought to escape.

Her head would explode. No joke. She would shatter.

Afraid, so afraid…water, get in the water….

Then, out of nowhere, a humming rose in her whirling mind, slow, calm, like a rich, musical blanket to warm her shivering spirit. Shannon’s wild thoughts quieted. She experienced the strangest sensation, as if some small…something had brushed across her mind with a velvet glove.

The chaotic internal bouncing and battering departed. Not so much died down as went away, deep into her mind somewhere.

The humming hadn’t dissipated the confusion, dizziness, nausea, and headache, though, so she continued to rest her head on the walkway. The cool concrete soothed the side of her face. She’d just lie here until she stopped hurting and her head stepped off the merry-go-round. So tired. She closed her eyes. Lavender lightning flashed through her vision. Her eyes flew open.

Right. Juneau needed help. Get up and move. To the fish house. Go.

Shannon pushed herself to her hands and knees. Shaky. She scooted over to the generator room and pushed with her hands and legs until she could lean against it and stand. Still woozy, but she could walk. Her ponytail whipped in the wind. She kept one hand on the uneven unshimmery gray wall as she took one halting step at a time.

Unshimmery?

She wove back and forth and faltered, her steps unsteady, as she advanced toward the fish house. “Becky,” she shouted, her voice straining, “Juneau’s in trouble.” Her words blew back in her face, thrown by the wind as if by a petulant child.

Just as she reached the fish house, Becky opened the door. “Get Andy, it’s Juneau,” Shannon said, exhausted, leaning on the nearest counter. Without a moment’s hesitation, Becky whipped out her radio and called the vet.

“Come down to the pool and tell me what happened,” Becky said as she raced by Shannon.

Becky would handle it. Shannon relaxed. What little energy she’d mustered seeped out the soles of her boots.

Can’t rest. Get back down there and help. Well. Maybe she would grab an energy bar from Becky’s stash. She pushed off the counter with a groan, stumbled to the cabinet where Becky kept her snacks, unpeeled the energy bar, and began the slow, unsteady journey back to Juneau.

Andy rushed her way from the walrus pools. He charged past as the hare would pass the turtle, but she kept moving, wobbling, the wind swirling around her. At last she reached the pool. Becky barked into the radio she held in one hand, and into the cell phone she held in the other.

She didn’t shimmer either. This troubled Shannon. But why?

Shannon found herself looking at Becky’s legs. Andy’s too. Two legs. Her eyes wandered to her own legs. Yes, two.

She blinked. So strange, these thoughts.

Becky stepped in front of her, grabbing her under both arms and easing her to the ground. “You sit, girlfriend. Our friendly neighborhood paramedics are on the way.”

Then Becky turned back to Juneau. More staff arrived, other people Shannon didn’t recognize.

Shannon chewed on her energy bar and tried to focus on bits of conversation over the next few minutes, voices raised above the noise of the wind, but she couldn’t concentrate for more than a second or two.

“…some kind of biochemical leak?”

“…getting hazmat down here right now.”

“Juneau can’t breathe on her own. We haven’t got the equipment to deal with it….”

“The research center has agreed take the whale; they’ve got their water tank truck coming.”

“Where’s the woman who saw it happen?” an unidentified voice asked. Becky pointed at Shannon and took a step over to her. “Are you feeling better? Can you tell us what’s wrong with her?”

Shannon mumbled, but didn’t know if anyone understood her, didn’t even know what she’d said.

Someone, maybe Andy, said, “…don’t see anything obvious, but something happened here.”