Mini Tour & Huge Giveaway: Last Blue Christmas by Rose Prendeville – Genre: Holiday Romance @RosePrendeville @RRBookTours #Romance #Books

December 13, 2021Reads & Reels Leave a comment

Looking for the perfect holiday read? Look no further!

Welcome to the book tour for Last Blue Christmas by Rose Prendeville. Read on for details and a chance to win a $50 Amazon e-Gift Card!

Last Blue Christmas

Publication Date: December 1st, 2021

Genre: Contemporary Romance/ Holiday Romance

The only case they haven’t cracked is how to be together.

Not on Officer Maggie Kyle’s Christmas bingo card:

• A homemade bomb in a bus station locker.

• A child, the prime suspect in the bombing.

• Her partner of ten years abandoning her to solve the case on her own.

Max St. James might be the worst cop in the world—or at least in Toronto:

• He fell in love with his partner.

• He’s the reason she never became a detective.

• He doesn’t much care who planted the bomb.

The IED’s blast ignites years of tension, sending Maggie and Max careening in opposite directions—but opposites still attract.

Can they find a way to come together to solve the case before another bomb goes off?

And will it mean another ten years sacrificing the future they want for the partnership they already have?

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Excerpt

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… four migraine headaches, three massive ulcers, two aching ear drums, and a hole where my heart ought to be,” Maggie sang quietly to herself as though Max wasn’t sitting right there. She cracked herself up and switched off the unmarked Suburban’s FM radio with a flourish, and Max could swear he caught a whiff of cinnamon.

“Maggie Kyle, your Christmas spirit confounds me,” he told his partner. He was pretending to watch a Buick creep down the street a little too slowly so she wouldn’t guess how attuned he was to the earnest timbre of her voice or the wry quirk of her lips. She was trying too hard to act casual with him, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Maggie forced another laugh. “Christmas spirit,” she repeated, skimming the crossword puzzle in her lap before glancing back across the street at the rundown residence of Bobby King. Its peeling paint, once white, was now a weathered gray, and of the four green shutters meant to frame the front windows, two were broken and one was missing altogether.

“What is a six-letter word for ‘lack thereof,’ Alex?”

“Jeopardy’s not a crossword puzzle,” she said, making sure he saw her eye roll.

“Dispatch, we need to put out an APB on Officer Kyle’s missing Christmas spirit.”

“You going to call in that Buick?” she changed the subject.

“I wrote down the plates,” he lied, squinting to make them out so he could record the vehicle in his logbook.

Maggie picked up the radio. “51-19?”

“51-19, go ahead,” another officer responded from his own unmarked vehicle around the corner.

“10-15 headed your way. Tan Buick, early 2000s model, traveling east. Manitoba plate: Yankee Lima Echo seven seven eight.”

“Copy,” 51-19 replied.

Maggie replaced the radio and turned her attention back to the crossword. “Frankie wants to enter that gingerbread contest, and her mom’s been playing Christmas carols since before Halloween. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“Got it. No Christmas carols.”

Max drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. When exactly had she lost her Christmas spirit? He could picture her as a little girl—in his mind she wore two long braids and was constantly shaking her bangs out of her eyes—staring up at the sky waiting for Santa to ride out of the stars like a meteor with the same patience she now bestowed on their stakeout. “But peppermint lattes are okay?”

She grinned. “I’ll allow it.”

“So you only hate Christmas a little bit then?”

Maggie snorted.

Time was, Max didn’t mind the odd stakeout. It beat writing parking tickets or chasing shoplifters through the snow. Play some tunes, shoot the shit, pee in a bottle if things got urgent.

With the right partner it could seem like a day off. But everything was like eggshells with Maggie lately, and he couldn’t figure out when exactly things had changed.

Today he felt a special kind of twitchy, the kind that made you want to peel off your own skin. Max loved the city—sometimes he hated how much he loved it—but sitting still all week, downtown where the Toronto high-rises blocked out the sky, he was starting to feel caged, like the buildings were closing in from every direction.

Maybe he was psyching himself out after the whole ancestry test situation. The dichotomy of an Indigenous urbanite was turning his brain against itself. Maybe he just needed a vacation.

“Do you believe in nature versus nurture?” he asked.

“What, you mean like, mama tried but Bobby King was born rotten and no amount of church or cuddles or bedtime stories could have stopped him growing up to be a cop-killing gun runner?”

“Something like that.”

Maggie shrugged at him. “You missed a button.” She pointed at his shirt. “Girlfriend didn’t catch that?”

She was obsessed with the idea that he and Selina from next door shared more than a wall. It had only happened once—okay a handful of times. But it was five years ago, and there was no way Maggie could have known, except somehow she did. Even back then there’d been something, in his gait as he walked to the patrol car or a half-guilty look in his eyes; she had known, and if he protested now she’d take it as some kind of proof.

Not that it should even matter. They were partners, not lovers, and he’d certainly been her shoulder to cry on when the asshat from college dumped her and split back to Edmonton.

Max should have made a move on Maggie then, but he was still her TO and besides, he’d been a rebound before. He didn’t want to be one for Maggie, and she didn’t want him anyway. She’d been singularly focused on making detective since her first day at Fifty-One Division. Until, somewhere along the lines, she hadn’t.

And she was right about the button. His black undershirt was peeking through. Did he bother to look in the mirror this morning? After a dozen years on the job, he knew what he’d see. Not his father, not even his grandfather—just a sad imitation, like a kid who got the wrong size costume at Halloween.

Her phone began to vibrate then, and she, too, silenced it without answering.

“Your mom again?” he asked.

She didn’t respond, which meant yes.

“She giving you a hard time about staying here for the holidays?”

“I’ll take ‘Does the earth orbit the sun?’ for a thousand, Alex.”

“Weren’t you going to invite your folks out here for Christmas?”

“That was last year.”

An uncomfortable mixture of lust and shame surged through Max, from the tips of his ears to his belly, at the thought of last Christmas. He tried to remember her parents being in town, but all that came to mind was the department holiday party and sweaty fumbling in a dark interrogation room. And cinnamon. She had smelled like cinnamon then, too.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

Rose Prendeville is a librarian and honorary Canadian with a passion for stories about found families and flawed people doing their best.

She’s been devising such tales for as long as she can remember, including secretly in the back of her tenth grade French class (Pardon, Madame Gonzales), and she went on to double-major in screenwriting and creative writing.

Hydrangeas are her lifeblood, hot baths and hiking are her solace. She adores baking (and mostly eating) macarons, and she can’t wait to share this and future books with you.

Rose Prendeville | Instagram | TikTok

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Mini Tour Schedule

December 13^th

R&R Book Tours (Kick-Off Post) http://rrbooktours.com

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

Phoebe’s Randoms (Spotlight) https://phoebesrandoms.wordpress.com/

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

December 14^th

@2manybooks2littletime (Review) https://www.instagram.com/2manybooks2littletime/

@gryffindorbookishnerd (Review) https://www.instagram.com/gryffindorbookishnerd/

December 15^th

Sadie’s Spotlight (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

@sleeping.bookish (Review) https://www.instagram.com/sleeping.bookish/

Rambling Mads (Review) http://ramblingmads.com

December 16^th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

@my_books_and_coffee (Review) https://www.instagram.com/my_books_and_coffee/

Latisha’s Low-Key Life (Review) https://latishaslowkeylife.com/

December 17^th

Misty’s Book Space (Spotlight) http://mistysbookspace.wordpress.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

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Mini Tour: Unicorn Farmhand by Samuel Yaw Jian Fong – Genre: Fantasy @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

December 13, 2021December 13, 2021Reads & Reels Leave a comment

Welcome to the mini tour for fantasy novel, Unicorn Farmhand by Samuel Yaw Jian Fong. Read on for more details!

Unicorn Farmhand

Publication Date: December 2019

Genre: Fantasy

Every horse has a talent or two. Some can sit, some can jump over obstacles, and some can select a button for a treat. For one particular draft horse, Dok Saau, his talent is in writing. He does not just scribble letters in the ground as a trick, but he also uses his talent to express his own thoughts to his bemused owners.
Surprised by his strange talent, his owner Chang Gao brings him to the Horse Fair, where he beats the other horses by writing proper answers to several questions. After a DNA scan, he is revealed to be a unicorn: even though he was supposed to be released into the wild, the authorities let Chang Gao keep him so that he might become a local attraction.
Yet even as he tries to adjust to his new life as an animal celebrity, every now and then he faces recurring nightmares from his troubled past. As he seeks Chang Gao’s help, will he be there to help him defeat his fears? Or would they instead attract something much worse: something that could threaten his comforts or even his own life?

Available on Amazon & Kobo

About the Author

Samuel Yaw Jian Fong is an amateur author and artist from Seremban, Malaysia. Due to a lot of time spent on the Internet, he enjoys making his own fictional worlds inhabited by dozens of quirky characters Would you like to check them out?

For more information about his works, check out the Rabydosverse Wikia and HorsesPlease’s DeviantArt page.

Mini Tour Schedule

December 13^th

R&R Book Tours (Spotlight) http://rrbooktours.com

@princessreadsalot (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/princessreadsalot/

December 14^th

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

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December 15^th

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

December 16^th

Rambling Mads (Spotlight) http://ramblingmads.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

December 17^th

Lunarian Press (Spotlight) https://www.lunarianpress.com/

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readsandreels.com

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Book Tour: Forgotten Scars by Natalie J. Reddy – Genre: YA/ Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #Books

December 13, 2021December 13, 2021Reads & Reels Leave a comment

Welcome to the book tour for Forgotten Scars by Natalie J. Ruddy. Today we have an excerpt for you to read and a really amazing giveaway to enter at the end!

Forgotten Scars (Scars of Days Forgotten #1)

Publication Date: March 2021

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance

Humanity is not alone.

Supernatural beings are hiding among us. The Psi have remained secluded from humans for far too long, and there’s a faction that is conspiring to break the veil and use their powers to take their rightful place among humans – as our rulers and conquerors.

Wren is a college student who didn’t think her life could get much worse. That is until she’s kidnapped by the Psi and questioned about her closest friend. But the Psi offer her something no one else can – the truth about who she is.

But can she trust the Psi? Can she trust her feelings towards her irritatingly charming captor? Or is she just a pawn in a very dangerous game?

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Excerpt

Once the door closed, I flung the blanket off. The room looked like it could be someone’s study or office. I hurried to the windows and yanked open the drapes and the room flooded with sunlight. Daylight! I’d been out for hours!

There were no bars on the windows, but a quick glance outside revealed that I was on the second floor of wherever this was. Climbing or jumping down could be an option. A second story jump wouldn’t kill me, but it would likely hurt like hell.

I groped around the window frame for a lock or way to open it. I found nothing. Hurrying over to the next set of drapes, I yanked them open and found a set of French doors. Behind the glass, I could see a little balcony, and I reached for the door handle.

“Damn it!” The knob moved, but when I shoved against it, it didn’t budge. I shook my head. “People don’t go to the trouble of kidnapping someone, only to leave them in an unlocked room, you idiot,” I muttered to myself. Nothing was ever that easy.

Something heavy—that’s what I needed. If I couldn’t just walk out, I would break out!

I turned, and for the first time, I noticed the fire cracking in the fireplace along the far wall behind the couch I’d woken upon. On a second glance, the room looked more like an old library than someone’s personal office. The walls had deep mahogany wood paneling and were lined with books from floor to ceiling. There was a large matching desk stationed on the far side of the room. The room was almost the size of my entire apartment and was full of plenty of things that looked nice and heavy.

I pushed my mussed hair out of my eyes and walked over to an end table by the couch and picked up a large, very ugly candelabra. I studied it for a moment taking in the fat bronze cherub with its vacant and creepy looking eyes and grimaced. “Who would buy something this ugly?” I muttered as I moved back to the window. I would need to move quickly once the glass broke.

I moved swiftly across the room to the French doors, lifted the candelabra and swung—

“There’s a deadbolt at the top,” a voice spoke, stopping me mid-swing.

I shrieked, and whirled around to see a guy had entered the room. He held a tray in his arms, his lips quirked up in an amused half-smile.

“Um—what?” My heart hammered in my chest at the sudden appearance of someone in the room. How had I not heard him?

“Up at the top of the door.” The guy jerked his chin in the direction of the French doors. “There’s a deadbolt you can unlock if you need to get some air that badly. No reason to break perfectly good windows.” He crossed the room and set the tray down on the coffee table. “Not that you’d break them anyway. They’re made of unbreakable glass,” he added as he poured himself a cup of what smelled like coffee.

I watched as he added heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a dash of cream before heading to the couch, where he sat down like everything was totally normal and took a sip of his coffee. But normal people didn’t kidnap people or need unbreakable windows.

“You can put that down.” He motioned to the candelabra still held tightly in my grasp. “You won’t be needing it.”

“You going to let me leave if I do?” I dared to ask.

The amused smile that hadn’t left his mouth since he had first spoken grew. “I can’t let you leave, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.” He lifted the cup to his lips and took another sip of his coffee.

I tightened my grip on the candelabra, the hard bronze managing to give me a small measure of comfort as I said, “I’d feel more comfortable holding onto this then.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded.

“Why bother telling me about the lock on the door if you aren’t going to let me go?” I asked.

“Letting you go outside and letting you leave isn’t the same thing.” He set his cup down and strode towards me.

Every muscle in my body tensed as he stopped a foot away. He wasn’t much older than me, and only a few inches taller, but his confidence made it feel like he was towering over my five foot seven inches. The smile had left his mouth as he studied me. His eyes were a light golden brown that could only be described as honey-colored, and they almost glowed against his light brown skin. His hair was a dark wavy mass that reached his collar.

Good looking didn’t even begin to describe this guy. He was the type of subject I’d normally love to sketch or paint, but given my current position, I wasn’t really in the mood. Although my situation didn’t stop me from noticing his strong nose and narrow jaw, or the way his lashes were long enough for a mascara commercial. I couldn’t help it. I saw potential art in most everything, especially beautiful things. And damn it, he was beautiful.

His mouth quirked to the side as if something amused him, but he didn’t say what. He just continued to look at me.

I straightened to my full height, refusing to shrink away. “Why am I here? Or are you not important enough to tell me either?”

He took a step closer, closing the gap between us and leaned in, his face a measly couple inches from mine. “I’m the reason you’re here.” He didn’t move away, and I glared at him.

“You’re in my personal space.”

“Am I?” He smirked as he flicked the end of my nose.

“Don’t touch me!” I smacked his hand away.

His teeth gleamed as he flashed a cocky grin, “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” The grin didn’t leave his face, but he took a step back and moved behind the desk. “Come sit down, Wren, and we’ll talk.” He sat in the deep brown leather chair.

The use of my name caught my attention. “How do you know my name?”

He nodded to the chair in front of the desk.

“I’m not sitting until you tell me how you know my name.” I stormed toward the desk and slammed the stupid ugly candelabra down in front of him with as much force as I could muster.

The jerk didn’t even flinch.

“I’m the one who arranged for you to be brought here,” he said. “It helps to find out the name of the people you’re kidnapping.”

He had me there.

“Now, sit down, please.” His words were calm but firm as he nodded once more towards the chair and crossed his arms, waiting.

I complied. For now.

He was silent as he shuffled through some files on the desk. A wiser person might have stayed silent and waited for their captors to speak, but I’d never been accused of ever being especially wise.

“Who are you?” I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “And why am I here?”

He glanced up and folded his hands on top of a manila file. He didn’t speak, he just studied me, his gaze dark and intrusive.

I shifted, clenching my fists so tightly, my nails bit into my palms.

“My name is Darshan, and you’re here because I need something and I’m hoping you can help me.”

“What makes you think I can help you?”

I searched my mind to come up with something, anything that these people might think I could do for them. I had little to offer anyone. I knew that. I wasn’t stupid. But, obviously, he didn’t know that, or maybe I’d been mistaken for someone else?

Darshan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I know you can help me, Wren.”

“I swear I have nothing of any value to you.”

“It’s not about what you have, but who you know.”

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head. Who could I know that these people would want?

Darshan flipped open the file and pulled out a photo. He slid it towards me. His face was hard without a hint of humor. “We want to know where this woman is.”

I looked at the photo to see… me. So not a case of mistaken identity, but very creepy. It took me a moment to take in the rest of the picture and notice the person next to me. My eyes widened.

“Her name is Maeve.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts. “But I believe you know her as Wendy, and others know her as a murderer.”

Get it on Amazon

About the Author

Natalie J. Reddy is a Canadian Author who spends her days trying to escape reality by making up stories about the characters in her head.

Natalie realized at an early age that she had a passion for storytelling and that passion followed her into adulthood. There is nothing she loves more than to be pulled into a fictional world whether it’s in her own writing or the writing of others. Natalie is the author of the Scar of Days Forgotten series, a New Adult Urban Fantasy series with characters who have supernatural abilities and dark and sometimes unknown pasts to overcome.

When she’s not writing, Natalie can be found having all sorts of real-life adventures with her husband and daughter or curled up with a good book and a cup of tea.

To keep up to date on upcoming books, subscribe to Natalie’s newsletter at nataliejreddy.com

Natalie J. Reddy | Instagram | Facebook | Goodreads

Giveaway: Natalie is giving away signed editions of all 4 books in her Scars of Days Forgotten series and artwork inspired by the books!

*North America Only

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Book Tour Schedule

December 13^th

R&R Book Tours (Spotlight) http://rrbooktours.com

Reads & Reels (Spotlight) http://readssandreels.com

Sadies’s Spotlight (Spotlight) http://sadiesspotlight.com/

I Smell Sheep (Review) http://www.ismellsheep.com/

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December 14^th

I Love Books & Stuff (Spotlight) https://ilovebooksandstuffblog.wordpress.com

B is for Book Review (Spotlight) https://bforbookreview.wordpress.com

Breakeven Books (Spotlight) https://breakevenbooks.com

Liliyana Shadowlyn (Review) https://lshadowlynauthor.com/

Bunny’s Book Reviews (Review) https://bookwormbunnyreviews.blogspot.com/

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December 15^th

@books_inthecity (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/books_inthecity/

Rambling Mads (Spotlight) http://ramblingmads.com

@esmeralda_lagiggles18 (Review) https://www.instagram.com/esmeralda_lagiggles18/

The Clumsy Bookworm (Review) https://theclumsybookworm.com/

@theclumsybookworm (Review) https://www.instagram.com/theclumsybookworm/

December 16^th

MacroMicroCosm Journal (Spotlight) https://www.vraeydamedia.ca/macromicrocosm-online

@over.on.my.bookshelf (Review Out of Tour) https://www.instagram.com/over.on.my.bookshelf/?hl=en

@inkspit.blog (Review) https://www.instagram.com/inkspit.blog/

Latisha’s Low-Key Life (Spotlight) https://latishaslowkeylife.com/

December 17^th

@bookishkelly2020 (Spotlight) https://www.instagram.com/BookishKelly2020/

Stine Writing (Spotlight) https://christinebialczak.com/

Jessica Belmont (Review) https://jessicabelmont.com/

The Faerie Review (Spotlight) http://www.thefaeriereview.com

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Mini Tour & Giveaway: My Queen My Love by Elena Vidal – Genre: Historical Fiction @emvidal @RRBookTours1 #RRBookTours #HistoricalFiction #Books

December 13, 2021December 13, 2021Reads & Reels Leave a comment

Welcome to the mini tour for My Queen, My Love by Elena Maria Vidal. Read on for details and a chance to win a paperback copy of the book!

My Queen, My Love: A Novel of Henrietta Maria (The Henrietta of France Trilogy Book 1)

Publication Date: November 25th, 2021

Genre: Historical Fiction/ Henrietta Maria

Publisher: Mayapple Books

The youngest daughter of Henri IV, the first Bourbon King of France, Henriette-Marie always knew she would have to marry a prince. When the Prince of Wales, Charles Stuart, travels through Paris he sees her dancing at the Louvre and within two years a marriage is arranged. However, Henriette is Catholic and Catholicism is banned in England. In preparing to become Queen of England, Scotland and Ireland, Henriette has no idea of the obstacles that must be overcome before she can find happiness with Charles. The main hindrance, she soon realizes, is not the difference in religion but Charles’ best friend, George Villiers, the handsome Duke of Buckingham, who is determined to subdue Henriette to his will. Buckingham forgets that Henriette is also half Medici and underestimates her determination to succeed as well as the depth of her love for Charles. My Queen, My Love is the first novel in the Henrietta of France Trilogy by acclaimed author Elena Maria Vidal. It describes the early years of the tumultuous marriage of Charles I and Henrietta Maria which preceded the English Civil Wars of the Seventeenth Century.

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Excerpt

11 May, 1625 dawned dark and dreary, as the heavens opened and drenched Paris in a driving rain. Henriette had a quiet morning at the Louvre, with Madame Garnier and Mamangat insisting that she eat. Then she bathed, and around two o’clock in the afternoon was enveloped in a wrapper to be driven in a coach with an armed escort through the torrential downpour to the Archbishop’s palace. The streets of Paris were crowded in spite of the deluge, and she was cheered through the streets, which in the showers were like streams. When they reached the Archbishop’s palace next to Notre Dame she was bundled up to the room where her gown and jewels were awaiting her. Several of the highest ranking ladies in the kingdom were there to dress her. Her gown had been brushed and cleaned, having been spotted with wax from dripping candles and a few stains of red wine. It now sparkled more gloriously than ever. And this time, she was wearing a crown! Her mother Queen Marie supervised the adjusting of the diamond crown with a single large pearl in the front on Henriette’s curls, which the dampness of the air had made more tight and abundant. Around her shoulders was placed an ermine-lined blue velvet mantle, embroidered with gold fleur de lys. The Princesse de Condé, the Princesse de Conti and the Comtesse de Soissons, mother of Henriette’s rejected suitor, were to carry the mantle and the cloth of gold train but found them too heavy. It was feared that Henriette would be pulled backwards so it was decided that an officer would walk under it, supporting the mantle and train with his head and hands.

    At five o’clock in the evening, she was finally ready, and her brothers Louis and Gaston arrived to escort her to the Cathedral. Louis XIII was crowned and arrayed in a tunic of scarlet velvet, covered with cloth of gold. He was to walk on her right and her brother Gaston on her left. Gaston was debonair in a suit of silver lamé. Anne had come with Louis; she was also crowned and completely resplendent in a gown and mantle of cloth of gold and silver. Maman wore black silk embroidered in gold with a pearl and ruby coronet.

    In the hall of the Archbishop’s palace the procession was arranged. Henriette could see the doors open as they set forth. Remarkably, the rain had ceased and the sun was shining! Leading the way was an officer known as the Captain of the Gate, behind whom walked a hundred of the King’s Swiss Guard, drums beating and banners flying. They were followed by a band of musicians, then the heralds with trumpets, whose blaring made Henriette’s heart leap with exultation. After them marched the Marshals of France, then the peers of the realm. They were followed by the proxy bridegroom the Duc de Chevreuse and the English ambassadors, the Earls of Carlisle and Holland, all three of whom were in cloth of gold like King Louis. Behind those three gentlemen, Henriette walked with her two brothers, trailed by the ladies and gentleman carrying the train. Finally there came Queen Marie and Queen Anne.

    A long wooden gallery lined in colorful carpets and tapestries led from the Archbishop’s palace to the west portals of the Cathedral, where a platform under a canopy of cloth of gold had been erected. The vows would be exchanged at the doors of the church, according to the ancient tradition. Within and without the Cathedral wooden stands had been built for people to sit and see what they could see. Citizens were also gathered on roofs of houses, on balconies, and leaning out of windows. On the platform, under a canopy of cloth of gold, Cardinal de Rochefoucault awaited the bridal party. As Henriette and her brothers appeared, the crowds cheered deliriously. The entire bridal party ascended the platform. Henriette wished she had been able to practice climbing the steps in all her regalia; mercifully the steps had been carpeted or else she would surely have slipped off. Henriette and the Duc de Chevreuse knelt on prie-dieus before the Cardinal, who received their marital vows. After being married, Henriette arose and turned; she saw the English ambassadors kneeling before her.

    “Your Majesty,” said the Earl of Carlisle in English, kissing the hem of her skirt.

    “God save the Queen!” The Earl of Holland proclaimed, using English as well.

    “I am Queen of England,” she thought, wishing Charles was with her. And she descended the platform and entered the great cathedral with her brothers, as the organ and chanting of the choir lifted her heart to heaven.

Available on Amazon

About the Author

Elena Maria Vidal grew up in the countryside outside of Frederick, Maryland, “fair as the garden of the Lord” as the poet Whittier said of it. As a child she read so many books that her mother had to put restrictions on her hours of reading. During her teenage years, she spent a great deal of her free time writing stories and short novels.

Elena graduated in 1984 from Hood College in Frederick with a BA in Psychology, and in 1985 from the State University of New York at Albany with an MA in Modern European History. In 1986, she joined the Secular Order of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. Elena taught at the Frederick Visitation Academy and worked as a private tutor as well as teaching children’s etiquette classes. During a trip to Austria in 1995 she visited the tomb of Empress Maria Theresa in the Capuchin crypt in Vienna. Afterwards she decided to finish a novel about Marie-Antoinette she had started writing ten years before but had put aside. In 1997 her first historical novel TRIANON was published by St. Michaels Press. In 2000, the sequel MADAME ROYALE was published, as well as the second edition of TRIANON, by The Neumann Press. Both books quickly found an international following which continues to this day. In 2010, the third edition of TRIANON and the second edition of MADAME ROYALE were released.

In November 2009, THE NIGHT’S DARK SHADE: A NOVEL OF THE CATHARS was published by Mayapple Books. The new historical novel deals with the controversial Albigensian Crusade in thirteenth century France. She is a member of the Eastern Shore Writers Association. She currently lives in Maryland with her family. Her fourth novel, THE PARADISE TREE, about her Irish ancestors, was published in Fall 2014. Her first biography, MARIE-ANTOINETTE, DAUGHTER OF THE CAESARS, was published in Spring 2016.

In November 2021, My Queen, My Love: A Novel of Henrietta Maria, was published as the first installment of the Henrietta of France Trilogy.

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Book Blitz: Shadow Winged by Jilleen Dolbeare – Genre: Urban Fantasy/ Shifters @RRBookTours #RRBookTours

December 13, 2021December 13, 2021Reads & Reels Leave a comment

We are pleased to share Shadow Winged, the first book in The Shadow Winged Chronicles with all of you today! Now available on Amazon

Shadow Winged

Publication Date: September 17th, 2021

Genre: Urban Fantasy/ Shifters

Werewolves are bad, but ice age predators are worse, especially werepredators...

Being a bush pilot is the third most dangerous job in the world. Piper Tikaani takes that in stride. As an Inupiaq shapeshifter, flying is second nature, whether under her own power, or tackling the skies in her Super Cub.

Strong winds, rugged terrain, and rough clients, were all the excitement she had room for until a mysterious death and hidden treasure led Piper to a new and dark reality. One where the people she trusts hide things from her, and ancient beasts stalk the land.

Now with the help of her friends and her new lover, she must discover the truth. The truth about the treasure, the truth about her clan, and the truth about herself. Unfortunately for her, this may mean exposing her secrets to the very creatures that are hunting her. You see, the dark gods of her people are back and they are hunting the shadow winged—like Piper.

If you like unique Urban Fantasy based on Native American mythology along the lines of Patricia Briggs, CE Murphy, and Faith Hunter, you’ll love this new series!

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Chapter One

The rugged cliffs of the Alaska Range darkened as the clouds pressed from above. I decreased my air speed and descended another hundred feet, hugging the right side of the steep mountain and giving myself room in case I had to turn around in the narrow pass and go back to Anchorage. We were close enough to the side of the mountain to observe a band of grizzlies under my right wing. Most of the animals cringed when we buzzed past, but a huge boar looked up, challenging us. My client barked out a quick laugh.

I’d already sunk four hundred feet on my way through the pass, and we flew along at an altitude of eight hundred. The lowering ceiling kept forcing us down as I raced an incoming front. I cleared the pass and zoomed out over open ground, trees, and tundra.

Suddenly, a black cloud materialized in front of me. I slowed further, trying to dip below. As I grew closer, I realized it was a cloud of dark birds. My heart sped up. I dipped my right wing to avoid them, but they moved almost as if they were trying to hit me.

I increased the dip further, and accidentally stalled the wing–losing lift. We dropped fast. My passenger gasped loudly. I grimaced; teeth clenched with concentration. After some quick maneuvering, I recovered from the stall, sweat running down my back.

A flash of black feathers and a loud whump was all I saw as the ravens bounced off the

plane. “Shit!” I yelled as I dove further to avoid the rest. We were down to three hundred feet. The clouds were still pressing on us, and I was worried about the damage the birds may have done to the cloth covered Super Cub.

“We’re going to have to land.” I straightened out and started to look for somewhere to put down. “I need to assess the damage.”

He grunted affirmatively. Rough maneuvering like that can leave your passengers a bit green, so I hoped he was doing well and wouldn’t spray my cockpit with vomit.

Luckily, we were over a river and even though it seemed to be running higher than usual, there had to be a gravel or sand bar somewhere big enough to land a good bush plane on. The Cub bounced and swayed in the strong wind, and the sky continued to threaten as I located a potential landing spot on a gravel bar.

A quick glance back showed my passenger’s white knuckles clinging to the back of my seat. I buzzed the gravel bar, twice, mentally checking the length, and circled back to land. I came in at an angle, fighting the crosswind and straightened at the last second to avoid the possibility of the wind flipping us. I could smell the sharp, quick scent of fear. Mine and the stranger’s. It filled the plane as the sudden deceleration pushed us into the seat belts.

The Super Cub is the workhorse of the bush. It’s small, likes to fly, carries a good load, and can take-off and land in a very short distance. This was a very short distance. I dragged my oversized Bushwheels through the water slowing the plane and bounced gently down the makeshift runway. I turned and maneuvered it for a quick take-off before I powered down.

“You doing okay back there?” I only got another affirmative grunt.

“You might as well stretch your legs; I know it gets a bit cramped back there.” I pulled off my headset and opened the door.

“That was some pretty good flying,” his voice was husky and deep and rumbled from his chest.

“It shouldn’t have had to have been,” I shrugged. “It’s like they came out of nowhere,” I scowled up at the darkened sky. “It’s weird. Ravens are too smart to hit a plane,” I spoke quietly, mostly to myself.

I didn’t let on about it freaking me out. Ravens are a personal animal for me. Hitting them made me feel slightly nauseous and unbalanced. I helped him remove the bags and gear that were pinning him down and he stepped out.

A quick chill raised the hair on my neck and peppered me with gooseflesh. I looked around to see if anyone besides my passenger was around. No one. I brushed off the feeling. How dumb, by worrying about the ravens I’d spooked myself!

I frowned slightly at my passenger, trying to remember his name. He had a bemused smile on his face. He pushed his hat back a little and took off his sunglasses. His bright blue eyes immediately drew me in. Wow. He hadn’t looked more than average at first glance, but those eyes were something. I looked away quickly.

He took a deep breath of the cool, clean air, and looked around. “I can see how this country can get under your skin,” he said. “Can I help you with anything?” he added after turning back to me.

“Thanks, uh, Vanice?” I stumbled through the name. I thought that was it. I hoped I got it right. I thought for a moment longer, no, that’s right, Vanice Fletcher, but he had some kind of nickname. He flinched; I should have paid closer attention to dad when we were loading up.

“Call, me Fletch or Fletcher,” he said. “Vanice was my grandfather.”

“Okay, sorry, I’m Piper, by the way, like my airplane. It’s a Piper Super Cub. Only I’m Piper Tikaani. I was a little distracted before. I don’t remember if I told you my name.” I was babbling. I shut my mouth, held out my hand and we shook. “I’m good, with the plane, I mean. Why don’t you have a look around while I check it over? Just keep an eye out for bears.”

“Sure.”

Available on Amazon

About the Author

Jilleen Dolbeare is the author of the Shadow Winged Chronicles, an urban fantasy series about a shape-shifting bush pilot in Alaska.

She started her love of reading at the age of two. She was an experiment by a father who was starting his career as a teacher. She gained her love of science fiction and fantasy in middle school by reading The Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander, The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper, The Enchantress From the Stars by Sylvia Engdahl, and The Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey among others.

She discovered her deep love of urban fantasy after reading Steven Spruill’s Rulers of Darkness, and her love of writing while finishing her English composite (English and Literature) degree at Brigham Young University.

Jilleen lives with her husband and two cats in Barrow, Alaska where she also discovered her love and admiration of the Inupiaq people and their folklore.

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