Flash Fiction - COLD FAIRY MOON by Linda Mooney

COLD FAIRY MOON
A fantasy romance flash fiction
by Linda Mooney

Sassa sensed him coming up from behind her. Her heart sped up a little, but she kept her attention focused on the large crowd gathered in the distance. More specifically on the fireworks and other things people were shooting into the sky.

            Brinn sat down next to her. “What ‘cha doing?”

            “Watching.”

            He gaze out at the celebration. “It’s loud.”

            “It always is.”

            “But they seem happy.”

            “I bet they are.”

            He cast her a side eye. “You sound…”

            “Bitter?”

            “Cynical.”

            She snorted in reply. To her surprise, he scooted closer to her, to where their shoulders almost touched.

             “It’ll be the new year pretty soon. That’s always a reason to be happy,” he observed.

            “Why?” Realizing how she must sound, Sassa apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out sounding the way it did.”

            “It’s all right. No offense taken.”

            A shriek of joy rent the night sky as another rocket zoomed upward and exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. Brinn raised an arm to point to something overhead, and the feel of it brushing up against hers sent a little thrill through her. Glancing over at him, she noticed the delight on his face.

            “See that?” he asked.

            She following his pointing finger. “Yeah. So?”

            “It’s a full moon tonight. Know what people are calling it?”

            Sassa grinned. “Other than a full moon?”

            “They’re calling it the Cold Fairy Moon.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “It’s supposed to be an omen of good luck.”

            This time she reared back to give him a quizzical look. “Good luck?”

            Spreading a big grin across his face, Brinn nodded.

            “With a Cold Fairy Moon?”

            “Uh-huh.”

            “What does that even mean? That fairies get cold?”

            The smile drooped slightly. “I guess that’s what they think.”

            “Or that fairies are cold-natured?”

            He shrugged. “I don’t know, Sassa. I’m just repeating what I’ve heard.”

            Realizing she’d trodden on his good nature again, she reined her tone in. “So what kind of good luck is this moon supposed to bring?”

            “A happy new year.” He appeared reluctant to elaborate.

            “Is that all?” she pressed.

            “Well, I heard someone say that dreams will come true. People will find true love. There’ll be better health all around, and everyone will find happiness.”

            She blinked. “All because of a Cold Fairy Moon?”

            “All because this Cold Fairy Moon appears on New Year’s Eve.”

            She stared up between the bare tree limbs at the huge, milky white orb that sat almost directly above them. “Did someone ever tell them that fairies don’t get cold?”

            He chuckled. “I don’t think it matters to them.”

            He moved his arm again, this time bumping against hers and sending another little shiver through her. He noticed the slight movement. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His hand folded over hers. Unconsciously, she spread her fingers to let him lace his between them.

            “Yeah. I’m sorry I’m being such a goose. I do hope the Cold Fairy Moon brings us good luck this next year.”

            A loud explosion made her jump. Instinctively, she leaned over to Breen and clutched the front of his shirt. His other arm went protectively around her shoulder. She turned to look at him as the sky turned a brilliant blue, then red, then yellow.

They were almost nose-to-nose. She didn’t want to disengage herself from his embrace, but neither did she want him to think she was asking…

Oh, shoot. What does it matter?

“So we’re supposed to find love, happiness, and good health?” she confirmed.

“And have our dreams come true.”

“How’s that going to happen? Do we have to…ask?”

It was difficult to read the expression in his eyes. Luckily, she didn’t have to.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the distance between them to touch her lips with his. It was a sweet kiss. A warm kiss, in spite of the chilly temperature. Sadly, it ended too soon. Sassa didn’t try to hide her disappointment when he pulled away.

“I guess it depends on who you ask, and what you ask for,” he softly replied. “Sassa? I’m tired of seeing you so sad. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to find love.”

It was difficult to tell what sound was louder—the crowd of revelers, the fireworks, or her thudding heart.

“Brinn.” She got no further. He leaned in again to kiss her a second time, another sweet, warm, but too-brief pressure. When he released her, she almost reached for him.

“I have a request to make. I’m going to ask,” he informed her. “Give me a chance, Sassa. Let’s both start the new year afresh. Let’s look for happiness together. Let’s work on being healthy together. Let’s…see what love has in store…for the both of us. Whaddya say, Sassa? Are you willing to give us a chance?”

She drew a shaky breath. Would now be the time to tell him how much she’d been wishing to hear him say what he was saying? She cast her eyes upward once more at the brilliant moonlight flooding the world. The Cold Fairy Moon. “All I have to do is ask?” she whispered.

“Uh-huh.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And I’m all ears.”

Her eyes automatically went to the side of his head. Brinn had some of the sexiest looking ears of any man she’d seen. Their pointed tips almost curled.

“I would love to start this new year fresh with you,” she confessed. “I’m ready for some happiness.”

“And love?”

She didn’t try to hide her smile. “And love.”

Another bone-jarring boom rattled the sky, ending in cascading white trails.

Brinn got to his feet and held out a hand. She took it, and he helped her to her feet.

“Come on. How about we go somewhere where it’s not so noisy? Where we can look at the moon in private?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Spreading his iridescent wings, Brinn launched himself off the twig they’d been sitting on. Sassa unfolded her wings to follow after him, and together, they soared into the sky, keeping just above the treetops to avoid being seen as the celebrations continued throughout the night.

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HERE BE NEWS for Monday December 28, 2020

 

Monday, December 28, 2020 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:

Tuesday December 22, 2020: Author Deborah A. Bailey discusses the challenges of writing fiction and nonfiction.

Wednesday December 23, 2020: Author PG Forte shares an excerpt from Winter World of Love on WIP-It Wednesday!

                

Did you get a new e-reader for Christmas? Stock it with awesome reads from today’s bestselling and hot new authors: http://bit.ly/2020StockingSale #PNR #UF

And if you didn't get a new e-reader, check out our contest for a chance to win one!

http://bit.ly/2020StockingSale

WiP-It Wednesday for December 23, 2020

 PG Forte:  I'm currently working on a new short Christmas story set in my Winter Hearts Steampunk world. When it's done (hopefully by week's end) Winter World of Love will be available ONLY to members of my FB Readers Group, The Crone's Nest. Here's a sneak peek at the cover and an excerpt. Link to join the Crone's Nest will appear below. Enjoy!

December 24, 1871
Republic of New Texacali

Ophelia rubbed her sleeve across the glass of the airship’s porthole hoping that if she cleared away the condensation, the view outside would improve. But to no avail. The wintery landscape—rocky earth lightly dusted with snow, stunted trees and gray-green shrubs—continued to flash by at a dizzying pace. “Dario?” she called—but quietly, trying to keep the alarm from her voice. “We seem to be traveling extremely fast.” 

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Her husband, perched beside the pilot’s seat, flashed a smile at her over his shoulder. “I told you the ride would be smooth. Why, it hardly feels like we’re moving at all.” 

“Yes,” Ophelia repeated faintly. “Amazing.” She folded her hands in her lap, in an attempt to project poise, but the cold weather—or perhaps her own inner tension—caused the fingers of her injured hand to twist and bend at such odd angles that the resultant jumble of digits looked ridiculously awkward. She grabbed her muff from the seat beside her and thrust her hands inside, where at least she’d be spared the sight of them. 

“What’s wrong?” Dario asked gently. “You’re not frightened, are you? Because, I assure you, we’re quite safe.” 

 “Frightened?” Ophelia forced a smile. “Oh, good heavens, no.” She clenched her hands together a little more tightly. “I’m just…surprised, that’s all.” 

 There was absolutely no sense in arguing the point. Of course, Dario believed them to be safe. She had no idea why he thought that needed saying. Not when he was currently demonstrating that belief by allowing their eight-year-old son to pilot the airship. 

 But a belief, no matter how sincerely it was held, was not a fact. And it just so happened that Ophelia had her own thoughts on the wisdom of entrusting so important and delicate an operation to a child. Regardless of how intellectually advanced said child happened to be. “But, even so, this rate of speed is surely not necessary?” 

“Maybe not, but really, Lia,” Dario chided. “There’s nothing at all to worry about. I promise you! This ship could easily go much faster. I’d be happy to show you, if you’d like.” 

“Oh, pray, do not!” Ophelia protested. “I find this present rate of speed quite sufficient. Really, I do.” 

“I’m forgetting. You’re used to traveling only on very large ships, aren’t you? Very well.” Dario tapped one of the levers on the control panel. “Here, Arthur. This one—the throttle—pull back on it a bit. Yes, like that. There’s a good lad.” 

 “The thing to remember about big ships,” Dario said, addressing Ophelia once again, turning his back on Arthur even as the boy matter-of-factly slowed the ship to a less nerve-wracking speed. “Is that they’re harder to maneuver. It takes more time to alter their course, more space to turn them. So, of course they move more slowly—they’d have to. They also tend to have relatively weak engines and, much like traditional sailing ships, they rely largely on the wind to take them where they need to go.” 

“I’m sure you’re right,” Ophelia allowed, recalling the ponderous transcontinental cruiser that had brought her here. Old, and not in the best of shape, every minute it had stayed aloft had seemed a miracle. Had that fateful, and perilous-seeming, voyage really taken place only a year ago? It seemed a lifetime had passed since then. So much had happened. So much had changed. “However—” 

“This little craft, on the other hand, besides being smaller and more responsive, was designed with an aerodynamic shape that lets it slice through the air with very little resistance,” Dario explained, clearly warming to his topic. “Also, for its size, it boasts an extremely powerful engine. If you’d just let me demonstrate, I’m sure I could make you feel more comfortable.” 

Ophelia shook her head. Why could not Dario understand that it would make no difference? It didn’t matter how powerful the engine was, or how smooth the ride. It wasn’t even really the speed, per se, that frightened her, or even the fact that it was her baby who held their lives in his inexperienced hands; it was the thought of them falling out of the sky, the pain they’d experience upon impact, the all but inevitable bursting into flame. Having literally crashed and burned a year ago, albeit not while in an aircraft, she felt her fears were not unreasonable. 

Of course, she hadn’t exactly communicated those fears to Dario because…oh, because she didn’t want him to fuss. She didn’t want it to be one more thing about her that needed fixing. She wanted him to stop looking at her like she was a failed project and more like, well, a lover. A wife. As someone desirable; not someone who was merely hopelessly flawed. 

“Papa—look!” Arthur interrupted, briefly stopping his mother’s heart (and, not incidentally, proving her point) by gesturing at something beyond the ship’s front windscreen, and letting go of the steering wheel as he did. “Horses! But why are they out here all on their own? Are they escaping?” 

“Where?” Dario leaned in for a better look, casually reaching out a hand, as he did, to steady the wheel before it could begin to spin on its own and send them all tumbling to their deaths. “Oh, yes, I see them. No need for alarm, my boy. I believe that’s a herd of wild mustangs you’ve spotted.” 

“Wild? D’you mean they don’t belong to anyone?” 

With his free hand, Dario ruffled his son’s hair. “On the contrary, Arthur. They belong to themselves. Which is as it ought to be for all God’s creatures.” 

Ophelia felt a surge of emotion. This easy relationship between Dario and their son—the son she’d denied him for so long—the implicit faith, trust and affection, the shared interests, the casual acceptance, was everything she’d dreamed of, and barely dared to hope for, when she’d first thought to bring Arthur to New Texacali. And, even now, all these months later, after they’d all settled into their new life and their new routine; after they’d re-established themselves as a family; long past the point where she should have become inured to it, the sight still had the power to bring tears to her eyes. 

Although, if she were honest, they were not always tears of joy. 

 Because this could have been the life they’d always had—if she and Dario had made different choices earlier in their marriage. If they’d reacted differently to provocation; if they’d been more open and honest with one another; if they’d trusted each other more, then, perhaps, the entire last nine years could have been like this; not just the past nine months.

To read more (when it's finished!) join The Crone's Nest: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheCronesNest

Challenges in Writing Fiction & Non-Fiction

 I've met a few fiction authors who have also wanted to write non-fiction books. Maybe because they want to share their expertise, or want to provide writing tips or some kind of coaching. It can be tricky when you want to go from one to the other. It's been a balancing act for me for many years. 

My first professional writing job was as a catalog copywriter for JC Penney, where I wrote about women’s fashions and toys. In that position I learned how to put a lot of description into a very small space. We were limited to 1 or 2 sentences of copy to describe an item. That included all the selling points the customer needed to know. To make it even more of a challenge, the copy had to be engaging and not just a list of features.

On the plus side, when you're forced to make every word count there's no room for fluff or filler. My copy had to sell the item to the reader. It had to catch their attention and provide all the information they needed to make a decision to buy. 

Writing lean is something I still do today. Which might explain why I tend to favor novella-length books when I write. Though I did write one book with over 100K words, that isn't my norm.

After several years in catalog copywriting, I changed careers into IT, which is about as far away as you can get from writing sales copy.

During my time as a computer programmer, I didn’t write any fiction, or non-fiction for that matter. During that time I put my fiction writing on hold. There was never enough time to focus on my interests outside of work, and being on-call took up a lot my leisure time.

What's really funny is that when I decided to transition into technical writing, I was once told by an HR person that I was "too technical to write." As though those years in IT somehow wiped away all my communications skills. 

Unfortunately I think a lot of people believe that it's hard (if not impossible) to bridge the gap between creative writing and non-fiction writing. That's obviously not true, though. I know of a few non-fiction authors who later decided to publish novels. So it is certainly possible to do both. 

As a technical writer my “voice” has to be more formal. Usually the passive voice is the way people in corporate communicate. But unless you want to put your readers to sleep, I wouldn’t recommend it for fiction.

Of course writing non-fiction books doesn't have to be like writing technical documentation. Non-fiction authors can, and do, write in very creative ways. But it can be daunting to go from writing one to the other. Not to mention that, just as I had with that HR professional, expectorations can end up discouraging the author who wants to do both. 

It can also be tough letting go of the passive voice, or the instructional one so that you can write fiction. So it never hurts to take classes (if you've only ever written one or the other) and to do free writing in order to find your own voice. 

What helped me bridge the gap between those two writing styles was to start a blog. At first my writing was quite formal, but in time I was able to loosen up a bit. At times it's still challenging, especially when I'm working on a book. It's not always easy to turn off my work laptop and forget all the technical items I've been working on all day. 

But I can say that blogging did help me when I wrote my first book, Think Like an Entrepreneur: Transforming Your Career and Taking Charge of Your Life. In fact, many of the blog posts ended up being included. Though at that time I was also writing and publishing short stories. 

My first published novel, Hathor Legacy: Outcast was rewritten about 3 times, which isn't exactly a bad thing. It took a while for me to get into the fictional world I was building, and let go of the more formal language I'd been using at work. Looking back, I don't think I was completely successful in letting go of the formal structure. But it taught me how to do better the next time around - which is always good. 

 To me, the big difference between fiction and non-fiction is allowing yourself to get lost in a character (and a fictional world). Sure, you can have creative non-fiction as well, but that's not what I'm referring to here. Business writing (even if you're a coach writing about personal experiences) still isn't the same as writing from a character's POV. 

But, if you enjoy writing and you do it regularly, I think you can find your balance between the two.  That’s how you get better at it. No matter what it is: short, long, non-fiction, fiction, poetry - just write it.  

Once you’re writing, you might find it’s not so much about striking a balance as it is finding the flow. Maybe by that point, it won't really be challenging at all. It will be a natural way for you to tell your stories and express the things you want to say. 

HERE BE NEWS for December 21, 2020

                          

Monday, December 21, 2020 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:

Thursday December 17, 2020: Maureen Bonatch wraps up the year with a contest, a cookbook and a cutie. :)

HOLIDAY SALE! 

Several of PG Forte's holiday-themed books are on sale between now and the end of the year. IRON, OAK, Finders Keepers and This Winter Heart are all available for only .99 each. 

OAK

Previously published as The Oak King.

Twice each year, Aine Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life?

From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal" life as her husband, if only for half a year?

Holly King Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold?

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

Finders Keepers

Sometimes finding what you want is the easy part.

Caleb is a bionic soldier with little-to-no memory of his past. Aldo's an undercover cop who's searching for the man who got away. Then there's Sally, an ER physician who used to be married to Aldo's late partner, Davis. Sally's just looking for a reason to keep on getting up every day.

This holiday season, chance will bring them together and give them an opportunity to help one another find what they each want most. But every gift comes with a price. And keeping what they've found once they've found it? 

Yeah, that's gonna be the hard part.

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/finders-keepers

This Winter Heart

Eight years ago, Ophelia Leonides's husband cast her off when he discovered she was not the woman he thought she was. Now destitute after the death of her father, Ophelia is forced to turn to Dario for help raising the child she never told him about. 

Dario is furious that Ophelia has returned, and refuses to believe Arthur is his son - after all, he thought his wife was barren. But to avoid gossip, he agrees to let them spend the holidays at his villa. While he cannot resist the desire he still feels for Ophelia, Dario despises himself for being hopelessly in love with a woman who can never love him back. 

But Dario is wrong: Ophelia's emotions are all too human, and she was brokenhearted when he rejected her. Unsure if she can trust the man she desperately loves, she fears for her life, her freedom and her son if anyone else learns of her true nature...

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/winter-hearts

IRON

Nineteenth century Ireland. Blacksmith Gavin O'Malley is a bitter man, with a heart as hard as the iron he forges. He wants his life back--the one that was stolen from him the day his wife died in childbirth, taking their firstborn son with her. 

When Aislinn Deirbhile, an immortal, shape-shifting fae, arrives on his doorstep, he knows he's in luck. For Aislinn can give Gavin everything he's been missing: A devoted-seeming wife in the image of his beloved Mairead, and children who are sure to outlive their father. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her--without losing his immortal soul in the process. 

But Aislinn has an agenda of her own. On the run from a vengeful fae lord who's vowed to either make her his or end her existence, she knows the iron that allows Gavin to take her captive will also keep her pursuers at bay. In order to put herself permanently beyond her enemy's reach, however, Aislinn will need something more. She'll need to win Gavin's heart and convince him to willingly part with a piece of the very soul he's trying to save.

Buy links at: https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

EXCERPT

That Christmas was the happiest Gavin had known since childhood. He was up early for Christmas Mass, leaving the house shortly before dawn, and leaving a pouting Aislinn in his bed with the promise he’d be back within a few hours time to fix breakfast for her.

While the world lay silent and cold, he made his solitary way into town, his path lit only by the stars that sparkled overhead and the Christmas candles that burned in the front window of every house he passed. And a thought occurred to him, as he walked along the empty lane, that each flame was a sign of hope for the future—and that, perhaps, he could feel an answering flicker, newly kindled in the darkness of his own heart. And he laughed at himself then, for putting on such airs and for the absurdity of his thoughts and his breath puffed out in little white clouds that melted away in the frosty air. 

When he got to Saint Ita’s he found a seat in the very last pew, where he’d be sure of being among the first out the door when mass ended. He didn’t take Communion, although he’d made his Confession just the day before and he was sure Father Cullen would remark on that fact the next time he saw him. But too much had happened between then and now and his soul did not feel easy with the thought of it. Although he’d still have sworn to anyone who’d asked him that the woman he’d made love to the day before had been his wife, a small part of him doubted whether the Church—or Mairead herself—would choose to see things in quite the same way.

Not that he regretted his actions of the day before. To the contrary, he felt more at peace with himself that morning than he had in many a year. But his mind was so consumed with thoughts of repeating the act he barely heard a word of the service and hurried off as soon as it was over, before anyone could engage him in conversation, or take notice of his agitation.

Then it was home again, where breakfast and a sulky fae awaited him. Aislinn was wearing her own, repaired green dress and, at Gavin’s request, she once again resumed her impersonation of Mairead. It was obvious she was less than happy about it, however. But Gavin was in a good and generous humor so, once the goose was cooking, he took a few minutes to tease her out of her bad mood. He sat her on his lap, just as if she were his bride in truth, and fed her pieces of orange, tickling her as she tried to eat them until she laughed and then licking at the juice as it ran down her chin, until, finally, her smile was restored. And she rewarded him with several songs while he saw to the rest of the meal.

He did nearly spoil things again, though, before the food was even on the table for he would speak mockingly of the fae and their heathen ways, and question the usefulness of a woman who couldn’t even cook a decent meal for herself, just to watch her eyes smolder. And, also, to remind them both that she was not Mairead. But when at last he bowed his head to make his prayers—over Christmas dinner, at his own table, and with the semblance of his wife seated across from him, once again smiling at him indulgently—he was all but overcome with gratitude. Even knowing it to be an illusion, and a short-lived one at that, he still felt as though he’d been granted a taste of the life he’d once hoped would be his and he felt anew the wonder of the day.

Bring It Back(list) ~ IRON by PG Forte

 

IRON

Nineteenth century Ireland. Blacksmith Gavin O'Malley is a bitter man, with a heart as hard as the iron he forges. He wants his life back--the one that was stolen from him the day his wife died in childbirth, taking their firstborn son with her. 

When Aislinn Deirbhile, an immortal, shape-shifting fae, arrives on his doorstep, he knows he's in luck. For Aislinn can give Gavin everything he's been missing: A devoted-seeming wife in the image of his beloved Mairead, and children who are sure to outlive their father. Now, all he has to do is find a way to keep her--without losing his immortal soul in the process.

But Aislinn has an agenda of her own. On the run from a vengeful fae lord who's vowed to either make her his or end her existence, she knows the iron that allows Gavin to take her captive will also keep her pursuers at bay. In order to put herself permanently beyond her enemy's reach, however, Aislinn will need something more. She'll need to win Gavin's heart and convince him to willingly part with a piece of the very soul he's trying to save.

Buy links at: https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

EXCERPT

That Christmas was the happiest Gavin had known since childhood. He was up early for Christmas Mass, leaving the house shortly before dawn, and leaving a pouting Aislinn in his bed with the promise he’d be back within a few hours time to fix breakfast for her.

While the world lay silent and cold, he made his solitary way into town, his path lit only by the stars that sparkled overhead and the Christmas candles that burned in the front window of every house he passed. And a thought occurred to him, as he walked along the empty lane, that each flame was a sign of hope for the future—and that, perhaps, he could feel an answering flicker, newly kindled in the darkness of his own heart. And he laughed at himself then, for putting on such airs and for the absurdity of his thoughts and his breath puffed out in little white clouds that melted away in the frosty air. 

When he got to Saint Ita’s he found a seat in the very last pew, where he’d be sure of being among the first out the door when mass ended. He didn’t take Communion, although he’d made his Confession just the day before and he was sure Father Cullen would remark on that fact the next time he saw him. But too much had happened between then and now and his soul did not feel easy with the thought of it. Although he’d still have sworn to anyone who’d asked him that the woman he’d made love to the day before had been his wife, a small part of him doubted whether the Church—or Mairead herself—would choose to see things in quite the same way.

Not that he regretted his actions of the day before. To the contrary, he felt more at peace with himself that morning than he had in many a year. But his mind was so consumed with thoughts of repeating the act he barely heard a word of the service and hurried off as soon as it was over, before anyone could engage him in conversation, or take notice of his agitation.

Then it was home again, where breakfast and a sulky fae awaited him. Aislinn was wearing her own, repaired green dress and, at Gavin’s request, she once again resumed her impersonation of Mairead. It was obvious she was less than happy about it, however. But Gavin was in a good and generous humor so, once the goose was cooking, he took a few minutes to tease her out of her bad mood. He sat her on his lap, just as if she were his bride in truth, and fed her pieces of orange, tickling her as she tried to eat them until she laughed and then licking at the juice as it ran down her chin, until, finally, her smile was restored. And she rewarded him with several songs while he saw to the rest of the meal.

He did nearly spoil things again, though, before the food was even on the table for he would speak mockingly of the fae and their heathen ways, and question the usefulness of a woman who couldn’t even cook a decent meal for herself, just to watch her eyes smolder. And, also, to remind them both that she was not Mairead. But when at last he bowed his head to make his prayers—over Christmas dinner, at his own table, and with the semblance of his wife seated across from him, once again smiling at him indulgently—he was all but overcome with gratitude. Even knowing it to be an illusion, and a short-lived one at that, he still felt as though he’d been granted a taste of the life he’d once hoped would be his and he felt anew the wonder of the day.

HOLIDAY SALE! 

I've put several of my holiday-themed books on sale between now and the end of the year. IRON, OAK, Finders Keepers and This Winter Heart are all available for only .99 each. 

OAK

Previously published as The Oak King.

Twice each year, Aine Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life?

From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal" life as her husband, if only for half a year?

Holly King Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold?

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/celtic-legends

Finders Keepers

Sometimes finding what you want is the easy part.

Caleb is a bionic soldier with little-to-no memory of his past. Aldo's an undercover cop who's searching for the man who got away. Then there's Sally, an ER physician who used to be married to Aldo's late partner, Davis. Sally's just looking for a reason to keep on getting up every day.

This holiday season, chance will bring them together and give them an opportunity to help one another find what they each want most. But every gift comes with a price. And keeping what they've found once they've found it? 

Yeah, that's gonna be the hard part.

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/finders-keepers

This Winter Heart

Eight years ago, Ophelia Leonides's husband cast her off when he discovered she was not the woman he thought she was. Now destitute after the death of her father, Ophelia is forced to turn to Dario for help raising the child she never told him about. 

Dario is furious that Ophelia has returned, and refuses to believe Arthur is his son - after all, he thought his wife was barren. But to avoid gossip, he agrees to let them spend the holidays at his villa. While he cannot resist the desire he still feels for Ophelia, Dario despises himself for being hopelessly in love with a woman who can never love him back. 

But Dario is wrong: Ophelia's emotions are all too human, and she was brokenhearted when he rejected her. Unsure if she can trust the man she desperately loves, she fears for her life, her freedom and her son if anyone else learns of her true nature...

Buy Links at: https://www.pgforte.com/winter-hearts

Wrapping Up the Year with a Contest, a Cookbook & a Cutie

 By Maureen Bonatch 

This has been an ugly year for many of us, so why not wrap up the year with a cutie, a free cookie cookbook, and a chance to win a gift card to start off 2021 with some positive vibes. 

Scruff happens to be my writing assistant, in that he blocks my chair so that I'm often forced to stay in my seat longer than I anticipated or risk running him over. He reminds me to take breaks when he decides that it's time to play with a toy, or that he needs a treat. 

Scruff can help put life into perspective with his no worries attitude.  Unless, of course, it's about delaying dinner time, now that's something to worry about.

A Cuddly Cutie

2020 didn't look anything like we planned, leaving us all looking a bit shell-shocked— like Scruff here— and I'm ready to start 2021 with a clean slate.

Many of us have been spending more time at home this year, or working remotely, so Scruff decided to see what all the fuss was about. He didn't see the allure since he rarely leaves home anyway and has never had to dress up for work. 

Scruff's "people" have been home far more than usual this year. This is good for the company and sometimes extra treats, but it really cuts into nap time.

Scruff's advice for when all else fails, or everything gets to be a little too much, is to take a nap—or at least feign sleep until everyone leaves you alone while you recharge.

Want to see more of Scruff? He's a regular in my newsletter so be sure to sign up.

A Cool Contest

Enter right here to win a gift card for yourself for after the holidays & find new authors to read during the holidays!

A Cookie Cookbook

If you're signed up for my newsletter, or follow my author Facebook page- you might be already baking up some goodies because you would've gotten this free cookbook already. If not, grab it now and start baking up some treats!

Click here to download your free copy of the Garden Gourmet Cookie Cookbook

Have Your Own Furbaby? Share a Pic of Your Cutie  in the Comments- Happy Holidays! 

Author Bio: Maureen Bonatch grew up in small town Pennsylvania and her love of the four seasons—hockey, biking, sweat pants and hibernation—keeps her there. While immersed in writing or reading paranormal romance and fantasy, she survives on caffeine, wine, music, and laughter. A feisty Shih Tzu keeps her in line. 

Find Maureen on her website, Facebook & Twitter Be the first to know about Maureen’s book sales and new releases by following her on BookBub, Amazon and/or signing up for her newsletter

HERE BE NEWS for Monday December 14, 2020

Monday, December 14, 2020 

Welcome to HERE BE NEWS, where each monday we bring you all the latest from the fantasy romance authors at Here Be Magic:

                  

New!

THE ANGEL AT THE TOP OF MY TREE
Contemporary Fantasy Romance 

by Linda Mooney

(Although this is a sweet romance, it contains scenes of violence.)
Word Count: 24.6K
$1.99 e / $6.99 p

After purchasing a beautiful and unique antique angel tree topper, Marq North is excited to gift it to his long-time girlfriend, but he should’ve known she appreciates a bigger price tag more than sentimental value. Why has he wasted years of his life trying to buy her love? When she tells him she’s ending their relationship right before the holidays, he’s almost…relieved.

Ione and her fellow archangels are used to the rise in demonic activity during Samhain, but at Christmas? That is a surprise to them all. Yet it seems more and more people are focusing on the greed and commercialism these days rather than the real reason for the season. And the demons plan to take advantage of mankind’s vulnerability and overtake as many mortals as possible this time of year. It’s up to Ione and Heaven’s best protectors to save every valuable soul.

He’d swear he saw her literally fall from the sky, to find her injured and vulnerable. After Marq rescues her, he discovers she’s the spitting image of the angel doll. She says her name is Ione, and claims to be an archangel. After he offers her a place of safety in order to recover, he finds she’s become jaded through the years, which has him determined to have her see that it’s not greed, but the love of giving that makes this time of year special.

Despite knowing she must return to Heaven, or risk drawing the demons’ wrath to Marq, Ione wants to remain with her rescuer, but she must let him go to save his life as he did hers. After all, a relationship between a mortal and a celestial being would never work.

Or can it?

Warning:  Contains hot cocoa, a flaming sword, a celestial mission, a red sweatshirt, similar names, and discovering that sometimes the best gift on or under the Christmas tree is love.  

Excerpt and Buy Links

Tuesday December 8, 2020: PG Forte takes a trip down memory lane...

December is the Month for Christmas With a Twist!
And you can get all 3 of these ebooks for just 99c each!

TUFFY CLAUS
Contemporary Fantasy Romance
by Linda Mooney
Word Count: 27.8K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p

It’s another night on the job for Deputy Sheriff Barbara Mero, giving chase to a suspect in a stolen vehicle. But when someone beats her to the perp, she’s not sure whether to step in or not. Before she can stop him, a sledgehammer-wielding bearded biker on a red Harley delivers his own punishment, but with his parting words, Babs isn’t so sure he’s another bad guy.

After further investigation, Babs knows this vigilante “Santa” meant well, but there’s no proof he was even there. And after a few more run-ins with the red-cloaked badass, she’s torn between duty and justice, but in her heart she knows he’s the real deal.

You see, there’s a side of the story of Santa that doesn’t get told, and that’s where Dominik comes in. Being the twin to Kris, Dom’s job isn’t near as merry, though still necessary, answering the letters from the kids who want more than just toys. Those who want a better, safer life, food, and shelter. Basic needs a kid shouldn’t have to wish for on Christmas. Although he’s accepted his own lot in life, Dominik still has one regret. It’s a lonely life. 

There’s another side to jolly old Saint Nick, and he ain’t a saint.

Warning! Contains German chocolate cake, a modified red Harley, Sadie, justice served, a child's letter to Santa, a coffee date, and the promise of love when no hope of love had ever existed.

Excerpt and Buy Links

~ ~ ~

Tickle My Candy Cane
Tales of the Blakeney Sisters, Book 2
Humorous Erotic Urban Fantasy Paranormal Romance
by Linda Mooney writing as Carolyn Gregg
Word Count:  18.8K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p / $6.95 a

Once upon a time, there lived a man with five rambunctious daughters. They were an average American farming family except for one minor detail. The man was a warlock, and all of his daughters were witchlets--half witch and half human.

With Christmas only two days away, Tamberly Blakeney has given up hope of finding her heart's call this year. That is, until Jonathan Mauk walks into the market and into her life. With the magical swirl of a candy cane's stripes, she knows he is the man meant to be her lifelong love. But first he has to pass the sex hex test, which she is sure won't be a problem.

What she doesn't realize is that there is something in Jonathan's past that deeply disturbs her father. And until Daddy gets all the answers, there could be hell to pay.

Excerpt and Buy Links

~ ~ ~

SILENT NIGHT, FINAL NIGHT
A Paranormal, Post-Apocalyptic, Christmas Horror Story
by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  20.3K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p

A family on the run, searching for food, shelter, and others not infected.

A plague is wiping out the population, stealing the humanity from people and turning them into monsters. Kem and Armand are willing to do whatever it takes to protect their daughter and survive. Nothing is promised, not life, not their next meal, not even a decent night’s rest.

The quality of life is quickly diminishing. How much is too much? How long until the fight for survival is no longer worth it, and it’s time for a dignified end rather than a slow, painful death?

Excerpt and Buy Links

Bring It Back(list) - December is the Month for Christmas With a Twist!

December is the Month for Christmas With a Twist!
And you can get all 3 of these ebooks for just 99c each!

TUFFY CLAUS
Contemporary Fantasy Romance
by Linda Mooney
Word Count: 27.8K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p

It’s another night on the job for Deputy Sheriff Barbara Mero, giving chase to a suspect in a stolen vehicle. But when someone beats her to the perp, she’s not sure whether to step in or not. Before she can stop him, a sledgehammer-wielding bearded biker on a red Harley delivers his own punishment, but with his parting words, Babs isn’t so sure he’s another bad guy.

After further investigation, Babs knows this vigilante “Santa” meant well, but there’s no proof he was even there. And after a few more run-ins with the red-cloaked badass, she’s torn between duty and justice, but in her heart she knows he’s the real deal.

You see, there’s a side of the story of Santa that doesn’t get told, and that’s where Dominik comes in. Being the twin to Kris, Dom’s job isn’t near as merry, though still necessary, answering the letters from the kids who want more than just toys. Those who want a better, safer life, food, and shelter. Basic needs a kid shouldn’t have to wish for on Christmas. Although he’s accepted his own lot in life, Dominik still has one regret. It’s a lonely life. 

There’s another side to jolly old Saint Nick, and he ain’t a saint.

Warning! Contains German chocolate cake, a modified red Harley, Sadie, justice served, a child's letter to Santa, a coffee date, and the promise of love when no hope of love had ever existed.

Excerpt and Buy Links

~ ~ ~

Tickle My Candy Cane
Tales of the Blakeney Sisters, Book 2
Humorous Erotic Urban Fantasy Paranormal Romance
by Linda Mooney writing as Carolyn Gregg
Word Count:  18.8K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p / $6.95 a

Once upon a time, there lived a man with five rambunctious daughters. They were an average American farming family except for one minor detail. The man was a warlock, and all of his daughters were witchlets--half witch and half human.

With Christmas only two days away, Tamberly Blakeney has given up hope of finding her heart's call this year. That is, until Jonathan Mauk walks into the market and into her life. With the magical swirl of a candy cane's stripes, she knows he is the man meant to be her lifelong love. But first he has to pass the sex hex test, which she is sure won't be a problem.

What she doesn't realize is that there is something in Jonathan's past that deeply disturbs her father. And until Daddy gets all the answers, there could be hell to pay.

Excerpt and Buy Links

~ ~ ~

SILENT NIGHT, FINAL NIGHT
A Paranormal, Post-Apocalyptic, Christmas Horror Story
by Linda Mooney writing as Gail Smith
Word Count:  20.3K
$0.99 e / $6.99 p

A family on the run, searching for food, shelter, and others not infected.

A plague is wiping out the population, stealing the humanity from people and turning them into monsters. Kem and Armand are willing to do whatever it takes to protect their daughter and survive. Nothing is promised, not life, not their next meal, not even a decent night’s rest.

The quality of life is quickly diminishing. How much is too much? How long until the fight for survival is no longer worth it, and it’s time for a dignified end rather than a slow, painful death?

Excerpt and Buy Links