I'M THRILLED TO ANNOUNCE JANUARY 9TH
MARKS THE RELEASE OF BOOK III
IN THE GOLDEN KEY CHRONICES...
CAEDMON'S CURSE
The two years Prince Caedmon suffered in the dungeons of Seviere's keep left him with more than just lash marks lacing his back. He now retains the secret behind the key, and is the only one who understands it's grim connection to his beloved Rowena. Torn between telling her the truth and risking their future, he agrees to join her perilous quest. But their enemies to the north are not the only menace determined to see them fail and, to prove his love, he must conquer the demons of his past.
Join Caedmon and Rowena as they rediscover a love bound by fate, and struggle to unravel the significance behind Caedmon's Curse, Book III in The Golden Key Chronicles.
The Golden Key Chronicles Release Schedule:
Rowena's Key, November 7, 2013
Candra's Freedom, December 12, 2013
Caedmon's Curse, January 9, 2014
Braedric's Bane, February 13, 2014
Find your copy at: Amazon / AmazonUK
~ * ~
Rowena sprang to her feet.
Someone was coming. And based upon the thundering hoof beats and thrashing
branches tearing through the forest behind her, whoever it was cared little for
masking their approach.
Dammit. All night and late into the next evening she'd ridden as if the devil himself had pursued her. She'd purposely stayed off the roads, traveling the old tracks instead, and even stopped several times to set false trails. Not until Helios approached the western horizon and she'd discovered this small clearing inside a copse of thick evergreens had she happily made camp. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her fatigue was a small price in return for the confidence that she'd finally put enough distance between her and the realm of Austiere. Surrounded on all sides by dense trees, the hidden location ensured the smoke from her fire would remain concealed. No one would be able to get close without providing plenty of warning.
The dull pummel of incoming hooves increased and she gritted her teeth, kicked some dirt over her small well-made fire and rushed for the nearest fir. A flick of her hand and Dart took wing, disappearing into the forest just above where she'd used a small wire wicket to tether Belial. Whoever was coming had better have their affairs in order. They were about to be on a first-name basis with the nine.
The bark prickled and dug into
her palms as she swung hands to feet up the branches, ascending to mid-tree
height before she crouched on a sturdy branch on the balls of her feet.
Exhibiting all the grace of an enraged bull, a hooded rider crashed into her camp. The horse's dancing halt disrupted her bedroll, flinging dirt all over her plated dinner. Jerk. The intruder had to be male, what with this presumed sense of entitlement, thinking nothing of ruining her perfectly arranged camp, soiling her property. She eased two silver blades from the sides of her leather pants and fisted the slender handles in her grip.
Hello, stranger.
Care to dance?
In a fluid movement which contradicted his initial appearance, the rider leapt off his horse and knelt before her sputtering fire. The sides of his cloak billowed past his shoulders. Thick muscle pulled his leather pants taut around his thighs. And those arms...the black vambraces...the leather cords encircling his biceps.
She slumped. Well, for the sweet
love of Helios. Exactly how far did she have to travel to get away from the
man?
Prince Caedmon pinched a bit of
ash between his thumb and first two fingers, rubbed them together and lifted
them to his nose. Rowena squinted past the branches as he rounded the fire and approached
her saddlebags. He squatted to rifle the contents, his back facing her, his
hood hiding his profile from view. She scowled. Most likely, his intent was to
drag her kicking and screaming back to the castle. But she wasn’t about to sit
idly by while he got his grubby mitts all over her supplies.
She sheathed her blades and swung silently to the ground. Motions steady and even, carefully shifting her weight, she reclaimed her knives as she side-stepped twigs and piles of dusty leaves. For all her caution, her concerns were unwarranted. The bog ox was so preoccupied with searching her belongings, she could've easily stomped all over the place without distracting him.
A soundless bounce on the tips of
her boots and she pounced, knees straddling his wide back, crossed blades
pressed along the thin skin under his jaw. “I’m officially pissed off,” she
hissed in his ear. “And if you plan to see tomorrow, you’ll do exactly as I
say.”
The next instant she was flying
backward through the air. Her teeth clattered on impact and her blades
scattered as she landed on her rump in the dirt. She shook her head to regain
her bearings.
How in the hell had he dislodged
her so quickly? And which hurt worse? Her bruised ass or her pride? She quickly
scrambled to her feet.
Tendons flexed and every muscle in his arms bulged as Prince Caedmon tore the cloak off his shoulders and chucked the garment aside. A silver chime hummed through the air as he unsheathed his sword the fro the scabbard at his back and fisted the hilt in his hand. Anger smoldered in the depths of his chocolate-brown eyes, but if that fierce glare was meant to make her shriek and scamper into the woods, the man and his stubborn male pride had another think coming.
She notched up her chin and met him scowl for scowl. Not for one second would she let him intimidate her. No constructs governed the ways of the forest. Out here, survival was the only decree, and if risking injury was the price for her freedom, she was happy to end this test of will come what may.
“It’s time you learned a thing or
two, my love.”
Ha! Could he be any more condescending? On a
click and whirr, her wrist blades snapped home and she hugged her chest, widening
her legs into her warrior’s stance. “Too bad Denmar’s not here to save your
ass. It’s high time we settle our differences once and for all.”
~ * ~
AJ is a multi-published, award-winning author who lives in the middle of a
cornfield in NW Indiana. Her loving husband, two beautiful children and a bevy
of spoiled pets have agreed to stay and, in exchange for three rations per day
and laundry service, tolerate her lunacy. While she spends most days happily
ensconced in crafting romance across a multitude of genres, an underground coup
has been percolating. The dogs just informed her the cat is secretly vying for
dictatorship.
