COVER REVEAL: "Golden Daughter", by Anne Elisabeth Stengl!

I am super excited to be part of the cover reveal for the seventh book in Anne Elisabeth Stengl's "Tales of Goldstone Wood" series, Golden Daughter. It promises to be a magical mix of faraway lands, daring escapades, and a fierce heroine who has already captured my attention just from the book summary!

Here's a bit about the book:

BEYOND THE REALM OF DREAMS
IS A WORLD SHE NEVER IMAGINED

Masayi Sairu was raised to be dainty, delicate, demure . . . and deadly. She is one of the emperor’s Golden Daughters, as much a legend as she is a commodity. One day, Sairu will be contracted in marriage to a patron, whom she will secretly guard for the rest of her life.

But when she learns that a sacred Dream Walker of the temple seeks the protection of a Golden Daughter, Sairu forgoes marriage in favor of this role. Her skills are stretched to the limit, for assassins hunt in the shadows, and phantoms haunt in dreams. With only a mysterious Faerie cat and a handsome slave—possessed of his own strange abilities—to help her, can Sairu shield her new mistress from evils she can neither see nor touch?

For the Dragon is building an army of fire. And soon the heavens will burn.

THE COVER...

Isn't it GORGEOUS????

 

The cover illustration was done by Julia Popova. Visit her website, http://www.forestgirl.ru/, to learn more about her and her fantastic work!

THE AUTHOR

Anne Elisabeth Stengl is the author of the award-winning Tales of Goldstone Wood series, adventure fantasies told in the classic Fairy Tale style. Her books include Christy Award-winning Heartless and Veiled Rose, and Clive Staples Award-winning Starflower. She makes her home in Raleigh, North Carolina, where she lives with her husband, Rohan, a passel of cats, and one long-suffering dog. When she's not writing, she enjoys Shakespeare, opera, and tea, and practices piano, painting, and pastry baking. She studied illustration and English literature at Grace College and Campbell University.

ILLUSTRATED SNEAK PEEK!

Art by Hannah Williams

 Excerpt from Chapter 3

GOLDEN DAUGHTER

Sairu made her way from Princess Safiya’s chambers out to the walkways of the encircling gardens. The Masayi, abode of the Golden Daughters, was an intricate complex of buildings linked by blossom-shrouded walkways, calm with fountains and clear, lotus-filled pools where herons strutted and spotted fish swam.

Here she had lived all the life she could remember.

The Masayi was but a small part of Manusbau Palace, which comprised the whole of Sairu’s existence. She had never stepped beyond the palace walls. To do so would be to step into a world of corruption, corruption to which a Golden Daughter would not be impervious until she was safely chartered to a master and her life’s work was affixed in her heart and mind. Meanwhile, she must live securely embalmed in this tomb, waiting for life to begin.

Sairu’s mouth curved gently at the corners, and she took small steps as she had been trained—slow, dainty steps that disguised the swiftness with which she could move at need. Even in private she must maintain the illusion, even here within the Masayi.

A cat sat on the doorstep of her own building, grooming itself in the sunlight. She stepped around it and proceeded into the red-hung halls of the Daughter’s quarters and on to her private chambers. There she must gather what few things she would take with her—fewer things even than Jen-ling would take on her journey to Aja. For Jen-ling would be the wife of a prince, and she must give every impression of a bride on her wedding journey.

I wonder who my master will be? Sairu thought as she slid back the rattan door to her chamber and entered the quiet simplicity within. She removed her elaborate costume and exchanged it for a robe of simple red without embellishments. She washed the serving girl cosmetics from her face and painted on the daily mask she and her sisters wore—white with black spots beneath each eye and a red stripe down her chin. It was elegant and simple, and to the common eye it made her indistinguishable from her sisters.

The curtain moved behind her. She did not startle but turned quietly to see the same cat slipping into her room. Cats abounded throughout Manusbau Palace, kept on purpose near the storehouses to manage the vermin. But they did not often enter private chambers.

Sairu, kneeling near her window with her paint pots around her, watched the cat as it moved silkily across the room, stepped onto her sleeping cushions, and began kneading the soft fabric, purring all the while. Its claws pulled at the delicate threads. But it was a cat. As far as it was concerned, it had every right to enjoy or destroy what it willed.

At last it seemed to notice Sairu watching it. It turned sleepy eyes to her and blinked.

Sairu smiled. In a voice as sweet as honey, she asked, “Who are you?”

The cat twitched its tail softly and went on purring.

The next moment, Sairu was across the room, her hand latched onto the cat’s scruff. She pushed it down into the cushions and held it there as it yowled and snarled, trying to catch at her with its claws.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice fierce this time. “What are you? Are you an evil spirit sent to haunt me?”

“No, dragons eat it! I mean, rrrraww! Mreeeow! Yeeeowrl!”

The cat twisted and managed to lash out at her with its back feet, its claws catching in the fabric of her sleeve. One claw scratched her wrist, startling her just enough that she loosened her hold. The cat took advantage of the opportunity and, hissing like a fire demon, leapt free. It sprang across the room, knocking over several of her paint pots, and spun about, back-arched and snarling. Every hair stood on end, and its ears lay flat to its skull.

Sairu drew a dagger from her sleeve and crouched, prepared for anything. The smile lingered on her mouth, but her eyes flashed. “Who sent you?” she demanded. “Why have you come to me now? You know of my assignment, don’t you.”

“Meeeeowrl,” the cat said stubbornly and showed its fangs in another hiss.

“I see it in your face,” Sairu said, moving carefully to shift her weight and prepare to spring. “You are no animal. Who is your master, devil?”

The cat dodged her spring easily enough, which surprised her. Sairu was quick and rarely missed a target. Her knife sank into the floor and stuck there, but she released it and whipped another from the opposite sleeve even as she whirled about.

Any self-respecting cat would have made for the window or the door. This one sprang back onto the cushions and crouched there, tail lashing. Its eyes were all too sentient, but it said only “Meeeeow,” as though trying to convince itself.

Sairu chewed the inside of her cheek. Then, in a voice as smooth as butter, she said, “We have ways of dealing with devils in this country. Do you know what they are, demon-cat?”

The cat’s ears came up. “Prreeowl?” it said.

“Allow me to enlighten you.”

And Sairu put her free hand to her mouth and uttered a long, piercing whistle. The household erupted with the voices of a dozen and more lion dogs.

The little beasts, slipping and sliding and crashing into walls, their claws clicking and clattering on the tiles, careened down the corridor and poured into Sairu’s room. Fluffy tails wagging, pushed-in noses twitching, they roared like the lions they believed themselves to be and fell upon the cat with rapacious joy.

The cat uttered one long wail and the next moment vanished out the window. Sairu, dogs milling at her feet, leapt up and hurried to look out after it, expecting to see a tawny tail slipping from sight. But she saw nothing.

The devil was gone. For the moment at least.

Sairu sank down on her cushions, and her lap was soon filled with wriggling, snuffling hunters eager for praise. She petted them absently, but her mind was awhirl. She had heard of devils taking the form of animals and speaking with the tongues of men. But she had never before seen it. She couldn’t honestly say she’d even believed it.

“What danger is my new master in?” she wondered. “From what must I protect him?”

GIVEAWAY!

Anne Elisabeth is generously offering any two of the first six Goldstone Wood novels as a giveaway prize! Winner’s choice of: Heartless, Veiled Rose, Moonblood, Starflower, Dragonwitch, or Shadow Hand.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

READ THEM ALL...

 

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My Art Blog

I have been dabbling in art for a while. It's something I do as a hobby, but it's also something I want to get better at. So I decided to start an art blog on Tumblr in order to share my work. If you're interested, you can find it here. I would love to get your feedback! :)

Quick Note!

I forgot to add to my previous post that you can read an interview with Grand Duchess Yelena of Russak, one of the main characters of Rebel's Daughter, over at The Writer's Window!

Character Interview: Tryss from "Moonscript" by Hannah Williams!

Welcome, everyone! Today I have a very special guest on the blog: Tryss, a character from Hannah Williams' novel, Moonscript.

Before I begin, I will offer a summary of the book:

The Secret Was Safe With Him…But Only If He Was Saved First

Long ago, the elven king hid away his most precious book, the Moonscript, for only it held the secrets of the unreachable Higher World. Evil has long sought this knowledge…and now the heir to the Moonscript has vanished…

Such stories should have nothing to do with Tellie.

Young Tellie is a simple orphan girl with one desire in her heart—to find a family who loves her. But when dark strangers visit her inn, she discovers a mysterious treasure and is pulled into the outside world.

Her dreams of family and home are forced aside as Tellie is plunged into an adventure beyond her imagination. If she is to escape, she must rescue a fellow prisoner, the only person left alive who can keep the Moonscript a secret.

But which will be harder—rescuing him from dungeons….or from himself?

*******

Tryss

*Bows* Welcome to The Other World, Tryss. I hope your journey was smooth. To begin, would you please offer readers a glimpse into the world of the chema?

Thank you so much, Rebeka. *Bows* Yes, my journey was surprisingly easy. I do not understand this world in the glowing window at all, but it is very beautiful. Cimie! To be honest, my tribe of chemas aren’t the perfect representation of our kind. Indeed, we are a small group that left our cold country many years ago and made a new life and culture in the humid jungle. And though our elegant ancestors would no doubt consider us crude and wild, I love my home. We make our living off of the forest: our food, our houses, our clothing.

I should explain the most unique element of my kind. We can blend in with our surroundings. It startles any strangers, but it is a very normal part of life to me. Passing through the forest unseen is useful if you are hunting or hunted. It is a dangerous, wild jungle, but we make the best of it. We have even turned hot springs into baths. And we’ve created nests for the milthi moths that provide us milk and silk for clothes.

A little bird told me that you have been assigned to assist Errance and his companions on their perilous quest. Please tell us, who are your fellow travellers, and how do you get along with them? Are there any that are particularly difficult?

Cimie, I hope this isn’t common knowledge! Our secrecy is important. I was sent to help under the title of guide, even though I knew precious little of the outside world. Really, I was there to keep care of the children, Tellie and Kelm. They are both fourteen and capable of taking of themselves under normal circumstances, but the journey is so long and rugged, I do not think they would have lasted long. I am the eldest of seven children, so I’m well suited to taking care of others. Both Tellie and Kelm are sweet and charming; they remind me of my siblings.

But Errance…well…at first, I was very intrigued by him and his courage. But the first night of our travels, I discovered he deeply resented me and even seemed to be angry at me, though I have no idea what I did to deserve his contempt. So I’m reminded that even though he’s easy to sympathize for, he is very dangerous and I should keep my distance. If only I could convince Tellie and Kelm to be more cautious around him…

What exactly is the Moonscript—or are you allowed to tell us?

I’ve heard only the faintest of rumors, but only since this Errance arrived. My grandfather was…is…greatly filled with knowledge, and he is aware of the history of the elves. I believe the Moonscript is a book of secrets, but other than that, such as where it came from, who it belongs to, and who wrote it, I do not know. And perhaps that is a good thing if evil is so determined to claim it.

Your world is vast—are you a frequent traveller? If so, of all the places you have seen which is your favourite? And why? And is there anywhere you haven’t been but dream of seeing?

No, not at all. Before traveling with Errance and the children, I’d never gone further than the villages in the hills around the jungle. We traded with them, but I’d never reached a city. The nearest is Oolum, but I had no desire to go there. However, chemas are masters of blending in, so perhaps the best course for our journey will take us straight through the city…

I’ve seen the sea from the tallest trees. It is vast, silver, beautiful…*sighs*

You probably think it odd that I have no desire to see the home of my ancestors. I’ve been told it was in the North Mountains, built of stone and cold as ice. *eeh*

I would love to see Aselvia, the valley of elves. The legends spoken of it are beyond comprehension. And now that my jungle is no longer safe, perhaps…

What do you consider your best strength? Your worst fault?

I’m afraid they’re one in the same. I’m very protective.

One has to be completely aware of what is going on in the jungle to stay safe. Even in our village, we have to keep a sharp eye on the little ones. There are snakes, wild cats, monkeys. I’m not a warrior, but I can defend myself and others if necessary. Now that Tellie and Kelm are under my protection, I’m determined to keep them safe.

But there’s a problem. In my determination to keep them safe, I’m probably a little over-bearing. And suspicious of everything that moves. And wary of anyone who seems dangerous. This is awkward, considering I’m trying to keep them safe from the very person they seem to completely love and trust. I just hope Errance realizes how much they look up to him.

Can you teach us a bit of the chema language?

You might have noticed me saying a strange word as an exclamation. Cimie is the name of an ancient city of the Northern Chemas. I guess I say it because my late grandmother used to swear by it all the time. I think it actually means Queen. Strange how it was turned into an exclamation.

In the North, the chema language is said to sound like falling ice. I prefer to think of it like hummingbird chatter. Here is a sample.

Chee. Yeii chiree eim KelTreese. (spoken very rapidly)

This translates something as, “Hello. Thank you for inviting me to your world.” Treese means world, and the Kel attached to it is possessive, causing it to be your world.

What is your favourite food? Your favourite thing to wear?

Though my people may be secluded, we’re not uncivilized. The elders of our tribe have passed on the skills of the North Chemas to our new generation, and we weave our clothes on looms and can create extravagant food with what we have.

Nearly everything we eat and wear is made with what we harvest from our Milthi moths nests. These large and docile moths excrete a liquid, much like the bees do your honey, which we refer to as “milk” and use as cream, cheese, and other things.

The fiber they use to spin their cocoons we use to spin cloth, like your silk. The chemas can persuade the fiber or fur of camouflage creatures to blend in with ourselves so that we can truly go invisible (in the North, the chemas spin cloth from the long fur of a camouflage cat). Things we are holding very tightly might be persuaded to stay concealed for a time, but if we lose hold or break concentration they’ll reappear.

What is your favourite type of weapon?

I’m not very fond of weapons. This may sound strange at first, but I’m most fond of poison darts, because we use them to kill an animal gently without them having almost any distress aside from the tiny sting at first. But that requires getting very close while invisible. So bows and arrows are common. As are spears. I’m a fair shot at archery. But I hope I never have to use it in combat.

Thank you for being here, Tryss! Blessings to you on your journey, and may all turn out well in the end!

Thank you as well, Lady Rebeka. Ayahwei will watch over us, I am sure. If only we can just keep ahead of those pursuing us…

*******

Hope you all enjoyed the interview! I know I for one am so excited to read this book and go on the journey with Tryss and all the rest when this story comes out!

*******

And as a quick little end note: I hope you guys like the new look of the blog! I'd been quite unsatisfied with the blog look for some time--now I feel it is far more personal and more suited to my style. Let me know if anything in particular is an eye sore so I can change it--I want to make this blog as easy on the eyes as possible. ;)

--Beka

My Poor, Neglected People: An Apology and a Teaser

(Little note: I love the artistic flare of Jennifer Freitag's beautiful blog posts, so I am taking a cue from her and including gorgeous Pinterest pics to make you drool.)

So, I have shamefully neglected this blog for the past few months. I missed its Blogoversary, as well as interacting with all my fellow bloggers. There are a lot of reasons why I haven't been around as much, the most benign one being schoolwork. Second year of university is no joke. Others are intensely personal, and I simply ask for all of you to keep me in your prayers. And I apologize for neglecting you all so long! 

Onward to more pleasant things! I hope to get into a more regular blogging rhythm again at some point. Most of my posts will likely be on weekends, when I have time. You may see reviews of books I have to read for school more than leisure books--it's the nature of the beast.

From Pinterest

As a bit of an update, writing-wise, I have started re-outlining Rebel's Daughter, which I believe I posted a teaser for many months ago. Well, things have changed drastically for the better this time around. There is a LOT of research I will have to do for this book about, mainly, how to bring down a government in a revolution, how to meld Victorian-age London with the era of the 1920s, etc. 

Also, ZEPPELINS.

From Pinterest

Yes, zeppelins. Me fellow Canadian Kenneth Oppel wrote this amazing series that stars flying machines, and ever since I read them they have claimed my heart and soul. As well, I started reading a Japanese steampunk novel over the break that had them, and my little heart nearly burst. The Legend of Korra, with its 1920s feel, has also driven my urge to incorporate them. So I guess this book will have a slight steampunk feel to it, though it is not strictly steampunk, because it's not Victorian England, it's a world derived from our world, but with magical creatures and such.

I don't think I've shared much about this story other than it's based off the Russian Revolution, but the reason why I'm so excited about this story is that my protagonist is actually the villain.

Wait, WHAT? You're probably thinking that, right?

But my mentor, Anne Elisabeth Stengl, said something that I believe is such a great way of approaching characters: every character sees themselves as the hero or heroine of their own story. My main character, Anya, believes she's doing what's right. But her methods are all wrong, and that is where the conflict lies. She is not the typical storybook female knight who saves the day, or the princess. She is the face of a historical person that has me fascinated: the revolutionary. 

Being from Canada, I don't have the same history of revolution in my past. I tend to be doubtful and pessimistic of them, and this book is an exploration of those feelings as well as the feelings of those whose beliefs differ so much from mine. When is a revolution wrong? When is it right? What happens when it all spins out of control?

I am considering doing a bit of a character meet-and-greet to both inspire myself as well as gain some of your insights. Would you guys be interested in that? You'll be able to meet some of the people strolling around inside my head. ;)

For now, I will leave you with a short summary and slight teaser:

REBEL'S DAUGHTER

She is many things. Rebel's child. Rising revolutionary. Firebird. Phoenix. Villain. Hero. The key to the monarchy's very destruction. But the only thing more deadly than a revolution is a traitor to its cause. Because even a Firebird can fall--and when she does, everything will burn.

This scene occurs when my two pro/an/tagonists, Anya and Ilya, are on a flying machine (eekk!), crossing the ocean from one country to return to their homeland, Russak, where under its seemingly-peaceful surface, rebellion is simmering... They are discussing the likelihood of the revolution they're planning actually succeeding.

***

“How do you know we can do it?” she asked. “Our fathers failed, and they were brilliant men.”

Strands of dark hair whipped across his cheeks as he reached for her hand. “Because it’s our destiny,” he said, grasping her fingers tightly. “Because we have to.”

Sliding her hand from his, she folded her arms across the railing and leaned out as far as she dared. Below, the murky midnight-blue surface of the channel rippled with streaks of pink and orange, two worlds colliding in the hands of the dawn. She thought of the creatures lurking beneath that wall—monsters that would not think before ripping her to shreds should she fall into their domain.

“There are too many things that could go wrong,” she murmured.

“And so many that could go right,” he said.

“You’re such an optimist.”

He grinned. “Perhaps, but I find myself more attracted to pessimists.”

“Aren’t you smooth. Should I be falling at your feet?”

“What about falling into my arms?” He nudged her shoulder with his, laughing as she wrinkled her nose. They both fell silent as the sun rose higher, spreading its burning blaze across the horizon. It looked like a Firebird stretching her wings, and Anya closed her eyes at the reminder of her mother and all the folktales of her homeland. The wind rustled her threadbare clothes and slapped against her face. She felt Ilya shift beside her, his weight moving from one foot to the other.

The silence between them was blissful—there was no need to speak, no need to fill the space. No need to do anything but mourn all she had lost—and prepare herself for all she would gain. As her thoughts slid away from Kat, Khotkin, and Mrs. Perkins, a rare grin stretched her lips. It was time for Russak to rise; it was time for her country—against all odds, through any pain—to become a home.

***

Who are these other characters--Kat, Khotkin, and Mrs Perkins? You may find out in the coming weeks...let me know if you guys would be interested in meeting the characters!

I hope you all are doing well! <3 font="">

--Beka

Until That Distant Day--Cover Reveal and Giveaway!

I am very happy to be part of this cover reveal for Jill Stengl, Anne Elisabeth Stengl's award-winning, super-talented mother!

Now, without further ado....

Paris, France

1792

Colette DeMer and her brother Pascoe are two sides of the same coin, dependent upon one another in the tumultuous world of the new Republic. Together they labor with other leaders of the sans-culottes to ensure freedom for all the downtrodden men and women of France.

But then the popular uprisings turn bloody and the rhetoric proves false. Suddenly, Colette finds herself at odds with Pascoe and struggling to unite her fractured family against the lure of violence. Charged with protecting an innocent young woman and desperately afraid of losing one of her beloved brothers, Colette doesn’t know where to turn or whom to trust as the bloodshed creeps ever closer to home.

Until that distant day when peace returns to France, can she find the strength to defend her loved ones . . . even from one another?

Coming April 25, 2014
From Rooglewood Press

BOOK WEBSITE:

www.untilthatdistantday.blogspot.com

____________

EXCERPT FROM THE STORY:

Until That Distant Day

Opening of Chapter 1

I was born believing that the world was unfair and that I was the person to make it right. 

One of my earliest memories is of Papa setting me atop a nail keg in the forge; I could not have been older than two at the time.

“Colette, give Papa a kiss,” he said, tapping his cheek.

“Why?”

“Come and sit on my knee.”

“Why?”

My response to every order was the same, asked with genuine curiosity. I did not understand why his watching friends chuckled. Why should I press my lips to Papa’s sweaty, prickly cheek? Why should I hop down from the keg, where he had just placed me, and run to sit on his knee, a most uncomfortable perch? I felt justified in requesting a reason for each abrupt order, yet he never bothered to give me one.

Mama, when thus questioned, provided an answer in the form of a sharp swat. This I could respect as definitive authority, although the reasoning behind it remained dubious.

My little brother Pascoe was born believing that the world was his to command. As soon as he acquired his first vocabulary word, “No,” he and I joined ranks in defiance of established authority.
Many impediments cluttered the path of destiny in those early years: parents, thirteen other siblings, physical ailments, and educational difficulties. And as we grew into adulthood, more serious matters intervened, even parting us for a time. But I will speak more of that later. For now, let me assure you that, no matter the obstacles thrown in our way, our sibling bond seemed indissoluble; the love between us remained unaffected by any outside relationship.

Pascoe and I were young adults when revolutionaries in Paris threw aside the tyranny of centuries and established a new government based on the Rights of Man. From the seclusion of our little village in Normandy we rejoiced over each battle fought and won; and when our local physician, Doctor Hilliard, who had first mentored then employed Pascoe for several years, was elected as deputy to the National Assembly from our district, a whole new world opened at our feet. 

My story truly begins on a certain day in the spring of 1792, in the little domain I had made for myself in the kitchen at the back of Doctor Hilliard’s Paris house. Perhaps it wasn’t truly my domain, for it did not belong to me. I was merely the doctor’s housekeeper and could lay no real claim. Nevertheless, the kitchen was more mine than anything had ever been, and I loved that small, dark room; especially during the hours when sunlight slanted through the bubbled-glass kitchen windows, making bright, swirling shapes on the whitewashed walls, or each evening when I arranged my latest culinary creation on a platter and left it in the warming oven for the doctor to discover whenever he arrived home. That kitchen was my home. Not the home I had grown up in, but the home I had always craved.

On that particular day, however, it did not feel the safe haven I had always believed it to be. Loud voices drifted down from the upper floor where the doctor and Pascoe were in conference, disturbing my calm. When I closed the connecting door to the dining room, the angry voices drifted in through the open kitchen windows. I couldn’t close the windows; I might smother of heat. Yet I needed to block out the sound, to make it stop.

So I slipped a filet of sole into a greased skillet and let it brown until golden on both sides. The hiss and sizzle did not quite cover the shouting, but it helped. Then I slid the fish onto a waiting plate lined with sautéed vegetables fresh from my kitchen garden; and I topped all with an herbed wine-and-butter sauce. A grind of fresh pepper finished off my creation.

But my hands were still trembling, and I felt as if something inside me might fall to pieces.

Pascoe often shouted. Shouting was part of his fiery nature, a normal event. He shouted when he gave speeches at section meetings. He shouted about overcooked meals or inferior wines. He shouted when his lace jabot refused to fall into perfect folds.
But never before had I heard Doctor Hilliard raise his voice in anger.

Doctor Hilliard was never angry. Doctor Hilliard never displayed emotion. At most, he might indicate approval by the glance of a benevolent eye or disapprobation by the merest lift of a brow. Yet there could be no mistaking the two furious voices overhead. I well knew Pascoe’s sharp tenor with its sarcastic edge; but now I also heard the doctor’s resonant voice crackling with fury.

I managed to slide the hot plate into the warmer alongside a crusty loaf of bread and closed the door, using a doubled towel to protect my shaking hands. 

Behind me the connecting door was flung open, and Pascoe burst in as I spun to face him. “Gather your things; we are leaving,” he growled. His eyes blazed in his pale face, and the jut of his jaw allowed for no questions. He clapped his tall hat on his head as he passed through the room.

I donned my bonnet and sabots and picked up my parasol. “What has happened?” I asked just above a whisper.

“I’ll tell you once we are away from this house.” His lips snapped tight. His chest heaved with emotion, and he grasped a portfolio so tightly that his fingers looked white.

I could not recall the last time I had seen my brother in such a rage.

____________

AUTHOR BIO:

Jill Stengl is the author of numerous romance novels including Inspirational Reader's Choice Award- and Carol Award-winning Faithful Traitor, and the bestselling novella, Fresh Highland Heir. She lives with her husband in the beautiful Northwoods of Wisconsin, where she enjoys her three cats, teaching a high school English Lit. class, playing keyboard for her church family, and sipping coffee on the deck as she brainstorms for her next novel.

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GIVEAWAY:

Jill is offering an enormous bundle prize of ten print novels and novellas, including her award-winning Faithful Traitor, several novella collections, and her three-book Longtree series. These will all be autographed! (US and Canada only, please.)

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Hello!

So this is just a quick note to let you all know that I'm still kicking. I've been scarce around the blog of late, obviously, but it's just as well because the amount of schoolwork this year? It makes first year look like a pile of unicorns and rainbows.

After all, this year I am taking my capstone course--pretty much, the most vital course--for my Honours Major in English Literature. Which is insanity, because most capstone courses for other programs don't come until third or fourth year. Which means I sometimes have up to 200 pages of reading for one class--and I have this class twice a week. And on top of that, I have four other courses, each with their own workload, plus I work three times a week in the early mornings. And for those who know me, they know I'm no morning person, lol.

So suffice to say, I'm very much looking forward to Thanksgiving this week (Canada gets it earlier, yay!)

But all this schoolwork means my writing has dwindled. Two of the projects I hoped to see completed for Anne Elisabeth Stengl's Cinderella contest will not see fruition. Yet, never fear! One has risen to take their place. I will keep quiet about it for now, except to offer a few hints: Esther. Israelite Captivity. Persia. All these offer their influences to the story, now titled: The Story Told For Stars. I hope to tell you more about it as I progress, and hopefully finish.

So that's a bit about what I've been up to. How have you all been, blogger friends?