May Book of the Month:
In the northern reaches of Scotland rests Loch Saorach, home to an ancient legend—a dragon. The Matasan family has guarded the loch and its dragon for centuries.
Over the years Saorach has claimed humans, imbuing them with his fae magic. Connor Matasan, the arrogant Earl of Glencarol, is a recent acquisition. Like all those possessed and transformed by the dragon’s ancient magic, Connor is sith, immortal and commanding powers beyond the human norm.
Middle aged wife and mother Lila is vacationing in Scotland when Saorach chooses her to join his brood. Her transformation to an eternally young sith is painful and compounded by the loss of everything she holds dear. Waking to a new life, she is utterly dependent upon Connor and his family. Lila feels trapped and resents that the dragon has bound her to Connor, soul to soul, passion to passion: a passion Connor cannot control, a passion Lila fears.
Will the magic that brought them together destroy them?
Excerpt Pt 1
At that, the sodden, bedraggled, and bleeding woman coughed and sputtered. Connor rolled her over and held her as she weakly spewed whatever remained of the contents of her belly and lungs.
“The roadway crumbled as we warned it would,” Connor explained darkly.
“Aye,” Liam acknowledged, casting a critical eye over the dirt and rock shifted by the landslide. A good portion of the hillside was lost beneath the water. “I’ll set up signs to warn drivers.” He paused and looked at Connor with a critical eye. “Are you all right?”
“I’m hard to kill,” Connor replied, his tone almost bleak.
“You’d be dead if the monster hadn’t taken a fancy to you,” Liam commented acidly. “I saw it push you to the shore.” He paused again and then asked, “Why didn’t the monster eat her?”
“Because the Saorach claimed her first.”
Liam turned his face toward the glassy, nearly black surface of the water and pursed his lips. The loch was a living thing, something scientists dismissed as fanciful. But many of the old ways still lived that far north, many of the old spirits and gods and magicks had not retreated in the face of Christianity. Indeed, many of them had made their peace with the Roman Catholic Church, which more readily accepted their strangeness than did the less inclusive Protestant traditions.
“I’ll send a message to Moira,” Liam said.
“She probably knows already,” Connor replied as he made sure his rescue was breathing freely. She was not conscious, something for which she should be grateful. The darkening goose egg above her right eye and the bleeding above and behind her left ear gave silent testimony that she’d been knocked violently about inside that car. He wondered what broken bones she endured.
Ah, well, it was not to be helped just then, for he needed to get her to the house where his great nephew’s grandmother could care for her until Moira came to work her healing magic. Besides, he was thoroughly chilled and miserable.
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019.
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