Bonded soul to soul by ancient magic and a dragon. Will the magic that brought them together destroy them?
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice trembling with fear.
The woman sighed and answered, “’Tis a long story that’s not my place to tell. You’ll have to hear it from Connor, for you’re his now.”
“His? How can I be his?”
“Lass, it’s a new life you have now. I’ll leave it for Connor to explain.”
“Who is Connor?”
“Och, that I’ll answer. He’s my brother.” The woman vigorously rubbed a towel over Maggie’s stubbled scalp.
Maggie frowned. The near giant who carried her into the bathroom had not been old. She would not have put his age past thirty. She decided that the older woman obviously meant that Connor was like a brother to her.
“By the way, I’m Brenda,” the woman said by way of introduction. “We’ll have to come up with a name for you.”
“My name is Maggie, Maggie Hammersmith.”
“Not any more it isn’t,” Brenda said cryptically.
The Diamond Gate
By Holly Bargo
Available on Kindle Unlimited
Bide here. Lirón comes.
“Did you hear that?” they whispered among themselves and agreed that, yes, each of them heard that, but not with their ears.
They all looked at the hippogriff, but only Aurora met its gaze. It despises us, she thought with surprise. A beast that despises us.
I find most humans contemptible as well as bad-tasting.
Her lips turned upward slightly at the corners. Touché, she thought, and caught the faintest glimmer of humor from the hippogriff.
“When will Lirón arrive?” she asked aloud, more as a courtesy to the others than for the hippogriff’s sake.
The animal cocked its head, opened and shut its beak with a click, and then sneezed. It shook its head, sending a feather into the breeze, which twirled it in unseen fingers for the princess to catch. She held it to her lips and surreptitiously sniffed. The scent wasn’t sour like poultry, but fresh, clean, and somehow wild.
Toss it into the wind should you have need of me, beloved of Lirón.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The hippogriff bowed its head, turned tail, galloped a few steps, and leaped into the wind.
Saved from Cancer or Caught in a Snare?
Cancer. The terminal diagnosis paralyzes Catriona. She resents not knowing the rules that now govern her life in this realm of myth and impossibility. Forging her own path and upsetting ancient tradition, she befriends the mysterious archivist, learns to live in a sentient palace, talks to dragons, and discovers a puzzling attraction to cats. And she must come to terms with the handsome and powerful fae male who claims her as his own and stirs her blood like none other.
January 1st - 7th
DAUGHTER OF THE TWIN MOONS
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It’s the lot of women to suffer the stupidity of men.
I looked out the window of the grand carriage painted and gilded with the king’s family crest as it carried me from the hovel of my home to the castle where I somehow had to make good on my father’s nonsensical boast that I could spin straw into gold. Had my father not soaked his brain in cheap ale to bolster his courage, he would have realized that, if his boast were true, our family would not live in a hovel and dress in rags. The king, who looked at me with watery eyes gleaming with greed, should have figured out that little logical truth, too.
He leaned across the seats, corset creaking as it struggled to contain the bulge of a belly swollen with too much fine, rich food and wine, and patted my knee in an overly familiar gesture that made my skin crawl.
“You’re a pretty lass,” he complimented me and licked his already wet lips.
Being a humble miller’s daughter—a peasant—I could hardly rebuff the king, but I did sidle away from his lecherous touch and protest, “Your majesty, you mustn’t. I’m not worthy.”
MY CHRISTMAS GIFT TO YOU!
SKEINS OF GOLD: Rumpelstiltskin Retold
Caught by her father's lie and the king's greed, the miller's daughter faces an impossible task: spinning straw into gold. An imp accepts her paltry trade to save her life, but what are his motives? What's a poor peasant woman to do?
This retelling of the ancient fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin addresses some questions left unanswered by the traditional versions and is told from the perspective of the miller's daughter.
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is wanting to Blog Swaps in 2018. For more information: