So I have several books that are special. Celestial Dragon was my first published book and will always hold a special place in my heart but The Keeper of Moon Haven is probably the "book of my heart". The one that really kept me writing until all hours of the night. With the coming of my new novel, The Rose Hunter, I thought it might be fun to revisit The Keeper of Moon Haven. Why? Because The Rose Hunter is set on the same world. You might call it a sequel of sorts. :-)
Please enjoy and excerpt for The Keeper of Moon Haven:
Blurb:
On the southern
fringes of the Mendip Hills sits the Castle Hamingjur, an abandoned structure
most fear haunted. Yet, on the rare occasions when the Hunter’s Blue Moon
occurs, the Keeper occupies this mysterious castle where he guards the bridge
to Alfheim Haven.
Noreen
Willshire discovers more than fairytales hidden between the pages of
Beletania’s diary. She opens the ancient book and finds a pathway to a Faery Realm
where all manner of mythical creatures reside. In her naïveté, she summons the
Keeper before his scheduled time in the human realm. In that brief moment, the
mysterious wizard touches her soul with more than magick. She promises to
return the diary during Mefylleth, a time when the barriers between the two
realms melt away, but danger stalks her path. Torn between her desire to make a
new life for herself in America and her growing love for the Keeper, she must
bridge the gap between magick and time to follow her heart.
Excerpt:
An unearthly wind
whooshed over the page. Noreen stopped reading mid-sentence. She shivered. Cold
seeped into the room. Her gaze scanned the bedroom, but no one appeared.
Twenty-three. She groaned at the
number of times she’d read the story. Her throat ached from her efforts, yet
she couldn’t quit. Tomorrow she would be gone from Somerton Manor, and she
wanted the issue with the book resolved before then.
She rubbed aching eyes, still
perplexed at the absence of Old English text. For a story written over eight
hundred years ago, it read as if written just yesterday.
With bent head, she continued,
determined to read the entire passage once more.
“Sir Fenot! Come quick!”
“Wizard Tartel Fenot froze at the terror he
heard in the child’s voice.” A deep, masculine voice read in unison with her
own, then continued when she stopped reading. “Only fear for his life would
garner such strong emotion in the young elf.”
She whirled toward the sound and
shrieked. Jumping from the rocker, she turned her back to the man and slammed
the book shut. A cloud of dust flew. Panting, she set the heavy book on the bed
and leaned over it. Merciful heavens, the man had been bare-chested.
She closed her eyes and fanned warm
cheeks.
“Is that anyway to greet a guest?”
She shrieked again, picked up the
book, and held it like a shield.
“Ssh. You’ll have the entire household
here posthaste if you keep crying like a banshee.”
She froze. Her breath came rapid and
loud. Slowly she turned to face the intruder, keeping her eyes averted. She
couldn’t stare at the man because of his state of undress, but she couldn’t
turn her back on him either. Her gaze fixed on his face. “What do you want?”
“Want?” The corners of his lip lifted.
“I was under the impression, ’twas the other way around. I believe you summoned
me.”
The book slipped from her fingers and
landed with a thud on the hard floor.
The Keeper? No, it couldn’t be. Her
gaze fastened on the now closed book. Why was he still here if she’d broken the
bridge? She’d expected another troll, not a virile man. What sort of monster
had she summoned?
