My book The Oak King released this week. It’s a fantasy ménage
set in nineteenth century Ireland between a very independent-minded—and very
human--widow named Aine and the two tree spirits who have fallen in love with her. And with each
other.
This book has been a long time in the planning and has been
through more re-writes than any other book I’ve ever written. At one point, it
was a novella. At another, I thought I was going to have to turn it into a
trilogy—never mind the fact that the last book I tried to turn into a trilogy
morphed into a series that I hope to be able to wrap up in seven books. Thanks
to my wonderful editor and a couple of equally wonderful beta readers, I
managed to wrangle the story into something more manageable.
I love Aine. She’s a woman who knows her mind and isn’t
afraid to change it. She’s also not afraid to go out and get what she wants,
even when it runs counter to everything she used to think she wanted. She’s
also probably the only woman who could ever have handled not just Fionn and
Kieran, but all the angsty, complicated baggage the two of them brought along
with them.
I do love angsty,
complicated heroes. It’s a weakness.
And, I have to confess, when it comes to Fionn and Kieran…I’d have a hard time
choosing a favorite as well. They belong together, although they fight it for a
good part of the story. And they both
belong with Aine. And when they finally all come together…well, I’m sure you
can guess what happens then.
Anyway, here’s the blurb and a short excerpt, because sharing is caring--as I'm sure Aine would agree--and I
love sharing excerpts.
Twice each year, Aine
Murphy ventures into the woods to hold ceremonies to honor the Oak King and the
Holly King, never dreaming these Lords of the Forest could be anything more
than myth. When the legends spring to life in front of her, how can she help but
fall for the sexy demi-gods she's loved all her life?
From midwinter to midsummer, Fionn O'Dair rules the
Greenworld as the Oak King--a role he feels is beyond his abilities, and one
that dooms him to a loveless future, forever craving the one man he can never
allow himself to have. How can he resist what Aine offers--the sweet devotion
that soothes his aching soul, and the slim chance to live a "normal"
life as her husband, if only for half a year?
Holly King Kieran Mac Cuilenn never desired a human
lover--until now. Seeing Fionn and Aine together fills him with longing for the
love he threw away and awakens feelings he thought he'd buried with the last
Oak King. Is there enough magic in the solstice to correct the mistakes he made
years ago? Or is he doomed to be forever left out in the cold?
*****
December 1895
At the time of the winter solstice
From his vantage point, beside the farmyard gate, Kieran
surveyed the seemingly peaceful scene spread out before him. The night was
still with nary a breeze to stir in even the topmost branches of the nearby
trees. High above his head, thin white clouds stretched misty ribbons across
the sky, blotting out great swaths of stars and wrapping the half-dark moon in
a gauzy embrace. Kieran studied the orb’s shadowed form for several moments,
the better to divine her wishes. Fionn might claim to serve the sun alone, but
Kieran, Ruler of the Waning Year and creature of the ’Tween, knew better. There
was naught on this earth could escape the Night Queen’s influence.
In a little over a week, when the moon rose full, it would
be for the thirteenth time this year. A rare and unusual occurrence, it
signaled a time of transition and change, a time when one might reasonably hope
to alter one’s path. A hot swell of anticipation arose within him as he thought
of it, the moon of opportunity and rebirth. The opportunity to change—wasn’t
that exactly what he needed, what they all needed?
Tonight. Why should it
not be tonight?
The sentinels of the forest were used to biding their time.
A delay of several decades before a goal could materialize or a dream come to
fruition meant little to one such as he. That didn’t mean he didn’t suffer
through the waiting, however. It didn’t mean he couldn’t yearn, or covet, or
long for what he could not have, what he might never have, or what he might
have foolishly thrown away.
Tonight. Please let it
be tonight.
On the surface, the cozy farmhouse nestled in its tidy yard
looked much as it had the previous year, snug, warm, and inviting, but as
Kieran well knew, looks were oftentimes deceiving.
Last year, even despite the pleasant setting, the sight of
this place had sparked only fear and uncertainty within him. Tonight, the small
stone building, with its whitewashed walls and slate-tiled roof, with candles
burning in the windows and a lazy curl of smoke eddying from the chimney,
marked the seat of all his hopes and dreams, as well as the crux of his
restless discontent. Within its four walls resided everything he longed for and
ached to possess.
It was that which kept him standing out here in the cold,
which made him hesitate, afraid to enter or even to make his presence known to
those inside. Fear. Anticipation. Hope. Uncertainty. Excitement. Desire. Love.
Regret.
If his dreams were ever to be realized, it would have to
happen sometime. It might be now, or a hundred years from now. Kieran would
much prefer it be now, of course, but even a hundred years was better than the
third possibility—that his dreams should die aborning and never be realized at
all.
Maybe he’d already had his chance and lost it. Maybe what he
longed for now would never be his again. In truth, he didn’t know what to
expect. That, at least, was the same as last year.
He’d sped here last winter on the full moon’s bright wings
and his own breathless terror, his whole mind focused on a single goal—that of
saving Fionn’s life. When he’d arrived at the farmhouse, it was just in time to
hear Aine’s threat to cut down his grove—and out of nothing more than spite! It
had seemed to Kieran then that his fears had all been justified.
Now, he could laugh about it. A smile creased his face as he
remembered it. How fierce and fiery she’d appeared. Despite the danger she’d
represented, she’d been radiant with her red-gold hair catching the fire’s
light and her blue eyes gleaming like sapphires over her flushed cheeks. Even
smudged with flour and seething with rage, she’d been a sight to render him
almost speechless.
She’d seemed even more magnificent in her anger and wounded
pride than she had on that previous midsummer morning. She’d looked like a
goddess or a proud young queen as she’d stared Fionn down. Her hands had been
fisted on her hips. Her chest had heaved with every angry breath. But queens
and goddesses are ofttimes cruel, as Kieran was well aware. And, in that
moment, nothing about the situation had struck him as even remotely humorous.
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