Donna Hatch, Romance Author

Queen in Exile, a fantasy romance

2012-02-20T00:01:00.001-08:00

Please enjoy chapter one of Queen in Exile, available in paperback, Kindle, and Nook.

Chapter One

T he thundering hoof beats of her two guards’ mounts

grew steadily louder behind her while Jeniah, on her own

duocorn, fled Arden City as if a pack of wyrwolves pursued her.

Jeniah glanced over her shoulder and willed her guards away,

knowing such a wish was foolish. How she wished she could

truly escape Arden, her stifling role, and the terrifying new future

she must soon accept. Jeniah could no more escape her destiny

than she could escape her personal guards, but for a few blissful

moments, she would be Jeniah. Not a princess, not a scholar, not

a bride of some far-off, faceless prince. Just Jeniah.

Her duocorn, Egan, settled into a comfortable canter, his

double-horned head nodding with each stride. Her guards matched

her pace behind her, and she tried to forget they were there. Birds

roosting in the trees scattered at their approach, fluttering deeper

into the woods. Embracing the exhilaration of riding, Jeniah

flung her arms out to each side, imagining how it might feel to

soar unfettered into the great unknown, without a care.

Cantering over the cobblestones, Egan rounded a bend in the

highway. Without warning a side path appeared, calling to Jeniah

with irresistible force. She reined sharply. Egan danced against

the reins, turning a full circle, and shook his head, making the

bridle jingle. Jeniah’s pulse galloped and her stomach quivered.

She stared down the path, irresistibly drawn, feeling the stirring

whispers of destiny.

Breneg and Ciath halted their duocorns on either side and

drew their swords, searching for signs of danger.

“Your Highness?” Breneg said in alarm.

Her gaze fixed on the path, Jeniah held up her hand. “Nothing’s

amiss, Breneg. I wish to be alone.” Her voice sounded oddly

distant, oddly hoarse.

“Alone? Your Highness, we cannot guard you if—”

“Only for a few moments, Breneg.” Without looking at him,

Jeniah knew her sternness had surprised him.

Jeniah could not explain the urgent compulsion to traverse

the path alone, but the power beckoned to her very soul. Her

heart skittered, and she could no longer resist the lure. Without

waiting for further response, she urged Egan forward. The path

seemed ordinary. It led from the highway to a shallow hollow

that appeared equally mundane, yet a shiver of anticipation raised

bumps on Jeniah’s arms.

She dismounted, leaving Egan to graze, and walked deeper

into the woods. She paused behind a tree, and the moment she

knew her guards could no longer see her, she blurred. The familiar

warm, tickling sensation spread over her, blending her with her

surroundings. If Breneg and Ciath were to spot her now, she’d

appear as nothing more than a sapling or a shrub.

A part of her feared her strange magic. Magic had been the

cause of the Great Wars. In Arden, magic was shunned, feared.

Not even her faithful lady-in-waiting knew Jeniah’s power.

In moments of irony, Jeniah wondered why she bothered

blurring. Her family acted as if she were already invisible, unless

they remembered their need to forge allies.

Breneg and Ciath moved away, their duocorns’ hooves

rustling the dried leaves. No doubt they were following their

usual pattern to sweep the area for danger, spiraling outward

in opposite directions, and then tightening the spiral until they

returned within visual distance of her. She would have a few

minutes of solitude before they returned. Eventually, she’d have

to stop blurring and reveal herself, or they’d grow frantic.

Jeniah stepped over a log peppered with mushrooms and

walked deeper into the woods, following the irresistible call.

Fallen leaves crunched under her riding boots. She hurried

along the sun-dappled path, eager to discover the source of the

compelling summons. At the rise of a hollow, she stopped. Chills

of excitement tingled her spine. She held her breath.

An enormous golden-brown animal stood on four legs at

the far edge of the hollow. Sunlight slanted down through the

woodland trees, giving his thick pelt and mane an iridescent

shimmer. Jeniah gasped. Truly, it could not be! She stared in

disbelief at a sacred chayim.

He was magnificent. She felt as if she were in the presence

of deity, ancient and wise beyond human comprehension. Her

mouth went dry and she fell to her knees.

She’d heard the stories, of course. She’d listened, enraptured,

as minstrels related accounts—legends, some said—of a chayim

choosing a maiden of surpassing purity and courage, bonding

with her, and guiding her as she led her people to a bright new

future. In private moments of hope, Jeniah had dared to dream a

chayim would choose her.

Jeniah’s heart pounded as if trying to escape her chest, and

her breath came in gasps. Nearly overcome, she waited for the

chayim to determine her worthiness. She stood and lowered the

hood of her cloak, careful to make no sudden movements lest she

frighten him away.

Moving with regal grace, the chayim padded down the slope

into the hollow and stopped barely out of reach. His shoulders

were level with her head, and he was even longer than he was

tall.

Quivering in excitement, she held out a hand. The beast took

another step toward her. His long neck curved and his head

dipped down while a pair of dark, intelligent eyes probed hers.

She waited, trembling in anticipation, as if poised at the summit

of a mountain. A step to one side would mean death. A step to the

other would bring limitless freedom.

He blew gently into her face, a sign of acceptance. Her heart

soared and tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. Driven by a

compulsion to touch him, she raised her hand higher. When the

beast opened his mouth, revealing two rows of sharp teeth, she

felt no fear, only wonder, peace, and light. Her heartbeat slowed

and she felt a smile curve her mouth as she spoke softly to him.

After a brief pause, the chayim answered with a low growl

others might have found fearsome. Jeniah continued to extend

her hand until it finally touched the long, square muzzle, finding

the golden fur softer than she expected. The chayim closed his

mouth and uttered a noise much like a purr.

Acceptance and an all-consuming love flowed into her as the

chayim’s mind gently touched hers. Through the images he sent

her, she witnessed changes to the land the chayim had seen during

his long life. He mentally deepened their connection, wrapping

her in warmth and safety and truth.

For the first time, she saw herself as more than an annoyance,

more than a pretty distraction, more than her father’s pawn to

forge a political alliance. She saw herself as a young woman of

much greater worth. That knowledge filled her with indescribable

joy and a renewed dedication to her duty. And it gave her hope.

Using her powers for others now became paramount, a

realization both humbling and liberating.

Through emotion and image, the chayim assured her that her

ability to blur was not a power to fear, but merely a small part of

a greater magic that would serve her, and serve her people.

Without warning, the connection shattered.

Jeniah staggered back, disoriented and empty from the sudden

severance of their bond. Drained of energy, she collapsed. She

raised a hand toward the chayim, desperate to renew their mental

bond, but she could not reach him. His head turned toward

something behind her, his tail swishing angrily. He growled.

Hoof beats approached. As she lay on her back looking up at

her chayim, Jeniah’s thoughts cleared, and she swallowed a growl

of her own. Apparently her overprotective guards had finished

their guarding pattern and returned. She could blur to prevent

them from finding her, but if they had already visually marked

her, blurring would not deceive them. And at the moment, she

wasn’t sure she had the strength.

Hoping her chayim would remain, she struggled to her feet to

warn away the guards. Her weakened limbs failed her again and

she crumpled.

The hoof beats grew nearer still, and an enormous silver

duocorn pounded into view with a man astride him. Jeniah’s

chayim stood over her defensively and let out a roar that shook

the ground. She pressed her hands over her ears. If she hadn’t

already bonded with him, she would have been terrified.

“Get back!” she tried to warn the stranger, but it came out as

a weak gasp.

With a battle cry, the rider and his mount charged down the

slope from the highway toward them in the hollow. Though he

wore the chain mail of a knight, the rider was clearly not one of

her guards.

Her chayim let out a roar more threatening than the first. He

dropped to a crouch facing the intruder, and stood over her, his

Drawing a sword, the stranger charged.

Jeniah gasped. Not only was the armed rider about to destroy

her destined bonding with a chayim, but he planned to battle

this magical beast! What brainless madman would attack a holy

chayim?

And where were Breneg and Ciath? They should be alerted to

the presence of another rider. Jeniah’s chayim growled again, and

her concern shifted to the rider. Her chayim would no doubt kill

the foolish man before he could inflict any injury, yet she wished

no harm upon any person. Even a fool.

“Stay away! You’re in danger!” Still weakened by the aborted

connection, Jeniah tried to rise but failed again.

Teeth bared at the intruder, her chayim twitched as he

prepared to spring. The rider continued his charge. As her

chayim leaped, he extended claws the length of daggers from

his paws. The armed man and her chayim came together in a

terrible clash.

Horrified by the violence, Jeniah pushed her shaking limbs to

a stand. “NO!” she shouted, finally recovering her voice.

Her chayim hesitated at the sound of her frantic cry. In that

moment of distraction, the warrior attacked. His sword made a

graceful arc and sliced into her chayim’s golden chest.

Jeniah screamed. Dread clutched at her heart, squeezing until

she could barely draw a breath.

“No!” she sobbed. “No, don’t hurt him!”

Her chayim fell, rolled, and jumped to his feet. Amber blood

streamed from the wound. Rearing up on his back two legs, he

swiped at his opponent, his claws barely missing the man’s chest.

The rider’s duocorn danced back and then lunged, bringing the

warrior and his sword in close. Man and chayim lunged, struck

and parried.

Desperate to stop them from killing one another, Jeniah picked

up a rock to throw at them, but halted before she let it fly. The

last time she’d interfered, she’d distracted her chayim and the

man had wounded him. She ground her teeth in frustration at her

helplessness.

Though bleeding from multiple wounds, her chayim raked the

duocorn’s flank with his claws. The duocorn whinnied in pain

and reared but continued circling the beast. Skillfully avoiding

her chayim’s teeth and claws, the man struck again. Weakened,

her chayim slowed until he could no longer evade the sword. The

warrior thrust his blade deep. The chayim’s shriek filled Jeniah

with cold dismay.

He flailed, howling in pain, his claws missing the duocorn by

a breath. The swordsman severed one of her chayim’s massive

paws, which only threw the beast into a greater frenzy. Roaring

and thrashing, her chayim came at the swordsman. Again, the

warrior’s blade found its mark.

Sickened and shaking, Jeniah sank to her knees.

This time, the magnificent animal collapsed. His breath

labored twice, and after a spasm, he lay motionless. Amber

blood flowed in a spreading stain on the leaves carpeting the

woodland floor.

Silence rang out as if all nature’s creatures paused to mourn.

“No,” Jeniah whispered in disbelief. All strength left her

limbs. Darkness drew around her, leaving her desolate and utterly

lost. She felt as though she had lived all her life in darkness, then

unexpectedly stepped out into the light to behold the beauty of the

earth and sky, the majesty of color, the power and magnificence

of the sea, only to be plunged back into darkness with naught

but a taunting memory of what she had found and lost. All that

remained was emptiness.

The warrior dismounted and approached the lifeless chayim.

Jeniah gasped as he prodded the creature with the end of his

sword. Then the swordsman turned toward Jeniah and ran to her

without stirring a leaf, silent and graceful.

Through a haze of grief, it occurred to Jeniah that a man who

would kill a revered creature might now harm her. At the moment,

however, she was so overcome by loss that she hardly cared.

The warrior dropped to the ground in front of Jeniah. “Are

you injured?”

He spoke in a foreign accent with rich, resonant tones belonging

to a minstrel, not a warrior. But his violent act toward her chayim

drove away any charm she might have found in his voice.

Bereft, unable to speak, she shook her head.

The warrior looked her directly in the eye as if searching for

some truth he might only find there. His startlingly blue eyes

burned with inner fire. Then, as if he found whatever he’d sought,

he stood.

After he cleaned and put away his weapon, he removed a

leather glove and held a hand toward her. “I’ll help you up.”

She eyed his hand, making no move. Despite his unkempt

and unshaven appearance, something in his posture suggested

authority. As her eyes traced his broad, muscular form, she

realized no knight in the castle could match him in strength or

size. Despite his confident, almost arrogant bearing, normally

only found in nobility, he dressed as a commoner. A simple

cord held together his unadorned, travel-stained cloak instead

of a metal clasp used by the wealthy. The breeches and heavily

padded tunic visible underneath his chain mail had been cut from

coarse fabric. That deadly sword, bane of her chayim, rested in

a plain leather scabbard at his hip, almost touching worn boots

caked with dirt.

His eyes fixed upon her with unnerving intensity. For an

impoverished knight, this man possessed unabashed boldness.

He waited, watching her, his hand extended.

“You have nothing to fear from me, my lady,” he said softly in

his lilting foreign accent.

Her arm moved on its own volition. Against his large, calloused

hand, hers looked small and fragile. He could easily crush her

bones. Instead, as if he feared injuring her, he took her hand

carefully. After pulling her to her feet, he remained motionless,

his fingers closed around hers, his gaze disturbingly direct.

The stranger reached out with his other hand and gently

brushed away a tear lingering on Jeniah’s cheek.

Shocked at the intimacy of his touch, and at the tingles that

spiraled outward from it, she caught her breath. No man in Arden

would touch her in such a manner. This man dared much. She

snatched her hand back and stepped away to disguise the sudden

awareness of her own vulnerability, and her elemental awareness

of him as a man.

“You should not be out here all alone, my lady.”

As his words penetrated her stunned sorrow, she pressed her

lips together. Amazed at the audacity of this killer to censure her,

she found her tongue. “Your permission is not required.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. His eyes narrowed. “There

are many dangers to a lone girl. That beast alone—”

“I was perfectly safe. Didn’t you see that the chayim had

accepted me?” Her eyes were drawn to the terrible sight of her

chayim lying lifeless. She choked.

“Accepted you?”

“Yes, accepted—a symbiotic lifetime of protection, of

friendship.” What oaf did not know the stories? “I’ve felt destined

for this all my life.” Anger and sorrow roiled in her stomach.

The warrior eyed her as if he thought her a bit insane, and

glanced back at the scene of the battle. “Your life was clearly in

danger, my lady.”

Anger cut through her sadness. Only years of exercising

forbearance prevented her from shouting at him. “I was in no

danger. He saw you as a threat, not only to himself, but to me.

He never would have attacked you if you hadn’t charged in

brandishing your weapon. Perhaps I should be grateful you didn’t

turn that sword upon me in your bloodlust.”

Her would-be rescuer clenched his jaw and pressed his lips

into a thin line. “I would never slay an unarmed opponent, nor

would I ever harm a lady. And if I had known—”

“It would behoove you to make certain of your enemies before

you kill them.” Grief and fury competed for dominion over of her

heart, and her self-restraint slipped. She dashed aside new tears,

frustrated at her loss of control.

His hands fisted at his sides. “It would behoove you to take

more caution in the forest. No lady should ever be without

protection. And unless you are concealing a weapon, you appear

ill-equipped to defend yourself against the many dangers out

here.”

“How typical of a warrior, seeing danger where none exists,

and leaping at any opportunity to kill.”

His words came out clipped. “I do not leap at opportunities

to kill.”

“You did today!” She snapped her mouth closed and wiped

her tears.

“By the moons,” he muttered, looking upward. He raked his

fingers through his dark hair, slowly let out his breath, and visibly

smothered an angry retort.

Incredible. A warrior with self-control.

“If I caused you grief or placed you in danger, I apologize,

my lady.” His stiffly spoken words failed to bring her comfort.

Then his expression softened, became earnest. “Truly, I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to frighten you or cause undo harm.”

For some unaccountable reason, she found that she believed

him. As her eyes locked with his, she realized that as a foreigner,

he probably would not know of a sacred beast unique to Arden.

Her tumult faded as a new understanding came over her. He must

have happened along by accident, and when he saw her lying on

the ground with the large and dangerous-looking animal standing

over her, naturally assumed she’d been about to be devoured.

Spurred by a sense of chivalry, he’d charged in to slay the beast

and rescue the maiden.

Grappling with her desire to hate him for his unforgivable

actions, and her realization that she couldn’t really blame him,

she stared, unable to formulate a reply. Her shoulders slumped

in resignation.

He grasped a crumpled leaf caught in her hair, his hands sliding

down a long, dark ringlet before the leaf fell into his hand.

Startled by his familiarity, Jeniah took another step back from

the stranger. Even more startling, she did not find the contact

distasteful. More unsettled by her reaction to his touch than the

touch itself, she began brushing leaves and bits of twigs off her

gown and cloak, her actions stiff and jerky, and tried to fortify

her self-control.

“Egan!”

Her duocorn came through the trees, but shied from the maimed

body on the ground. The warrior’s silver duocorn nickered. To

her surprise, Egan answered, approaching the unknown steed.

After a few huffs and flicks of their tails, they touched noses in

greeting as if old friends.

The war duocorn, as heavily muscled as his master, stood

several hand spans taller than Egan, and his horns had been

sharpened for use as weapons. Egan’s mane and featherings grew

long and shinning from careful brushing, but the silver stallion’s

hair was clipped ruthlessly short.

The stranger extended a hand to Egan and crooned softly. Her

normally shy mount came to him and nuzzled his palm.

“Traitor,” Jeniah muttered.

After he stroked Egan’s head, the warrior moved soundlessly

upon the dried leaves to his own beast. The swordsman examined

his duocorn for injuries, but to Jeniah, the wound on his flank

looked superficial. The warrior appeared to agree, and he patted

his duocorn and turned back to her.

“Egan, come.” Jeniah glanced back at her chayim’s motionless

body. She hated to leave him there as food for carrion. It seemed

too ignoble an end.

Approaching tentatively, she went to him, fearful of the sight.

Even battered and lifeless, he exuded beauty, greatness, magic.

Magic couldn’t all be bad if her chayim possessed it, could it?

Kneeling next to him, Jeniah stroked his fur and whispered,

“Home and sweet meat to you, my friend.” She pulled a few hairs

from the crown of her head, wincing slightly from the sting, and

laid them over her chayim’s chest. “May the god of the moons

welcome you.”

She ran her fingers through his mane until a few loose hairs

fell into her hand. After twisting the hair into a knot, she tucked

it into her bodice next to her heart. “May the god of the moons

give me peace without you.” She bowed her head, her heart cold

and empty.

The wind gusted, bringing in the late afternoon fog. Her

guards would be returning any moment. Swallowing hard, she

stood. Purposely refraining from looking at the warrior standing

motionless next to his duocorn, she used a rock as a step to mount

Egan and settled in the saddle.

“My lady, I must insist upon accompanying you to ensure

your safety.” Somehow he managed to sound both deferential

and condescending.

Despite his earlier plea for forgiveness and her insight into

his motives, Jeniah’s anger returned and gave venom to her

words. She lifted her head with all the regal haughtiness of the

queen mother and looked down upon him. The effect was not as

dramatic as she had hoped, since, even in the saddle, she sat only

slightly above eye level with him.

“You are a stranger, and you have killed a revered animal.

Two very good reasons not to trust you with both my virtue and

my life.”

He winced. “My lady, I give you my word as a knight, I

mean you no harm. I’m honor-bound to protect and defend the

innocent.”

“Unless they come in the form of chayims, apparently.” The

words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Shame

sent warmth up her neck to her face. Such petty viciousness

should be beneath her, but she seemed to have lost control over

her emotions.

His face grew tight and unyielding. “Be grateful I’m a man of

honor, or you would already be my victim.”

Jeniah’s mouth dropped. “A true man of honor would not say

such a thing.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he ground out.

“I’ve but to return to the road where I left my guards and they

will see me home, as they would have protected me had I been in

any real danger.”

He glanced about, and she could almost hear him wondering

where her guards were, and why they had not intervened.

Unwilling to enlighten him, Jeniah flicked the reins and headed

toward the highway.

“My lady.”

Impatiently, she reined and glanced over her shoulder.

“Please, tell me your name.”

She clenched her teeth, loath to give him any favor he sought,

and prayed she’d never be forced to see him again. Without

replying, she urged Egan into a canter.

As she rode, the wind whipped her hair and brought the scent

of growing things mingled with the smells of the ocean. The

woodland trees thickened, reducing the sunlight to glimmering

shafts streaming through the leaves, while the duocorn deftly

bounded his way around trees, mossy rocks, and fallen logs.

Her mother did not approve of her riding at such a pace. She

often said it wasn’t befitting a princess, especially since Jeniah

would soon be of age and could no longer use youth as an excuse

for a lack of decorum.

Heartache urged Jeniah to a reckless speed. She tightened

her legs around Egan’s sleek body and bent over his neck. She

felt rather than heard Breneg and Ciath fall in with her, but they

remained respectfully behind. She wanted to rail against them

for failing her when she needed them, but they were blameless,

since she had blurred purposely to hide from them. No doubt they

wanted to chastise her for losing them. Again.

After ducking under a branch that came threateningly close to

her face, she broke through the trees and out onto the wide, sandy

beach. She cantered along the shore, heading farther away from

the castle of Arden. At a rock formation blocking her path on the

beach, she reined and absently rubbed Egan’s long, curved horns.

Her emotions alternated between sorrow, anger, and despair.

No tutor had instructed her on how to deal with realizing, and

then losing, a hope she’d nurtured all her days, or a friend she’d

instantly loved above her own life. Desolation crept across her

heart and settled in.

“Your Highness.”

Jeniah jumped. She’d been so tightly wrapped in her cocoon

of grief that she hadn’t heard Breneg approach.

“Forgive me, Your Highness, but it grows late.”

Jeniah drew a deep breath and wiped tears she hadn’t realized

she’d shed. The shadows had grown long, and darkness loomed.

She pulled her cloak more tightly around her. One moon hung

suspended, already high in the sky, its silvery glow dim next to

the drowsy sun. The second moon hovered large and orange at

the horizon.

Breneg sidled up to her, his face lined in concern as he took a

long look at her. “Are you all right?”

Jeniah nodded, touched that he cared beyond his duty as her

guard, and relieved that he did not demand an explanation for her

absence. “Just thinking.”

He didn’t press her for answers, though he clearly knew she

was troubled. She rode beside him, leaving the shore and climbing

the rise to the highway. As they guided their mounts toward the

castle, Ciath rode further ahead.

Jeniah breathed in the damp, salty air. In a long exhale, she

released her turmoil, her anger, and her sadness. Fog drifted in

slowly and sometimes in bursts as the wind gusted. Her heart

resumed its normal rhythm and the tension in her shoulders

eased. Her senses filled with the motion of riding, with Egan’s

warm body, the rhythm of his hooves, the crashing of the waves,

the chill wind, and the smells of the ocean.

As she walked Egan, with Breneg riding next to her, she again

thought of the stranger. His clothing and his accent proved he

was not Ardeene, and she suspected he’d come from either Govia

or Darbor.

If the man were the knight of honor he claimed to be, he surely

would not have killed a revered animal if he had understood the

chayim’s significance—unless she underestimated a warrior’s

need to kill. She could not hope to understand the mind of a man

who trained for the express purpose of making war.

She felt his curious gaze upon her but did not meet it. With

all her dreams shattered, she’d have to face her destiny. It was

time to hold up her head and accept her fate. In two moon cycles,

she’d be nineteen, and then she’d marry the man of her father’s

choosing to forge an alliance for the benefit of Arden. Duty could

be a heavy burden.

Perhaps she should stop using her magic. Her ability to blur

had been her secret since she discovered the ability as a young

adolescent. Her chayim had assured her that she would one day

reveal her power, but now that she’d lost her chayim, that time

might never come.

“We must make haste, Your Highness.”

Breneg was right, of course. Darkness brought danger.

They urged their mounts to a canter. The road darkened as it

wound through the forest. Trees leaned across the road toward its

opposite side like lovers longing for a forbidden touch. Insects

sang as darkness grew. Night had nearly spread over the land

when Jeniah heard a mournful howl that chilled her blood.

Wyrwolves.

She had complete faith in Breneg and Ciath, but two knights

against a full pack of wyrwolves would not be sufficient. If the

wyrwolves attacked, blurring would only protect her from being

seen; she doubted it would hide her scent from the carnivores.

Worse, her guards would pay for her carelessness. Fear coiled

in her stomach. The three riders urged their mounts to a full run,

their hooves clattering on the road in a cadence that kept time with

Jeniah's heartbeat. As they rounded the bend in the road, Arden

City and the safety of its walls came into view.

Egan’s neck stretched out as he ran with all his strength. Her

heart thundering in her ears, Jeniah glanced behind her. The

shadowed road lay empty. Wyrwolves called again, so close that

she expected to see them beside her.

Perspiration froze like droplets of ice on her face in the bitter

wind. She leaned forward over Egan’s neck as he somehow ran

even faster. Breneg remained close and Ciath fell back to ride

protectively on her other side.

With the crashing of brush, the wyrwolves came at them from

the trees. She dared a glance backward.

On the road behind them, terrifyingly close, raced the

nightmarish carnivores. Their oddly humanlike faces turned

toward her with hideous, hungry grins. Nearly as tall as a

duocorn, their shaggy bodies loped toward her with alarming

speed. Leaning low over Egan’s neck, Jeniah focused on Arden

Castle ahead, but she feared they might not reach it in time.

Her breath came in sharp gasps. With throbbing pulse, she

spoke to Egan, urging him to keep going, but he needed no more

encouragement than the beasts at his heels. With the howling

creatures only inches away, Egan and the other duocorns fairly

flew toward the outer city gates.

The city gates opened, spitting out a full regiment of armed

guards. Carrying torches, yelling and brandishing their weapons,

the men charged at the hungry pursuers. A brief melee ensued

while men’s steel clashed with beasts’ teeth. Three wyrwolves

fell dead on the road. Snarling, the few remaining wyrwolves

turned and slunk back into the darkness.

Safely inside the city walls with the gate firmly closed behind

her, Jeniah sat frozen on her heaving duocorn. She struggled

to breathe and to battle her tears. By staying out too late, she’d

endangered her own life. Worse, she had endangered the lives

of not only Breneg and Ciath, but the men who rushed to save

her. Shame, sharper than fear, knifed through her. Afraid she

might see wounded among the soldiers, she eyed them, but none

appeared to be injured.

Breneg leaned over and pried her shaking hands from the

reins. “Your Highness.”

She dared a look at him, expecting reproach on his face, but

saw only concern.

“We’re safe now, Princess.”

She nodded, fighting her tears. “Thank you,” she said to all

within hearing. “I’m sorry I put you all in danger.”

Murmurs of acknowledgement, and even words brushing off

her self-recrimination, came in reply. The sentries put away their

weapons and melted back into the shadows.

Taking her emotions in hand, she locked them away and raised

her chin. Flanked by Breneg and Ciath, she rode through Arden

City toward the castle, her relief mingled with melancholy. Filled

with the new self-awareness her chayim had given her, she drove

away her hopelessness. She straightened her posture, lifted her

chin, and rode forward to meet her destiny.

Queen in Exile is available in paperback, Kindle, and Nook. Get your copy now!

What is Love?

2012-02-14T12:57:00.001-08:00

LOVE is the most basic of human needs, right behind food, clothing, and shelter. It's the universal emotion of all humans.

Ever wondered why there are so many songs about love? So many movies with at least a subplot of love? So many books about love?

We crave love and acceptance the way desert craves rain.

For love, wars have been waged. Feuds fought. Lives endangered. Parents defied. Thrones abdicated. Risks taken.

Does true love promise there will never be problems? No! Love brings the grandest joy, the deepest sense of belonging, the most exquisite pain.

Romance is loving all through the drudgery, the sorrow, the flat humdrum, and the disappointment, because ultimately, the relationship is worth saving.

Romance is a husband driving all the way across town to give his wife a hug when she's having a terrible day, or taking her to her favorite chick flick. It's a wife cuddling up to her husband and trying to look interested in his favorite sports team on TV, or working side by side with him in the yard.

Love is when a man and woman would rather be together than with anyone else. It's living in the moment. It's creating memories to cherish for years to come.

As a romance novelist, I challenge couples in love in my quest to create a believable romantic novel. In my books, I create fantasy worlds based on real historical settings. My fantasy, Queen in Exile has a combination of Medieval England, ancient Rome, and Victorian England. My Regency romance novels, are, of course, set in Regency England. But that's just the setting. The stories have some adventure and some intrigue, but ultimately, are about people searching for acceptance and belonging, and most of all, love. The couples and their emotions are real to me.

I always strive to develop characters that are multi-dimensional, have a history, have flaws that make them human, and have strengths that set them apart from the crowd. The main characters aren't always the best looking, or the smartest or most powerful, but they have courage, honor and perseverance...and a deep need to give and receive love.

What’s your definition of romance? How do you show love? What's your most favorite way to have love expressed to you?

Leave a comment and you’ll be automatically entered to win the Romantic flowered heart pictured above. The flowers are real, freeze-dried pink roses (much lighter pink than is shown in the pic) set inside a plexi case and tied with ribbons. The drawing will be on the 17th, so be sure to check back to see if you are the winner!

Birthday Chocolate Drawing Winner

2012-02-13T14:11:00.000-08:00

A very belated but excited congratulations to Carolyn for being the winner of my chocolate drawing, courtesy of random.org. Carolyn, as you requested, I'll be sending you out a bag of milk chocolate Lindor Lindt chocolate truffles. Yum! I may get one for myself, too :-)

A big thank you to everyone who stopped by and left a comment. I read every post. Some made me smile, and a few made me wince. Here's to many happy birthdays to come for us all!

Happy Birthday to me

2012-02-08T00:01:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday. I'm 29. Again. Do you believe it?
:-)

I've been trying to think of a memorable birthday, but only a few really stick out in my mind. One was when I turned 13. I had my first ever boy and girl party...mostly because I had a huge crush on this really great guy named Brad and I wanted him to come to my party. I still smile when I think of him. I guess the fist big crush never really goes away.

To be fair, and to hide the reason I decided to include boys in my party, I invited my entire Sunday School class, plus some kids from school. To my surprise, almost everyone I invited came to my party. We had a blast! We played lots of fun group games and everyone was a great sport. A few of the guys I sorta though were jerks in church even behaved themselves at the party and made it fun for everyone.

For my birthday cake, we had angel food cake, and a do-it-yourself strawberries and whipped cream bar where everyone could add as much of that as they wanted to their cake slice. Can you say sugar rush? It was heavenly!

Anyway, since then, I've decided that I'm not really into parties. I no longer enjoy being the center of attention--maybe I never really did but thought I was supposed to. I prefer quiet evenings at home with my family or going out and doing something special but not with the whole restaurant looking at me while the waiters all sing and clap *shudder*.

This year for my birthday, I get a quiet dinner with my husband, my children, and my daughter-in-law (my son is in Tech school for the Air Force). We always get to pick our favorite food for dinner and everyone says at least one thing they love the most about the birthday person. Ahhh, my kind of party. Then, this Saturday, my husband is taking me to the Renaissance Festival--just the two of us. I've been wanting to do that for years. I hope I find a medieval costume by then (I need one for a book signing I'm doing at the Renaissance Festival next month anyway.) Or maybe I'll just wear my Maid Marion Costume I wear every year for Halloween.

Since I'm not having a big party with friends, I still want to have a celebration with my friends. So, I'm giving away chocolate :-) Please leave a comment telling me about a memorable birthday you have--good or bad. (Telling me that I'm wonderful, or at least that my books are, would be nice, but not necessary.)

Please remember to leave your email address in the comment so I can notify you if you win. If you don't, I'll have to track you down, and tracking down people makes me cranky. So don't make me cranky on my birthday.

The winner will receive a bag of Lindor's Lindt chocolate truffles. When you leave a comment, you can specify dark, milk, white, or mixed.

(Sorry, due to legal entanglements I'm told are on the rise, I can only keep this open to US residents. But you can still feel free to tell me about a birthday memory even if you live outside the US.)

Winners will be chosen Friday, Feb 10.

Happy Birthday to me. And Happy Un-birthday to you ;-)

Legal stuff:
No purchase necessary.
Giveaway open to US residents only.
Winners will be chosen randomly.
Odds of winning depend on the number of entries received.

Void where prohibited by law.

ANWA Writers Conference--space available

2012-02-06T00:01:00.001-08:00

Time Out for Writers

20^th Annual ANWA Writers Conference for

Men and Women

February 23-25. 2012

Mesa, Arizona

To register go to: http://anwa-lds.com/2012conference.html

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

NEW "SUPER SATURDAY DEAL" on Saturday February 25th, 2012

ANWA Members $75, General Admission $85 (Lunch included)

Many of you work and can't take Friday off for conference.

Here's the solution:

Take advantage of the jam-packed Saturday conference day loaded with great writing classes!

(More info in green below.)

American Night Writers Association is proud to sponsor its 20th Annual Writers Conference for Women and Men: Time Out for Writers, February 23 -25, 2012 at the Mesa Hilton Hotel in Arizona. Discounted hotel rooms are limited so you will want to register ASAP. The conference is open for all writers, men and women - wanna-be-writers, young to old, and beginning to published authors, teachers and students of writing, fiction and non-fiction. The conference is open to the General Public.

The top notch faculty will include literary agents accepting pitches for new projects, well known authors and writers, including; Jane Dystel, Anita Mumm, Linda Mulleneaux, Janette Rallison, Conrad Storad, Larry Brooks, Brent Whiting, Deirdra Coppell, Sara Fujimura, Joshua Perkey, Donna Hatch (that's me;-), Joyce DiPastena, Linda Radke, Matt Peterson, Peggy Shumway, Sandra Hendrickson, Serena Freewomyn, Wendy Peterson. (Read about faculty on the conference website www.anwa-lds.com/2012conference.html. Class information is also available on the website.)

The Keynote speaker is, Lisa Mangum, Assistant Editor at Deseret Book/Shadow Mountain. Her address, "Reach for Your Dream - It's Closer Than You Think," will motivate and inspire you, as Mangum takes you on her journey as an author and editor and explains how YOUR dream (whatever it is) is truly closer than you think.

This is an incredible opportunity to take time out of your busy life to spend two and a half days investing in yourself and learning your craft.

Register for the FULL 2012 ANWA Writers Conference AND book a Mesa Hilton Hotel room and you will enjoy:
·         FREE, Thursday night workshops on Query Letters and Pitches and Critique Camp
·         A variety of Friday and Saturday Classes available for all writing levels
·         Panel on Friday with agents and editors
·         Meet & Greet on Friday night with agents, publishers, and authors along with bookstore owners and managers scheduling book events for their stores for all you published or soon to be published authors at the conference.
·         Lunch on Friday and Saturday
·         Breakfast on Friday and Saturday (Complimentary breakfast vouchers for first two guest in shared room, guest three and four pay $10 each for a breakfast voucher)
·         Free Wi-Fi
·         All Hilton Hotel Amenities
·         “Story Time" during Friday's lunch, attendees will have the unique opportunity to listen to authors reading, selling and singing their book(s)
·         Golden opportunity to enter the BOB Contest –Beginning of Book—1^st 500 words of your manuscript

The 2012 ANWA Writers Conference is available at an affordable rate.

Full 2-day Conference:

General Admission $175 ANWA members $155

Those attending the full Conference AND staying at the Hilton receive FREE Thursday night Critique Camp and Query & Pitch Workshops.

Add-ons:

Thursday Evening Critique Camp & Query/Pitch Workshop General Admission $35, ANWA $25

(This is FREE if attending both days and staying in the hotel)

Pitch Session with an agent/editor/publisher: $20 (Space is limited) See website for more info

BOB, Beginning of Book Contest $10 Deadline, Midnight, January 31, 2012.

To register go to: http://anwa-lds.com/2012conference.html

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Super Saturday Deal

Saturday February 25th, 2012

ANWA Members $75, General Admission $85 (Lunch included)

Add-ons:

Thursday Evening Critique Camp & Query/Pitch Workshop $35 General Admission, $25 ANWA Members

Friday Evening Panel Discussion and Meet & Greet $10.

Saturday Pitch Session with an agent/editor/publisher: $20 (Space is limited)

BOB, Beginning of Book Contest $10 (Entrance deadline extended to January 31, 2012)

Mesa Hilton Hotel has reserved a block of rooms for ANWA Conference attendees at a special discounted rate of $99 + tax. Act now. When the block is sold out, the special price will no longer be valid.

Discounted Rooms onsite at the Hilton Hotel in Mesa Arizona, call: 1-800-544-5866

Discount Code: ANW

Questions about the Conference, contact ANWA Event Co-Chairs,

Cindy and Patti anwa-events@anwa-lds.com

Chocolate and Romance--the Best Combination!!!

2012-02-03T12:05:00.000-08:00

Tonight I will be signing books at the Glendale Chocolate Affaire from 6 to 10 p.m. I hope it won't be as cold as it was last year! If you're in town, stop by and say hello and get a chance to win a $10 borders gift card.

Join the fun at the Glendale Chocolate Affaire - February 3-5, 2012

This weekend, starting tonight, Feb. 3-5, is a delicious delight for the senses as the Glendale Chocolate Affaire takes over downtown Glendale to create a chocolate-lover’s dream!

Friday, Feb. 3, 2012, 5 - 10 p.m.
Saturday, Feb. 4, 2012, 10 a.m. - 10 p.m.
Sunday, Feb. 5, 2012, Noon - 5 p.m.
Watch Video

Chocolate purveyors from Arizona and around the nation gather in Glendale for this award-winning festival, which celebrates not only chocolate, but romance and the arts as well. Chocolate confections will include items such as chocolate-covered bacon, chocolate-covered churros, chocolate-covered twinkies, chocolate-covered key lime pie, fried ice cream with chocolate and strawberries, chocolate-covered crepes and much more.

The Chocolate Affaire is sponsored by Arizona’s famous candy makers, Cerreta’s. The candy factory will offer tours all weekend, so visitors can get a behind-the-scenes look at how the chocolatiers create everyone’s favorite candy.

In addition, the festival has become the largest gathering of national romance novelists in the Southwest. This symposium of literary romantics offers fans the opportunity to get up close and personal with authors, as well as the chance to attend free writing workshops given by the experts. I will be there Friday night from 6 to 10 and Saturday from 10 to 6. Stop by and say hello and meet some of my writing friends.

Families with children will enjoy myriad activities, including hands-on arts and crafts, face-painting and a rock-climbing wall. Horse-drawn carriage rides will be available throughout the weekend to take couples or families on a scenic, charming ride through the historic Catlin Court district.

Event hours are Friday 5 - 10 p.m., Saturday 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. and Sunday noon to 5 p.m. The event is located in the heart of Historic Downtown Glendale, in Murphy Park, located at 58th and Glendale avenues.

The Glendale Chocolate Affaire festival was named one of the Top 100 Events in North America by the Washington Post, the Seattle Times and the American Bus Association. The event also was bestowed with the 2003 Governor’s Tourism Award for the Best Special Event in Arizona.

The Glendale Chocolate Affaire is sponsored by Cerreta’s Candy Company, ABC 15, The Arizona Republic, Valley Buick-GMC Dealers, YooHoo, KMLE, KOOL and JAMZ.

Writers Unite to Fight Cancer Fundraiser

2012-01-27T11:48:00.000-08:00

Your presence may save a life!

This Thursday, Feb 2, is the Writers Unite to Fight Cancer Research Fundraiser - an official Arizona Centennial Event taking place at the Arizona Biltmore.

Celebrate Arizona's 100th birthday with 40 authors as we raise money for two Arizona-based Cancer Research Programs:
(1.) Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine, collaboratively with Arizona State University under the direction of Robert Waters PhD.
(2.) The University of Arizona Cancer Center natural product research program directed by Dr. Leslie Gunatilaka.

Hospice of the Valley.

Silent auction include original art pieces, wine, sports event tickets and entertainment park passes.

Bring your family and friends for an informative and entertaining event!

Receive personally autographed books from award winning authors. Each guest will take home a complimentary gift bag that will contain a book, educational materials, samples and coupons from vendors.

For more information visit Writers Unite to Fight Cancer

Join me and others striving to find a real cure for this killer disease next Thursday. Register here or here.

Since I recently lost my nephew to cancer, and many dear friends, this subject is near and dear to my heart. Register here or here for a mere $20 donation. Please help save a life.

Glendale Chocolate Affaire -- Romance and Chocolate, there's nothing better!

2012-01-23T00:01:00.000-08:00

Glendale Chocolate Affaire - February 3-5, 2012

The weekend before Valentine’s Day, Feb. 3-5, is a delicious delight for the senses as the Glendale Chocolate Affaire takes over downtown Glendale to create a chocolate-lover’s dream!

Friday, Feb. 3, 2012, 5 - 10 p.m.
Saturday, Feb. 4, 2012, 10 a.m. - 10 p.m.
Sunday, Feb. 5, 2012, Noon - 5 p.m.
Watch Video

Sweet Blog Award

2012-01-19T11:43:00.000-08:00

Author Vijaya Schartz, a fellow author from my Desert Rose Chapter of RWA, and the publicity chair for The Desert Dreams Conference Blog nominated my blog for this Irresistibly Sweet Blog Award. Thank you, Vijaya and Desert Dreams Conference!

The Desert Dreams Conference is an awesome 3 day writers conference no writer should miss. It will be held April 27-29, 2012 at the Chaparral Suites in Scottsdale, Arizona

Keynote Speakers:

* NY Times Best Selling Author Allison Brennan

* Martha Alderson, AKA The Plot Whisperer

* NY Times Best Selling Author Bob Mayer

Desert Dreams Writers’ Conference provides authors of all skill levels – from beginner to multi-published – with the tools necessary to take their writing to the next level.

*general writing
*career development
*genre-specific
*agent/publisher spotlights
*an agent/editor panel.
*one-on-one appointments with editors or agents
*book signing
*keynote addresses

Check out the roster of acquiring editors and agents along with our keynote speakers and workshops.

Registration deadline is March 15, 2012. Hurry, space is limited and spots are filling up fast!
RWA Member Registration is $235.
Non-RWA Member Registration is $255.
Questions? Please e-mail Desert Dreams Coordinator.

Okay, back to the blog award. As part of this process, I have to nominate ten worthy blogs, and tell my readers 7 things they might not know about me.

So here are the blogs I found worthy of nomination for the Irresistibly Sweet Award:

Janette Rallison, aka CJ Hill http://cjhillbooks.blogspot.com/2012/01/cover-contest.html

Joyce DiPastena http://jdp-news.blogspot.com/
Sarah Eden http://www.sarahmeden.com/
Laura Fabiani - http://libraryofcleanreads.blogspot.com/
Joyce Moore - http://www.blogger.com/post-create.g?blogID=732718016594789120
Betsy Love http://sweetbetsylove.blogspot.com/
Danielle Thorne http://thebalancedwriter.blogspot.com/
Bonnie Harris http://bonnieharris.blogspot.com/
Delle Jacobs http://dellejacobs.blogspot.com/
Jaimey Grant http://jaimeygrant.blogspot.com/
Linda Banche http://lindabanche.blogspot.com/

And now for the 7 things you might not know about me:
1. I like cats--kittens are even more fun.
2. I am a harpist and I teach harp lessons.
3. Every morning after I get the children off to school, I go for a walk. (At least, that's always the goal)
4. I hate spiders. HATE.
5. Due to moves in my childhood, I attended 9 different schools.

6. I love cheesecake just as much as I love chocolate--chocolate cheesecake is even better.

7. Currently I'm juggling: a YA dystopian, a YA historical paranormal, and book 3 of my Rogue Hearts Regency series, plotting a new Regency.

Did you learn anything about me or did you already know all that? Any of that relate to you?

Writers Unite to Fight Cancer Event

2012-01-12T00:01:00.000-08:00

Cancer has touched almost everyone, either directly or indirectly. My mother, my nephew, and many friends all have faced or are facing this killer. Some won the battle, but many lost.

A group of authors, including me, have banded together to have a fundraiser to help cancer research and to promote choice when it comes to treatment plans.

Our event is 22 days away and I am very excited. We have 33 authors and 16 vendors participating to raise money for:

Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine Cancer Research Project in Collaboration with Arizona State University under the direction of Dr. Robert Waters.
The University of Arizona Cancer Center Natural Products Research Project under the direction of Dr. Leslie Gunatilaka.

Let's fill the room to capacity! Speakers are:

Keynote Speaker and event medical director Daniel Rubin, naturopathic oncologist
Arizona State Senator Jerry Lewis, guest speaker
Guest speaker Shauna Birdsall, ND, FABN, Director of Naturopathic Medicine

Here is the URL for event registration: http://events.constantcontact.com/register/event?llr=pywsaqiab&oeidk=a07e5hpulqg0926cf1e

Admission Fee is a suggested $20.00 donation. If you desire to come but do not have funds to pay for the tickets - that is okay. We will not turn anyone away.

Our Facebook is: http://www.facebook.com/events/247043412032164/

Please contact me if you have any questions about this worthwhile fundraiser.

Honoring Those Who Serve

2012-01-09T12:01:00.000-08:00

I just got back from a trip to San Antonio to see my oldest son graduate from Basic Training in the Air Force. As we walked around the city site seeing, it was interesting and really, really great how many perfect strangers walked up to my son as and said either "Congratulations, Airman." or "Thank you for your service."

It's nice to know people appreciate those willing to serve in the armed forces.

My father served for many years in the navy and my oldest brother served in the Air Force. I also have lots of in-laws and extended family currently serving. I just never thought I'd have a son serve. As a mother, I have mixed feelings, of course. Mostly I pray a lot that he'll be safe and that he'll make wise choices.

One of the places we visited, along with the Riverwalk and Alamo, both of which are worth the trip, was a memorial for veterans. A plaque next to one of the sculptures, which was that of a fallen Vietnam soldier, had a poem that touched me. I'd like to share it:

Death At My Door

Day is over as danger hastens

young marines at their battle stations

instruments of war outline the sky

means of death are standing by.

Can it be true on this high hill

forces will clash only to kill?

silence fills the near moonless night

restlesss thoughts of a bloody fight

Endless memories for those awake

meaningfull discussion experience would make

though silent world in which we live

permits only God's comfort to give

Somewhere through the darkness creeping

a date with death is in the keeping

alone I sit and question why

life itself to be born to merely die?

by David G. Rogers

1st Lt USMG

April 30, 1967

To those to serve our country in the armed forces, thank you, and may God protect you.

Mistletoe, an ancient symbol

2011-12-29T07:25:00.000-08:00

The tradition of kissing under the mistletoe is as ancient as it is fun. No one seems to know the true origin of kissing under the mistletoe, but most sources seem to trace it back to old Scandinavia. It probably stems from pagan rituals, as do most Christmas traditions, even Christmas itself.

Druids believed mistletoe possessed magical powers of healing—even against poison—and helped improve fertility. Other herbology claims mistletoe is both an aphrodisiac and an abortive plant, which might be why some of the earliest customs involved more than an innocent kiss.

In the Celitc language, mistletoe means literally, “all-healer.” Modern medicine cannot prove this, so it probably comes from superstition based on the phenomenon that even in the dead of winter, mistletoe stays green and healthy because it is feeding off the trees serving as its host. Druids performed a sacred sacrificial ritual underneath the mistletoe for the benefit of sick or infertile land and animals.

But getting back to the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe. Its earliest uses are linked to its symbolism of peace. Supposedly warring parties would lay down their weapons and declare a truce while in the presence of mistletoe. Quarreling couples would kiss and make up underneath a sprig of mistletoe. This probably led later to the tradition to simply kissing anyone “caught” standing underneath the mistletoe, which later led to interesting--and not always innocent--situations. Until recently, the young man would traditionally pluck off one of the white berries after kissing a girl. When all the berries were plucked, the kissing, at least while under the mistletoe, also ceased. Reportedly, maids in a boarding house would wait under the mistletoe, get kissed, and then the men were expected to pay a shilling.

At one point, the "kissing bunch" became a Christmas decoration in England early American homes. The kissing bunch was constructed of two hoops tied into a round frame, then decorated with ribbons, holly, apples, oranges and other bright fruits. In the center of the frame rested figures of the infant Christ, Mary, and Joseph. A sprig of mistletoe hung below this.

In my Christmas Regency novella, Mistletoe Magic, there are lots of plots that center around a magical mistletoe kiss, but the end result is not what anyone expected!

So the next time you need a good kissing, stand under a bunch of mistletoe in the vicinity of a person you’d like to kiss, (bring your own mistletoe if necessary) and expect a kiss. Throat-clearing may help. But remember, no berry plucking or shilling paying necessary!

2011-12-28T12:23:00.000-08:00

On December 31, the price goes up, so don't wait.

DESERT DREAMS WRITERS' CONFERENCE 2012
Believe in the Power of Your Dreams

April 27 - 29, 2012
Chaparral Suites Resort - Scottsdale Arizona

Keynote Speakers:
NY Times Best Selling Author Allison Brennan
Martha Alderson, AKA The Plot Whisperer
NY Times Best-selling Author Bob Mayer

Desert Dreams Writers’ Conference provides authors of all skill levels – from beginner to multi-published – with the tools necessary to take their writing to the next level. Sessions will include general writing, career development, genre-specific, agent/publisher spotlights, as well as an agent/editor panel. There will also be one-on-one appointments with editors or agents, a book signing, and keynote addresses.

Conference registration includes:
Workshops Friday afternoon and all day Saturday
Two-hour workshop Sunday morning
One-on-one appointment with editor/agent (based on time of registration and availability)
Friday evening mixer
Dinner and keynote address on Friday
Editor/Agent panel
Saturday luncheon
Participation in Saturday book signing
Saturday evening dinner and brainstorming session
RWA early registration (through December 31, 2011) is $215.
Non-RWA early registration (through December 31, 2011) is $235.
Prices increase $20 on January 1, 2012. Registration deadline is March 15, 2012.
For more information about workshops, speakers, agents, editors, registration, hotel reservation etc. visit:http://www.desertroserwa.org/conferences/Phoenix-Romance-Writers-Conferences.php
You can also follow us on Facebook, Twitter, for all the latest news and updates on Desert Dreams Writers’ Conference 2012.
Follow the Desert Dreams Blog for insights, useful tips, and speakers interviews from now until April 2012 at:
http://desertdreamswritersconference.blogspot.com/
Hope to see you all there!

12 Days of Christmas

2011-12-23T00:01:00.000-08:00

Have you ever wondered what with with that crazy song The 12 Days of Christmas? I mean really, what's with all the birds and the funky people?

Here's the meaning behind all those bizarre lyrics:

From 1558 until 1829, Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. Someone during that era wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics. It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church. Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.

-The partridge in a pear tree was Jesus Christ in the manger.
-Two turtle doves were the Old and New Testaments.
-Three French hens stood for faith, hope and love.
-The four calling birds were the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John.
-The five golden rings recalled the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old Testament.
-The six geese a-laying stood for the six days of creation.
-Seven swans a-swimming represented the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit--Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.
-The eight maids a-milking were the eight beatitudes.
-Nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit--Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.
-The ten lords a-leaping were the ten commandments.
-The eleven pipers piping stood for the eleven faithful disciples.
-The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.

So the next time you hear that song, remember those who were not allowed to openly worship their faith and be grateful for those who paved the way to religious freedom today.

Merry Christmas.

Identity sunglassees giveaway

2011-12-22T14:35:00.000-08:00

Attention catslady: You are the winner of the Identity sunglasses, but you left me no way of contacting you. Please email me at donnahatch29@gmail.com so I can arrange for delivery of your prize.

Regency Chocolate

2011-12-22T00:01:00.000-08:00

I am a chocolate lover. I'm not exactly a connoisseur I guess, because I pretty much like it all. And I prefer milk chocolate over dark chocolate which I hear is proof that I'm not a real expert on it. I just like it sweet and decadent. :-)

But what was candy, and more specifically, chocolate, like in Regency England? They had quite a variety, actually. These were not the chocolate drops like we buy today and they were not like a box of Russell Stover chocolates. But there WERE candies and specifically, chocolate.

In Savoring the Past: The French Kitchen and Table from 1300 to1789, culinary historian Barbara Ketcham Wheaton cites a respected 1750 cookbook that specialized in desserts: "There are also some chocolate candies: the still familiar diablotins -- flat disks of bitter chocolate, thickly sprinkled with nonpareils, chocolate "olives" (which we call chocolate truffles), and a conserve of chocolate, which turns out to be very like fudge."

There were also ices, ice creams, and custards flavored with chocolate, though of course Wheaton adds that, "dipped chocolates... were not invented until the nineteenth century."

Unfortunately, there aren't any chocolate recipes included in the two dozen or so Wheaton reprints. Although this is a book about France and not England, many French chefs employed by aristocrats decamped for England after the revolution, so it makes sense to use it as a resource for writing Regency Romance Novels.

"In 1657 the first chocolate house was opened in London by a Frenchman. The shop was called the The Coffee Mill and Tobacco Roll. Costing 10 to 15 shillings per pound, chocolate was considered a beverage for the elite class. 1674 - Eating solid chocolate was introduced in the form of chocolate rolls and cakes, served in chocolate emporiums.

1730 - Cocoa beans drop in price making it within the financial reach of those other than the very wealthy."

It was a known fact that the French were always savvy in their cooking and invited into British society long before the French Revolution. As an example with our chocolate discussion, in 1657 (a long time before the revolution) the first chocolate house was opened in London by a Frenchman. The Brits were reputedly horrible cooks and even today, most culinary schools are extentions from French culinary cuisine. When the Brits did roasts during medieval times, the French already had fine cuisine. The French like to think they were born with the skill of cooking.

Chocolate houses preceded the coffee and tea houses and many had drank chocolate hot. In fact, many authors say quite definitely that up to the through the Regency period, chocolate was a drink and that it was not much used in cooking and not eaten by hand. However, since we have better access to more records and period papers, many old "facts" have been exploded. A large part the information about chocolate is not so much exploded as in need of a footnote. I have only tasted modern block baking chocolate and not 18th century chocolate but I don't imagine plain chocolate was any sweeter then than now.

The Spanish started adding cane sugar and flavorings such as vanilla and spices to cocoa beverages which caught on across Europe at the very beginning of the 1600's. So they realized the potential of chocolate with sweet. And I'm certain people experimented on their own, which of course unless it was recorded no one would know about. The problem with a lot of recipes back then is that most of them had ingredients but lacked amounts, as it was assumed how much was needed/used. Which makes it difficult to replicate, obviously.I like my chocolate pretty sweet. There are those that prefer it very dark and hardly sweet at all. I would think drinking chocolate in those days would be similar to drinking coffee. Some people prefer black coffee; others like theirs fairly sweet and with cream. It always amazes me that anyone would like coffee without sweetener, but they do, and even say they could not drink it any other way. Maybe the caffeine in chocolate gives a rush that people craved just as they do from coffee.

They did have ways to sweeten chocolate,( honey is eons old, after all,). Sugar was also sold in bulk and was not as refined as it is today. The chocolate we know and love had to await further refinements of sugar and chocolate as well as stabilizers or emulsifiers. It is from this later development that most historians date eating chocolate. When one considers all that had to be done to the chocolate and the amount of sugar required to make it palatable, it's a wonder they made anything chocolate!

Without a doubt chocolate is indeed an art. Refined sugar is key, cocoa butter (the emulsifier we use, anyway) is key and temperature is crucial. The temperature of your own fingers and body affects rolling, molding and shaping. Trial and error is what you use now, so back then, even more so.

So the next time you enjoy fine chocolate, spare a thought for the science, and art, that goes into its creation.

Interview with YA author Betsy Love -- WINNER

2011-12-20T14:52:00.001-08:00

Congratulations, catslady. You are the lucky winner of the drawing for a pair of Identity sunglasses. Please contact me at donnahatch29 (at) gmail (dot) come and I'll put you in touch with Betsy who will send you your sunglasses.

Thank you to everyone else who stopped by and left a comment.

Interview with YA author Betsy Love

2011-12-16T00:01:00.000-08:00

Today my guest is the very talented and fun Betsy Love, Author of Identity, her new novel. One lucky commenter will receive a pair of Identity style sunglasses. Welcome, Betsy. How long have you been writing?

Betsy: Since I could hold a pen/pencil in my hands. I used to watch my mother writing and knew that I wanted to do that, too. Her loopty-loops fascinated me. I learned that these meant words and words are power. When I started school I couldn’t wait to write my own stories.
Donna: What was it like when you first got “the call?”.

Betsy: It was actually an email. And I cried, I danced around the house and couldn’t wait to tell anyone who would listen. Next to having a baby, it’s the most exhilarating experience.

Donna: Mine, too. I love the comparison to having a baby—it’s almost as much work and certainly takes all my heart and soul! So tell me, what do you find fulfilling about writing your genre?

Betsy: My problem is I don’t write in just one genre. When I started writing Identity I just wanted to tell a story. I love to read in so many genres, and I’ve tried my hand at most of them. The most fulfilling part of writing is when you get a card or email and your reader tells you how much your story meant to them.

Donna: I have the same problem. So, what motivated you to write your current book?

Betsy: My mother started reading a story to me that had a similar plot. She never finished it. One day I was talking to my eleven-year old daughter and telling her about that story. I was bemoaning the fact that my mother never finished it. In her amazing wisdom my daughter said to me, “So write your own ending.” And I did.

Donna: Good for you! What is more difficult--writing the book or promoting the book? Any tips for success?

Betsy: Both are difficult! But I’d have to say promoting. Making sure your book is in the public eye, keep your name out there, those are all things that need to be done every day. I’m not great at it, yet.

Donna: Me, either. So tell us what you are working on now.

Betsy: I have a sequel to Identity that I worked on during NaNoWriMo. As the deadline loomed closer and I still had 28,000 words left to go in two days (call me crazy!) I decided I was going to push through. The first day I managed over 12,000 words. The second day I pushed even harder and got almost 16,000. I’ve never done that before, and I’ll NEVER do that again. I ended up writing about silly things that may or may not make it into the final version. For instance, when I made a plot shout out to my Facebook friends, one of my dear respondents suggested writing about a three-legged dog. Another person suggested I name the dog Cheetos (I had a craving for them during that time). When I was writing that ridiculous scene, I thought, “Yeah that’s gonna go!” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could actually incorporate it into the plot. I have several other works in progress across as many genres.

Donna: What’s the craziest, bravest, or stupidest thing you’ve ever done?

Betsy: The stupidest would have to be the time I was on a three-way call with my ANWA presidency having an important meeting. Stupid me left my two youngest boys 2 and 3 years old alone in the other room watching television. I should be safe in my bedroom, right? WRONG! While I was discussing our upcoming writer’s conference, my two little darlings were dive-bombing the kitchen floor with the five dozen eggs I’d just gotten from Costco. Luckily I have pictures somewhere.

Donna: Oh, the woes of mother hood. Okay now here's the power round:
Favorite food? Mexican (especially fish tacos or sea food enchiladas)
Favorite dessert? Brownies or cheese cake
Jeans and T-shirt, or designer clothes? I can afford Jeans and t-shirts, but I’d rather wear designer clothes
Guilty pleasure? Sh…don’t tell, I love to play World of Warcraft. I have a level 82 druid.
One word that describes you? Sweet
Favorite flower? Stock—they smell AmAzInG!!!
Favorite sport? Whatever my boys are playing at the time

Donna: Tell us about your new book, Identity.

Betsy: While vacationing in Mexico, two similar-looking young women find themselves caught in a chain reaction of mistaken identities. Amelia is a wealthy heiress and business owner, and Savannah is a sweet Mormon girl deciding whether or not to serve a mission. When they end up on the same flight to Phoenix, Savannah and Amelia unravel the sequence of events that wreaked havoc on their trips, and they make plans to resolve the subsequent misunderstandings. But their flight is cut short when the plane crashes, killing one of the young women and plunging the other into a world of intrigue and deceit where identity means everything.

Donna: Sounds so exciting! I can’t wait to read it. I expect an autographed copy :-) Thanks so much for being my guest today. Betsy's great new novel is available in both paperback and ebook--both for Kindle and Nook on Amazon. It was great getting to know you better.

Here’s Betsy’s Author bio: I’m a mom, a grandmother and wife (not necessarily in that order). I have 8 children who have given me 14 grandchildren to date. I’m married to my biggest fan and support. I graduated with a Magna Cum Laude in Secondary Education and English. Currently I get to be a full time writer. I substitute teach from time to time and love being with teens.

Website: http://betsyloveldsauthor.blogspot.com

http://identitynovel.blogspot.com

Now, for the giveaway, leave a thoughtful comment (more thoughtful than "great interview" please) and you'll be entered in a drawing to win a cool pair of Identity-style sunglasses.
Drawing will take place on Monday, 19 December.

GIVE THE GIFT OF ARIZONA DREAMIN' -- A GLORIFIED GIRLS NIGHT OUT

2011-12-14T20:41:00.000-08:00

Want to give some Arizona Dreams for Christmas?

*HOLIDAY GIFT SPECIAL*

Purchase tickets for Arizona Dreamin' 2012

by MIDNIGHT on December 25th, 2011

for just $30 each!

($5 off the regular price)

PLUS we will email you a

printable Gift Certificate

to put under the tree!

***CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE***
or use the direct link
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=ZQNYRX6ESWVJJ

Happy Holidays from all of us at Arizona Dreamin'!

Chocolate Giveaway Winner

2011-12-13T16:28:00.000-08:00

Congratulations to Jackie of La Mesa, CA for winning a Godiva Chocolate. Thanks to everyone for entering my chocolate giveaway contest to celebrate the release of my new Christmas Regency Romance short story, Mistletoe Magic.