Happily Ever After… Who doesn’t love a good old fashion boy gets the girl fairy tale? There’s a reason fairy tales have been around for ages, telling stories, teaching moral lessons, and preserving history. Even in this fast-paced, techno world where magic has faded and innocence is devalued, we still gravitate to stories that end happily ever after. I love a happy ending as much as the next person, but I think even better than the ending is the main character’s journey.
When I was a kid, I dreamt about being swept off my feet by Prince Charming or magic fixing all my troubles. As I got older, I realized that all the Fairy Godmothers in the world wouldn’t have been able to help Cinderella if she wasn’t ready, willing, and able to help herself. Somewhere along the line, it penetrated my thick skull—happily ever after is there for people who are willing to create it. Since then, I’ve been chasing my happily ever after. A big part of that dream is my writing career.
When I saw a chance to write for a twisted fairy tale anthology, I jumped at the chance. It was so much fun to use a familiar backdrop to send the characters on a whole new adventure. I chose Robin Hood and twisted the story from Robin the knight coming home from the crusades to save Nottingham to Robyn being the wife of a knight who followed the Lion Heart to the Holy Land.
Left behind to fend for herself in an increasingly desperate situation, Lady Robyn Ashby fights to survive and protect her people after losing her home and land to the greedy and corrupt King John. Robyn, Little John, Will Scarlet, Friar Tuck, and the rest of the fabled bandits find a haven in Sherwood Forrest and, true to legend, help and protect the downtrodden citizens of Nottingham. When her husband returns from the dead, can Robyn set aside her bitter resentment and strike a blow for the people?
“The Lady of Sherwood” is my installment in Ravenous Fables! Full of reinvented fairy tales, this anthology is bursting with adventure, romance with a liberal dose of heat, and of course, happily ever after! They’re not your mama’s fairy tales! The paperback is live now, and you can preorder the ebook for just 99 cents! Worth every penny!!
An excerpt from “The Lady of Sherwood”…
With a sigh, Robyn pulled off her boots. The grass felt like a carpet under her feet, and she wiggled her toes.
“You can’t trust him, Robyn,” Will Scarlet said, materializing out of the forest.
Robyn closed her eyes and let the sunshine hit her face. So much for her moment of peace. “I have no reason not to trust him, Will.” She opened her eyes and looked at the young man. “I know we don’t want to remember this, but he didn’t know how it would turn out when he left. They all believed they were on a mission for God and King. He’s not the same man who left us.”
The realization slowly dawned on Robyn, though she hadn’t wanted to admit it. Her anger and resentment of Simon had kept her warm on cold nights when her belly was empty and her heart broken.
Will scoffed, “I can’t believe how quickly, you of all people, forget. He’s a king’s man through and through. People don’t change. This fallen lord ruse is meant to toy with your heart. It seems to be working, judging by the way you stare at him. Why don’t you open your legs for him and have done with it?”
Robyn’s cheeks flamed with anger and embarrassment. Before her reprimand could leave her lips, Simon hurtled out of the trees, tackling Will. They scuffled in the grass while Robyn watched with bemused irritation. Larger and stronger, Simon had Will by the back of his shirt and shook him like a mother dog with an irascible pup.
“You’ll apologize to my wife, boy,” Simon snarled.
“She doesn’t need you to defend her.”
With a sudden movement, Will dropped and twisted out of Simon’s hold. Simon might be bigger and stronger, but Will was faster. Simon lunged after him, and they tumbled to the ground. Will managed to pull away, and the two men separated, glaring at each other. Robyn’s bowstring sang twice in quick succession as she planted an arrow at their feet. They froze and looked at her. She walked to Will and plucked the arrow from the ground.
“Get out of my sight,” Robyn said with icy finality.
Will’s wide-eyed expression crumpled, and his shoulders slumped. He spared one final glare at Simon before slinking away.
Robyn turned to Simon and pulled the other arrow from the earth, wiping the tip clean with her shirt before putting it in her quiver. She turned to leave, uncertain what to say and in desperate need of space.
“When did you learn to shoot a bow?”
Simon’s question stopped her in her tracks. “When I had to hunt or starve. Hunger is a powerful motivator and an unforgiving tutor.” Robyn’s anger surged forward, reminding her that this man had caused years of hardship. She spun on her heel, confused by her own seesawing emotions.
Simon’s hand closed around her elbow and turned her back to him. She stiffened in his hold.
“I’m sorry, Robyn.” He pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his chest, which was as warm and solid as she remembered. Her anger snuffed like a candle. Tears pricked in her eyes as she rested her cheek against his chest. Over the years, Robyn had dreamt of him holding her like this, even when she burned with hatred for him.
“I’m proud of you. I always knew you were strong. I hope one day, you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me,” he whispered against her hair. Simon let her go and brushed a tender kiss across her lips. He looked at her for a heartbeat before stepping away.
Robyn swallowed and sat in the soft grass. Unbidden, a memory floated to the surface. Simon sat beside her on the grass next to the lake at Ashby Manor. Hot summer sun filtered through the leaves of the trees. She had worn her hair down at his request, though it was incredibly uncomfortable in the heat. He swept it up in his hand and blew cool air across her neck, making her shiver and her stomach clench with desire. Lazily, he laid her back on the thick grass and, one by one, worked the buttons of her bodice loose. The image dissolved in her mind, but she could still feel the kiss of sunlight on her bare chest, the cool grass in her fists as she clutched them in pleasure, and his mouth. Oh, she remembered his clever, wicked mouth and how he seared her skin with teasing kisses until she writhed beneath him in need.
Robyn pulled in a shaky breath. The memory left her aroused. She wasn’t that woman anymore, and the days of sunlight were lost to the shadow of hunger, hatred, and death. Robyn swiped an impatient hand across her face to erase the tears, wondering if they were for the woman she used to be or the one she had become.
“Robyn?” Little John called from within the camp behind her.
Grateful for the interruption, Robyn pushed to her feet and slung her bow over her shoulder. “I’m here, John,” she answered as she banished her melancholy thoughts and strode out of the meadow.
About the Author
A.C. Dawn is an active and enthusiastic author and reader of short stories, novellas, and novels. She enjoys bringing her characters to life and strives to stir the imagination of her readers. She believes the best writing touches the reader in ways they hadn’t expected and will never forget!
So, that’s the official bio…
Really, I’m a lover of chocolate, a strong jawline with a 5 o’clock shadow, and romances that make your heart pound and your middle get all squishy. I love quiet country living on my north Georgia farm with my family and fur babies of all shapes and sizes. I think the scariest thing in life is how fast my daughter is growing and an empty coffee pot. I can’t stand slow drivers in the fast lane and wimpy handshakes.
I have endless stories rumbling around among the rocks in my head. I can’t wait to share them with you!
I feel like I have to explain my desk before I start. 🙂
The document on the bottom is my bloggers’ schedule. Duh. Anything that says “DD” is mine. So yes, I do “pencil” in my guests on a hard copy. The squishy toy on the left is a fish squishy the 7-year-old gave me when she heard I was scouring the house for the stress ball my physical therapist recommended I exercise my hand with. She said it would be better because it’s softer. LOL. She’s really sweet. The tile on the right says “Artist” and it was from the 16-year-old, who gave it to me for my birthday this year. I love messy paintbrushes—to me, they are a testament to the work that, lately, fills my “well” with happiness. The pretty jar holds a tiny, very fragrant candle I light when I want to improve my mood. And in the bottom right corner is my mom’s mousepad with all the presidents through 45 on it. I gave up my Thor’s hammer pad for mom’s…well, because. I like touching something she touched every day.
So, to the cards…
I have this “Women’s Empowerment” deck of cards sitting on my desk to the far side. It was a gift. I generally don’t like the new age stuff. I prefer tarot cards, famous quote books, etc., for my daily inspiration, but the WE cards are pretty. I opened the box and looked for a card that “called” to me today. These two made me pause.
The first reads, “Be still my mind. Be here now.” I’m not a “now” person. I’m a dreamer (a great thing to be for a writer, BTW!). However, I have work to complete and need some focus, so this thought helps.
The next says, “I enjoy the ups and downs of everyday life. Only the present moment is real.” I do appreciate the ups and downs. If we didn’t have them, life would be boring and we’d never learn a thing. The “only the present moment is real” thing is also very true. What you do now defines who you are and will be. So, today I will write because I want to be a writer. Writers who don’t write are just dreamers without the proof of the stories spinning in their heads.
So, does any of that help me begin my workday? Um, yeah. I guess. As soon as I hit “publish” to post this blog, I will begin “the work” and then I can claim to be a writer once more.
My philosophy isn’t deep. It’s self-serving, right? I need a kick in the ass because I have a minimum of 2,000 words to write today!
If you’d like to deliver that kick, tell me how you go about girding yourself to do “the work” of being who you are for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
Photography is an enjoyable pastime, one that refills my muse. On my walks, I see such a huge variety of animals and birds, but it’s always wonderful when I see deer.
I usually come across does with their young. So, it’s a treat when I spot a buck; on rare occasions, I’ll see more than one.
Deer are beautiful animals. Seeing them always takes my breath away. They have such a calm and majestic presence.
As spring arrives, I keep watch for fawns. They’re usually hidden deep in the woods or when alone, laying down in tall grass, so it’s always special to see them.
As the year passes, the spots fade from the fawn’s coat as they grow. By winter, they’re so big, it’s hard to tell the yearlings from the adult deer.
What do you like best about deer? If you’ve seen deer, what’s your favorite memory?
About the Author
A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense. Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothersseries have been translated into five languages. Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.
After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world. After the release of the bestselling MacGruder Brothersseries and The Oath Trilogy, she released the bestselling The Forbidden Series.
Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.
Contest
***ONE winner will be drawn from everyone who posts on my guest blog post about, ‘Inspiration From Nature – Deer,’ on Delilah’s blog between 20 November 2020 – 29 November 2020. The winner will receive a signed copy of Forbidden Realm.
It’s almost the Thanksgiving Day holiday in the USA. (I’m Canadian, so I celebrated back in October.) It’s the time of year when we all stop and give thanks for all the blessings in our lives. And this year, I’m especially grateful for all I have.
2020 has been a rollercoaster with the pandemic and lockdown, but I’m still here and so is my family. For that, I give thanks every single day. I have a roof over my head, heat, lights, running water, and food in the cupboard. It’s so easy to take things like that for granted, but I never do. There are so many people living without these basic necessities.
Then there is my career…
October 27th marked a milestone for me—16 years and 106 books. Sometimes, I can’t even believe it myself. If anyone had told me back in 2004 that I’d have accomplished this, I wouldn’t have believed them. Back then, I wondered if I could write a second book. It’s been a wild and wonderful ride. One that I hope continues for years to come. I’m grateful to all my readers—many of whom have been with me since the very beginning—to my fellow authors for your encouragement and kindness, and to all the amazing editors I’ve worked with who have made me a better writer with each book.
To add to my gratitude, it’s my birthday this month.I make it a week-long celebration rather than a one-day event. I’ll treat myself to something yummy from the local bakery and maybe a new book. Along with the reflection on the year gone by, there’s the wonder of what this next one will bring and how it will change me. Life always has surprises, some good, some not so good, but all of them bring growth. No matter where my path leads going forward, I know that writing will always be a part of it in some shape or form.
I wish you all a safe and joyous Thanksgiving holiday. Blessings to all of you and your families.
Ivar’s Escape
Assassins of Gravas, Book 2
Ivar el Gravaso—a prince of Gravas—wakes in a prison cell with no idea how he got there or even who he is. If his captor can’t get answers from Ivar, his days are numbered. When a strange woman sneaks into the prison and promises to get him out, he’s suspicious. Is this nothing more than another trick by his captor or is she truly there to help?
Delphi is an assassin sent by the Gravasian government to infiltrate the space pirate stronghold of Tortuga in search of the missing prince. She finds a prisoner who is well-spoken, knowledgeable, and ready to fight, even though he has no idea who he is. He might be her target. It’s difficult to tell due to his ragged appearance. But no way can she leave him behind, no matter who he is.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
I am a product of the “Disney” generation and grew up on stories about Davey Crockett, Wild Bill Hickock, and Pecos Bill. One of my favorite poems, “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” is by Robert W. Service. This is a poem about one ordinary man’s herculean attempt to fulfill a promise to his dying friend. It’s a little bit creepy but very funny. I have always hoped to write a series of books about legendary characters. Some believe that legendary means ‘larger than life.’ I am not in that group. For me, a legendary character is an ordinary person achieving extraordinary things in extraordinary circumstances. Daniel Boone, for all his fame and legends, was really an ordinary man for his time who did extraordinary things.
Here’s the blurb for the first book in my Legends Series…
The Legend of Skinner Robelard: Pampered and privileged then betrayed and disowned, Elise Van Demer hides in plain sight and plots her revenge on the men who destroyed her life. With her goal in sight, she encounters a lawman from her past. Boyd Alvarez could ruin everything, and the last thing she needs is wanting some man who only wants to protect her.
His family dead and without a home, Boyd Alvarez rides the range and hunts bounties for a living. When he stumbles on Elise Van Demer his only thought is to keep her safe. He can outgun just about every man, but can he protect her from her own plans of revenge? Can he teach her that loving a man is a better dream than destroying her enemies?
And a little bit about Rue Allyn (that’s me): Award-winning author, Rue Allyn, learned storytelling at her grandfather’s knee. (Well it was really more like on his knee—I was two.) She’s been weaving her own tales ever since. She has worked as an instructor, mother, sailor, clerk, sales associate, and painter, along with a variety of other types of employment. She has lived and traveled in places all over the globe from Keflavik Iceland (I did not care much for the long nights of winter.) and Fairbanks Alaska to Panama City and the streets of London England to a large number of places in between. Now that her two sons have left the nest, Rue and her husband of more than four decades (Try living with the same person for more than forty years—that’s a true adventure.) have retired and moved south. When not writing, enjoying the nearby beach, or working jigsaw puzzles, Rue travels the world and surfs the internet in search of background material and inspiration for her next heart melting romance. She loves to hear from readers, and you may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.
Did that title work? I’m not very good at creating catchy blog titles. I know folks like list posts, like “10 Ways to blah-blah-blah”. But thinking of ten ways to do something sounds like I’d have to use more brainpower than I’m willing to expend for a daily blog. Of course, maybe that’s the problem. Should I be blogging every day? Of course, I’m not doing it by myself—the posting, yes, but the content is often provided by author friends. So why am I bitching today? Because I’m dragging my feet. I don’t want to start the real work. I have a set number of pages to edit today then a set number of pages to write. I’m a little behind in NaNoWriMo, but I know I can catch up, so no fire is lighting under my considerable ass—which by the way is getting “lesser.” Meaning, I’m on a diet. I know, I know. Thanksgiving’s coming, so why now? BECAUSE THANKSGIVING IS COMING! If I don’t save some calories now, I’ll be out of my fat clothes.
I’m rambling, aren’t I? Maybe I should just spellcheck this thing and send it out into the world. Thank goodness, I have authors lined up to handle this for the rest of the week! 🙂
Puzzle-Contest
Solve the puzzle and tell me what’s going on here for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
My blogpost title “Who’s On Second” was inspired by the “Who’s on First” routine of the comedy team Abbott and Costello. In their comedic fight, Lou Costello is trying to find out the names of the baseball players on first, second and third base. His partner Bud Abbott tells him Who’s on first, What’s on second, and I Don’t Know is on third. You can watch it here to see why Lou Costello goes crazy in the conversation…
Now, why would an old comedy routine inspire my musings for November on Delilah’s blog? Honestly, it didn’t, but it came to my mind because I was celebrating a historic first: Senator Kamala Harris, vice-president-elect, the first woman of African-American and South Asian descent to become vice-president of the United States.
I decided my post would be titled “Who Else Is On First” and began compiling a list of historic female African-American firsts. However, I stopped when I heard Vice-president-elect Harris say, “I may be the first, but I won’t be the last.” Exactly. What good is it to be the first if you’re also the only? If no one else comes through the door you’ve opened, then what was it all for? So I shifted gears and decided instead to lift up the names of ten African-American female seconds:
Rebecca J. Cole – 1867, the second African-American woman to earn a medical degree in the United States Mary Ann Shadd Cary – 1883, the second African-American woman to earn a law degree in the United States Delta Sigma Theta – 1913 – the second Black sorority founded at Howard University Bessie Delany – 1923 – the second African American woman to be licensed as a dentist in New York (graduate Columbia University School of Dental and Oral Surgery) Yvette Fay Francis-McBarnette – 1946 – the second African American woman admitted to the Yale School of Medicine, (graduate class of 1950) Mary Alice – 1987 – the second African American actress to win the Tony for an actress in a straight play Toni Morrison – 1988 – the second African American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for fiction Whoopi Goldberg – 1990 – second African American actress to win an Oscar for best-supporting actress Natasha Tretheway – 2007 – the second African American woman to win a Pulitzer prize for poetry Kamala Harris – 2017 – the second African-American woman elected to the US Senate
If Vice-president-elect Harris follows in the footsteps of fourteen other US vice-presidents, she will become another historic second: the second Black president of the United States (as well as the first woman president of any race).
So for a chance to win a $10 Amazon gift card, name one of the historic firsts these historic seconds followed.
A Little In Love With Death
by Anna M. Taylor
Ten years ago no one — not even the man who said he loved her — believed Sankofa Lawford’s claim she had been brutally attacked by a ghost. Ten years later an assault on a new victim brings her back to Harlem to a mother going mad, a brother at his wits’ end, and a former love who wants a second chance. Sankofa longs for her family to be whole again, for love to be hers again, but not if she must relive the emotional pain created by memories of that night.
Mitchell Emerson is convinced science and reason can account for the ghostly happenings at Umoja House. He resolves to find an explanation that will not only satisfy him but earn back Sankofa’s trust and love. Instead, his own beliefs are shaken when he sees the ghost for himself.
Now reluctant allies, Mitchell and Sankofa learn her family was more than a little in love with death. Their search for the ghost draws them together but discovering sixty years of lies and secrets pulls them apart. As their hopes for happily ever after and dispersing the evil stalking Umoja House slip beyond their grasp, Mitchell and Sankofa find an unexpected source of help: the ghost itself.
For the last hour, Sankofa Lawford blinked through a haze of tears at her mother’s stricken face. She held the glassy-eyed woman’s hand and tried repeatedly to get her attention. No gesture stilled the older woman’s incessant rocking. No words penetrated her intonation of the same awful phrase.
“Them that tell don’t know and them that know don’t tell.
“Them that tell don’t know and them that know don’t tell.”
Wanda Lawford suddenly stopped rocking and stared in Sankofa’s direction. A bright glint of glee shone in her gaze.
Hope struggled for a foothold in Sankofa’s heart then slipped as a death head’s grin contorted her mother’s once beautiful features.
“Sankofa?”
Sankofa forced the lump of sorrow down her throat. “Yes, Mama?”
With a grip made strong from madness, Wanda pulled her daughter’s hand to her chest and leaned in so her lips pressed against Sankofa’s ears.
“A word to the wise is sufficient. Have you been wise?”
Her hissed warning parodied whispered confidences mother and daughter had shared in the past. Sankofa kissed away a tear from her mother’s cheek.
“Yes, Mama.” She swallowed the lie with a smile. “I’ve been wise.”
Wanda Lawford cupped her daughter’s face and smiled, too.
“Good. I’m so sorry, so sorry. It shouldn’t have happened to you. It should never have happened to you”
Sankofa took a deep breath and controlled her sadness despite the wobble of her lips.
“Rest now, Mama. Rest. Okay?”
Wanda released Sankofa’s hand only to grip her own, rocking again, repeating again.
“Them that tell don’t know and them that know don’t tell.
“Them that tell don’t know and them that know don’t tell.”
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