Star
Crossed
Christine
Young
achristay@aol.com
Excerpt
Heat Level: 1
Book
Heat Level: 2
Ireland
in 1817, when tensions are high between Protestants and Catholics and faey
people guide the fate of villagers. A lovely Catholic lass stumbles upon the
weakly ritual fisticuffing between Irish lads. She falls into the lap of a
handsome young Protestant. Family ties, grudges, and two conniving faeries
threaten their budding love. But the faeries outsmart themselves when they
hijack a time machine that has mysteriously appeared in their forest.
EXCERPT
Casey pushed on the green grass, trying to unwind
herself from the man beneath her, but fell again. All right, Casey lass, you're in a heap of trouble right now with no
way out. You are seeing the earth whirl and tumble around and you're on top of
a brute of a man--a Protestant.
"All right, lads, we'll meet here next Sunday,
same place, same time," her brother's voice filtered through the air as if
it floated in the fog that surrounded Casey.
Once again she pushed on the damp grass and didn't
seem to make headway, her arms feeling as if they'd changed to soggy twine. Don't you abandon me, Patrick O'Connell. You
know I have the Devil's own luck. If you leave me here, I'll never forgive you.
"What about Casey?" one of her brother's
friend asked. "She looks a little worse for the encounter."
"Do you think we should leave her here--with
Kelly?"
"He's a right stand-up guy. Of course you can
leave her here. We'll see her home," a Shaunasey said.
"Well, Kelly is a fine bloke. He won't hurt
her. In fact with my feisty lil' sister involved, I fear for him--not
her," Patrick said laughing. "She'll do as she pleases. She always
does. How can I control her when father cannot? She does not need a second
father." He shrugged his shoulder and looked behind him at his little
sister as he strolled down the hill.
"She's hurt," another friend called after
Patrick. "What kind of brother are you?"
"One who is tired of looking after an accident
prone little lass. She has to take responsibility for herself sometime, does
she not?"
"She is that," one commented. "You
rescue her night and day."
~ * ~
"You should have blessed her with a wee bit o'Irish
coordination," Oran said dryly as he flew to a hovering position near the
girl.
"And you should remember what our blessed mother told us, 'if you
cannot say anythin' nice, don't say anything at all'." Moya rose above the
flower petal, her wings buzzing with her anger toward her brother.
"I didn't say anything that wasn't the truth." Oran whistled
out of tune for a moment. "We could kidnap them."
"And that is your solution to everything?" Moya pointed one
finger at him and shook it. "Why, Oran, I believe you may fancy the lass
for yourself. I will not have it. Go play your tricks on someone else's charge.
She is mine to see to safety and long life. And don't be forgettin' the lad is
yours to watch over."
"You best stem your anger, Moya. You're wings have turned
golden," Oran said with a hearty chuckle.
~ * ~
"Let Kelly handle her," Casey's brother
said with a light chuckle. "He lost and so he must deal with the object of
that loss and assume the consequences. It's only fair."
"Hey!" Kelly said, "Don't leave me
here with your sister. It will be hell to pay. She's a little girl. What will
your father say?"
The others laughed. "Just don't take too long
to decide what to do with her. Little girl or not, father will come after you
with his pistol."
I just turned eighteen years old--little girl--how dare he…
"Bloody hell, Patrick. What are you
thinking?" Kelly cried out.
"I'm thinking the Catholics won this fight.
What are you thinking?" Patrick turned his back on the pair and whistled a
jaunty tune as he strolled down the hill.
"Revenge will be sweet. Next Sunday…"
Kelly shook his fist at the departing back of Casey's brother.
From what seemed like a great distance Casey heard
the moan emanating from inside her battered and bruised body. She squished her
eyes together, wishing her head didn't pound so fiercely, and the ground spin
so wildly. "Who are you?" she whispered next to the man's chest while
a soft spring breeze whispered against her heated face.
"Who am I?" the man chuckled. "Lass,
you are the one who landed atop me. I should be inquiring into who you are?
Only I know." His hands rested around her waist and squeezed as if he were
testing--perhaps exploring--entirely inappropriate. Yet for some strange
reason, Casey didn't mind the supposed to be unwanted attention. "And I don't think your brother should have
left you here with the likes of me. I'm afraid I've landed myself in a
dangerous predicament. And I'm thinkin' one that will be very hard to
explain."
"Shame on you," Casey said. "You
take liberties." The words stole her breath and she had to lean on Kelly
once more in order to minimize the pounding of her head and the strange
feelings emanating from where his hands were.
"I only want to remove you
from--my--ah--person. And if I were taking liberties with you, lass, you'd be
near swooning with passion."
"Ah, it seems you are a wee bit
arrogant," she opened her eyes and gazed into the bluest eyes she'd ever
seen. "The color of a summer sky," she whispered to him, still feeling
woozy and not quite sure what he'd just told her--but thinking at the moment
something besides the fall caused the earth to spin and the sky to tilt with a
crazy, wild abandon.
"What is, lass?"
"Your eyes," she said, struggling against
him and finally rolling to the side so she lay sprawled on the grass, staring
into the sky she'd referred to a moment earlier and watching a white billowy
cloud float past. "I'm not a little girl," she told him. "Don't
ever call me that again."
"Then you want me to tell lies?" he asked
with a lazy half-smile that stole Casey's heart and left her floundering.
"I dinna think I can do that."
"It isn't a lie," she said, trying to
sound indignant, yet frustrated beyond anything she'd ever felt before.
The
Gift
Christine
Young
Excerpt
Heat Level: 1
Book
Heat Level: 1
REVIEW:
This
story is straight from the heart. Told in a passive voice and as a first person
account through Elice and Micha's eyes. Their thoughts tug your heartstings.
Their memory of their past life, the war and of course the present. They never
fell out of love but exhuming those feelings hurt. They also had to face the
consequences of their actions when an unexpected visitor arrived in their
plantation home. Elice and Micha found out that in war, there is something
worst than death and it is cowardice.
BLURB:
A
man and a woman on opposite sides of the Civil War get a second chance at love
after one final battle returns soldiers to their war-torn homes to rebuild
their lives.
EXCERPT:
"Get
in the house, now!"
"Mama?"
Elice
Weld shielded her eyes and watched the ground fog rising in the distance. She
didn't know what was coming her way, but she could guess. The rumors that a
Union cavalry unit was in the vicinity had spread like a wildfire on a Kansas
prairie.
Rain
had fallen all morning. Now the clouds had separated, and the sun heated the
earth, causing the evaporation of the water-soaked ground. The cavalry rode
through the mist like dark, avenging wraiths bent on the destruction of all
mankind. She could see seven men silhouetted on the horizon.
"Izzy,
go." Elice didn't want to frighten her daughter but the urgency of the
moment could not be denied.
"But
mama?"
"Go
to the cellar. Now."
"It's
dark."
Izzy's
voice echoed in Elice's head, filling her with a wild panic she didn't know how
to stop. Every time soldiers approached she was terrified. The last four years
had been the longest years of her life. "Do as I say, quickly." Elice
hugged her daughter, turning her at the same moment and with a gentle shove
sent her through the open door of her house.
"Izzy."
Elice
knew the panic in her voice would mobilize her young daughter. She despised the
fear and the terror. She loathed the war. She looked up. The fog was
dissipating, and she could see the dark blue of the Union coats. She didn't
have anything left for the soldiers to take. Good God, they'd taken everything
already--everything save her daughter and her hope for the future.
She
inhaled a quick breath then stood on the steps, hands folded together in front
of her, watching the dark wraiths inch closer. She knew from experience she
couldn't fight these men. She would do as they said and when they left, she
would put the pieces of her life back together.
Until
the next time…
"Mama,"
Elice jumped when her daughter tugged on her skirt before looking at her with
sorrow-filled eyes. "Are the soldiers going to take my doll?"
"No,"
Elice ruffled her little girl's hair. "Go back inside. Go to the cellar
and don't come out until I tell you it's safe."
"What
about you?"
"I'll
be fine." But Elice knew she might be lying to her child. She wasn't
always fine when the soldiers invaded their home. "Now go and don't make
me say it again. Stay there until I come for you."
Izzy
nodded before she turned and walked through the parlor to the stairs leading to
the cellar.
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