Heart's Blood by Juliet Marillier

A dead father and a sister who abandons her; was the beginning of the young scribe, Caitrins' life. When the only two people in the world she loved and could trust leaves, eighteen year old Caitrin was left to the care of her distant aunt and cousin. The only word that could describe those distant relations are cruel and boarder murder. She was told to marry her cousin, who abuses her , so she took it upon her self to escape. After her long journey, Caitrin fell upon Whistling Tor. A place rumored to be haunted and held secrets of many past chieftans who died mysteriously.
Caitrin meets Anluan, the current Chieftan of Whistling Tor. Anluan's deformity causes his coldness and aloofness, but gradually he changes, becuase his love for Caitrin  grows. However, this is just one part of the story. Caitrin was hired as a scribe; to translate the irish written work of Anluans  grand-father and  great grand-fathers work, but there is a mystery to be solved, when Caitrin realizes that all the wives of the chieftans died by murderous intent and a wierd power all the chieftans have of controlling the dead ghost that surrounds Whistling Tor can not be destroyed. There are more characters in the story who are very interesting and you find to love.

I love this book! and I do hope you guys enjoy it. Marrilier a beautiful Fantasy writer. And I'm picky when it comes to fantasy work. E-mail me if you need more info!!

WildWood Dancing by Juliet Marillier

                                                                        

     This book is a cross between The princess and the frog and the 12 dancing sisters; with Vampires, faeries, and the magical. If I lived in a world such as the one in WildWood Dancing it would be adventurous. This book is the perfect book to sit down with and lose yourself in, because it is full of false pretenses and trust me when it comes to this book it's beautiful. It comes to a point where you feel your in another world beyond your own and you ache badly to join the main character in her struggles and happiness.

WildWood Dancing is a Book Sense 76 pick; made for the enjoyment of both young adult ( Yes! it is part of my YA High Listers) and Adult with nothing to lack in plot and character development.

WildWood Dancing By Juliet Marilier is about 5 young sisters ranging from 5-16 who experience a life all others would envy. They have a secret and that secret can be the death of many, but they take the chance it make the best of it. Jena the Second oldest daughter who is the heroine in the story contains the power to open a portal that leads them into another realm--the world of the Fae. They are loved and accepted in the other realm, but trouble lurks when cousin Cezar wants to take control of the household after the girls father left for overseas trading. The Eldest daughter Tati falls in love with a boy from the dark of the moon realm and Jena believe it is her duty to keep them apart for it is forbidden and the enchanted forest that is homes to fae folks is endangered by cousin Cezar who threatens to destroy it in the human realm, thus destroying it i the enchanted realm.

It all started by a childs-play sacrifice ten years ago to something more than they anticipated.

Five adventurous sisters.....

Four dark creatures.....

Three Magical gifts....

Two forbidden lovers.....

One enchanted frog.....

What are you waiting for?

Chapter One

I’ve heard it said that girls can’t keep secrets. That’s wrong: we’d proved it. We’d kept ours for years and years, ever since we came to live at Piscul Dracului and stumbled on the way into the Other Kingdom. Nobody knew about it—not Father, not our housekeeper, Florica, or her husband, Petru, not Uncle Nicolae or Aunt Bogdana or their son, Cezar. We found the portal when Tati was seven and I was six, and we’d been going out and coming in nearly every month since then: nine whole years of Full Moons. We had plenty of ways to cover our absences, including a bolt on our bedchamber door and the excuse that my sister Paula sometimes walked in her sleep.

I suppose the secret was not completely ours; Gogu knew. But even if frogs could talk, Gogu would never have told. Ever since I’d found him long ago, crouched all by himself in the forest, dazed and hurt, I had known I could trust him more than anyone else in the world.

It was the day of Full Moon. In the bedchamber our gowns and shoes were laid out ready; combs, bags, and hair ornaments were set beside them. Nothing would be touched now, until the household was safely in bed. Fortunately, it was rare for Florica to come up to our room, because it was at the top of a flight of stairs, and stairs made her knees hurt. I did wonder how much Florica knew or guessed. She must have noticed how quiet we always were on the night of Full Moon, and how exhausted we were when we stumbled down to breakfast the next morning. But if she knew, Florica didn’t say a thing.

During the day we kept up our normal activities, trying not to arouse suspicion. Paula helped Florica cook fish ciorb?a, while Iulia went out to lend a hand to Petru, who was storing away sacks of grain to last us over the winter. Iulia did not enjoy the hard work of the farm, but at least, she said, it made the time go more quickly. Tati was teaching Stela to read: I had seen the two of them ensconced in a warm corner of the kitchen, making letters in a tray of wet sand.

I sat in the workroom with Father, reconciling a set of orders with a record of payments. I was good with figures and helped him regularly with such tasks. The merchant business in which he was a partner with his cousin, whom we called Uncle Nicolae, kept the two of them much occupied. Gogu sat on the desk, keeping himself to himself, though once or twice I caught his silent voice—the one only I could hear.

You’re upset, Jena.

“Mmm,” I murmured, not wanting to get into a real conversation with him while both Father and his secretary, Gabriel, were in the room. My family didn’t truly believe that I sometimes knew what Gogu was thinking. Even my sisters, who had long ago accepted that this was no ordinary frog, thought that I was deluding myself—putting my own words into the frog’s mouth, perhaps. I knew that was wrong. I’d had Gogu since I was a small girl, and the things he told me definitely didn’t come from my own head.

Don’t be sad. Tonight is Full Moon.

“I can’t help it, Gogu. I’m worried. Now hush, or Father will hear me.”

Father was trying to write a letter. He kept coughing, and in between bouts he struggled to catch his breath. Tomorrow he would be leaving on a journey to the port of Constan¸ta, in the milder climate of the Black Sea coast. His doctor had told him, sternly, that if he tried to get through another winter at Piscul Dracului in his present ill health, he would be dead before the first buds opened on the oaks. We five sisters would be looking after the place on our own, right through the winter. Of course, Uncle Nicolae would help with the business, and Florica and Petru with the house and farm. It was not so much the extra responsibility that troubled me. Father was away often enough on business and we had coped before, though not for so long. What chilled me was the thought that when we said goodbye in the morning, it might be forever.

At supper we were all quiet. I was thinking about what Father had confided to Tati and me earlier. Up till then, none of us had mentioned the possibility that Father might die of this illness, for to say that aloud would be to put the unthinkable into words. But Father had wanted his eldest daughters to be prepared for whatever might happen. Should he die before any of us girls married and bore a son, he’d explained, both Piscul Dracului and Father’s share of the business would go to Uncle Nicolae, as the closest male relative. We were not to worry. If the worst should occur, Uncle Nicolae would see we were provided for.

Uncle Nicolae’s family home was called Vârful cu Negur?a: Storm Heights. His house was quite grand, set on a hillside and surrounded by birch and pine forest. He ran a prosperous farm and a timber business, as well as the trading ventures that had made him wealthy. When we were little, we had lived in the merchant town of Bra¸sov, and Vârful cu Negur?a had been a place we visited as a special treat. It was hard to say what I had loved best about it: the dark forest, the forbidden lake, or the excitement of playing with our big cousins, who were both boys.

But there was no doubt at all what Father had loved. Next door to Vârful cu Negur?a was Piscul Dracului, Devil’s Peak. Father had first seen the empty, crumbling castle, set on a high spur of rock, when he was only a boy. Our father was an unusual kind of person, and as soon as he clapped eyes on Piscul Dracului he wanted to live there. There’d been nobody to inherit the ruin and the tract of wildwood that went with it; perhaps the many strange tales attached to the place had frightened people away. The owner had died long ago. Florica and Petru had been custodians of the place for years, looking after the empty chambers and eking out a living from the small farm, for they were hardworking, thrifty folk.

Father had waited a long time to achieve his dream. He had worked hard, married, and fathered daughters, bought and sold, scrimped and saved. When he’d set enough silver aside from his merchant ventures, trading in silk carpets and bear skins, spices and fine porcelain, he’d quietly paid a large sum to an influential voivode, gone into partnership with Uncle Nicolae, and moved our family into Piscul Dracului.

I think Mother would have preferred to stay in Bra¸sov, for she feared the tales folk told about the old castle. It looked as if it had grown up out of the forest, with an assortment of bits and pieces sprouting from every corner: tiny turrets, long covered walkways, squat round towers, arches, and flagpoles. The eccentric nobleman who had built it had probably been someone just like Father. People seldom ventured into the forest around Piscul Dracului. There was a lake deep within the wildwood, a place unofficially known as the Deadwash, though its real name was prettier: T?aul Ielelor, Lake of the Nymphs. Every family had a dark story about the Deadwash. We got ours soon after we moved into the castle. When I was five years old, my cousin Costi—Uncle Nicolae’s eldest son—drowned in T?aul Ielelor. I was there when it happened. The things folk said about the lake were true.

Before Father became so ill, Tati and I had scarcely given a thought to such weighty matters as what might happen to Piscul Dracului, with no son to inherit our father’s property. My elder sister was a dreamer, and I had a different kind of future in mind for myself: one in which I would work alongside my father, traveling and trading and seeing the world. Marriage and children were secondary in my scheme of things. Now—with Father’s cough ringing in our ears, and his white face regarding us across the supper table—they had become a frightening reality. I remembered Aunt Bogdana saying that sixteen was the ideal age for a young woman to wed. Tati was already in her seventeenth year; I was only one year younger.

Father went off to bed as soon as the meal was over; he’d hardly touched his food. The others disappeared to our bedchamber, but I waited for Florica to bank up the fire in the big stove and for Petru to bolt the front door, and for the two of them to retire to their sleeping quarters. Then it was safe, and I ran up the stairs to our chamber, my worries set aside for now, my heart beating fast with an anticipation that was part joy, part fear. At last it was time.

The long room we sisters shared had four round windows of colored glass: soft violet, blood-red, midnight-blue, beech-green. Beyond them the full moon was sailing up into the night sky. I put Gogu on a shelf to watch as I took off my working dress and put on my dancing gown, a green one that my frog was particularly fond of. Paula was calmly lighting our small lanterns, to be ready for the journey.

With five girls, even the biggest bedchamber can get crowded. As Tati fastened the hooks on my gown, I watched Iulia twirling in front of the mirror. She was thirteen now, and developing the kind of curvaceous figure our Mother had had. Her gown was of cobalt silk and she had swept her dark curls up into a circlet of ribbon butterflies. We had become clever, over the years, in our use of the leftovers from Father’s shipments. He was good at what he did, but buying Piscul Dracului had eaten up a lot of his funds and, even in partnership with his wealthy cousin, he was still making up for lost ground. I saw the books every day—he had been unable to conceal from me that finances remained very tight. We sisters had to improvise. We made one new dancing gown anytime a cargo contained a little more of a certain fabric than the buyer had requested. I wore Tati’s hand-me-downs; Paula wore mine. Iulia, with her fuller figure, did rather better, because she could not fit into either Tati’s clothes or mine. All the same, she complained; she would have liked a whole wardrobe of finery. Tati was clever with her needle, and adjusted old things of Mother’s to fit her. Mother was gone. We had lost her when our youngest sister was born. Stela was only five—easy to dress.


From the Hardcover edition.

Continues... 

Wild Jasmine by Bertrice Small

what can I say about this book?

This is one of the most mesmerizing books I have ever read and you would love it also. Jasmine former name Princess Yasaman was born of an english mother and an Indian Grand Mughal as a father. Her father kept her when her mother went back to england to get married to someone else as promised. However, at that point everything changes for her before she was of age to even realize. She had a beauty like no other; smart, strong, and charming. Her half-brother who wants to resume his incestuous relationship with her. This part of the book was the most terrifying because she loved that brother dearly,since she was a child and now she has aged 13 years; the year when a girl becomes a women in India, her beloved brother uses her naivety to seduce her. When her father realizes what is happening after a servant told him that he found the brother close to having sex with yasaman, she is married to  Prince Jamaal, a playboy at heart who changes for the love he has for yasaman, but he is brutally killed by a conspiracy set up by her half-brother who wants her. This was just the beginning for yasaman. she married, remarried, and traveled across the world to get away from her brother, but he is always a step behind her. As you go on through the story you will notice and actually feel her pain, her lost, and happiness. The author is trully amazing. when I was reading the book I felt as if I was in India; experiencing everything with yasaman. I felt like I was inside her room on that changeful night or the young women who was sadly waiting for her dead husband to return. This tale is beautiful and is waiting for you to pick it up and shed more tears than you have ever shed before. It might sound lovey dovey, but it is anything but. You guys must read it!!

Shadowland by Alyson Noel

ShadowLand is so intensifying and vibrantly undisputedly, hands down, thumbs up one of the best Young Adult books I have ever read. Though this is only the third installment to the series; the story unfolds with constant hooks; right when you think this book is going to end with a dreary conclusion it most certainly do not!!! I guess it should be expected when Ever founds out her boyfriend who claims to be her soul mate for the last 400 years when is immortal. Ever finds out about her immortality and that she also has been reincarnated for the last 400 years unlike her boyfriend Damen who cheated and drinks an elixir to keep him young, rejuvenated, and strong. They go through a series of ups and downs. Immortals rouges getting in the way of their infinite love ( Drina, Roman, etc) and the growing jealousies of friends. There is a bit more to how Ever turned out to be immortal with the help of her immortal boyfriend Damen when she was in the brink of death.

 This current installment to the Immortal Series is so mind consuming and a book you get pissed off at if you dont have the next part in tow. I went mad when I didn't have the last installment. It's different from the other books because, though we know about the immortality; it's more driven with the unknown and a hint of teenage drama, but it's more deeper and undeprived of the romance; with Ever searching for an antidote to the antidote that causes her and damen not able to be intimate, with the new boy who probably will get intimate with Ever, and Damens need to change and make up for all his past mistakes of  interfering with fate and being vain for those past 4 centuries.  Anyways you guys have got to read it!!!! It's amazing and I would tell you more ,but it would not be fair to our amazing author now would it?;)

Below is part 1 & 2 of the series:

                                       

                                       

The New World...Remake of Pocahantas

This is a picture from 'The New World'. It's the unanimated version of pocahantas and I can tell you guys I cried my eyes out. ( watch the movie with 'colors of the wind' music track you cry more). It's one of the most mesmerizing, exotic, and majestic films I have ever seen. When people think of pocahantas they don't think of the real person and historical figure whom broke the barrier for her people by going to england and standing as a represenative. They think of the cartoon, but her life was a heroic one and a short lived journey for she died at the age of 22. Many people claim to be related to her; people such as Nancy Reagan and Fashionista Pauline de something( I forgot). Take the initiative and read about her life. No one knows how she look like, but with out the thought of physical features, I believe  she was beautiful.

The Prophetess By Barbara Woods

Editorial Review:Feminist spirituality gets its own Celestine Prophecies, and the Vatican gets bashed, in Wood's new novel (after Virgins of Paradise, 1993). In December 1999, archeologist Catherine Alexander discovers in the Sinai desert six papyrus scrolls written in ancient Greek by a female leader of the early Christian church. The scrolls' reference to a Seventh Scroll, in which the secret to eternal life is supposedly revealed, convinces Alexander that her findings could revolutionize Christianity and undermine what she sees as the male-oriented authority of the Church. Determined to prevent suppression of the controversial writings, Alexander smuggles them back to California, where she is pursued by the Vatican, the Egyptian and U.S. governments, the media and Miles Havers, a ruthless computer software mogul who collects religious artifacts. When the handsome Father Michael Garibaldi saves Alexander from an assassin's bullet, and joins in her dangerous mission to find the ancient epistle, a romance blossoms, underscoring both parties' religious dilemmas. The action, bolstered by a clever if trendy use of the Internet, comes fast; but so does the preaching, which will alienate some readers with its anti-Church stance (if the scrolls predate St. Paul's writings, "the entire authority-base of the Catholic Church and the papacy would be blown out of the water!") and others with its undiscriminating theology ("As you believe, so shall it be"). Still others, however, will relish Wood's passionate New Age message, as well its Redfield-inspired packaging. 

Daughter of the Sun by Barbara Wood

Daughter of the Sun is a superb book full of adventure and emotions, let me tell you! It's about a girl named Hoshi'tiwa. She is the beautiful daughter of a corn grower and a famous potterer. She awaits the day for her to get married to the villages famous story teller apprentice, but dreadfully the day never came. Hoshi'tiwa is captured by Dark lord. The powerful and most dangerous ruler of the the city. her endeavor was not made in vain. Her role as a heroine was well established. she changed the Dark Lord to a love besotted foul, who was sweet from the beginning, but his attitude from a previous lost love has made him careless of the people he rule, so his underlings take responsibility to rule. However, once Hoshi'tiwa and the Dark Lord become lovers; everyone is out to destroy them; those closest to them, because they want to keep the darkness in the city alive. All I have to say is that this book is mesmerizing  and one of the most MAJESTIC books I've had ever read!!!! The SADDEST part is the Surprise. Which will have you crying till the next morning!!! This book written by Barbara Woods again contains magic to the tenth degree and it will have you holding your breath hoping that the 2 characters will make it through.

Below is an excerpt from the 1st Chapter! Enjoy!!
Chapter 1 The runner sprinted down the paved road, his heart pounding with fear. Although his feet were bleeding, he dared not stop. He looked back. His eyes widened in terror. He stumbled, fought for balance, and pushed on. He had to warn the clan. A Dark Lord was coming.

Ahoté could not help his forbidden thoughts. There sat beautiful Hoshi’tiwa, just a hundred paces from where he stood at the Memory Wall, radiant in the sunshine as she spun cotton ribbons for her bridal costume. She looked so happy in front of her small adobe house shaded by cottonwood trees, with the fresh stream trickling nearby. All she had been able to talk about was the coming wedding day. But all Ahoté could think about was the wedding night. His father pinched him. Under the elder’s tutelage, eighteen-year-old Ahoté was reciting the clan history, using the pictographs painted on the wall as a guide. Each symbol represented a major event in the past. And as there were too many events recorded on the Memory Wall—symbolized by spirals, animals, people, lightning strikes—for the clan to remember, it was the job of one man, He Who Links People. This was the sacred calling to which young Ahoté was apprenticed and upon which he must concentrate. But his mind was wandering. His father scowled. Takei did not understand the boy’s lovesick state. When Takei had wed, years ago, a girl chosen by his parents, he had done his duty, begetting many children on her. He had never wasted his time in moony-eyed daydreaming and sexual fantasies. Sex was for creating children, not for idle amusement. If Takei had ever taken pleasure in the intimate act, he could not recall it. He glowered at his son. Lovesickness was exactly that—a sickness, and Ahoté’s mind was so infected with it, he could not concentrate on his recitations. If only the wedding day could be brought forward, Takei thought, tomorrow perhaps, so the boy could flush the lust out of his system. But the shamans had cast the fortunes of all involved and had declared that the soonest good-luck day was yet three months away! Takei experienced a ripple of fear. Lust and love seduced a man’s mind from his holy works. Was the boy in danger of weakening before the wedding, risking a spiritual pollution that would profane his sacred task? A dour, unhappy man who believed the gods had singled him out for a life of bad luck, Takei wished now he had not given in to Ahoté’s pleas to marry Hoshi’tiwa, wished he had had a matchmaker find a girl in another settlement, one not as pretty and clever as Sihu’mana’s daughter. Takei’s only hope was that this was just a phase, a matter of Ahoté wanting something he couldn’t have. Some men were like that, hungering for the out-of-reach, like desiring a married woman. Hoshi’tiwa was forbidden to Ahoté right now, and that fired the blood. But once he could have the girl anytime he wanted, day or night, the fever would leave him. Or so Takei prayed. As Ahoté’s hungry gaze strayed again to the lovely Hoshi’tiwa sitting in the sunshine, her poppy-red tunic a bright warm beacon, his boy’s body stirring with a man’s desires as he thought of his coming nights as a husband, another sharp pinch on his arm brought him back to the lesson, and he recited: “And then the people knew the Spring of Abundant Hunting, when elk came down from the plateau to offer themselves as food.” The symbol painted on the wall was an elk with arrows in its body. The last symbol on the wall was a circle with six lines trailing it, marking the sighting of a comet streaking the sky the summer before. No new symbols had been added since because nothing of significance had taken place. As he recited for his father, Ahoté wondered what new symbol would be added next, continuing the clan’s long history.
Far down the highway, which cut through the vast plain and between plateaus, the runner fell, his right knee cracking in pain. As he struggled to his feet, he felt in the paving stones of the wide highway the vibrations of the thundering feet of the advancing army. He swallowed in terror, tasted blood and salt on his tongue. The cannibals were coming.
Hoshi’tiwa looked over at handsome Ahoté at the Memory Wall, his sinewy body gleaming in the sun as he wore only a loincloth, and her heart swelled with love and hope. Life was good. Spring flowers bloomed everywhere. The nearby stream ran with cool fresh water and fish. The clan was healthy and prosperous. And Hoshi’tiwa, seventeen years old, was looking forward to her wedding day. She sat in the sunshine at the base of the cliff, spinning cotton for her bridal costume. She sat cross-legged as she twirled a wooden spindle up and down her thigh, deftly plucking clean fibers from a basket filled with carded cotton and adding them to the growing thread that would be dyed and woven into a ribbon for her hair. All around her the clan was going about the daily business of living: the farmers planting corn, women tending cook fires and watching the children, and the potters creating the rain jars for which her clan was most famous. As she spun her cotton, Hoshi’tiwa did not know that on the other side of the world, a strange race of people had named this cycle of the sun the Year of Our Lord, 1150. She was unaware that they rode on the backs of beasts, something her own people did not do, and used a tool called a wheel to transport goods. Hoshi’tiwa knew nothing of cathedrals and gunpowder, popes and Crusades, nor did she know that those strange people gave names to their canyons and rivers and hills. Hoshi’tiwa’s settlement had no name. Nor did the nearby stream, nor the mountains that watched over them. Many years in the future, another race would come to this place and apply names to everything they saw and walked upon. Two hundred miles to the southeast of where Hoshi’tiwa felt warm sun on her arms, a town would be established and called Albuquerque. The area surrounding it for 120,000 square miles would be known as New Mexico. The young bride did not know that centuries hence, strangers would roam the land to the north of her settlement and call it Colorado. There was only one place, far away in the southeast, that she knew by name, Center Place, so called because it was the hub of trade and communication for her people, and an important religious center. Even so, centuries hence, the name of Center Place would be changed to Chaco Canyon, and men and women known as anthropologists would stand in the ruins at Chaco Canyon and speculate and argue and debate and theorize over what they called the Abandonment. They would wonder, those people in the far future, why Hoshi’tiwa and her people, whom the anthropologists would incorrectly call Anasazi, had vanished so suddenly and without a trace. Hoshi’tiwa was ignorant of the fact that she would one day be part of an ancient mystery. Had she known, she would argue that there was nothing mysterious about her life. Her clan had lived at the foot of this escarpment for generations, and in all those centuries, little had changed. Hoshi’tiwa was a simple corn grower’s daughter who counted her blessings, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow would be the same as yesterday. Her thoughts broke like a bubble when she saw Ahoté, while his father’s back was turned, gesture to her. It was their private signal. She knew what it meant: At the first opportunity, he wanted to be alone with her. She nodded in secret response. And her heart began to race.
The runner fell again, stamping his blood into the road’s sandstone surface, his knees scraped and bleeding, his bones screaming in pain. He could save himself, he knew, by running to the left, off the highway and down a narrow ravine that would shield him from the approaching army. But the people in the settlement were his kin. They were relying on him as the lookout to warn them in times of danger. Other families—entire settlements—were now completely gone because they did not have lookouts to warn them when the Jaguars came. If he died at the end of his run, at least his family would survive. And so he pushed on.
Hoshi’tiwa’s mother paused in her labor at the grinding stone, where she was turning corn into flour, and squinted up at the sky. The world looked right, but it didn’t feel right. She glanced around. There was young Maya, sitting in the shade of a cottonwood tree, breast-feeding her great-grandfather. Though her baby wailed in its basket on her back, it would have to wait until the elder was fed. The old man had long since lost his teeth, and now he was having difficulty swallowing gruel. Therefore, after the age-old custom of keeping the precious elders alive—for they alone had memories of what went before—his great-granddaughter nourished him with her own milk. From the mudbrick dwelling next door came screams through the gaping doorway. Hoshi’tiwa’s mother could see, in the darkness, her friend Lakshi, on her knees, her arms over her head with her wrists tied to a rope suspended from the ceiling. Kneeling in front of Lakshi and behind her, two midwives coaxed the babe into the world. All things normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet something was wrong. The air was too still, sounds too muted, sunlight too golden. Was this the day, Sihu’mana wondered, the day she had dreamed about in troubled sleep long ago? Had it come at last? Or was it just a mother’s nervousness before a wedding? Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden cry. At the western terminus of the canyon, where the adobe houses ended and a dense forest of cottonwoods began, a cluster of boulders stood upon ground that had been declared sacred generations prior. Here the sun-watcher priest marked the cycles of the sun as it journeyed back and fo.

A Woman Worth Ten Coppers by Morgan Howell

 “She was painfully aware that when the door opened someone would emerge to exchange a few coins for her. Yim had never felt more miserable or so utterly forsaken. Soon someone else would claim her body, and only her soul would be wholly hers.” (p. 21)   Amazon Description:

Seer, healer, goddess, slave–she is all these things and more.Yim is a young woman suddenly cast into slavery, a gifted seer with a shocking secret–and a great destiny. Honus is a Sarf, a warrior dedicated to the service of the compassionate goddess Karm. A Sarf’s sole purpose is to serve a holy person called a Bearer. But Honus’s Bearer has been killed by the minions of an evil god known only as the Devourer. Masterless and needing someone to bear his pack, Honus purchases Yim for the price of ten coppers–and their fates are forever entwined.
Below is an Excerpt from chapter one Ennnjoy!!!

ONE
The wagon resembled a tiny house on wheels. Pots and other wares dangled from its eaves and clanked against the rig’s wooden sides as it slowly ascended the mountain road. By dusk, the driver reached his destination, a lonely hut perched near the edge of a cliff. A circle of half-buried stones surrounded the structure, marking it as a Wise Woman’s home. After halting the horses, the driver remained seated and chanted under his breath. The verses were supposed to bring tranquillity. They failed, for the man was convinced that the hut didn’t mark the end of a long and arduous journey, but rather the beginning of a far more perilous one.

The man stopped chanting when he heard a door close and footsteps on the frozen ground. He turned to see a white-haired woman approach. She halted and scrutinized him. “The wagon looks right,” she said at last, “but you don’t look the peddler.”

The man bowed his head respectfully. “I’m a Seer, Mother.”

“Aye, you have that temple softness to you.” The woman sighed. “So, no skill with arms?”

“None at all. The goddess will protect her.”

The woman shook her head. “Nothing’s certain. As a Seer, you should know that better than I.”

“I’ll do my utmost,” said the Seer. “I was told I’m to play her father.”

“Aye, so show her no deference. That could betray her.

And you should leave the morrow. When spring comes, the roads will turn to mud.”

“Where shall I take her?”

“South.”

“Toward trouble?”

“Aye, indeed. But that’s what’s been revealed.”

“And nothing more?”

“Not yet. Until then, best you pick the road. When she makes choices, her heart sways her overmuch.”

The man turned his gaze southward before descending from his seat. The ground dropped just a few paces away, and from his perch, the ridges of the highlands looked like crumpled garments cast from the peaks above. Below, a small village nestled in one fold, its homes already shuttered for the night. The plains beyond were obscured as the world turned dark.

The hut’s door opened, spilling light and catching the man’s attention. Someone peered from the doorway. “Is that her?” he whispered.

“Aye,” replied the Wise Woman. She raised her voice. “Yim! Come here.”

The Seer studied the advancing figure.  She’s only a girl! he thought, judging her age as eighteen winters. He feared her appearance would draw attention, for she was lithe and comely, with large dark eyes and flowing hair. She wore a shift of gray wool, a matching cloak, and sturdy boots. In peddler fashion, her cloak was festooned with ribbons, each lightly stitched in place to permit quick removal and sale. They fluttered as she walked.

“Yim, tend the horses,” said the Wise Woman. “This man will show you how.” Then the elderly woman sought the warmth of the hut, leaving the two alone.

“Have you ever fed a horse?” asked the Seer.

“Only goats and sheep,” replied Yim, regarding the animals warily.

“I’ll show you what to do. Follow me.” The Seer walked to the back of the wagon, opened its door, and retrieved two cloth sacks with straps attached. “These are nose bags,” he said. “They fit on the horses’ heads so they can feed in harness.” He uncovered a large barrel affixed to the wagon’s rear. It contained oats and a scoop. “Put two full scoops in each bag.”

After Yim did that, the Seer demonstrated how to attach a bag. Then he observed Yim carefully as she affixed the other one. While she appeared intimidated by the horse, she didn’t shrink from it. That was all he could observe, despite his heightened powers of perception. Realizing that Yim’s inner qualities were veiled against his gaze, he sought to probe her through conversation. “Your guardian said we should leave tomorrow. Are you familiar with the roads?”

“I’ve never been more than a day’s journey from here.” Yim turned her eyes toward the plains, which were black beneath the fading sky. Her gaze lingered there as though she saw something within the shadows. The Seer noticed that Yim froze as a fawn does at the scent of wolves. After a moment, she stirred and said, “So, you spoke with my guardian. What did she say about me?”

“Very little.”

“Did she tell you I lack sense?”

“No.”

A wry smile passed over Yim’s lips. “She will, ere we depart.”

They headed out at first light after receiving a terse farewell from the Wise Woman, who retreated to the hut before the wagon reached the road. The Seer drove the team from the broad seat at the wagon’s front. Yim sat next to him, bundled against the cold in her cloak and gazing at familiar scenery that she would never see again. It was a long while before she spoke.

“I know that I must call you ‘Father,’ but is your true name Theodus?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“That name was revealed to me. I’m supposed to follow his footsteps. Since you’re my guide, I thought my vision referred to you.”

“The goddess is your guide. I merely drive the wagon.”

“My guardian said you’re a Seer. Doesn’t Karm speak to you?”

“I find children for service in the temple. I’ve never had a vision.”

“So how do you know where to take me?”

“I don’t. Karm will tell you what path to take.”

“But my vision only said to head southward. I thought that you would . . .” Yim’s face reddened. “If you don’t know where to take me, why did you bother to come?”

“The Wise Woman sent for me. She said you were ready.”

“Well I’m not, if I’m supposed to know the way. You’re a Seer. Why didn’t you foresee that?”

“The future’s not ordained. The most a Seer can hope to foretell is what’s likely. I can’t even do that.”

Yim sighed. “Then what’s likely is that we’ll wander for moons. I haven’t had a vision since autumn, and my visions often make little sense. Sometimes I’m shown things I don’t understand. Even when Karm appears to me or I hear her voice, her guidance isn’t always useful. How can I follow Theodus if I’ve never met him?”

“Time often reveals a vision’s meaning,” replied the Seer. “Time and contemplation.”

“That’s not much use nigh sunset when the road forks and you must choose which way to take.”

Yim resumed gazing at the landscape. Though it remained in winter’s grip, patches of bare earth had appeared beneath the barren trees. The palette of gray, brown, and dirty white matched Yim’s pessimistic mood, and it was a while before she made another attempt at conversation. Turning to the Seer, she asked. “Have you done this often?”

“What?”

“Delivered girls to their destinies.”

“There have been no other girls. There will be no others.”

“But the Wise Woman said I’m no one special.”

“You’re Karm’s servant, as are we all, and humility befits a servant,” replied the Seer. “Yet the goddess chose you alone for this task. You mustn’t fail.”

“If the goddess wants me to succeed, how can I fail?”

“Karm’s benevolent, but the world is not. If men are to be free, then they must be free to choose evil, and many have. It’s always a struggle to fulfill the goddess’s will.”

Yim sighed. “I’ve heard that talk all my life. I thought I was leaving it behind.”

The Seer gave Yim a sympathetic look. “Was it hard living with the Wise Woman?”

“Hard enough.”

Yim’s thoughts turned to her upbringing. It had been not only hard, but also unusual. She knew the name and virtue of every herb, where each grew, and when to harvest it, but she had never played a game or had a single friend. Yim had been a small child when she was given to the Wise Woman, and for a long while, she had believed her life was normal. True, she had never known her mother, and her father vanished after the Wise Woman took charge, but being young and living in isolation, she took her circumstances for the way of things. Thus she thought all girls were taught to read and learned secret arts that they must never mention. She even assumed that everyone had visions.
Over time, Yim shed those illusions. As she grew older, Yim accompanied her guardian not only when she gathered herbs, but also when she practiced healing or midwifery. Through those excursions to nearby farms and to the village, Yim made contact with girls her age. They had some things in common: Like them, Yim had been taught to cook, mend clothes, and tend animals. She also knew how to make cheese, a common accomplishment in the highlands. However, none of the girls could read, and Yim doubted they had late-night lessons in even more arcane arts. But the girls differed most from Yim in that they would spend their lives in the highlands and Yim knew that wasn’t to be her fate.

“You’ve been singled out,” said the Wise Woman when Yim reached her twelfth winter, “and all your life has been preparation for one task.”

&...

GhostLand by Jory Strong

Another book that is part of my Uber Fiction Collection is Ghostland  by Jory Strong. This book is a beautifully written and erotic consuming story. The world as we know it today was detroyed; turned into a post-apocalyptic world where all supernaturals do not want to play hide, but seek and throughout the years many humans has perished, But only 1 women can change that. Aisling McConaughey. Taken away from her adoptive family from a farm. And sent to put her gift as a shameness/clairvoyant to use, but what she doesn't know will kill her. Aisling  is put to the task by an evil priest to find the source of this drug that allows people into the ghost realm where some experience sexual release or dies. This takes her into the hand of a sensual savage---- a demon Djinn; Prince Zurael en Caym. The Prince fall in lust than in love with Aisling instead of killing her, but that cost him dearly for falling in love with a supposed human(not). This Book is trully amazing.
A forbidden love between a Demon Prince and a Powerful Shameness. Angels who will no longer be what you thought them to be, but evil and hateful creatures.  A world where you would want to be the heroine and the two main characters has to choose between honor or a love that can last a life time. I most Definently Reccommend!!!!!.
Book 2 below is a continuation of Aisling McConaughey and her lover Djinn prince Zuraels Odyssey!. Where I believe she finds who she really is. Who is her mother and who is the poerful man whom holds her faith in the ghost realm they call her father!!!

Queen of the Orcs: Kings Property by Morgan Howell

Queen of the Orcs is a beautiful tale. Dar a highland girl from the north is betrayed by her family. She is given to the king kregants army. Where she is surrounded by to-eager-to kill soldiers and  Orcs (monsters) she has only heard by mouth are horrible, killing, and cruel creatures, but that all changes when she meets Kovok-mah; an orc. Dar is constantly provoked and hated on, because she has spirit and audacity and all the men in the army wants her and the women hate her for that.However, Dar again is betrayed and learns to hate men and distrust them. She forms a bond with the legendary Orcs whom are known as brutal killers and their Goddess Muthi. While being pursued by an enemy who wants her dead, Dar learns that Men are her worst enemy and turns to the protection of a soft hearted Orc Kovok-mah. Little by Little you will see that Dar gains title and respect from the so called monsters and she becomes notorious. At yhe end she leads whats left of them to safety with the wisdom and foresight given to her by the Orcs Goddess Muthi.

These are Book 2 and Book 3

Women of a Thosand Secrets by Barbara Woods

                     This book is by Barbara Woods. She is a phenominal author. Not much people read her books, but their an excellent read. Women of a thosand secrets is just one of the many excellent books she wrote, there is  Daughter of the Sun and The Prophetess; her books are mostly Historical Romance and doesn't contain explicit sex scenes. They are rather vague, but you forget about the intimate connection and everything, because the plot of the books are intensifying. In all her books you will follow a strong minded and audacious heroine and their will be a part when you wish you were in that characters place.
                     This amazing tale is about a women/girl named tonina. She was found on the border of the sea. She became an obvious outcast, because she looked different from anyone on the Island, but soon you will notice she wasn't different at all. Nor as homely as they called her in the book. This book is also pycologically challenging. You begin to wonder and ask' What makes a person different? 'Is it because they are diiferent form us?' Are we different from them?'. Through out toninas' endeavor she is shipped  onto this place called the Main Land. Where she meets a variety of people from different cultures and ethnicity. This is after her guardians sent her away from the Island and she had traveled a dangerous trip with a man who wanted to get rid of her or should I say feed her to the sharks. The quest to find her people,  eventually,brings her to meets a man whom is exactly like her ( he is married, but they get together faster than you'd think) and is suprised and suspicious. On the Main land he is percieved as handsome as is Tonina. Eventhough, Tonina was considered ugly on her old Island. This book holds magic and imagination to the 10th degeree. It will captivate you ,because the entire book is based on belief. The characters in the book are highly superstitious and believes in old myth. They survive by believing in myth and magic.I warn you you will begin to get confused ; you will try to decipher what is true within the story and what is plain fiction.LOL. In this book you will find that the heart excels the mind. So I absolutely recommend.

DREAM FEVER....A MUST BUY!!!

HEY, everyone I'm here to introduce you to a new book that recently came out. It is called Dream Fever by Karen Marie Moning. It is also part of my 'UBER FICTION' collection.It's part of a series , so I recommend you buy the 3 books that came before it. In order Blood Fever, Dark Fever, Fae Fever, and last , but not least DREAM FEVER!!!.
This book is a must buy111!!!!. I have never read a more perfect urban/erotic fantasy in my life. I'll give you an elaborate summary on all the books combined.
It's about a girl named Mackayla or Mac. She looks like your average everyday looking barbie with the pretty blue eyes and blonde hair, this girl has more the lurks beyond the rainbow. The story is amazing!!!!. first she sets out to uncover the reason for her sisters death which took place in Ireland. and from there its history. Mac is a born Sidhe-seer and out of all her sister-seers she is the only one that can sense the sinsar-dubh. A book that holds magical spells and can lead to the end of the world and what not.Through out the story you'll meet some intersting people like a man named Jericho Barrons. He is the most mysterious through out the book. A bod boy who lived thousands of years and no one I mean no one know what he is or his motives for wanting the sinsar-dubh. However, Mac helps him. hEY!!!! maybe its cause they love each other, but Barrons is cruel and say the most hateful things like:
"We fucked, Ms. Lane. Even cockroaches fuck. They eat each other too." WoW. well I loved him already as a character and a man.LOL. And V'lane the fairy prince, atleast one of the 4 princes( Oh! no one know who really is the 4th prince is yet, but he rapes mackayla and truned her pri-ya)(I'll get bac to what Pri-Ya is) He wants Mac and some stuff about him you'll have to read about him that I dont want to get into right now. And Pri-ya is when a female turns to a sex crazed bitch. who only feeds by getting sex all the time and is turned on by the most smallest and insignificant touch, because their highly sexually sensitive. they forget who they are and everything else except sex,sex,sex.However, they might not want it but their body tells them otherwise and they have no contrl over it. Its like an addiction.

OK!!!! So stop Fecking reading this already and buy the book!!!! Borders is having a sale get it cheaper while it last. Leave comments !!!!!!! and if your not sure about this book read the first one at:
http://www.suvudu.com/freelibrary/
And check out the authors Page at:
www.karenmariemoning.com

(Uber Fiction means Urban Erotica Fiction) something i made for fun!