Print Copy: $9.95
Book cover artist: Laura Shinn
Rebecca J. Vickery Publishing
Victory Tales Press
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The Devil's Wolf (Historical romance set in 15 century Scotland)
When Archie Maxwell is accused falsely of killing a Johnstone, his brother, Waylon, known as the Devil's Wolf, sets out to save him. His bargaining tool is the Johnstone's daughter, Catrione. He plans to ransom her for his brother's release, but once he lays eyes on her, his plans take another turn.
Lady Catrione Johnstone knows of the Devil’s Wolf and his ruthless exploits. Catrione vows she will fight him to the end. However, the myth is nothing like the man. In his arms, she forgets he is her enemy.
Will the magic of love finally bring peace to these two feuding clans or will it only inflamed the hostility to a bloody end?
A Tale from the Red Chest by Kate Kindle
In the late nineteenth century, in coal mine country in America, men went into the dark mines each morning unsure as to whether they would come out alive at the end of their workday. Their families lived in terrible poverty due to the avarice of relentless mine owners, robber barons whose goal it was to hoard coal and aggrandize themselves at the expense of the workers.
Jack Barrett and his wife, Maddy, must make a life for themselves and their children during these hard times. Although Jack loves Maddy, his ways are mysterious. He disappears at various times with no explanation to his devoted wife. People say Jack is a little crazy. Where can he be–what is he doing? Maddy's patience is tried, but her faith in Jack is unshakable. Can the love of a steadfast woman keep her mystery man coming home? The Bible says love never fails. Join Jack and Maddy at this pivotal time in labor history–and find out how this young couple comes through during times not so different from our own.
Deirde by Miriam Newman
Born at a royal banquet for King Conor MacNessa of Ulster, Deirdre is predicted by Conor’s own druid to be blessed and cursed with a beauty which will make kingdoms contest over her. He names her ―Deirdre of the Sorrows‖ and urges the king to slay her. But Conor, unwilling to murder a babe, takes her under his protection only to fall prey to the curse when she is nearly grown. Captivated by her youth and beauty, the aging king will go to any extreme to possess her.
When Deirdre innocently falls in love with one of Conor’s chief warriors, it sets in motion a tragedy that will involve kings and countries, famous fighting men and sages alike: Cuchulain, champion of the CattleRaid of Cooley, King Fergus MacRi of Ulster, Queen Medb of Connaught, Catha the Druid and others. Join author Miriam Newman for her bardic- style version of a legend told countless times in Ireland over the centuries—a classic Irish tale of love, loyalty, betrayal and revenge.
Jason 's Angel by Cheryl Pierson
Two wounded Union soldiers will die without proper treatment. Sabrina Patrick realizes they won't get it at the Confederate army hospital where she helps nurse wounded men. She does the unthinkable and takes them to her home.
Jason McCain’s pain is eased by the feel of clean sheets, a soft bed, and a touch that surely must belong to an angel. But what reason could an angel have for bringing him and his brother here?
Excerpt for Devil's Wolf:
(Waylon) spotted the old priest, frail and hunched over, already looking defeated despite his attempt at bravery. Waylon’s gaze shifted to the skinny lad standing beside the priest. The youth wore a helmet that nearly covered is face, leaving only his smooth hairless chin as witness to his age. Waylon had to give the lad credit. He stood tall and held his sword like a fearless warrior. Waylon would loathe having to kill him, but if the lad forced his hand there could be no other way.
“Come now lad, the fight’s over,” he coaxed.
The priest's hunched shoulders sagged further and he dropped the dagger he gripped in his hand, but the lad refused to be intimidated.
“It’ll never be over until every last one of you is dead.” He waved his sword in the air as he spewed his threat.
Waylon’s brows lifted. The lad’s voice hadn’t even changed, but it still rumbled like a distant thunder.
“Brave words, I do say, but all within the keep has laid down their weapons.”
The lad hesitated, but then straightened his back. “You lie.”
“Now why would I?” He moved forward with careful steps. He didn’t believe the priest would interfere, but he sensed the lad was unpredictable. “Come now, put down yer sword so we may talk freely.”
“Talk? Do you think I do not know who you are?”
“Who is it ye think I am?”
“The Devil’s Wolf.” He spat on the ground. “You slay all in your path and eat the young for breakfast.”
If the situation wasn’t so grim, he may have laughed. He had heard the rumors, but had ignored them. It was better the enemy feared what they thought he could do than know the truth. “Now, now, is that any way to greet yer new laird?”
“I will never swear fealty to you.”
“Nay? We will have to see aboot that.” He lunged forward, but the lad anticipated his move and blocked it with one of his own. Waylon was impressed. He had underestimated the lad. He thought to disarm him and be done with this charade. “So ye insist on playing, do ye?” Waylon would participate in the lad’s game for a while, but in the end he would win. They paced, each sizing up the other. Out of curiosity to see what the youth had in him, Waylon would allow the lad to make the next move.
He didn’t make Waylon wait for long. He leaped forward swinging viciously, his sword slicing the air with a vengeance. Waylon was forced to retreat as he defended himself from each blow. The look in the lad’s eyes told Waylon his intent. The lad wished to kill him. Waylon swung his sword sending the insolent child back.
The lad jumped onto the wood bench giving him height and an advantage as their swords clanged together. The lad was light on his feet and agile as a cat. Waylon would have to work to put an end to this.
“Come now, ye tire,” Waylon spoke to distract.
“It is you who tires, Devil’s Wolf.” The boy swung his sword again with ferocious intent.
Waylon barely deflected the blow. His eyes narrowed. “Enough! Ye will end this now or I will.”
“Hah! We’ll see who ends what.” And he came after him again.
Waylon backed up blocking every swing feeling the jolt up his arm. Whoever taught this lad to fight was good. If the lad lived long enough, he’d make a fine warrior. The lad swung again, the tip of the sword sliced through Waylon’s leather jacket hitting flesh.
The lad gasped in shock and stepped back.
Waylon glanced at blood oozing from the cut, a flesh wound only. His pride stung more for allowing the youth to take him unawares. “Now ye’ve done it.” Waylon leveled his gaze on the lad. “We are done here.” He charged the lad, lashing out mercilessly. The lad was wearing down, but he refused to surrender. With swirl of Waylon’s sword he swung up, flipping the weapon from the lad’s grip and pushing him down. Waylon was upon him, his sword at the lad’s throat.
“Stop!” the priest shouted, running forward. “Please, I beg of you do not kill her.”
“Waylon’s gaze riveted to the priest. “What say ye? Her?”
“Do not listen to the old man. He is senile,” the lad claimed. “Do what you must and be done with it. Slit my throat. I am ready to die an honorable death.”
“No, I say,” the priest begged. “Forgive me, my lady.” His gaze turned toward the lad. “I cannot stand by and see you slain.”
“Mi’lady!” Waylon took hold of the helmet that hid the lad’s face and yanked it off his head.
Waves of dark tresses came tumbling out and wide sea-green eyes met his with alarm.
Waylon’s mouth dropped open. He had been about to slash the throat of a mere lass. “By all that is holy, are ye mad?” He yanked her to her feet. His gaze took in the length of her and he reprimanded himself for being so blind. Every curve stood out now that he knew the truth. He pursed his lips together. “The lady Catrione, I presume?”