Sunday, January 15, 2012

The Celtic Vixen - free this week

Hi eveyone,

I wanted to share - beginning tommorow 01/16 to 01/20 - my medieval/fantasy romance The Celtic Vixen is free on kindle.

Nesta’s family urges the fiery, middle-aged widow to get a new husband to protect the villa, but she can take care of the villa herself. So she picks up her deceased husband’s long sword and joins the15-year-old war leader, Arthur, to battle Saxons. There she meets the dark warrior, Ulfin, who, unknown to Nesta, is haunted by the matchmaker ghost of her deceased husband, but this spirit has his work cut out for him for Ulfin and Nesta care more about war than love.

"Caledvwch," Dubricius called out the name of the renowned blade.

"My people, I pledge to rid all of Britannia of the Saxon scourge." Arthur's voice rang out with clarity and strength. "I shall rule as one with the land as the Celtic kings of old."

Ulfin, Nesta, and everyone there raised their hand high in salute and yelled thrice, "Arthur map Uther, Arthur map Uther, Arthur map Uther."

A deep voice said, "I am glad to see this day."

Ulfin turned toward the speaker and gasped. "Gwynfael or Gwynfael's ghost, whichever, what are you doing here?"

The spirit grinned. "Watching the convocation with you."

Nesta flashed a puzzled half smile. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I was not speaking to you."

"Then who were you speaking to?" Nesta’s brow crinkled.

"She cannot see me." The fuzzy ghost chuckled.

Ulfin blinked. "You were right, you do not glow as bright as you did last night."

"Did you say something?" Nesta asked Ulfin.

"You were drunk." Gwynfael nodded. "It is why I seemed to have glowed more."

"I think I need to get drunk again." Ulfin sighed.

"Oh, yes, they will pass around cups of ale at the feast. Come let us get a good place." Nesta reached for Ulfin's hand.

"What a woman. She has not changed. So beautiful, is she not?" Gwynfael’s eyes locked onto Nesta as he asked Ulfin, "Are you taking her to the feast?"

Not wanting to appear to be speaking to himself again, Ulfin remained silent and shrugged his shoulders as he stared at the pale, fuzzy figure.


Cornelia Amiri

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