Date of Publication: 26th August 2018
Publisher: Unapologetic Romances
Cover Artist: CoverMe Designs
Genre: Urban Fantasy Romance
Tagline: A mighty spirit walker with a personal grudge, set to destroy them both.
BLURB
Adi and Honi journey to Southern Oklahoma to meet Honi’s Mekui’te tribe at the reservation where he grew up. Honi’s infectious excitement almost erases Adi’s apprehension at meeting his family, and she’s desperate to make a good impression.
When Adi is met with silent hostility that gets worse rather than better, she realizes there may be more to the initial resistance Honi had warned her to expect.
Honi is confused and hurt by his family’s reaction, and by Adi’s increasingly strange behavior. She’s claiming the spirit animals of his tribe are diseased and sickly, but they look just fine to him. On top of that, when Adi meets Honi’s ex, Nina, her jealousy gets way out of hand, and threatens to drive them apart.
While mysterious forces manipulate and distort their realities, can Honi and Adi join forces to figure out what is happening before it’s too late and they are separated forever?
Excerpt:
The wind picked
up, carrying with it the smell of late fall, of damp vegetation and sour
apples. It played with Adi’s hair, although she barely noticed the cold breeze.
Too many eyes were staring at her. Adi’s skin itched with the attention. She
wasn’t usually this shy, but the weight of all the glares made her afraid to
lift her head.
“Come on, Adi,
they won’t bite. Let me introduce you. They’re my family—they’ll love you.”
As much as I do.
Adi understood Honi’s unspoken words.
How many people
were there? Forty? Fifty? Had the entire Mekui’te tribe come out to greet them?
Adi shivered. The smell of early snow made her nose twitch. It brought bad
memories of a woman with white eyes, forcing her to make a choice between
Honi’s life and a lifelong thrall.
She shuddered
when an ice-cold gust blew across the open space where Honi had parked their
rental. He had called ahead, laughing and joking with his old friend and
mentor, John. The shaman of the Mekui’te tribe had expected them hours earlier,
but they’d gotten held up at the airport. Their luggage had gone missing for a
few hours, plus the rental car hadn’t been ready yet.
When they’d finally
driven the five hours from the airport to the reservation, they had to take
turns because both of them had been exhausted after the long trip from Germany
back to the U.S. The closer they’d gotten to their destination, the more Honi’d
woken up. His excitement to see his family again after more than a year had
been so infectious that Adi’d swallowed down her apprehension.
Until now. She
kept a smile on her face, trying to appear relaxed and at ease. Inside, she was
anything but. There was something disconcerting standing in front of such a
large group of people, most of who looked at her with suspicion.
Was it because
she was a stranger? Had John told the community she was a spirit walker? She
couldn’t imagine he had. So why the hostility that wafted from the silent group
like an invisible cloud?
Honi was talking
to a tall man with a black Stetson pulled deep into his craggy face. His eyes
were warm as he hugged Honi to him. Adi remembered meeting him in the hospital
when she’d sat next to Honi’s bed, waiting for him to wake up from a coma. His
name was Jim Fisher, and he was Honi’s father.
She watched him
for a moment as the two men chatted excitedly. He looked just like Honi would
when he got older. Still tall and lean, only the lines around his eyes betrayed
his age. Her boyfriend turned towards her and waved her over. She kept her eyes
on Jim Fisher’s face as she approached, smiling politely.
His expression
changed from one second to the next. Gone was the warmth, the humor. Instead,
he crossed his arms and spread his legs, anchoring himself. Adi had already
stuck out her hand, ready to shake his. Confused, she pulled it back. She
looked at Honi, who seemed equally baffled.
After an awkward
silence, Adi spoke, still keeping a timid smile on her face. “Mr. Fisher? Do
you remember me? We met at—”
“I know who you
are.” The words were harsh, underlined by his angry expression.
“You are the
woman responsible for Honi giving up his entire future. For you, he dropped
university, and followed you to Germany. And now you have the nerve to come
here, with him, asking for my blessing? You, an outsider to this community?”
He stared at
her, his dark eyes blazing with fury. Adi swallowed hard. She hadn’t been sure
how she would be greeted. She’d been nervous about meeting Honi’s family, but
had not expected this level of hostility towards her.
Her eyeballs
grew hot, and tears welled up. Driving all the way to the reservation had taken
forever. During the entire journey, Honi had told her stories about his family.
About his relationship with John and many of the elders. He’d made her laugh so
many times with funny stories about how lovable and unique the tribe’s people
were. Adi had expected that they might be slow to accept her. But she’d been
unprepared to be shut out like this from the very first moment she met Honi's
family.
Adi's hands
balled into fists. She fought back tears of exhaustion and humiliation. Then
she blinked her eyes open again, fiercely determined to not show any weakness.
A familiar emotion welled up. How dared they treat her like this? They didn't
even know her. They had no idea what Honi and Adi had been through. It was a
miracle that they made it out the other side alive and well. Adi had sacrificed
the rest of her life in servitude to the faerie queen, with the understanding
that Honi could never find out.
“Honi,” she
whispered. When he didn't turn around and continued staring at his father, she
repeated louder, “Honi!”
He whirled
around. His obvious confusion and sadness calmed her down a little bit and
softened her next words.
"I'm really
tired. Can we please postpone all this until tomorrow? I don't want to stand
here in the freezing wind and argue with these people."
She waved her
hand dismissively at Honi's tribe—not the nicest choice of words, but she was
pissed at her treatment. Honi's eyebrows drew together as the only outward sign
of irritation with the way she’d just shrugged off his entire family. He took
her arm and without saying another word to his father, he led her back to the
car.
The plan had
been to stay with his parents, but instead, Honi drove to the only motel within
ten miles of the reservation. After he’d checked them in, he silently carried
their suitcases into the double room. Adi was glad he’d done so without asking,
because the tiredness was now so enveloping that she could barely keep her head
up.
It wasn't a
five-star luxury hotel, but the linens were reasonably clean, and the room
smelled only a little. Adi sat down at the edge of the bed, too numb and
exhausted even to cry. Honi sat next to her and put his arm around her
shoulders. He looked as upset as she felt.
"I'm so
sorry. I don't know why he acted the way he did.” He pulled her in tighter, and
Adi put her head on his shoulder. “Let's get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow
we’ll go back and start over."
Author Info
Unapologetic Romances Because Love Needs No Excuses
Growing up in Germany, Ella always had a passion for myths and fairytales. No surprise then that she married an Irishman and lived 6 years in Ireland, the country of Leipreachán, Sidhe, Púca and other fascinating creatures. There's nothing like walking at night through a deserted laneway, fog swirling around your feet, knowing that maybe, just maybe, on the other side of the hedge, there might be some old lady in a black cloak waiting for you...
If you got the shivers right now, you know why Ella feels compelled to write stories around the supernatural and paranormal. There's nothing like a delicious shudder making you enjoy life just a little more... Plus she’s a romantic.
So look forward to modern romantic stories set against the background of ancient myths and legends. Ella hopes you enjoy reading them as much as she enjoys writing them!
The Book Junkie Reads . . . Interview with Ella J. Smyth . . .
How would you describe your style of writing to someone that has never read your work?
I love writing in what’s called Deep Point of View. Imagine a character in a fast-moving adventure novel with an imaginary camera installed on their shoulder. You can see what the character sees, just like in a movie. What is invisible, unless the character talks about it, is their internal monologue, their feelings, what they’re thinking.
Deep Point of View installs the camera inside the character’s head and heart. You feel, smell, hear, see, and touch everything the character does. It allows us to experience the story on a whole different level. There’s a big difference between watching somebody fall apart because their lover leaves them, or feeling the anguish, the pain. My work hopefully pulls you in so deeply that you are as affected by events as the heroes in my stories.
What are some of your writing/publishing goals for this year?
Now that the Spirit Walker series is finished, I’m in the process of creating a new character. Her name is Ren, short for Renata. She hates being called Nattie which is what her extended Italian family calls her. Ren is awesome. I’m already in love with her. She’s sassy yet vulnerable, works a dead-end job, and dreams of traveling the world. She also has a completely useless superpower which I’m still working on. Something like being able to fly but getting vertigo if she rises more than two feet above ground.
I would like to write the first of Ren’s adventures by the end of the year. I also write under a different pen name (EJ Smyth), and I’m working on a screenplay and novel right now. Again, ETA for both will be end of the year. Can’t say I’m not busy!
Do you feel that writing is an ingrained process or just something that flows naturally for you?
I’m naturally a fluent writer. By that, I mean that I can sit down and pen a few thousand really good words. I write a very clean, first draft, with beginning, middle, and end.
My biggest obstacle is consistency. Sitting down daily and writing for an hour is far better than doing a mammoth session of several hours. Yet that’s exactly what I do. I procrastinate for days, then finally sigh heavily, and write six-thousand words. Then I’m mentally exhausted and put off my next writing session for days.
The only way I ever get any novel finished is to set deadlines for myself. I hire an editor with the understanding that if I don’t deliver my work at a given date, I forfeit my deposit. When I get upset about my chaotic workstyle, I console myself with the thought that my creativity is what allows me to write great stories.
There’s no gift without a downside. Uncontrolled creativity results in unfettered chaos. I think every creative artist knows the struggle of balancing these two sides of the same coin!
Where would you spend one full year, if you could go ANYWhere? What would you do with this time?
That’s easy! I visited San Francisco for the first time twenty-five years ago. I fell so hard for the city, I got whiplash. I went back fifteen years ago, and my love deepened. I tried to find a job there for a few years, but the process of getting a work permit was so tiresome and lengthy that I gave up on the idea.
There is something about the city that grabbed my imagination. Apart from the iconic images like the painted ladies or the Golden Gate bridge rising out of the sea mist, I was struck by the energy and friendliness of the place.
If I lived there for a year, I would sit in any one of the cafes, get to know people, write their stories. Make friends, chill in the evenings with a bottle of wine, listen to tales of the city. Maybe pick up a paintbrush again, because, boy, the light floored me every time! Here in Europe, the light is of a bluish-spectrum. In California, it’s golden. What a place. What a city. It grabbed my heart and never let go.
