All for a Rose
Authors: Jennifer Blackstream
Tags: #incubus, #sensual, #prince, #evil stepmother, #sci fi romance, #sex, #demon, #Paranormal Romance, #Skeleton Key Publishing, #fantasy romance, #werewolf, #magic, #twisted fairy tale, #fairy tale romance, #witch, #blood, #Romance, #princess, #alpha male, #Jennifer Blackstream, #angel, #vampire, #wizard
Win a Kindle Fire HD!
As a thank you to all of my readers, I’m giving away a brand new Kindle Fire HD to one lucky, lucky reader. All you have to do is click this link:
http://thebrimstonepub.com/?post_type=ks_giveaway&p=313&preview=true
and tell me how to spell Jennifer Blackstream (choose the correct spelling from a drop-down menu). Voila, you will be entered! The winner will be chosen on March 1
st
, 2016*.
And just so everyone can go away a little happier than they arrived, everyone who enters will receive a free ebook copy of BEFORE MIDNIGHT (book one in the Blood Prince series – think Cinderella with werewolves) and WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE (a bonus adventure from the Blood Prince series – think Little Red Riding Hood with vampires).
Get to know the Blood Princes first and when you read ALL FOR A ROSE, there will be even more to enjoy…
* There will be another Kindle Fire HD giveaway around April. If you would like to be notified when that giveaway goes live, click here:
http://eepurl.com/bNURtf
. In addition to being added to my giveaway and release list, you will also receive the two free ebooks mentioned above.
ALL FOR A ROSE
"Twas Beauty that soothed the savage Beast…"
A Hidden Kingdom Novel
A lord who’s more beast than man…
Daman is a shapeshifter trapped between forms, a monstrosity caught between man and dragon. Cursed by a witch and robbed of his human form, he’s been forced to abandon his role as a protector of changelings, his bestial countenance far too frightening to gain the necessary trust needed to relocate abused and abandoned fey children to safer homes. Instead, he hides within the walls of an empty manor—avoiding all living beings for fear that his draconic temper will steal the last of his humanity and leave him a beast in truth. He must remain alone, mustn’t let anyone get too close.
If only he hadn’t tried to make the witch who cursed him his prisoner. If only that witch had shown up instead of her sister…
A maiden who’s not afraid to get her hands a little dirty…
Ever since her father lost his fortune, Maribel has worked hard—and loved it. Moving away from the bustling life at court to the quiet countryside has been the best thing to ever happen to her. With her hands in the dirt, surrounded by the fruits of her labor on her family’s farm, the only storm cloud marring her sunny skies is her sister’s misery at their new, reduced circumstances. Then one day Maribel discovers the perfect solution: a magic rose that will cure her sister of the seizures and bouts of hallucination that plague her, allowing her to join Maribel and her father in their love for their new life.
If only her father hadn’t found the rose in the garden of a reclusive lord. If only the price for trying to steal the rose wasn’t her freedom…
A tale as old as time…
An enchanted rose. A witch’s curse. A beast’s temper. A maiden who can see the potential for good even beneath the scales of a monster. It’s amazing what can transpire…All for a Rose.
Preview of BLUE VOODOO, book two in the Hidden Kingdom series
Other Books by Jennifer Blackstream
Free Bonus Ebooks
http://jenniferblackstream.com/free-copy.html
Chapter One
“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense.”
Maribel paused and swiped a hand across her sweat-dampened brow, leaving behind a thick trail of mud as the earth from her hands happily clung to her skin and the lock of brown hair that had pasted itself to her forehead. She squinted at the book propped up on a tomato plant in front of her, pointing to the faded words with her gardening spade.
“Mountain arnica… Paste made from its leaves eases bruising and muscle pain… Poisonous if it comes in contact with the skin.” Maribel tapped her knee with the spade, ignoring the clumps of dirt that flung themselves with wild abandon in every direction. “Well, which is it? Does rubbing it into bruised skin heal you or kill you?” She plucked a cherry tomato from the plant beside her, chewing savagely as she glared at the text.
One didn’t get this sort of ambiguity with cooking. A plant had a certain flavor and that flavor mixed with other flavors, lending its unique qualities to the overall experience of the dish. There was no question on whether or not something was poisonous, it either killed you or it didn’t. Maribel snared another cherry tomato, admiring the sleek, perfect red skin before popping it into her mouth. The frustrating herb lesson faded from her mind as her taste buds sang their praise of the sweet flavor that only came from sun-ripened fruit. Her gaze slid to the side, snagging on the thin beige shoots that stuck out of the ground in the garlic patch, letting her know the small bulbs were ready to harvest. Sliced tomato sprinkled with minced garlic and drizzled with olive oil. A dash of salt and pepper, perhaps some finely grated cheese…
“Good morning!”
Maribel coughed, seeds from the tomato she’d been enjoying threatening to fly up her throat and out her nose. That voice. Warm, but firm, ringing clear and strong through the air. A shrieking laugh immediately followed and Maribel closed her eyes, slowly counting to ten before pinning a smile on her face and rising to greet her visitor.
“Good morning, Madame Balestra.” Her gaze fell to the two-year-old boy barreling ahead of her approaching neighbor like a warning shot from the cannon of an unfriendly ship. “Pierre, how lovely to see you again.”
The toddler ignored her and fell like a plague on her cherry tomato plants. Grubby hands flew through the air like windmills, snagging her precious fruits by the fistful and shoving them into his mouth. Pierre’s cheeks bulged like a greedy chipmunk’s and he fell to sit beside a particularly heavy plant, eyes locked firmly on the cherry tomatoes he planned to consume next.
“Pierre, please, you must ask Maribel before you help yourself to her tomatoes.”
Maribel’s skin ached as she forced it to maintain an expression of welcome despite her fervent desire to chase after Pierre while banging on a pot—the same method she used when crows landed in her cornfield. His mother’s voice was anything but disapproving. Madame Balestra had been the one to give Maribel her first cherry tomato plants, had been the one to show Maribel how to tie them to supports so the fruit didn’t drag on the ground. Had Maribel known that the price for the plants and advice would be letting her neighbor’s spawn eat his fill whenever he happened by, she might have elected to get her starter plants from someone else—perhaps someone who would take money for them instead of taking the fruits of her labor from her family’s mouths.
“Oh, no, please, he can help himself.” She stroked a nearby tomato plant, as if she could offer it the comfort she herself needed in the face of the ravenous child. Her gaze slid to the interloper with the bottomless stomach. “The little darling.”
Enjoy the diaper rash, you tomato thief.
“On my oath, that child could eat his weight in fruit,” Madame Balestra muttered, shaking her head. She prodded at one of the ruby-skinned fruits, touching at least five of them before finding one that seemed to meet her standards. Juice trickled from the corner of her mouth as she chewed and she dabbed daintily at it with a faded, but clean white handkerchief she pulled from her apron. “I’m so pleased the plants I gave you are flourishing so.”
“I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough,” Maribel said sweetly.
Because apparently, it is never enough.
She cleared her throat and knelt beside the tomato plant closest to her. She opened her skirt and gathered cherry tomatoes as slowly as her annoyance would allow. “I was about to take some inside myself. If Corrine enjoys them half as much as our young Pierre, it might be just the thing to put a smile on her face.”
“Ah, yes, where is your sister?”
Maribel tensed as Madame Balestra put on a show of searching the garden.
“I don’t see her,” Madame Balestra continued. “I would think that on a lovely day like today, she would be only too excited to be out working in the sunshine.”
“She’s tidying up inside.”
But not in the corners, because there could be spiders there.
“You know how dusty a house can get out here.”
“Oh, yes. I only wish I too could limit my duties to tidying up the house.” Piercing green eyes met Maribel’s. “But that is not the life of one who works the land to survive, is it? One must push oneself to care for not only the house, but the land. It is a great deal of work—especially when left for only two people such as yourself and your dear father.”
“Corrine’s not feeling well,” Maribel said tightly. She yanked a cherry tomato off the plant hard enough to rock the stick it was tied to.
“Still?” Madame Balestra plucked another tomato and held it in front of her face, though her attention was obviously on Maribel. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be so difficult for you to always have her work to do out here on top of your own. I can’t recall the last time I saw your older sibling tending the land.”
“I’m sure she would love to be out here working with us,” Maribel forced out through clenched teeth, her pleasant expression becoming brittle on her lips. “I often think of how horrible it must be for her to be housebound even on gorgeous days such as the one the gods have blessed us with today.”
“Such a shame nothing can be done to help the poor child,” Madame Balestra continued, her monologue unimpeded by Maribel’s interruption. “And so unusual. My niece was touched with the Evil Fire as a child, had horrible convulsions and delusions—used to scream that she could see her auntie who had passed away. But she outgrew it in a few months. I’ve never known anyone to suffer with it so far into adulthood. The demons’ grip must be strong on your sister, bless her soul.”
The cherry tomato in Maribel’s grip died a gruesome death as Maribel clenched her hand into a fist. Seeds and sticky red juice trickled from between her fingers.
“Maribel? Maribel!”
Maribel closed her eyes and cursed under her breath.
Not now, Corrine!
“Ah, here comes the poor dear now.” Madame Balestra threw the cherry tomato to the ground as she focused her full attention on Corrine. Her tone dripped with the false sincerity that struck so many of the villagers around Maribel’s family. “Such a lovely dress.”
The older woman twisted the knife in Maribel’s back with practiced ease, and Maribel surrendered. Her shoulders slumped as she faced the direction of her sister’s musical voice. Corrine’s tone was slightly breathless, something that could mean she was feeling particularly unwell today, or that she’d been calling Maribel’s name for some time and Maribel had been too preoccupied to hear her. Maribel half-wished it was the former. Perhaps if Corrine came stumbling up the hill with the pallor of a fresh corpse, Madame Balestra would stop harping on her absence in the fields.
