An Austen-inspired Short Story Duet
Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.
Tea for Two:
An Austen-Inspired Short Story Duet
by Bianca White
Genre: Historical Romance
Jane Austen and tea. What more could one ask for?
Enjoy two tea parties, two romances and
two characters from one of the world’s most beloved authors.
In this historical romance short story duet gossip-loving Mrs Jennings meddles
in affairs of the heart, and scandalous Henry Crawford turns heads once again!
Be swept away by the amusements of the Regency tea party in these Austen-inspired short stories. Delight in the sweet romance, dancing, gossip and, of course, tea.
“But indeed I would rather have nothing but tea.”
― Jane Austen, Mansfield Park
Tea for Two comprises two short stories:
Jilted
Lord Asher Mandeville is heartbroken when his childhood love, Miss Tabitha Rowe, jilts him only weeks before their wedding.
Asher refuses to accept Tabitha’s rejection and chases after his betrothed to demand an explanation.
Tabitha is determined to escape him, but Asher’s shattered heart will accept nothing other than her return.
Wooing Miss Woodforde
Jasper Trevethan loves Miss Sophie Woodforde, but he is a penniless rake. Sophie would never marry him, even if he were rich.
As an impoverished companion, Sophie serves the whims of others while pining for her employer’s scandalous nephew.
When an unexpected inheritance transforms Sophie’s life, she becomes the target of fortune hunters.
Before another scoundrel steals his love, Jasper must prove his devotion and woo Miss Woodforde. But Sophie would rather become an old maid than marry a man who only wants her for her money, especially Mr Trevethan.
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Excerpt from Wooing Miss Woodforde
He headed to the drawing room.
While Sophie continued to hold his heart, he could not bring himself to marry another. Yes, he had wasted his days living off his brother while indulging in a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking. Now he had no option but to pray his aunt left him her fortune. Perhaps then he could offer for Sophie. She will never marry a rake, you fool. As usual, he tamped down the bitter truth, but the tiny flicker of hope that one day she may be his was the only thing that prevented him from sinking further.
His aunt dropped onto the sofa before the crackling hearth. “It does not help your cause that you continue to associate with that scoundrel, Mr Crawford.”
Sophie carried out her duties in efficient silence, pretending not to hear the details of his scandalous associations. How he longed to take her away from this life of servitude. Someone so good, kind and selfless deserved better.
After pouring the tea, she handed her employer a cup.
Without a word of thanks to her companion, his aunt continued, “There is still talk about his scandalous affair with Mrs Rushworth. You should end the connection, for it will only sully your name further. Your reputation as a rake does not help matters, but being associated with an adulterer will not earn you a respectable bride. What must my dear sister think of her favourite now?”
He accepted his cup from Sophie with his head down and muttered his thanks. Shame gnawed at his insides. If his mother had not died of typhus before he reached his tenth year, she would have been sorely disappointed in him.
Why could he not be a better man? He should have sought a profession after university. If he had done something useful, perhaps, he may have earned Sophie’s good opinion and won her heart. Instead, he had wasted his life. He was a hopeless rake beyond salvage, in love with a woman far above him in noble character. Even if he were rich, she would always be too good for him.
Sophie sat on the sofa next to his aunt and twiddled with a delicate curl at her nape.
He had to ask again. “Are you certain you are well, Miss Woodforde?”
“Stop trying to misdirect the attention from yourself, Trevethan.” Aunt Hammond sipped at her tea.
Wispy tendrils of steam rose from the beige liquid in his cup, and he tamped down the urge to ask for something stronger. Liquor would have to wait. Even though nothing eased the painful longing within him lately.
He could not resist being drawn to the source of his yearning while she stared at the flickering flames in the hearth. What had happened to the woman who enjoyed lecturing him about the latest philanthropic project she wished to support or teased him following the gossip surrounding his misadventures? Not that he had many these days unless one counted spending the evenings drinking brandy with Crawford while they both pined for the women they loved but could not possess.
“Trevethan!” he jerked his head towards his aunt. Her narrowed gaze bore into him. Had he given himself away?
She glowered, then said, “Miss Woodforde has received some surprising news today that has unsettled her.”
Sophie’s head shot up; her wide gaze directed towards her employer.
“I hope it is nothing serious?” My God, she was ill. “Is there anything I can do?”
Aunt Hammond scoffed. “It is not unwelcome news—well, not for Miss Woodforde.”
“Mrs Hammond.” Sophie pleaded, but as usual, his aunt could not be silenced.
“Miss Woodforde is now an heiress with twenty thousand.”
His breath stuttered.
On the opposite sofa, Sophie’s head lolled forward, and she ran a palm across her forehead.
Sophie was a wealthy woman—a single, wealthy woman. That meant she no longer needed to work for his aunt. He would not see her when he visited.
Aunt Hammond asked, “Will you not offer your congratulations?”
He glanced at his aunt before returning his attention to Sophie, whose shoulders slumped.
A burning sensation spread down his gullet, and he swallowed. “Congratulations, Miss Woodforde.”
His aunt sniffed. “She is almost maudlin; anyone would think a beloved family member had died.”
Sophie continued to stare into the teacup in her lap. She would leave, and he would never see her again.
Aunt Hammond prattled on. “Heaven knows why, but she wishes to keep it a secret. She should marry, yet she insists she will remain in my employment.”
Of course, her sense of duty would not allow her to abandon his aunt. Selfish thoughts about her leaving had distracted him from the more pressing issue. Another man would steal her from him. His heart skipped a beat. He could not allow it.
Bianca White writes passionate and spicy historical romance.
Bianca loves history and has a degree in history and history of art. The word “research” is often used as an excuse to drag members of her family around every stately home and castle wherever they go. Nothing, not even the grumbling of said family, will keep her away from a historical fashion exhibition.
When she’s not writing, Bianca feeds her addiction to romance novels. She also loves baking and watching movies. Thanks to her love of baking (and eating), she feels the need to balance it with a little activity and enjoys tai chi, aerobics and swimming.
Bianca lives in West Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two children.
To receive all the latest news from Bianca White, and a bit of history in your inbox, sign up for her mailing list at Bianca White Writes.
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Amaranthine
Eternal Life.
Endless Love.
Infinite Cost.
Amaranthine
by Delia Strange
Genre: SciFi Time Travel Historical Paranormal Vampire Romance
Eternal life comes at a cost
For centuries, Amaranthine has walked through time—an immortal bound by a gift she never asked for. From the opulent halls of the Roman Empire to the decadent jazz clubs of 1920s London, to the futuristic floating city of New Francisco, she has lived countless lives, loved deeply, and lost more than most could ever bear. With each new era comes new faces: lovers, rivals, and those drawn to the mystery of her eternal existence. But immortality comes with a price, and as the world changes, so too does the weight of the centuries she carries.
Torn between living for the future and haunted by the choices of her past, Amaranthine must confront the question that has followed her for an eternity: What does it mean to live forever when everything and everyone else fades away?
“This is the
first book in a while that I have continued to mull over even after I’d
finished reading it as it’s definitely a story that gets you thinking.”
~ Lynne Stringer, Goodreads Review
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The olive trees stood like shadows in the distance, swaying in the night breeze. Amaranthine’s steps were cautious, her eyes scanning the darkness, but as she reached the edge of the grove, there was no sign of him. Her breath hitched in her throat, a sudden pang of doubt freezing her where she stood. Had she waited too long? Her heart sank as she looked around. She’d been foolish to think this was possible, that someone like her could step outside the boundaries of her life, if only for a moment.
But then Marcellus stepped forward, his form emerging from the darkness and appearing in front of her like a dream. His smile was slow, knowing, and when his eyes met hers, she felt that rush all over again, more powerful this time for the waiting.
“I thought you might change your mind,” he said, his voice cutting through the night.
Amaranthine exhaled, the tension leaving her body in a soft, trembling breath. “I almost did,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but then she smiled, feeling the same reckless pull that had brought her here. “But I’m here.”
Marcellus took her hand, his touch warm, and without a word he led her deeper into the olive grove. The trees closed in around them and the world outside the grove disappeared, leaving only the two of them beneath the cover of night. The air smelled faintly of the earth and the lingering sweetness of ripening fruit, but all Amaranthine could focus on was the heat of his hand against hers, the certainty in his steps as he drew her farther away from the villa, away from everything she knew.
When he stopped, she nearly stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden stillness. Marcellus turned to face her, his gaze sweeping over her with an intensity that made her catch her breath. His eyes roamed her face, her body, lingering as though his look could somehow touch her skin. It wasn’t just a glance; it was deeper, heavier.
Slowly, deliberately, Marcellus ran his fingers up her arm, light as a breeze. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, thrilling and delicate all at once. His hand traveled over her shoulder, warm and sure, before brushing against her neck, where her pulse raced beneath his fingertips. He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek as his other hand slid into her hair, gently cradling the back of her neck. The closeness of him—his soft breath against her skin, his scent unfamiliar and intoxicating—made her dizzy.
When he pressed his body against hers, she didn’t hesitate. Amaranthine’s arms wrapped around him as though it was the most natural thing in the world, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. She could feel the heat of him through the thin cloth, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the thrilling, terrifying anticipation that hovered in the air between them. He leaned in, his lips so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath, and her body instinctively tilted forward, closing the last distance between them.
The kiss began softly, their lips brushing with a delicate hesitance, as though both of them were testing the boundaries of something new. It was sweet, tender, like a whispered secret exchanged in the dark. Amaranthine’s heart fluttered, the warmth of his mouth against hers sending gentle waves of pleasure through her body. Her hands tightened their grip on his tunic, pulling him closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away—her worries, her fears, even the nagging sense of not belonging. Here, in this kiss, she felt connected, as though they shared something deeper than words.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the kiss deepened. Marcellus’ arms wrapped around her waist, his hands pressing her closer, and the softness between them gave way to something more intense, more urgent. Passion overtook them both, their lips moving with a fervor that surprised her. Amaranthine had never kissed anyone before, but she felt as though she’d always known how, the way their mouths fit together, the way their breaths mingled in the cool night air. Her heart pounded faster, and a strange heat pooled in her chest, spreading through her veins in a way that made her feel alive.
Then something within her awoke. At first, she didn’t recognize it, mistaking the growing intensity for the natural progression of a kiss. There was a pull, a sensation inside her, almost like the drawing of breath, but deeper, fuller. She thought it was part of the magic of kissing, the way it could make someone feel as though they were floating, untethered from everything. No wonder people kiss, she thought, her mind hazy with the thrill of it. It’s wonderful. She let the sensation sweep over her, unaware of what she was truly doing. But then, after a moment, she noticed something different. Their lips had stopped moving. The rhythm they had found, the tender push and pull, had stilled.
Amaranthine opened her eyes, confused, and pulled back. Her breath caught in her throat. Marcellus staggered away from her, his face ashen, his once bright eyes dull and clouded. He looked gaunt, hollow, as though something had been drained from him. His skin sagged against the bones of his cheeks, and before her eyes, he aged—twenty years, maybe more—his youthful vibrance withering into something frail and brittle. He gasped, his hands reaching out toward her as though for help, but no words came. Then, with a final shuddering breath, Marcellus crumpled to the ground, motionless.
The world around her seemed to tilt, the ground beneath her feet suddenly unsteady as she stared at Marcellus’ lifeless body. Her chest tightened, a wild panic rising inside her, but she couldn’t move. Her legs felt rooted to the spot, her mind unable to comprehend what had just happened. Only moments ago, they had been so close—he had been so alive. Now, the boy who had held her in his arms, who had smiled at her like she was a secret worth keeping, lay motionless at her feet, his face hollow and pale, drained of life.
An only child with an active imagination, I created many stories in my head. My bookcase was overflowing, and I loved visiting the library. I’d always been a reader, but I hadn’t considered writing until a childhood friend said we should write our ideas down. Once I started writing my stories, I couldn’t stop.
I gravitated to stories of peculiar places and happenings. I loved twists and dark reveals, so my writing didn’t stray far from that. I was a fan of fantasy—of ancient Greek myths or contemporary paranormal stories. They captured my imagination and opened me to worlds of possibilities. There were no constraints on fantasy, no wrong or right answers; anything I dreamed up was acceptable. And then came H. G. Wells and science fiction, which also opened the door to paranormal and speculative fiction, my three favourite genres.
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Born Like This
She went back in time to rescue him.
She never counted on falling in love…
Born Like This
Maizemerized Book 2
by Maggie Blackbird
Genre: Historical Paranormal Time-Travel Romance
She went back in time to rescue him. She never counted on falling in love…
Alma Whitecrow prefers hunting and fishing with men, not romancing them. But hearing about the roguishly handsome coureur de bois, who saved her sister from the Dakota, haunts her thoughts and dreams. Well-versed in surviving the wilds, Alma resolves to travel to the mid-eighteenth century, as her sister once did, to save the man from impending death.
Charlot Baudelaire thumbs his nose at society’s expectations, content living as a loner, trading with people he calls the Saulters. If he needs a woman for the night, there is always a willing maiden. What he doesn’t expect is a spunky and stubborn female warrior to challenge him.
Charlot is not the man Alma dreamed about, and Alma is not the kind of woman Charlot pursues. But the longer they are together, the more drawn to each other they become, until Alma faces the biggest decision of her life. Stay with a man who may never reciprocate her love, or return to her Ojibway home and bland existence.
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Alma had expected to step into a battle. Reality set in. The only killing she’d done was animals when hunting with Grandpa. But if she didn’t shoot, she risked her own life and Theodore’s as she faced six Dakota sporting arrows.
Theodore growled, waiting for her command.
The Dakota didn’t fire at her, though. They seemed to fire everywhere else, hollering in a language she couldn’t comprehend. The fear in their eyes indicated she’d terrified them.
Maybe they assumed she was a ghost when she’d emerged through the flickering flames.
As the Dakota scattered, she tracked their moccasin footprints, but one set stood out. Grandpa had told her about the spread of the toes, and these toes weren’t spread. They came from a person who walked in shoes or boots. Someone who later in life had switched to the footwear of the Indigenous people.
She followed the footprints with Theodore beside her, sniffing. She used the end of her rifle to move aside the thick brush, which was why her homeland was called the bush at her reserve. There was nothing to call a forest or woods about Northwestern Ontario.
The thick underbrush kept trying to snag her clothing. Clothing she longed to remove. When she left home, she’d donned an outfit for a cold Halloween night. But summer bloomed here. She could remove her jacket since she had a sweater underneath, and beneath that a tank top.
A groan came about ten feet from her, and she aimed her rifle in the direction of the sound. She moved through the many twigs and branches but didn’t spot a blood trail. Whatever lay beneath the berry bush had been hit there.
Another groan.
Whoever was hurt wasn’t an animal. That was the sound of a human being. Maybe one of the Dakota?
She edged in closer until she caught the moccasins sticking out, along with breeches. This wasn’t a Dakota or warrior from the village under attack.
Her heart held its beat.
Had she found Charlot?
Maizemerized Book 1
She’s always been obsessed with her ancestors, and now he’s offering her a chance to live with them… forever.
Second-year university student Edie Whitecrow gobbles up each course on Indigenous studies. If only she could experience the lives of her Anishinaabe ancestors instead of reading about them. On her way to a Halloween party decked out as a historical Ojibway maiden, she spies a corn maze in a spot known to be barren.
A scarecrow figure beckons Edie to enter with the enticing offer of making her biggest wish come true. She jumps at the chance and finds herself in the past, face to face with the man who haunts her dreams—the handsome brave Thunder Bear. He claims he’s spent twelve years waiting for Gitche Manidoo to send her to him.
Life in the eighteenth century isn’t what Edie romanticized about, though. When her conscience is tested, she must choose between the modern day or the world of her descendants—where the man she was born for resides.
What readers are saying:
“This novel is true to history while still spinning a lovely tale of love. I highly recommend it to anyone who loves historical and time travel romances.” –Goodreads Reviewer
“The story had me glued to the pages from start to finish. Loved and recommend
this book.” –B&N Reviewer
“Based on prior reading from the author, I knew this would be a great book. I
had no idea just how much I’d love it.” –BookBub Reviewer
“Once I started reading, I was not putting this book down.” –Goodreads Reviewer
This is one of the best romance novels I’ve ever read in my entire life. This book will pull you in full force and make you feel so many different emotions.” –Goodreads Reviewer
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Thunder Bear nodded. “Fire Woman. Is it not an appropriate name? The flames did not burn you. Fire is your friend. Your spirit guide.”
“I want to be honest.” She wet her plush mouth with the color riper than raspberries. “I have been educated in the ways of the white men. Where I come from, we live like white men.”
“I know you do. It is in your speech, your movement, your behavior.” He reached out and touched her bare arm that possessed delicate strength beneath the smooth flesh he palmed. “You are here to become what you are meant to truly be. We will teach you, if you are willing.”
“I am more than willing. In the white man’s world, I am learning everything about the People. I have studied the People ever since I was a little girl.”
“I know you have. It is why you came.” He could not resist letting his palm move along her arm. Beneath the skin he stroked, her slight muscle flexed.
She wet her lips.
The urge to claim her mouth was a test of his restraint. They’d only met this morning, and he must go slow. To slide his mouth over hers after just meeting was not how a warrior conducted himself. Yet, the way she’d drew her tongue along her lower lip was caressing and licking him beneath his breechclout. Her innocent gesture might as well have been her nails raking his backside, her hands boldly exploring his arms, and her breasts melting against his chest.
She was aptly named, because a fire danced in her sparkling dark eyes. A fire of desire. A fire of need. A fire flickering with mesmerization in her gaze touching his face.
He stifled the groan aching to leave his throat.
She seemed to drag her gaze to the dark water. If where they stood was better lit, he’d probably witness redness on her cheeks.
“What is it?”
Again, she wet her lips. “I… Maybe I should go back?”
A punch seemed to knock his gut. “Return? Now?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean the wigwam. Not the…the…”
“The dancing flames?”
She nodded.
Relief loosened the knots of his shoulder muscles. He didn’t believe in restraining any maiden, but if she had dared to run for where she had come from, he probably would have tossed her over his shoulder and carted her back to the camp. Now that he had found what he’d waited twelve years to capture, he wasn’t letting her go.
Somehow, he had to help her find her courage to survive with them. She was destined to be here.
An Ojibway from Northwestern Ontario, Maggie resides in the country with her husband and their fur babies, two beautiful Alaskan Malamutes. When she’s not writing, she can be found pulling weeds in the flower beds, mowing the huge lawn, walking the Mals deep in the bush, teeing up a ball at the golf course, fishing in the boat for walleye, or sitting on the deck at her sister’s house, making more wonderful memories with the people she loves most.
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A Murder Is Announced: A Miss Marple Mystery
The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn, including Jane Marple, are agog with curiosity over an advertisement in the local gazette which read: ‘A murder is announced and will take place on Friday October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6:30 p.m.’ Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, a crowd begins to gather at Little Paddocks at the pointed time when, without warning, the lights go out …
Editorial Reviews
From the Back Cover
The villagers of Chipping Cleghorn are agog with curiosity when the Gazette advertises “A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 29th, at Little Paddocks at 6.30 p.m.”
A childish practical joke? Or a spiteful hoax? Unable to resist the mysterious invitation, the locals arrive at Little Paddocks at the appointed time when, without warning, the lights go out and a gun is fired. When they come back on, a gruesome scene is revealed. An impossible crime? Only Miss Marple can unravel it.
From AudioFile
Rosemary Leach provides an animated narration of this Christie classic. Leach’s versatile portrayals of the townspeople hold the listener spellbound as she introduces men and women of all ages and weaves her voice through a full range of dialects, accents and brogues. B.L.W. (c)AudioFile, Portland, Maine
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The Witch’s Rebirth
This Samhain, awaken the legend.
Confront the darkness.
Labyrinth of Shadows
The Witch’s Rebirth Part I
by Michaela Riley
Genre: Dark Epic Historical Fantasy
The Empire Falls. A Witch Rises. Humanity’s Last Hope.
What if the world’s salvation depended on the rebirth of its most feared woman?
Award-winning author Michaela Riley delivers a groundbreaking saga with The Witch’s Rebirth Series, beginning with the electrifying Labyrinth of Shadows: The Witch’s Rebirth Part I.
Born on Samhain, under the ominous shroud of an eclipse, Merona’s destiny is a spell woven through centuries. As the mighty Western Roman Empire crumbles into dust and a new king rises amidst the ashes, an ancient prophecy demands her awakening. This is no mere historical reimagining; it is a cosmic tension, an eerie beauty where history and myth conspire to ignite a forgotten power.
Forget the villains of myth. In this epic tale, the world’s salvation rests on the shoulders of its most feared woman. Merona’s rebirth isn’t just a beginning; it’s the genesis of humanity’s last hope. Journey with her through a labyrinth of shadows, where destiny, reclamation, and the profound cost of becoming who you were always meant to be collide.
Labyrinth of Shadows: The Witch’s Rebirth Part I doesn’t just sound epic—it feels like a spell cast across time. Prepare for a story that flips archetypes, raises the stakes to unimaginable heights, and will leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about fate and fear.
The Witch’s Rebirth Series by Award-Winning Author Michaela Riley. Her rebirth begins. The world will never be the same.
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Cauldron of Dagda
The Witch’s Rebirth Part II
This Samhain, the veil thins, and a legend awakens.
Michaela Riley, the award-winning storyteller whose words have captivated readers, invites you on a journey back to a time when magic thrummed in the very soil and darkness lurked at the edges of the known world. Step into The Witch’s Rebirth Series, a saga that begins not with a whisper, but with a shattering revelation on the most sacred night of the year.
The year is 540 A.D. The air in Gaul is thick with an unspoken dread, a chilling premonition spreading like wildfire from the East. For nearly three decades, a name whispered with fear, a figure known only as The Witch, has remained a phantom, a recluse safeguarding truths too powerful to be spoken. Merona, the woman behind the myth, has lived a life of quiet vigilance, her existence a shield against a nameless terror.
But the shadows are lengthening. An ancient, lurking darkness, a force older than empires and more insidious than plague, has begun to stir. This is not a foe that wields steel; it is a corruption that feasts on despair, a creeping night threatening to extinguish the last embers of humanity. And Merona, the reclusive witch, is no longer hidden. She is drawn from her sanctuary, her slumbering power ignited by an imperative she cannot ignore.
Her mission is immense, her burden profound. Merona is the solitary guardian of the Cauldron of Dagda, an artifact of immense power, a beacon of hope in a world teetering on the precipice of eternal night. Humanity’s fate rests not on armies, but on the whispered incantations and fierce determination of one woman.
Beside her, though the odds are stacked against them, stand those who have pledged their unwavering loyalty. Murdach, Morrigan, and Mairead. Their faces, etched with the weariness of countless battles against the encroaching darkness, mirror the grim resolve in Merona’s own eyes. Her voice, though carrying the weight of prophecy and the echo of a fragile world, is not one of despair, but of a fierce, unwavering commitment.
The Witch’s Rebirth Series is more than a story; it is an immersion into a visceral world where pagan lore collides with cataclysmic threats. It is a testament to the power of resilience, the strength of chosen family, and the indomitable spirit of those who dare to stand against the tide of oblivion.
Prepare to be spellbound. Prepare to witness the impossible. Prepare for The Witch’s Rebirth Series by Michaela Riley.
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Spear of Lugh
The Witch’s Rebirth Part III
Prepare for the Rebirth. Prepare for War.
She was reborn on Samhain. And that was only the beginning.
From the award-winning imagination of Michaela Riley comes a sweeping saga where ancient myth bleeds into brutal history, and humanity’s fate rests on the shoulders of one formidable woman. Welcome to THE WITCH’S REBIRTH SERIES.
In the shadowed year of 544 AD, the ancient Gaul town of Septimania lies scarred, but not broken. A devastating plague had gripped its very soul, until the Witch, through powerful, arcane deeds, began to loosen its deadly hold. Now, as the sacred eve of Samhain approaches, the air hums with the promise of roaring bonfires, desperate festivity, and a fragile new dawn.
But beneath the surface of celebration, an unsettling truth stirs: an ancient darkness, long thought defeated, is awakening once more. This menacing, primeval force threatens to extinguish the fragile light of renewal, to plunge Septimania, and indeed all humanity, into an eternal night.
With the raven’s call echoing through the labyrinth’s core, the Witch emerges, reborn and wielding the legendary Cauldron of Dagda and the mighty Spear of Lugh. She is poised for one final, desperate battle. To preserve humanity, she must summon the enigmatic, divine strength of the Gods – the awe-inspiring might of the Tuatha De Danann. For in this coming conflict, so cataclysmic are the stakes, there will be no victor left standing unless the ancient powers heed her plea.
Will the Witch’s rebirth be humanity’s salvation, or its final, desperate gasp?
Dive into THE WITCH’S REBIRTH SERIES by Award-Winning Author Michaela Riley and witness the epic struggle for survival where myth is made, and legends are forged in fire and blood.
Your journey into ancient magic and desperate heroism begins on Samhain.
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Michaela Riley: Where Virginia Trails Meet Ancestral Magic
From the front lines of critical care to the enchanting worlds of fiction, Michaela Riley, a retired Army Critical Care Nurse with a Masters in Nursing Education, is the award-winning author behind “The Witch’s Rebirth” series.
Nestled in Virginia, Michaela shares her life with her husband and a distinctive duo of canine muses: Morrigan, a majestic red German Shepherd, and Carlos, a spirited Chihuahua-terrier. Her inspiration roots deep in the local mountains and forests, where each hike is a pilgrimage that connects her to ancestral whispers. These profound journeys directly fuel her captivating stories, weaving together magic, history, and the transformative power of self-discovery.
Through evocative prose, Michaela invites readers to explore their own heritage and embrace the extraordinary magic found in uncovering one’s deepest truths.
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Book Reviews by the Reluctant Retiree 