CELTICLADY'S REVIEWS: The Curse of Maiden Scars Nicolette Croft Coming in August 2024: Audiobook narrated by Liz May Brice Blog Post! @croft

Book Title

The Curse of Maiden Scars

Series

Maiden, Mother, Crone

Author

Nicolette Croft

Publication Date

June 4, 2024

Publisher

Historium Press

Pages

286

Genre

Historical Fiction / Women’s Fiction

Sixteen-year-old Renna Covert toils away in the shadows of a Yorkshire workhouse, her days filled with the mundane task of shelling cotton and the dangerous duty of scouting for punters. One fateful night, she crosses paths with two sailors and finds herself thrust into the heart of a chilling encounter at the local asylum.

These harrowing experiences catalyze Renna’s journey, promising newfound opportunities and revealing long-buried family secrets. Yet, at every turn, powerful forces conspire to thwart her quest for truth, forcing her to abandon her scullery work and embark on a daring escape to Venice alongside her steadfast companions.

In the labyrinthine alleys of Venice, Renna’s fate takes yet another twist. She is ensnared by a cunning Madam who trains her as a Venetian courtesan. But beneath the veneer of luxury lies a world fraught with danger, where Renna must rely on her withs and resilience to navigate the treacherous waters of deceit and betrayal.

Set against the backdrop of Venice’s tumultuous Napoleonic invasion of 1797, this is a tale of a girl's struggle for survival. It is a story of resilience, defiance in the face of adversity, and, ultimately, one young woman’s determination to reclaim her identity.

Universal Buy Link

https://books2read.com/u/mgDEOq

The Curse of Maiden Scars

Finding a niche in the lakeshore, I sat down on a dry boulder and signaled for Max to join me. A shallow stream babbled into the lake, singing a tune for our respite. I playfully removed my socks and shoes and plunged my toes into the water, letting out a squeal of shock at the chill.

A smile scratched the corner of Max’s lips.

“Something funny?” I flicked water at him with my foot, splashing him more than I intended.

At first, frozen in a wide-mouthed expression, he quickly transformed into rueful friskiness. “You’ll get yours.” He kicked his shoes onto the riverbank and strode into the lake, socks and all. Tugging off his shirt and plunging it deep into the water, he flung it at me, smacking me in the face. It stuck to my hair like al dente pasta glued against the kitchen tile wall.

Wrenching his shirt from my head, I was warmed by his laughter. Waist deep in the water, head turned high with hilarity, his coloring faintly improved. He morphed back into my little brother. Clutching my chest with mirth, I fought to maintain my balance on the rock and landed bum-first in the lake, right next to him, water cascading over him. When I sputtered to the surface, the newly baptized Max was hooting and pointing at me in amusement.

“You are a mess,” he playfully scolded.

My cap hung low over my brow. Branches and damp leaves clung to my tangles. Although thankful for the momentary joy, the frigid water chilled me, and I sought the sunshine warming the dry riverbank. Trudging my way out and marking the sand with deep footprints, I collected my shoes and huddled on the shore.

“Where are you going?” he shouted.

I removed the outer layer of my dressing and was clad in my shift. I stretched the dress over a warm boulder, hoping it would dry faster from the heat beneath and the sun above. Nestling into the earth, I began the daunting task of combing my hair through with my fingers. Max scooted alongside me and stripped off his outer jacket and trousers, leaving him in thin shirt and knee-length pantaloons.

I glanced at him, and he at me. His familiar smile made me feel we might look every bit our age and, for a flash, had roused the children we once were.

Max knelt behind me and began working on the tangles, starting at the top where I could not reach. I echoed the efforts at the end. Eventually, we would meet in the middle. I rubbed stretches of slick green slime from my hair. I stifled a gag as I thought of its sickening texture.

Max lingered at the collar of my shift, drawing it low to the middle of my back. I stiffened, knowing what he studied. He tenderly traced the length of the scars. “It’s very purple at the top,” he said, fingering a bump near the meat between my neck and shoulder. “This must have been the hottest part.” He touched lower, tickling me slightly as he progressed toward my spine. “It gets lighter as it goes down. If I didn’t know it was a burn, I would imagine the claw of a lion tore you diagonally from shoulder to waist.”

I enjoyed his image. Surviving a lion attack made me a warrior.

His warm cheek brushed over my shoulder. Tenderly, he breathed down the length of my back to the end of the scar. He pressed his chin against me and bruised me as he neared my neck again. He collapsed onto me in an awkward embrace, his mouth closed in on my skin, much like I imagined a tired child would resign itself to a mother. I scooted away, although I felt the instinct to hold him.

He protectively tucked his left arm in his lap. He appeared to be a fully intact, non-maimed boy from most angles, including my current vantage. We locked eyes, his functioning hand still resting on my shoulder. He slowly revealed the stump of the other arm. I had forgotten how shocking his raw appearance was—a petite boy with a blunted left arm stunted below the elbow joint.

Nicolette Croft can’t remember a time when she was not creating imaginary worlds inspired by her Hungarian and American ancestors.

As a neuro-divergent learner, however, putting those stories to paper proved more challenging than imagining them. Because her determination would not allow her to settle, she pursued an English B.A. to improve her writing.

Young motherhood also brought unexpected challenges, which motivated her to pursue graduate work in twice-exceptional learners and education.

She would later add an M.A. degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling, specializing in neurodivergent people, trauma, and grief. Nicolette uses her natural gift of storytelling as an exploratory method for her clients.

The Curse of Maiden Scars is also an outgrowth of her personal journey and marks her first publication as a novelist, having previously published short fiction.

When not at her counseling practice or researching historical facts for her latest story, Nicolette shares treasured time with family, friends, and her husband.

Whether writing, cooking, traveling, or learning, the act of creation is always at the center of her colorful life.