27 February 2025

Horses Heal Hearts Book 1 by Kimberly Beckett Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #HorsesHealHearts @authorkimberlybeckett

Follow Jessica Warren, her family, and friends as they find true love in the competitive world of equestrian sports.

Dressage Dreaming

Horses Heal Hearts Book 1

by Kimberly Beckett

Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance

Michael Stafford was on top of the world. A proud member of the British Olympic dressage team and Olympic gold medalist, his life was perfect. Then, he lost his mount, his fiancée left him for another man, and now, his brother has been arrested for manslaughter.

He believes his luck has turned when he learns that a beautiful and talented stallion is available in Germany, just in time to compete in the next World Cup competition. The horse’s name is Tempest.

Jessica Warren is an up-and-coming American dressage prodigy with a brilliant future. Orphaned at the age of 21, when her parents were tragically killed in a car accident, and the legal guardian of her younger sister, Jessica has lost her competition mount to injury and needs a new horse if she wants to compete in next year’s World Cup.

She learns of a spectacular horse available in Germany named Tempest, but when Jessica arrives in Germany with her trainer, she discovers she will have to compete with the extremely handsome and talented Michael Stafford for the right to ride Tempest.

Jessica has nothing but respect for Michael, but sparks fly when they’re thrown together in a competition that both must win.

Who will win Tempest? Will Michael be able to trust another woman with his heart? Will Jessica allow herself to be loved, or will her personal demons keep them apart?

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Chapter One

A loud, rhythmic banging noise shattered the glorious dream of his past Olympic glory, and Michael slowly woke and made the agonizing transition from perfect bliss to cold, stark reality. An earsplitting voice invaded his foggy, alcohol-dazed state “Oy! Mike! I know you’re in there, man. Open up!”

“Bloody hell!” Michael groaned, as his head throbbed in pain. “Stop that pounding, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Michael pulled himself up off the overstuffed leather sofa upon which he had apparently crashed sometime in the early morning hours after finishing off his last bottle of scotch. His mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. His head was pounding in time with the beat of his heart, and his walk was unsteady as he took the first few steps toward the door.

The clock on the wall showed it was ten o’clock. Even the slow, steady ticking away of the seconds was painful to his head this morning. He gradually made his way to the door as he tried to mentally bring himself into the present. Now, a year later, Michael was living in the refurbished manor house on the farm in Surrey that he had purchased with the money he had earned as a result of his Olympic success. He had turned the small farm into a dressage training yard and boarding stable and christened it Stafford Oaks Farm. It was what he and Emma had dreamed of that night, the best night of his life. So much had happened since then.

As he moved toward the door, Michael scanned the compact living area that had once been the family parlor and noticed piles of dirty clothes and dishes strewn about the room. He hastily tried to move some of the worst of it out of the way. He gingerly opened the curtains of the window closest to his front door and squinted into the late morning sun to see who had so rudely awakened him. Lionel Hayes, his best friend for nearly twenty years and a fellow dressage rider, stood outside and peered back, motioning to the door. “Do you mind?”

Michael opened the door. “Lionel, you sod, what the hell are doing here?”

Lionel pushed his way into the room. He was a bit taller than Michael, but much thinner, almost gaunt in appearance. His blond hair and blue eyes were stereotypically British as was his long, thin nose, and prominent square chin. “I tried to call you on your cell phone an hour ago and you didn’t call me back. I got worried. What in God’s name have you been doing?” Lionel grimaced as he looked around at what had once been a neat and tastefully decorated manor. He wrinkled his nose “This is disgusting.” Then Lionel noticed the empty bottle of Scotch on Michael’s coffee table. “Now I know what you’ve been up to, trying to drown your sorrows in drink yet again. Well, my friend, it’s not going to work, and I’m here to make sure you don’t end up in the hospital with liver failure.”

Lionel walked around Michael’s home, opening curtains and cranking open several windows to allow a cool morning breeze to circulate through what had been a hot, stuffy home filled with dirty laundry and dishes and smelled like a cross between a men’s locker room and a garbage dump.

“Look, Lionel, I think I’m entitled to an occasional drinking binge considering everything that’s happened to me in the past year.” Michael’s mind immediately flashed back over the year that had passed since he had experienced the best day of his life: winning a gold medal at the Olympic Games held in his home country. Since that day, his life had been nothing but a series of setbacks and disappointment. First, the owners of Romeo, the gifted stallion he rode to a gold medal in the Olympics, decided to take the horse out of competition immediately after the Games to make a tidy profit breeding him. Without Romeo, Michael wasn’t able to continue to compete internationally, and was having a great deal of trouble finding another horse as talented to ride in Romeo’s stead. Without the public exposure competition gleaned for him, his Olympic fame began to fade. His fiancée, Emma, who had enjoyed the glitter and attention he drew immediately following the Olympic Games, became bored with their lives after Michael moved out of the spotlight. It wasn’t long before she began acting suspicious of his relationships with other women, accusing him of being unfaithful to her. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and he had tried to explain to Emma that he had to travel to teach clinics and market his skills as a trainer, but all she seemed to be able to see were the many women who clamored to meet him and get close to him. Her suspicions baffled him, because he took great pains never to be alone with any of the women he met through his clinics and loved Emma too much to cheat on her with any other woman.

Michael still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened between them, but everything seemed to fall apart right after the Olympic Games. Before the Games, he and Emma were on top of the world, looking forward to a life together living on his training yard in the country outside London, where he would raise and train horses for himself and others in dressage, and she would continue working in the city for a prestigious law firm. He was certain they loved each other unconditionally, although he must admit in hindsight that their relationship wasn’t perfect. Still, he felt betrayed, and had vowed to himself never to give his heart so foolishly ever again.

Michael picked up the tabloid from his coffee table and showed it to Lionel. On the cover was a picture of Emma with a one of Britain’s most famous footballers. She was laughing and looking at him adoringly, and he seemed to enjoy her attention, smiling down and holding her close, with his arm around her waist. “I can’t go anywhere without some reminder of Emma. While standing in line at the grocery store buying food for the week, I saw this in a rack next to the checkout line.” He pointed to the photo on the cover. “It seems she has a penchant for rich and famous men,” he said bitterly. “She used to look at me like that,” Michael fumed. “Just wait until you get injured or retire, friend” he told the man in the photos, “she’ll drop you like a rock.” Unfortunately, although his head told him he had escaped a bad situation and should be grateful, his heart was still engaged, and he had tried last night to dull the pain with Scotch.

“Look, man.” Lionel threw the tabloid back on the table. “You’ve got to let her go and get on with your life. You can’t let her be your ruin.”

Michael knew Lionel was right. His career and his life had gone seriously downhill since Emma left. While he had once been scrupulous about his preparation for public appearances and had always been punctual for clinics and lessons, he was now either late or, even worse, a last-minute cancel or no-show for fully booked weekend clinics for which he had already been paid half up front. He had also started to be chronically late for lesson clients, and one of his two working students had left him in frustration. As a result, the invitations to do clinics stopped coming, and many of his lesson clients moved on to other trainers. The agent he hired after the Olympic Games eventually dropped him. He had barely any income except for some horse boarding clients at his stable, and a couple of training clients who were also good friends and understood why he was acting out of character. Even those clients, though, were losing patience. As a result, he was becoming alarmingly close to financial ruin. He was barely able to make the monthly mortgage payments on his farm, and had been forced to live a very austere existence, the occasional drinking binge notwithstanding.

As Lionel moved a pile of clothes out of the way so he could sit down on the sofa, Michael’s phone started ringing.

“Good God!” Michael groaned, as his head throbbed in pain. “What now?”

He picked up the phone. “Yes, what is it?” Michael growled into the receiver.

“Mr. Michael Stafford?” The clipped, and very formal male voice on the other line responded.

“Yes. This is Michael Stafford. Who is this?”

“This is Constable Eric Madden of the Surrey police. We have your brother Ian Stafford in custody here at the station.”

Michael’s heart sank, and he raked his fingers through his hair. “What has my brother done, Constable Madden? Why is he in custody?”

“Last night, your brother started a fight, and stabbed one of the patrons of the Rusty Nail Pub in Woking. The pub owner called us for assistance, and when two constables arrived in response to the Pub owner’s call, he resisted arrest. He punched one of our officers before we were able to subdue him. He also had been drinking excessively according to witnesses at the scene. We have him in custody. Unfortunately, the man your brother stabbed died at the hospital two hours later, so Mr. Stafford has officially been charged with manslaughter.”

Michael’s heart sank. “My God!” he exclaimed, “That’s simply not possible. Ian would never purposely hurt anyone unless he was defending himself. “Something must be seriously wrong if Ian had gotten himself into this kind of trouble. “How is he, Constable?”

“He has a few bruises from the fight, and he has a pretty powerful hangover, but otherwise, he seems to be physically all right, and no one else was seriously injured,” the constable replied. “He’s asked me to contact you. He wants to see you.”

“Certainly, Constable Madden. I’ll be right there.”

“Mr. Stafford, if I may, your brother has refused to speak with us about exactly what happened last night, and he has also not requested a solicitor to assist with his defense. I suggest you engage a solicitor to represent him at your earliest convenience. These charges are serious, and he may be facing life in prison if found guilty.”

“Thank you, Constable. That’s good advice. I’ll get on it right away.” Michael hung up the phone and looked at Lionel.

“I’m sorry Li, I have to go to the police station. It appears my brother Ian has gotten himself arrested, and could be in some serious trouble.”

“Do you want me to come along? It might be nice to have some moral support.”

“No, but thanks for the offer. This is family business, and I don’t want you to get entangled in this mess. At least not until I get to the bottom of this.”

“At least let me fix you something to eat while you shower and change. There’s no way you want to go to the police station looking like you do right now.” Lionel opened the refrigerator and searched for something he might be able to cook. “Do you have any eggs or milk?”

Michael shuddered at the thought of solid food hitting his much-abused stomach, but he knew Lionel was right. He needed nourishment, and scrambled eggs would work as well as anything.

“I do. If you look a bit, there should be both in there. Thanks, man.” With Lionel now occupied in the kitchen, Michael turned and went into the bathroom. After Michael left the room, Lionel could no longer suppress the malicious grin he had been hiding since he arrived at Michael’s home. His plan was working. He was, slowly and surely, ruining Michael Stafford’s life.

End of Excerpt

Racing Toward Love

Horses Heal Hearts Book 2

Ian Stafford is a former British Special Forces soldier and Afghanistan war veteran who still has nightmares after watching his best friend cut down by a sniper in a remote village in Afghanistan. When he sees a woman in a local pub being harassed and threatened, he intervenes. During the ensuing brawl, the woman escapes, but Ian accidentally stabs one of his attackers, who later dies. Ian is charged with manslaughter, and the woman who can exonerate him has disappeared.

Megan Brady and her father Daniel never imagined that the thoroughbred colt they raised from birth would grow up to be a contender for the British Triple Crown. Seabiscuit II is the last horse you might imagine as a champion if judged by looks alone. Like his namesake, Seabiscuit II is not much to look at, but has a heart as big as all outdoors, and refuses to be beaten.

Unfortunately, the Irish mob has also taken notice and has approached Megan’s brother Stephen with an offer of a bribe to purposely lose the most important race of his career. Stephen refused, and Megan has taken it upon herself to thwart the mob, but their brutal tactics nearly see her raped until Ian steps in to save her. Megan knows she must come out of hiding to exonerate Ian. But she also knows that if she does, the mob will be there, too.

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Chapter One

Megan Brady’s stomach fluttered as she parked her car in front of the Rusty Nail Pub just outside of Woking and near Guildford. There were no other buildings nearby and very few cars in the lot. She had to admit that the location was ideal for a clandestine meeting, but the atmosphere clearly favored the men she was supposed to be meeting. The pub was practically deserted, so there wouldn’t be anyone to help her should the encounter go badly.

Megan gripped the steering wheel of her father’s car as she debated whether she should even go in. This wouldn’t be easy, primarily because the party she was there to meet was expecting her brother Stephen and would not be happy she had come in his place.

“OK, Megs,” she whispered under her breath. “You’re here now. There’s no going back. Let’s do this.”

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and opened the car door.

Megan entered the pub and was immediately assailed with the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke. Although smoking had been banned in bars in the U.K. for years, it appeared this establishment didn’t abide by government rules. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, drab interior. Getting her bearings, she slowly walked to the bar. She was somewhat surprised to see she was the first to arrive. No one resembling the party she was supposed to be meeting was in the pub. There were only a couple of other patrons in the place, none of whom took any notice of her. She walked over to the bar and sat down.

The bartender looked at Megan curiously. Apparently, few people other than locals frequented the Rusty Nail. He approached cautiously and asked, “What can I get for you?”

Megan knew she needed all of her wits about her if she was going to survive a confrontation with the organization that was threatening her family, so she ordered a soda.

The bartender cast her an even more curious stare and dispensed the soda, placing the glass in front of her.

Just as the bartender served Megan her drink, the pub door opened, and Megan quickly turned. A tall, good-looking, well-built young man with sandy blond hair cut in a distinctive military style entered the pub. Megan watched with interest as his gaze scanned the interior of the pub as if to memorize every detail of the place and its inhabitants. Once he had completed his sweep of the room, he made his way to a table. The bartender walked over to take his order, and Megan overheard the man order a steak and potato pie and a beer. The bartender served him the beer right away.

She surreptitiously watched the man as he sipped his beer and waited for his food. This wasn’t the person she was there to meet. For one thing, he wasn’t looking for anyone; he just went about his business. It appeared he was reading a booklet of some sort, but he occasionally looked in her direction. Obviously, he was just as curious about her as she was about him. Did he live nearby? Or was he just passing through? She wasn’t very familiar with this area, but she was fairly certain there weren’t any military bases in the vicinity.

A door slammed in the back of the pub, drawing her attention. Four large, burly men emerged from the shadows. They scanned the room but quickly focused on her. As one, they moved toward her. The apparent leader, the largest of the four with a jagged scar down one side of his face, sauntered up to Megan and leered at her.

“Im surprised to see you here, Miss Brady,” the man said insolently. Megan noticed immediately that he spoke with a distinctly Irish accent. “We have business with your brother. Where might he be?”

Megan hoped the men couldn’t see how fast her heart was beating as she dug deep and found the courage to respond in a clear, firm voice. “Stephen sent me in his place.” She squared her shoulders and looked at the leader defiantly. “My father asked me to give you a message. Neither Stephen nor my father will accept your bribes. Seabiscuit II will run his race at the Epsom Derby. We will not agree to lose intentionally as your boss has requested. We ask that you accept our decision and leave us alone.”

Megan watched as the man’s expression slowly changed from lascivious to enraged. In truth, her father didn’t even know she was there, and he probably would have tied her up and locked her in her room if he had known she had talked Stephen into allowing her to take his place for this meeting. However, when Stephen had approached her and told her that members of the O’Reilly crime family had tried to bribe him to throw the Epsom Derby, one of the richest races in Britain and the second race in the British Triple Crown, she easily fell back into her familiar role of big sister and protector and persuaded him to allow her to take care of things.

She was now seriously regretting that rash decision. Feigning a bravado she didn’t feel, Megan looked toward the pub entrance. “Now that I have delivered my father’s message, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have to go.” Megan left some cash on the bar to pay for her drink and started toward the door.

The leader, who unbeknownst to Megan was the O’Reilly family patriarch’s nephew and chief enforcer, Colin Fitzpatrick, grabbed Megan’s arm and hauled her back toward him with enough strength that she lost her balance and fell into him. She shoved both arms against his massive chest, trying to push herself away from his brutal embrace, but he only laughed at her ineffective struggles.

“My friends and I came a long way to make a deal with your brother, darlin’,” he said with a sneer. “Now that you’ve taken that away, I think you owe us. Boys, let’s take her to the back of the pub and collect our payment before we go back to the boss. This way we’ll at least get something for our trouble.”

The other three men grinned their approval and raked her with their eyes, lingering on her breasts. She shuddered with revulsion, and her heart raced as the full implication of what she had gotten herself into hit her. She glanced at the bartender to see if he would help her, but he was purposely ignoring the situation. No help there. She scanned the pub to see if anyone else was paying attention and noticed that the blond military man was watching and appeared concerned. Would he help her? She had to try.

“No,” she said in a loud, clear voice. “I don’t want to go with you. Leave me alone, or I’ll call the police.”

Colin only chuckled. “No one here is going to help you, sweetheart. This pub is owned by the same people who pay my salary, and, as for the police, well, let’s just say I’m not too worried about them either. Come along quietly, now, and we’ll try to make this easy on you. If you fight us, you’ll only get hurt.” His gaze swept her body hungrily.

Regardless of the man’s assurances, Megan knew that if she surrendered to these men, she would suffer unbearably. Her only option was to resist. She refused to go quietly and allow these men to rape her without a fight. “Please just leave me alone,” she pleaded. When the man continued to drag her, she planted her feet, forcing Colin to stop. “Let me go!” she shouted. When the man didn’t respond, she lashed out with her open hand and slapped him. “I said, let me go!”

Megan was shocked at her own audacity and watched in horror as Colin drew his fist back to strike her. He could easily break her jaw.

Suddenly, a very strong and very large hand grabbed the man’s fist and held it. “You heard the woman. Let her go.” The resonant and commanding voice came from just behind Megan, and she turned around to see the man she had decided was a soldier standing right behind her, appearing big, strong, and determined. Megan noted with some relief that the man was over six feet tall, had a muscular, athletic build, and exuded strength and confidence.

Ian Stafford had been watching the scene unfold before him, and, seeing no one in the pub willing to help the woman who was clearly in danger, made the split-second decision to come to her defense.

“Mind your own business, laddie,” Colin replied. “This is none of your affair.” He loosened his fist, though, and Ian released his grip on the man’s wrist. Little did the thug know how close he had come to having his wrist broken.

“I’m making it my affair since the woman clearly doesn’t want to go with you. Do yourself and your friends a favor, and let her go.”

Colin snickered and glanced over at his friends, who were also laughing. He responded, “I don’t know how you’re going to stop us. You’re only one man against four.” He turned toward the back of the pub, dragging Megan with him. Megan realized there was nothing she could do to stop the inevitable, thankful that her rescuer had at least tried to help her. Then, before she realized what had happened, the thug was lying on his back on the pub floor with his nose broken and blood streaming down his face. The impact of the stranger’s fist to his face had caused him to let go of Megan, who moved out of harm’s way toward the pub entrance. Unfortunately, after she escaped his grasp, the man’s friends surrounded the stranger, who even Megan knew was no match for four trained mob enforcers.

Ian knew he was in trouble, but at least he had gotten the woman out of immediate danger. Now, he could deal with the four thugs who had tried to rape her. He’d broken the leader’s nose, but the brute wasn’t entirely out of commission, and Ian could tell that the other three were experienced brawlers. They wouldn’t be easy for one man, even one man with Special Forces training, to subdue.

To survive this fight, he would need his knife, tucked conveniently in his boot. It was the one habit he had brought home from Afghanistan that had been difficult to break. Since his last tour in country, he didn’t feel safe without a weapon of some kind on his person at all times. Ian reached down quickly and unsheathed the knife. With it, he was able to fend off the men for a time, but despite Ian’s best efforts, it wasn’t long before two of the thugs pinned his arms, and a third tried to wrest his knife out of his hand.

Ian knew from the nature of the men he was fighting that if he lost his knife, his life would be forfeited, so he dug deep and used all his remaining strength to wrest his right arm away from one of the thugs. The knife he still held went straight into the belly of the man directly in front of him. The man collapsed immediately, and Ian was shoved to the ground as two of the thugs carried their comrade away—presumably to a hospital.

Colin looked at the bartender and barked, “You, I know you work for my uncle, tie this man to a chair and call the police.”

At first, the man looked confused, but the leader spoke to him sharply. “Look, man, we know where you live, and we can reach your family easily. Do what you’re told, or they’ll pay the price.”

The man paled, and then rushed to comply. His hands trembled as he tied Ian to a chair.

The leader further instructed the bartender, “When the police come, you will tell them this man started the fight and attacked us without provocation. We acted in self-defense, but he stabbed our friend. Do you understand?”

The bartender nodded again, and, apparently satisfied with the response, the leader left the pub, presumably to join his friends at the hospital.

When the police arrived, the bartender did as he was told, and despite his protests, Ian was arrested for criminal assault with a deadly weapon. The woman he saved had disappeared.

End of Excerpt

Lionel’s Leap of Faith

Horses Heal Hearts Book 3

He doesn't know the mob has him in its cross hairs.

Lionel Hayes is shocked to discover a world-class jumper among the abused horses he rehabilitates. Unfortunately, the only man with the talent to ride that horse is not only the man of Lionel's dreams - he has also been recruited by the mob to frame him.

One fateful decision in a moment of weakness destroyed Lionel Hayes' life as he knew it and led to the death of his longtime partner and lover. At first, he blamed his friend Michael Stafford for his misfortune and sought revenge, but through his work rehabilitating abused horse, and the trust of one special horse, he realized that he had to take responsibility for his actions, and that he and he alone should take the blame. From that day forward, Lionel vowed to restore his image and resume the career that he loved. In the process, he found the horse of a lifetime, Gideon's Rainbow.

Monty Campbell was a rising star on the international show jumping circuit until he lost his horse to injury. Desperate for a replacement mount, and with the support of the British Equestrian Team, he learned of Gideon's Rainbow and knew this horse was for him. To his surprise, the horse's owner was also a perfect match for him, although the man stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. How could Monty convince Lionel they were meant for each other and would the sinister force that sought to destroy Lionel destroy Monty as well?

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Lionel watched as a late-model black Range Rover traveled up the farm drive and stopped in the nearby parking area. As soon as the vehicle engine was shut off, two men exited the vehicle. He recognized the man exiting the driver’s side of the vehicle as Randall Bridges. Randall had always been a bit cagey when it came to admitting his age, but Lionel guessed that Randall was in his early sixties.

What Lionel knew for a certainty was that Randall always presented a distinguished appearance with his wavy salt and pepper hair perfectly styled. Today he was wearing a tweed jacket, crew neck sweater, and designer jeans with western boots, which was his usual uniform.

Lionel had a fondness for Randall because he was the first member of the British equestrian establishment that was willing to forgive Lionel’s transgression and give him another chance. For that, Lionel would always be in Randall’s debt.

The second man drew Lionel’s interest from the moment he exited the car. He was a couple of inches over six feet tall, with thick, wavy auburn hair that seemed to defy any attempts at taming. He was clearly young, which confirmed Rachel’s recollection that he was about twenty-five, and had an air of confidence bordering on arrogance Lionel rarely saw in someone that young. He was dressed more casually than Randall, wearing a polo shirt and breeches. Lionel noted with approval that he was already wearing his riding boots, meaning he was eager to climb aboard Beau and give him a try.

So, this is Monty Campbell. At that moment, Randall turned to Monty and said something that drew his attention. Lionel took advantage of the distraction Randall provided to look the young Scot over further. Lionel had to admit that he was incredibly handsome, tall, and fit, without being overly muscular. If only I were ten years younger. Lionel caught himself short. Where did that thought come from? Disconcerted by the direction of his wayward thoughts. Lionel mentally shook himself and fixed a smile on his face and stepped forward to greet the two men.

“Gentlemen,” he said as he shook hands with each of them in turn. “Welcome to Second Chance Farm.” He looked directly at Monty. “Mr. Campbell, I’m Lionel Hayes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Randall has been singing your praises, and I must confess I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do with Gideon’s Rainbow.” Before the man could respond, Lionel turned and started to lead the two men to the barn. “My farm manager, Rachel, is in the barn tacking up Beau as we speak. He should be ready for you in a few minutes.”

“I’m really looking forward to seeing Gideon’s Rainbow in action,” Randall effused. “I’ve heard such great things about him.”

“He is special,” Lionel assured him. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Monty took the opportunity to interject. “If you don’t mind, Lionel, I think I’ll withhold judgment until I have to chance to try him myself. It wouldn’t be the first time an owner has puffed up a horse’s abilities to make a sale.” He then turned to Randall and said in a low voice, although not low enough that Lionel wasn’t able to hear him, “I hope you aren’t wasting my time here, Randall. I don’t have much time to find a replacement for All In, and this farm doesn’t impress me as the kind of place that would produce a world class jumper.”

Lionel’s temper flared. It took everything he had not to give this young man the set down he deserved. It appeared Rachel was right. This man was too arrogant by half. Not someone he would ever consider a romantic partner. Now he was really looking forward to Beau’s reaction to the man. This could be very interesting. Pointedly ignoring Monty’s rude comment, he turned to an embarrassed Randall and asked after his family.

End of Excerpt

Her Forever Love

Horses Heal Hearts Book 4

She thought she’d never see him again.

High school sweethearts Liz Randall and Jason Merrick were deeply in love, but when Liz rejected his marriage proposal to fulfill her dream of riding international level dressage, Jason joined the army and broke off all contact. Fifteen years later, they’re both back home, and Liz must find a way to tell Jason they have a daughter.

Liz Randall is coming home a champion.

Fifteen years after leaving Columbus to follow her dream of riding dressage for the United States Equestrian Team, Liz has returned with a gold medal, a determination to raise her teenage daughter, and a dream to expand her therapeutic riding practice.

Falling in love again isn’t in her plan, especially not with Jason Merrick, her first love, the boy whose heart she broke all those years ago. The man with whom she shares more than just a history.

Jason Merrick came home a hero.

An army ranger seriously wounded in the same attack that killed his best friend, Jason sought the familiar comfort of his hometown to recover. Now he’s ready to build something rather than destroy. What he wasn’t ready for was seeing Liz Randall - the girl who broke his heart 15 years ago. His growing construction company needs the money remodeling Liz’s stables will bring. That’s the only reason to take the job…or so he tells himself.

The moment they see each other again, feelings that never died come rushing back. Jason knows he’ll doing anything to have her. But as much as Liz wants to be his, she has a secret. A secret that, once revealed, could make him walk away from her forever.

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Excerpt – first kiss after being reunited

Liz felt him squeeze her hand, then allowed him to pull her into his warm embrace.

“This is what makes me feel alive, Lizzie. This connection between us that has never gone away. Do you feel it too?”

Liz sighed and leaned into his body, relaxing for the first time in days, just allowing him to hold her and offer her the protection of his arms. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. Not now. “Yes, I feel it. I don’t know what to do, Jason. It’s been such a long time, and so much has happened.”

He pulled away from the embrace and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Let’s start with this”—he lowered his lips to hers in a kiss that started tentatively, then when Liz didn’t resist, become gradually more urgent. Feeling like she was finally home after an eternity of separation, Liz opened herself completely to him, and in that moment, passion overcame them both, and the heat of their mutual attraction burned between them.

End of Excerpt

Winning Hailey’s Heart

Horses Heal Hearts Book 5

After losing both legs below the knee in a drunk driving accident, Hailey Warren dreamed of helping others similarly disabled by becoming a physical therapist. When the university she decided to attend denies her that opportunity based solely on her disability, she is left devastated and rudderless.

Now, the handsome and irresistible Marcus Harrington, eighth Earl of Storrington, has offered to use his education, connections, and position to help her fight for her dream, but will her love for him survive after she discovers his devastating secret?

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Prologue

“Help her, Doc! Hurry!” Hailey Warren fought to escape the darkness holding her captive and struggled to identify the woman’s voice panting with exertion at her side. She tried in vain to force her eyes open. Where am I? What am I doing here? Mom! Dad! Where are you? I’m scared! 

She was lying down, but whatever she was laying on was moving at breakneck speed. She could feel the firm touch of hands on her body from all sides and the rapid thudding of several feet surrounding her as they hurtled to their ultimate destination. The woman’s voice had come from near her feet.

“How long was she unconscious?” a male voice coming from her right demanded.

“I don’t know,” the unknown woman replied. “Whoever called 9-1-1 was driving by and saw the wreckage. When we got the call, all we knew was the car had overturned, and this girl’s legs were pinned underneath it. I have no idea how long they’d been there. Her parents were still in the car. After we arrived, the firefighters helped us move the car, then we stabilized her until we could airlift her here.”

Hailey wracked her pain-fogged brain trying to remember—to confirm for herself what the woman was saying. What had happened and why she was here now?

Why did her entire body hurt as she had never in her twelve years of existence felt before? She vaguely remembered being in the back seat of the car, and Mom and Dad had been arguing about his drinking, but that wasn’t unusual—at least not lately. She remembered being afraid, then angry that her father had insisted on driving the car even though he had been drinking beer all afternoon.

Suddenly, the car had swerved violently, and her mother reached for the wheel. The car lurched again, her mother screamed, then everything went black. The effort to remember anything else made her head ache and she knew it would be futile to try to attempt to recall any more at this point.

Through her eyelids she could see light, which told her she would be blinded by brightness if she dared to open them. She kept them closed. A searing, indescribable pain forced itself into her awareness. It emanated from her legs, and before she could even think of stifling it, she screamed as waves of excruciating agony threatened to overcome her and send her back into the black unconsciousness which had been protecting her until now.

“More morphine! Now!” A female voice barked the order from a place near her head. Another, this time male, voice responding, “Morphine drip increased, Doctor.”

“Good,” the female voice replied. Hailey felt her body turn suddenly then abruptly stop. She was lifted onto a more stable bed, then she heard the beeping of a multitude of electronic machines and felt hands on several parts of her body applying sticky tabs to her skin.

She felt herself drifting away from her body, and the pain she had been feeling gradually faded into the background.

She struggled against the fog clouding her awareness to understand what was happening around her.

“Type and cross her for blood transfusions. She’ll need at least four units. She’s already lost a lot of blood, and I don’t want to do surgery until she’s stabilized sufficiently to have the best chance of survival.”

Then the voice added in a much calmer tone, “The parents?” There was a heavy silence, then the voice went on.

“Have you been able to locate any other next of kin?”

“We found the patient’s sister, Jessica Warren, from her cell phone. We’ve placed a call, and she will be here as soon as she can. She’d been traveling out of state and was on her way back when I reached her.”

Jess! Thank God you’re coming. I have no idea if Mom and Dad are all right, and I need you.  Her heartbeat slowed, the tension in her chest and shoulders slowly melted away, and she took a deep breath for the first time since regaining consciousness. She finally felt safe enough to open her eyes.

The room she had been taken to was brightly lit, but the lights were aimed toward her lower body, not glaring in her eyes. She looked around the room to try to get her bearings.

A man she guessed was a nurse approached her right arm and inserted a needle into the crook of her elbow, then attached a bag of blood to the needle, beginning what Hailey knew to be a transfusion of new blood into her body. He hung an additional three bags to the tree which held the first bag, then looked at her face as if to reassure himself he hadn’t caused her any additional pain. Her gaze met his and she tried as best she could to smile at him to let him know she was grateful for his care.

“Doctor, I think she’s coming around,” he said.

A woman wearing a surgical mask and green scrubs addressed Hailey. “Hello, young lady. I’m Doctor Marshall.

Your identification says your name is Hailey Warren. Is that right?”

“Yes.” Her voice croaked, and she grimaced. Somehow her throat had become so dry she was having difficulty making even the slightest sound. She swallowed a couple of times to try to moisten her throat so she could be better understood.

“It’s all right, Hailey. I heard you just fine. If we weren’t going to be taking you into surgery in a few minutes, I’d let you have a big drink of water, but unfortunately, that’s not allowed right now. What I can do is let you suck on a few ice chips. Is that OK?”

Hailey nodded, then gratefully opened her mouth so one of the nurses could lay a few fragments of ice on her tongue.

The cold, moist relief was instantaneous.

The doctor looked at her team and the machines surrounding Hailey. “It looks like we’ve got you stabilized and have enough blood to get you into surgery.” She leaned over and lowered her mask just long enough for Hailey to see her smile. “We’ll get you taken care of in no time. By the time we’re done, your sister will be here, and everything will be fine.”

“OK,” Hailey responded, then closed her eyes as a plastic mask was placed over her face. The anesthesia soon took over, and she lost consciousness once again.

End of Excerpt

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Ever since she can remember, Kimberly Beckett has loved horses. She wore out 4 rocking horses before she was 5 years old, and as she got older, she read every horse story in print, from Black Beauty to 

The Black Stallion. 

Her parents couldn’t afford to buy her a horse of her own, and believed it was just a phase she would soon outgrow, but as soon as she had her first attorney job nearly 30 years ago, Kimberly bought her first horse, and she hasn’t been without at least one ever since. 

She has been riding dressage for several years and has earned her United States Dressage Federation Bronze Medal. When she wasn’t reading about horses, she was reading romance novels, and her favorites always involve an alpha male Hero riding a magnificent horse. Kimberly has now found a way to combine her love of horses with her love of romance by writing her own version of equine-facilitated happily ever afters. 

She truly believes that Horses Heal Hearts. She lives in southwest Ohio with her warmblood horse. She hopes you enjoy her stories, and encourages you to leave positive reviews for her work. She also loves to hear from her readers.

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Faeries Don’t Forgive Heart of the Worlds Book 2 by TF Burke Book Tour!@SilverDaggerBookTours FBurkeAuthor #FaeriesDontLie #HeartofTheWorlds @TFBurkeAuthor


 When truths uncovered cannot be forgotten. Or forgiven.

 

Faeries Don’t Forgive

Heart of the Worlds Book 2

by TF Burke

Genre: YA Epic Fantasy



Returning to Nonderu, the underworld court, to rescue her dad should have been simple after the malevolent soul-sucking Boggleman fell to his presumable demise. They just need to find a way in. And get past the Mockmen trolls.

Instead, Aunia is attacked by a fanatical soldier cult that seeks to kill or capture her. Plus, her unmanageable magic notifies deadly wererats of her location. It also hurls her into an evil sorceress’ study. If all this wasn’t enough, she’s fighting a different battle with Mathias, her pegasus-riding love. His insistence to keep her hidden is more infuriating than any of their enemies. It leaves her determined to kick anyone who says first love is easy.

Worst of all are the truths she’s uncovering. Truths that can’t be forgotten. Or forgiven.

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Chapter Seventeen 


Clurichauns


Excerpt


What makes a man something worth admiring and when will you doubt his worth? Queen Didianne, in the reign of the mad queen


A buzzing brushed Aunia’s skin like a hive of bees as she lurched in a mad attempt to keep her footing. The smell of woods, perfumes, and herbs had disappeared and in its place was the stench of waste, unfamiliar food, and burning metal. 

A village-full of voices swirled within the buzzing . . . one pulled at her plaintively, though she couldn’t make out the words. Dust skated over Aunia’s feet as she appeared in a long boxed-in area surrounded by bulging timber buildings covered in faded paint and smeared pitch. And pressed within this area were more people than she had seen in her entire life. 

“I said let the child go,” a gruff voice said from behind her. 

Aunia swiveled. 

An older man with a broken-nose, well-muscled and tall, like Oskan from her village, stood in front of two men in red cloaks. 

“We don’t take orders from you, Mason,” the shorter of the two red-cloaked men said. He yanked a small boy towards him by the arm and the child’s sandy-haired head bounced off his chest. 

“He’s hungry is all,” the broken-nose man said. “I’ll pay for him.”

“Bugger off,” the red cloak said. 

Aunia stepped forward. “You can’t let a child go hungry.” 

Several of the people glared at her. 

“Shut your mouth, rover,” said a pillar-built woman with a messy bun, brown hair streaked in gray. She stood in front of a building with large windows and a swinging sign, which read ‘Forged Tankard.’ “Ain’t no food he stole.” 

“Brana,” the broken-nosed man growled. 

The woman rolled her eyes and pushed past him, holding up a small ring with two finger-length keys. “Missing these?”

The larger of the two red-cloaked men reached under his cloak patted his side, and his face turned red. “It’s the stocks for ye, boy.” 

The boy dropped to the cobblestones and the shorter, red-cloaked man yanked him back one-handed. Held his other hand high to strike. 

“Stop it,” Aunia yelled. 

The larger of the red-cloaked men turned in her direction.

“Not the stocks.” A bearded man in a long-sleeved patchwork tunic, white powder streaks along his sleeves, stepped forward. “You’ve the boy’s mother in custody already. She was an unbraceleted faeblood. He’d be the same. You know it. It’s prison he should go.” 

Faces pressed against the glass windows of the Forged Tankard’s tavern. Some folk stepped forward. Others melted back, including the broken-nosed man. 

Aunia shook. Taya was indeed right of cities being dangerous. If this was how they treated small children . . . but what could she do? She was only one in a crowd. 

“Stop,” she slid back, beseeching the broken-nose man. “You have to help. He’s just a boy.” 

But the man slid into a narrow alleyway between the tavern and another building, and past a pig rooting in a pile of broken barrels, jugs, food scraps, and rags. 

“She ain’t my mom,” the child screamed. “Not my real one. She picked me out of the garbage. I was just a slave to her.” 

The taller, red-cloaked man yanked the child’s sleeve up. “Unbraceleted. You. Run to the Yanna’s forge. Grab a cuff. Now.” 

“Don’t be thinking of calling on any magic,” the shorter, red-cloaked man said, bending to sneer those words in the child’s face. 

“I’m . . . not a faeblood.” The child stopped his struggling and with his wrist in the guard’s grip, pointed in Aunia’s direction. “That’s the one you want. A real faeblood. Didn’t you see? She just skipped out of nowhere.”

The larger man straightened. “You. Rover.” 

Aunia backed away, nearly colliding with a press of people guarding her back. Rover? But of course, she was wearing their garb. And by their expression and harsh tone, they did not like rovers. 

“Don’t think you’re going anywhere,” one woman in a dark gray gown said. 

 Faeblood . . . this is how the people saw Reina. “I’ve . . . I’m looking for flyers,” Aunia said. “I flew with them over the Grashbear. Mathias. Keston. Fallo. You’ve had to have seen them. This is Dalin, isn’t it?”  

The scowls of the people deepened. They shuffled closer. People in front of her and behind her, but the alleyway . . . could she flee with that pig in the way? Pig. She blinked. It had a quilted cloth saddle fastened around its girth with knotted cloth straps. And stitched cloth saddlebags hanging along the pig’s side. Who would be riding a pig? 

“Look alive,” a raspy voice sounded. 

Aunia squinted. Amongst the broken wooden boxes and broken jars, two little men, shin-high, drank from a clay jar over half the size they were. Clurichauns with their rosy, weathered faces. They were solitary beings generally. The last time she saw one was in Gaitha’s basement lapping up a bit of spilled apple brandy. 

Someone, the taller red-cloak, grabbed Aunia’s upper arm and a raw thrill, like a sharp nail, rose through her throat. “Leave me be.”  

She yanked. He held her firm, his fingers pressing into her flesh like a vise. 

The adrenaline spike landed against the pit of her stomach like a stone. Mygul. She sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to coax a pinching sensation in her temples. Nothing. Her mouth turned to dry paper. Did she even have her glowing blue globefire anymore? She hadn’t seen it since the Boggleman’s veil tendril lodged itself in her gut when she stood on Hebsolum’s palm. Did that mean Hebsolum had it? Hebsolum, the thief who took her mother’s amulet. The only good thing he had done was to help her cage the roiling blue storm cloud made of Edvaras’ magic . . . but her bit of magic . . . the one that caused mischief, made her an outcast, kept her safe. He must have taken it, too. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. Prison. Was that where they were sending her? How would Mathias even find her? A soft mew escaped her and Aunia shook her head. She couldn’t show weakness. And there were clurichauns. Faeries often would help her. Would these? 

She turned her head to the alleyway where the clurichauns swilled leftover booze from broken crockery. “Help me.” 

One of the clurichauns looked her way, bright eyes going wide. “She sees us.” His voice, gravelly and sing-song, sounded over the clamor of human voices.

“She don’t.” The blonder of the two clapped the auburn one’s shoulder. “She do. Drat it. On our way, Sharpish.” He pointed to the pig. 

“She be the one Mara made mention.” 

“We can’t be making the Boggles mad now, can we, you know,” the blonde one said. “We go.”  

The Boggles? Did he mean the Boggleman? Aunia struggled against her restraint. “I want to, too.” 

“Want to what?” the red-cloaked man sneered. 

“Want you to let go,” Aunia said between her teeth. “You’re hurting me.” 

The man tightened his grip. “I’m barely holding you.” 

Aunia struggled toward the alleyway. Saying please would cause possible faery aid to disappear but what poem could she utter? Aunia groaned. “Help me now it’s good folk fashion. Aid to for those who seek compassion.”

“You call that a poem,” the blonde clurichaun said. He shook his head then made a running jump onto the pig’s back. His green pants contrasted with the wine-stained saddle. “Come on, brother.” 

“Brandy. I’ll bring you brandy,” Aunia yelled. 

“No one bribes the guard.” The stinging heat from his slap rang into her cheekbones. “Where’s that Davis? Cuff her good and she can blubber whatever nonsense with the other lobheads. 

“Don’t know,” the shorter of the red-cloaked men said. He still clutched the boy’s arm. “But that face is sweet even with your handprint.”

“Ah, that’s done it,” Sharply said. “Dismount, Gargle. Now.” 

Gargle patted the saddle. “There’s another tavern were—”

“Certain things don’t get done. Now off brother, lest you go for a ride.” 

The two clurichauns glared at each other while some of the townsfolk shuffled aside and a thin man with iron cuffs jogged forward. 

Gargle dismounted. “It’s on you if this is a bad decision.” 

“I’m always the one you blame.” Sharply scooped up the neck of a broken bottle, drew his arm back and made a mighty throw at the pig’s backside. It hit with a thunk and the pig gave a squeal. People standing at the mouth of the alleyway fell back as the pig pelted straight for Aunia and the red-cloaked man.

“Doxy-churl,” the guardsmen swore. He staggered back, pulling Aunia with him out of the way but Aunia yanked with everything she had in the other direction. The man’s fingers slid over her upper arm painfully. There was the sharp rip of fabric. And then she was free. 

Aunia ran. 

Faeries Don’t Lie

Heart of the Worlds Book 1



Can Two Worlds Survive an Augury?

Releasing a Chandarion’s god-like magic into the world isn’t what sixteen-year-old Aunia, the village’s outcast, intends. She only wants to impress Mathias, a visiting seventeen-year-old pegasus flyer, who fiercely believes the choice—either Faery or Mortal world surviving—has come.

Her action calls forth the Boggleman, a soul-sucking ghoul, who abducts her dad, eats her faery friends, and sets Dagel demons on her isolated village. And worse.

The worlds of Ahnu-Endynia are full of faeries, pegasi flyers, myths, secrets, and themes of belonging, despite being misunderstood. And if you don't watch carefully . . . You might be pulled into the Betwixt. . . the space between the worlds.

**On Sale for Only .99cents!**

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Excerpt 1 – FAERIES DON’T LIE – TF Burke

Explaining true love to a garden faery wasn’t easy. Aunia tapped her pitchfork against the stone-slabbed floor and wrinkled her nose against the golden dust while her faery friend, Jennium, landed between a nanny goat’s ears. The escaped animal froze in place in front of the long wooden goat pens while the faery sat cross-legged on her furry perch, folding her iridescent wings, purples, blues, and yellows.

Another of Jennium’s mind-pictures arose in Aunia’s head. This one was of the villagers, old and young, dancing arm-in-arm in twisting steps around a bonfire—fiery sparks rising to the stars.

“That’s the party afterwards. True love is how you feel. How your heart would give away every constellation to see your beloved smile.” Aunia flipped her blond braid over her shoulder and wished she could disappear into the slithering crack along the stable’s high-vaulted ceiling—or, better yet, fly away to the faery world . . .if that doorway wasn’t watched. “But like I said, there’s no one here for me.”

Unlike the two lovers exchanging mating beads this night, she would stand in the shadows as an outcast, too different to be accepted. At sixteen years of age, she needed to accept this would be her life. She scooped another pitchfork of dirty hay onto the dung heap.

Jennium propelled another image—Aunia’s father standing, back turned and shoulders slumped, at his favorite fishpond. The faery tipped her raven-haired head as if to ask, “And where’s your father’s true love?”

Aunia’s hands slid on the pitchfork. She couldn’t answer that. Her father refused to talk about her. But it was obvious he clung to her memory—whoever she was. And he had to have loved her real mom desperately. Why else would he have treated Nehla like a sister. A sister he couldn’t save from being skewered by a wild boar. An accident. An awful, terrible accident.

Stomping, Aunia passed the long pen of bleating goats and turned up the middle junction of horse stalls to the quadruple-sized hay-less stall that had been Nehla’s pottery work area. She frowned at the grain buckets lining the shoulder-high wall where clay boards used to stand. She padded to Nehla’s pottery wheel, draped with a green and yellow blanket, and pressed her knuckles against the scratchy wool. Three years later and it still hurt.

With a light jingle, Jennium landed on Aunia’s head and projected another image—a woman’s silhouette, but not Nehla.

Aunia pulled her hand away from the pottery wheel. For a moment, she made out the curve of the woman’s left cheek, so like her own. Then, the silhouette was gone.

“I don’t remember my mother,” Aunia said. “But she probably had faery sight like me. Maybe she could even see people’s glows.”

A whiny buzz brushed against Aunia’s hair and a shiny green bug dove behind the stall’s black walnut wood.

Jennium launched up, and Aunia winced at the tug, reaching to free the faery’s tiny feet from her braid. Jennium yanked through, chittering, and landed on an empty pottery shelf—one that rested on iron spikes nailed into the wall. Those spikes had been made from Nehla’s sacrificed pot hooks to keep faeries from breaking freshly made bowls.

“How are you—”

A screech from the stable’s front door sent Aunia crouching behind the pottery wheel.

“The bottle in the back ought to muffle the evening proper,” said Sigmus with his deep wheezy voice.

Aunia tensed. Her father’s closest friend would still be livid about the faeries shoving tadpoles in his boots from yesterday’s yesterday. But it had been his own fault. He had insulted the water fae.

Aunia tiptoed forward and peeked over the stall’s wall. These two were supposed to be stacking wood for the cooking fires. Her father’s head and shoulders, glowing with his usual brick-red aura, seem to float above the horse pen-wall—or did until he dodged a buzzing insect.

Sigmus swiveled, cracking his hands together, presumably squashing the bug. “Ain’t no grace-fall smushing your own pest.”

Dad jutted his jaw. “I can’t do that.”

“And you get a grumping every beading.”

Dad’s red glow dulled. “I am happy for them.”

“Sure. It makes all the sense you hankering to sneak off to the sheep cave.”

“Fish pond,” Dad clarified.

“Well, I’ve a better idea. Wait here.” Sigmus waddled up the middle aisle toward her.

Aunia ducked, pressing a hand over her mouth. Her sigh filled her palm when his footfalls veered toward the nearby tack and storage room.

Sheep-cave? No one was allowed near them. Dad himself had told her the Boggleman lived there now. She eased to a trousered knee and considered. Sigmus was probably just saying that for shock and her father was looking to wander off to be alone. 

She had wanted to sneak away earlier, too. Sneak past the gate-minders to the woods for a game of tag with the moss-gnomes or maybe cajole a dryad into playing a whistle-tune. She had almost made it through the gate but got caught, so she ran and hid in the stable.

Aunia leaned against the chest-high wall. It would be better to stay with faery friends instead of being in the village.

The tack room door grumbled open, followed with chalky scuffles from dried leather and thud-clack of ceramics. Sigmus hooted. He probably stashed another bottle of the apothecary’s cider brandy.

Sigmus exited the tack room, popped the bottle, and shouted, “Figure you’ll get a fair healing, spilling out your sorrows.”

“There’s nothing to spill,” her father called back.

Stars. How long am I going to need to hide while they drink?

Sigmus pranced past her stall. Aunia inched forward. Her father stood about ten yards from her in the middle aisle and close to the dung heap.

“Ah, so you say,” Sigmus said. “But I knows these beading ceremonies remind you of yer Tamorian lady wife.”

Tamorian? Lightning crackled in Aunia’s belly and erupted against the back of her throat. “You’ll tell him about my mother but not me.”

Dad whirled in her direction, his glow retreating to a scant fingers-width around his head. She marched out of the pen while Sigmus stepped in her way.

“Move, Sigmus,” she said. “I’m talking to my father. My dad, not yours.”

Sigmus raised his hand. “You’re supposed to be stirring them stew pots.”

“Like you gathering wood?” Aunia tried sidestepping him but Sigmus’ elbow clipped the side of her head. She hunched-over, wishing she could melt Sigmus “Sourling-Beast” into pudding ash.



TF Burke currently works with NYT David Farland’s Apex-Writers as an admin and marketing specialist, where she schedules industry leaders for weekly multi-Zoom calls, provides content for social posts, and hosts several writer-focused Zooms.

Her published works includes hundreds of newspaper articles, blog posts across various platforms, anthologies, including MURDERBUGS, the second volume of the Unhelpful Encyclopediam a collection of short stories in WHIRL OF THE FAE, and the first book of the Heart of the Worlds Series, FAERIES DON’T LIE.

When not writing or wearing other hats, she can be found with a sword and a dagger in her hands for medieval-style fencing tournaments and melees, something she’s been doing since 2010.

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