Witch’s
Rule
The
Witch Chronicles
Book
3
Ann
Gimpel
Publisher: Taliesin
Release Date: 11/7/14
Available for pre-order
mid-October
Genre: Dark Paranormal Romance
Jenna
falls in love with two very different men. Standing on the verge of Earth’s
destruction, will she defy convention and follow the song in her heart?
Book Description:
Jenna’s a special witch, sort of,
when her magic works, which it often doesn’t. One of three remaining
demon-stalkers, she and her sister witches, Roz and Colleen, are Earth’s only
hedge against being overrun by Hell’s minions. On the heels of Roz’s and
Colleen’s weddings, Jenna is headed for the U.K. when a demon confronts her.
Any other witch could teleport out of the plane, but not her. Frustration about
her limited power eats at her. It would be pretty pathetic to get killed for
lack of skills a teenager could master.
Tristan is a Sidhe warrior, but
his primary gift is attunement to others’ emotions. He fell hard for Jenna, but
hasn’t had an opportunity to act on their attraction beyond a few kisses
because she returned to Alaska, and he’s been in the field fighting demons.
As seer for the Sidhe, Kiernan is
haunted by visions, particularly an apocalyptic sending that seems to be coming
true. A confirmed bachelor, he doesn’t understand his attraction to Jenna, but
it’s so strong he can’t fight it, and after a while, he doesn’t even try,
despite recognizing Tristan’s claim to her.
Startling truths surface about
Jenna’s magic, and then there’s the problem that she’s falling in love with two
very different men. At first she believes she has to pick one of them, but her
spirit refuses to walk away from either. It’s impossible to choose between a
seer with dreams in his eyes and a beautiful man who intuits her every need. Standing
on the verge of Earth’s destruction, will she defy convention and follow the
song in her heart?
Excerpt:
…Her thoughts
turned to Tristan. Before getting snared in all the demon-muck with the minion
in the plane, she’d been hoping the tawny-haired Sidhe would be part of the
greeting party at the airport. There were lots of possible reasons he might not
have met her, but the most likely was he wasn’t interested in her—at least not
that way.
Oh give it a
rest. It’s not like he’s so much as called or e-mailed in the weeks since I
left the U.K. I’ll just embarrass myself—and look pathetic—if I ask after him.
Ronin had said
something about Tristan being assigned to one of the garrisons dealing with the
Irichna who’d been running rampant through the U.K. countryside. There was at
least a slender chance he couldn’t just drop everything and show up to greet
her. Worse, maybe he’d been forced into the Dreaming by a demon. Sidhe were
immortal, but they could be compelled to leave the human world if they were injured
badly enough.
The Rolls slowed
at the carved, wrought-iron gates to Ronin’s estate. Magic flashed, and they
swung slowly inward. “It’s just past ten,” Colleen said. “What’s scheduled for
tonight?”
“Nothing in
particular, but we do need to talk,” Ronin said.
“More to the
point,” Jenna spoke up, “what ground did you cover before I got here? Is there
anything I need to catch up on?”
“Oh, that’s
right.” Colleen turned toward her and cocked her head to one side. Like Roz,
she was dressed in a fleece jacket, jeans, and lace-up boots. Far more
practical clothing than Jenna’s short skirt, high-heeled boots, and inadequate
jacket. “You told us your problems, but we didn’t share ours.”
A cold fist of
fear closed over Jenna’s stomach and squeezed hard. “I’m not sure I want to
know, but what happened?”
“Well, we got
here okay,” Roz answered. “Not here, exactly. We came out above the Sidhe
armory, closer to the center of town.”
“Thought we’d
pick up a few Seraph blades,” Duncan noted. “Since we can’t handle iron like you
witches, the blades come in handy fighting Irichna.”
Jenna cracked
her knuckles in frustration. “Yes, but what happened?”
“What else?”
Colleen made a sour face. “Irichna.”
“How they
figured out where we’d materialize will remain one of the mysteries,” Roz
mumbled. Even though her words were casual, Jenna picked up a hint of fear
beneath them. She shook her head to clear an almost paralyzing fog from
creeping in. What she’d been afraid of—that the Irichna employed minions to spy
on them—was looking more and more real.
“How many?” she
asked, her throat so dry it was hard to get the words out.
“Fortunately,
only three, but they didn’t exactly lie down and cooperate,” Ronin said. He
focused his next words at the driver. “Just drop the lot of us off at the main
house, Kiernan. It’s probably best if we hash out a plan before everyone turns
in for the night.”
“Long story
short,” Colleen picked up Roz’s tale, “it took until just before we met up with
the car and Kiernan to neutralize the demons and ferry two of them to the Ninth
Circle of Hell. Ronin and Duncan annihilated the third one. We never did get
into the armory to pick up blades for the men.”
“Does that mean
the U.K. problem is solved?” Jenna asked.
“Probably not,”
Duncan replied. “There are always more of those blasted buggers, no matter what
we do.”
“And they show
up in different forms,” Ronin added, “which makes it tough to know if these
were the ones causing all the problems.”
“It’s not as if
they’re a static population,” Roz said. “We’ve never been able to estimate
their numbers.”
“Isn’t that the
truth,” Jenna groused as the car rolled to a stop in front of Ronin’s home that
looked more like a castle than anything else. Built from interlocking
flagstones and huge beams of lumber, it soared five floors. Light glowed from
leaded glass panes, adding a welcoming touch. Even though it was night and she
couldn’t see the grounds, Jenna remembered them to be immaculate. Sidhe didn’t
employ many servants. Most of the day-to-day tasks were accomplished with magic.
She snorted inwardly. Maybe she could pick up a few housekeeping tips, along
with whatever else the Sidhe taught her.
About
the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a mountaineer at
heart. Recently retired from a long career as a psychologist, she remembers
many hours at her desk where her body may have been stuck inside four walls,
but her soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. Around the turn
of the last century (that would be 2000, not 1900!), she managed to finagle
moving to the Eastern Sierra, a mecca for those in love with the mountains. It
was during long backcountry treks that Ann’s writing evolved. Unlike some who
see the backcountry as an excuse to drag friends and relatives along, Ann
prefers solitude. Stories always ran around in her head on those journeys,
sometimes as a hedge against abject terror when challenging conditions made her
fear for her life, sometimes for company. Eventually, she returned from a trip
and sat down at the computer. Three months later, a five hundred page novel
emerged. Oh, it wasn’t very good, but it was a beginning. And, she learned a
lot between writing that novel and its sequel.
Around that time, a friend of
hers suggested she try her hand at short stories. It didn’t take long before
that first story found its way into print and they’ve been accepted pretty
regularly since then. One of Ann’s passions has always been ecology, so her
tales often have a green twist.
In addition to writing, Ann
enjoys wilderness photography. She lugs pounds of camera equipment in her
backpack to distant locales every year. A standing joke is that over ten
percent of her pack weight is camera gear which means someone else has to carry
the food! That someone is her husband. They’ve shared a life together for a
very long time. Children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out their
family.
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
Thanks so much for hosting me again. It's always a compliment to be invited back!
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