Sample of upcoming novel!

March 1461

The letter was unfairly beautiful. It was cream-colored, with a seal of crimson wax, and my name- Lady Elizabeth Grey of Groby- scratched on the front in ink. For a moment, I was taken with it entirely, turning it over and caressing the folds. It had completely escaped me that I did not normally receive letters unless they carried dire news. I was a wife, and a mother of two little boys, at that time. John was my husband: John Grey of Groby. Thomas was six, and Richard was three- both as boisterous and mischievous as little boys could be expected to be. They depended on their father for the majority of these little adventures, and when he had left for battle they (as well as I, of course) suffered greatly.
I had felt differently at the muster. It all was as normal: horses swishing flies with their tail, men kissing their families goodbye, and women clinging to red roses- the symbol of Lancaster, our house- so hard that some had blood running from their hands from the thorns they were too lazy to remove. And still I sobbed throughout the whole. It was odd for me to be so emotional, for at my age I knew that causalities were the “fortunes of war”, as we called them. I knew that I was not with child- my courses had come and ended two days before. I had no idea why, and thus ignored it.
Since then, Thomas and Richard had got into less trouble. We had a consistent supply of bread, and the cook never found any sweets missing. I slept later with no one to demand I see what trouble there was in the nursery. My boys never spoke out at dinner, and their behavior was excellent. I knew they missed their father as much as I.
At last I managed to break the seal, and unfold the letter. I knew what was coming, but I couldn't stop myself from crying out and dropping the letter when I read it. John was dead. He had died in the second battle of St. Albany, leading the cavalry charge.
“Mama? What’s wrong?” Thomas and Richard were running towards me. I smiled through my tears, and gathered them into my lap. Thomas- being the ‘man of the house’ in his father’s absence squirmed out, but Richard remained.
“Mama?”
I hugged him even tighter, tears staining his linen shirt. Thomas picked up the letter, and read it slowly-haltingly- aloud.
“My dea-dearest daughter. I wish that I wer-were not the one to have to tell you this.” He finished it, and looked at me. “Father is dead?”
I nodded, unable to say a word. Richard burst into tears, and buried his face in my dress. I placed my arm around him and his brother: we were a fatherless, husband-less family now.

April 1464

I arose early that morning. King Edward, our sworn enemy, was passing through a road near my family’s home at Grafton. I woke the boys- now six and nine- and dressed them quickly. We had to flag him down; my lands granted to me at my husband’s death had been taken from me. If the new king wouldn’t give them back, my children would have no inheritance. I was desperate now- without John’s lands, we were as good as peasants.

We left Grafton Manor while the sun was at the horizon, and hurried across the field. There was an oak tree near the road, we could wait there for the king. We sat in the shade as the sun rose, and ate the bread and cheese I had packed the night before. After nearly an hour and a half, Richard sat bolt upright. “What’s that noise, Mama?”
I listened hard. Sure enough, hoofbeats sounded in the distance. I stood up, and gathered Thomas and Richard to myself. A minute later, men on horses, in armor, were visible around the corner. There was only one man I saw, though, and it was the one with a crown on his helmet.
I felt myself running into the hard-packed dirt road, though my mind screamed against it.
“Stop!” Thomas shouted. “Don’t run over Mama!” He blushed and stepped back, embarrassed to have given orders to the king of England. The obliged, and I remained un-trampled.
“Your Grace,” I knelt. The king slid off his horse, and removed his helmet. He nodded at me to rise, and I did. He walked around me, inspecting me as if I were a statue to admire. I felt his eyes on me, and I stiffened. I was aware that many men found me beautiful, and this king was not known for his chastity.
“Who is this?” His voice was tinged with amusement, and every instinct I had screamed to run.

“I am Lady Elizabeth Grey, the widow of Sir John Grey of Groby, and mother to Thomas and Richard.” I hoped that in reminding him of the presence of my sons, I would be safer. I would never have done this if I was not desperate.

The Blood of Olympus Book review

I had my dates switched, and for some reason thought today was the sixth. Well, this morning I dared to hope, and sue enough, it was the seventh! Of course then I bought it on my kindle, ran into several people at school (because I was reading) in the hallways, and whenever I did come up for air told everyone in a six-foot radius that yes, indeed it was out, and I had bought it at seven in the morning. Then I went back to reading.
This is the kind of work every aspiring/self-published fantasy writer wants. Including me. You can't help but admire the voice, and the plot. Reyna and Nico's POVs were amazing, and you learned about family history as well. Old wounds were reopened, and healed. I feel like I understand so much more about formerly flattish characters.
This book deserves a hundred ten stars and more- but unfortunately my Kindle isn't capable of that.

Tempest 10 (Miranda)

I still cannot believe it. Father, against all expectations, is allowing Ferdinand and I to marry. We shall have a grand wedding feast tomorrow night, and the next day, we shall leave the island. I cannot wait to see the outside world, that what I have not seen for years. He tells me that it is so different from here, and I may not like it. I wouldn't mind a dungeon so long as I had Ferdinand!