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Red Riding Hood Book Launch Date

Red Riding Hood and the Lone Wolfe Book Launch Announcement

I am pleased to announce the second book in my Enchanted series, Red Riding Hood and the Lone Wolfe, will be released on October fourteenth.

 

Rosewyn, village baker in the kingdom of Eastlocke, is also a witch of limited power, scraping a living for her and her grandmother. Then one day, the new king, returned from exile, lands at her feet. Soon she’s installed in the royal kitchens. Rosewyn sees the opportunity to better her family’s lives. What could be simpler than seducing a king using her charms and a little magic?

But her ambitions turns to concern when Oliver’s life and kingdom is threatened. Her witchcraft might solve his problems, but how does she tell him without confessing her lies, her secret, and the knowledge of his secret life of a werewolf?

Red Riding Hood and the Lone Wolfe picks up the Enchanted story soon after the conclusion of the first book in the series, Snow White and the Eighth Dwarf. The Miller Sisters return to the narrative, as well as Lex Sands, Snow White, and the Evil Queen.

Join Rosewyn and Oliver as they fight the differences between a King and a commoner; a woman looking to better her life, and the man overcoming his father’s shame.

An excerpt:

Rosewyn Baker stopped on the creek side path when she heard hoof beats pounding down the hill. She twisted in its direction. What fool hurried this early in the morning? And in the rain?
A huge beast galloped through the shrubs, a rider hunched over it, his hat bouncing free. Man and creature hurled toward the creek swollen from the rains. Then the horse crashed to a halt short of the bank.
The man flew over its head, flipped and landed on his back. Water erupted into the already wet air. A startled bird cried and flew away.
“Oh.” Rosewyn’s hand pressed against her cheek.
’Tis not something ye see every day.
She lifted her skirts and hopped across stepping-stones and tufts of dead grass to reach his side. She gasped as icy water entered her boots, finding every hole and thin spot to soak her woolen stockings.
The man did not move.
What if he be dead? Good and proper that would do me if he died.
She cast an accusing glance at the horse that browsed the creek side for a bit of green.
“Mister. Mister, be ye all right?” Rosewyn shook the man’s shoulder. She’d not seen him afore.
He was a great stick of a man, all sprawled in the rushing water. None of his limbs seemed broken, so she grabbed hold of his coat and dragged him to higher ground. He weighed no more than her gran, her being eighty-four and all and a bit wobbly on her legs.
Hands on hips, Rosewyn stood over the man. What to do? Catch the black beastie and ride him to the village? Walk there in wet boots? Who was the idiot, anyway? Galloping a horse downhill and expecting it to jump a creek too wide?
The man groaned and twitched, and his left hand thumped the ground like a dog’s.
“Goddess above, but you’re lucky,” she cried down to him. “What be ye thinking?”
He’d lost his hat, and dark curls hid his eyes as he groaned again and tried to sit.
Rosewyn made a tsk sound like she might have to one of her older brothers and knelt to help the wet fool.
“Ye be all right. Nothing a fire and a drink won’t mend.” She whipped off her red cloak to cover him. “Here. I’ll be wanting that back. Don’t think you can steal from Rosewyn Baker.”
“Is that your name?” He sat with her help and drew the wool closer. “I’m in your debt.” He scraped his hand across his mouth, leaving a smudge of black mud.
She rocked back on her heels. He’s spoken in a cultured accent, nothing like her rough one. Was he gentlefolk then, one up by the castle? Must be, from the look of his elegant clothes and his use of such a fine animal.
“Are ye hurt?” Mockery dropped from her voice. If he was from Eastlocke, a bad word from him could ruin her.
“I’ve been better.” The man shook his head then stared at her with deep brown eyes. “Why is your hair so short?”
Rosewyn clapped a hand to her shorn locks, usually hid by the cloak’s hood. “Fever two months past. Healer Perth cut it off to release the sickness. Fool.” She spat on the ground then remembered his social standing. A man of her class wouldn’t think anything of swearing or spitting, but one of his? She’d best be on good behavior.
“Sorry, sir. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. No doubt the man was a fool to cut such beautiful hair.” A moment later his fingers sifted through it.
Rosewyn stiffened. She knew men, she did, and he had no right touching her, gentleman or not.
“You’d best keep your hands to yerself.” She touched the knife handle sheathed at her waist.
His brown gaze followed the movement, and he dropped his hand. “No offense, Mistress Baker.”
She didn’t correct the title. Let him think she had a great, jealous, brutish husband at home, one who’d knock about anyone who hurt his wife.

“None taken. Let me help you up and best you be on the way.” The path led from Chissen village to Wintock, with no one about at dawn.
The man grabbed her hand, and she pulled him up. He stood a head above her, so thin she cried out, “Look at you. Ye need to eat more.”
He glanced down. Mud covered him, ruining his fine clothes.
“I am a mess, aren’t I?” He returned the cloak and sketched a bow. “Many thanks, mistress.” He reached into a pocket, but came away with an empty palm. “I have no coin for you.”
Rosewyn’s eyes rounded. “I’d not take it. Can I not help those who do need it?”
“Again, my apologies.” He leaned down and picked up the basket she’d dropped when he fell. His eyebrows rose as he saw the bread and rolls inside, wrapped in flannel. “You’re a baker?”
Did he insult her craft? Rosewyn straightened, and ice entered her voice. “I’m the baker of Chissen Village.” As had been her ma, rest her soul, and gran afore her.
“I’ve not had decent bread in weeks.” His eyes looked like a puppy’s, big and begging.
“Take what you wish.” Her heart pounded. Could he hint any heavier? Did she have a choice? Refuse a gentleman? She’d have to scurry home and bake anew for her customers. Pray Goddess they’d understand.
“I’ve upset you again.” He returned her basket. “Can I not say anything without offending you?”
“You can say goodbye.” The words ran from her mouth before she could catch them.
He returned her basket. “Can I not say anything without offending you?”
“You can say goodbye.” The words ran from her mouth before she could catch them.
“Fair enough. I’ve intruded on your day too long.” He walked to the bush where his hat had landed and slapped the ridiculous looking thing on his head. A moment later he’d captured the horse and swung onto its back.
He stared down at her, amusement curling the corner of his mouth. “If you’ve a loaf or two to spare one day, bring them to the castle kitchens. I’ll guarantee you a job if they’re any good.”
If they’re any good? Rosewyn ruffled at the insult. She pulled two oat loaves from the basket and gave them to him. “Why wait? Take one now and see for yourself. They’ll be the best ye’ve ever eaten. Who be you to guarantee me a job?” Could the word of a guest hold such weight?
A splinter of hope broke through the clouds. Did he have the power to make such decisions? Oh, by the Goddess, she’d treated him wrong if he did.
The man secured the loaves in the crook of his arm, gathered the reins, and turned the beast. He glanced over his shoulder. “King Oliver Cox the First.”
He spurred the horse and rode up the hill.
King Oliver?

 

Red Riding Hood and the Lone Wolfe will be available on Amazon and other ebook distributors. I will list links as they become available.

Blessings,

Cheryl

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Comments

  1. Sonia says:

    Hey, that was great! all the best Cheryl, will be looking forward to further updates on the launch

  2. zainab says:

    All the best 🙂 congrats 🙂

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