The Fastest Way To Build An Effective Website: Get a Mini-Site!

Dan Kelly has just released an awesome series of videos that
can teach ANYONE how to quickly and easily set up their very own
order-taking, money-making mini-sites.

Dan actually shows you the entire process of setting up three
different types of mini-sites using proven direct marketing
techniques. His step-by-step videos are like nothing you’ve ever
seen before, quick and easy to follow.

He shows you how to design your very own sales pages, order
pages, and even download pages, how to secure your download
pages from hackers and thieves, how to get 2 free tools for
creating and uploading your new websites, how you can accept
credit cards without a merchant account… And much, much more!

In fact, he even gives you 2 free mini-site templates so you can
get started with your own sites right away.



Best of all, this marketing tutorial is completely free.
Dan’s not going to charge you a single penny to
discover the secrets in all 14 of the videos in his basic course.

Get your FREE copy of Dan’s new 14-video course right here…


There are so many so-called “marketing gurus” out there who
claim they know the “secrets” of effective Internet marketing
that it can be next to impossible to figure out who’s the “real
deal” and who’s just out to steal your heard earned money.

That’s why Dan has decided to GIVE AWAY his course. He wants to
take you “behind the curtain” and SHOW YOU the whole truth about
building an online business step by step. Because seeing really is believing, and experience is the best teacher.

You can follow along at your own pace, completely free of charge.
If you’ve dreamed of starting your own online internet business, but have no idea where to start, this is the course for you.

Get your FREE copy right now…

Every day that you wait to get an effective website online is
another day lost on the way to reaching your goals. Today is the
day to take action and get started building your Internet empire.
All it takes is the willingness to follow this course.


Get your hands on Dan Kelly’s “Mini-Site Secrets Revealed” absolutely free!!This awesome package includes 14 step-by-step videos where Dan walks you through everything you need to know to setup your very own order taking, money making websites.

NOTE: Dan has also included several bonuses, worth hundreds of dollars by themselves.




Review: The Wellness Letter

The Wellness Letter
5.0 out of 5 stars
Excellent newsletter, great for supplements and general wellness information, and the website is really useful too.

UC Berkeley Wellness Letter was the first (in 1984) and is still the best health-related newsletter out there. There is a lot of health news circulating these days, and it seems like you can’t even turn on the TV without someone offering you either diet advice, or some health horror story or other. Their website is at

The newsletter helps you sort fact from fiction in a non-sensational way. There is always something of interest in every issue, and I got my first year’s subscription for $10. This newsletter is a bargain even at the full price of $28 per year, compared to some of the stuff being published out there!

When you subscribe to the newsletter, you also get in-depth access to the website. The site is packed full of free information, recipes, supplements, a health library, plus an archive of many of the past articles.

Even if you are not a subscriber, there is a ton of free content there on general health and wellness guidelines. I visit often and have still not read/downloaded everything I am interested in.

Best of all is the information on supplements and herbs. Is Vitamin E really any good for heart health. Should I be taking glucosamine and chondroitin for my arthritis. Or should I just save my money.

Let’s face it, these days we need to all worry about our health and saving money!

The site is for the general public, not health professionals, so you can you can use everything you read right away. If I were a doctor, I would definitely recommend this site to my patients.

I would also highly recommend the website to site to teachers, because it would be great for high school and college students to use as an invaluable resource, as there is no objectionable content, just useful current information from the School of Public Health on health and wellness. It covers nutrition, weight control, exercise and fitness, mental health, heart health, and more.

So, again, the site is at We hope you find it as useful as we have.

372 words


Video Review: Discover Bellydance – Beyond Basic Dance

Discover Bellydance – Beyond Basic Dance

4.0 out of 5 stars
Very clear, a bit basic in some places, hard in others

The video is gorgeous to look at, and it starts out well with some good stretches. The moves they introduce in order for you to be able to put it all together for the choreography are for the most part building on what a beginner would do, but with more movement across or around the floor.

Once you master the steps in isolation, then you have to try to put it all together into a belly dance routine.

I have to say that this tape is not entirely for total beginners. I have been dancing for a while now, and am still trying to master some of the moves which they show on this video–and my teacher considers me an excellent student. The three quarter shimmy traveling step you see on the tape is a killer.

Some of the camera work focuses only on their lovely faces, so it is hard to see what the hips are supposed to be doing.

And sometimes they spend so much time on a really simple move like a hip bump, when they could be spending more time breaking down some of the more difficult moves, like the traveling steps.

But on the whole it is invaluable for practicing at home-no matter how many times you go to class it is good to practice on your own. You get a lot of strength and balance, and can practice moving with graceful power as well. It is no substitute for a live teacher, but it will definitely help you progress to a higher level fairly quickly.

It is fun and a good workout, and the music is excellent, the costumes lovely.

300 words


Fun Ideas For Unity Candles

If you are planning a wedding and plan to have a unity candle as part of the ceremony, you might want to think outside the box and do something a bit different with your unity candle.

Traditionally, the unity candle involves three candles. The bride has one, the groom the other, and their two lighted candles light the third candle. This is done to represent the coming together of the two people to make one unit.

In some alternate ideas on how to use the unity candle, family members can be asked to to participate in the unity candle lighting. The mothers of the bride and groom, the mothers and fathers, or other close members of the family might be invited.

Each family then lights a candle, and together they light the unity candle to symbolize of the coming together of the families.

There are a few twists you can add to this fairly conventional aspect of a wedding ceremony. You can provide each guest with an unlit candle when they arrive at the ceremony.

After the couple lights the unity candle, they can ask the guests to move to the front of the church (or wherever the ceremony is being held) and light their candles with the lighted unity candle.

This can take a bit of time and might be best with a smaller guest list. But it is a meaningful way to not only get your guests involved in the ceremony itself, but also to symbolize the union of family and friends which comes with the marriage.

If there is a large guest list and it would be a prohibitive amount of time to do a candle lighting involving everyone at the ceremony, some brides and grooms like to bring the unity candle to the reception. Light the candle again and provide each guest with a small votive candle (the candle holder will be on the tables at individual table settings).

As guests come into the reception area or hall, they can light their votive and take it to their table to place into the votive holder. This small votive candle can double as a wedding favor, particularly if you decorate or enhance a plain votive candleholder in some way to coordinate with your wedding.

Of course, you can forget having a unity candle at the ceremony altogether. Many brides these days are trying to reduce the length of the ceremony and spend more time planning the reception.

Because of this, some choose to do away with a unity candle altogether. You can certainly do this, or you can cut it out of the ceremony and make it part of the reception.

To do this, you can use the votive candle option suggested above, or you can simply incorporate the unity candle lighting into the reception activities themselves.

For example, you might choose a quiet moment in the reception to have a lighting of the unity candle. It might be during a short prayer prior to the serving of the meal, or right before the cake is cut.

In this example, the unity candle can then be used as decoration on the cake table. As the bride and groom cut the cake and pieces are served to guests, the candle can also serve as a reminder of the couple’s new bond and that the bond is shared with all the guests as well.

Although having a unity candle at the wedding or reception isn’t necessary, it is certainly an option that many brides and grooms decide to include. But it’s important to remember that as with so much surrounding wedding planning, there are ways to make it unique and interesting and special to the couple getting married, to help make the wedding a memorable one.


Harlequin Hearts

Harlequin Hearts

Inexperienced housekeeper Megan gets more than she bargains for when she takes a job at the house of architect Bryan Fitzmaurice in order to support her family. Sparks fly from the moment they meet. Through the comedy of errors that their meeting triggers, they grow closer with every passing minute.

Despite their many misunderstanding, Megan’s new life with her handsome, enigmatic employer is everything she could ever have hoped for except for one thing: Bryan is engaged to another.

Megan’s head tells her all the reasons her new boss is out of bounds romantically. Her heart whispers a different story, one that dares dream of a happily ever after. Can she and Bryan ever build a future together, or is her harlequin heart making her a fool for love?

Bryan has never met anyone like Megan, but he’s already engaged to a woman everyone says is perfect for him. Why then does he feel like such a fool for ever having agreed to marry the glamorous Amanda?

Only through his daring to risk all and open his heart and mind to love, to share the gift of joy and laughter with the beautiful woman Fate has presented him with, can Bryan find the courage to live a life of passion.

Does Bryan dare risk all on his harlequin heart, which whispers to him that it’s not yet too late to find real happiness with his one true love? Or will he try to do the honorable thing and keep his word to Amanda despite all he has learned about her, and let Megan walk out of his life forever?


Evelyn Trimborn

Rating: Sensual

Word Count: 75,000

Buy Now: $3.99

Chapter One


Megan flitted from room to room, assessing everything with her calm emerald eyes. She couldn’t believe it. Talk about bad luck. She had been dying to meet her new employer ever since she had taken this job at Fitzmaurice Manor outside Dublin a month ago. She certainly hadn’t thought it would be under these circumstances.

Bryan Fitzmaurice had not only returned from overseas at last, but his brother David had told her to prepare a meal for seven top VIPs only a few hours before.

Curiosity over the elusive Bryan whom she had heard so much about had immediately given way to the urgency of making sure that everything was ready and as perfect as it could be given such short notice.

“Hey, there’s no need to look so nervous,” Geoffrey said with a reassuring smile.

She gave her tall blond cousin her best attempt at a grin. “I know, it’ll be a piece of cake,” she said with false bravado. “It’s just, well, we want to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“We will. The house looks fabulous.”

“Considering whoever decorated it either had no taste or the worst sense of humor imaginable,” she said, grimacing at an overdone gilt cupid leering down at her from a corner of the ornate but chill marble foyer.

“And the food will be superb. If Mr. Fitzmaurice has any complaints, it’s his own fault for leaving his brother David to hire us. And for us to see to all his unpacking.”

“At least his fiancée isn’t here. Women are so much more critical of household arrangements.”

“I imagine that Mr. Fitzmaurice will be as well, but the furniture can be rearranged easily enough. As for the rest, well, I’m sure he can’t fail but be delighted by your cooking.” He gave her another warm smile, but she was still as pale as a swan’s wing.

“Oh, I’ve got butterflies in my tummy.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re a season campaigner. I know it’s short notice, but you’ve done it plenty of times in the past. Do you remember how Uncle Oliver used to just take a notion and invite twelve people to dinner on the spur of the moment?”

She nodded, and then blew an ebony curl out of her eye. “Yes, but he raised us. We were all family. And cantankerous though the old buzzard was, he would never have fired us. This man can, any time he likes, him or his soon to be wife, and we all need these jobs and this new home desperately now that Uncle is gone.”

“Stop worrying so much. It’ll be fine. If Bryan Fitzmaurice is anything like his brother, he’s bound to be a reasonable man, even if I do think David is a bit too fond of the ladies for my tastes,” Geoff said with a pointed look at his attractive raven-haired cousin.

“He’s behaved like an absolute gentleman to me,” she replied, speaking no less than the truth. “I don’t think you need have any fears on that score.”

“All the same, a young woman can’t be too careful these days. Especially one brought up so sheltered as you’ve been.”

“Point taken. But I think you’re making a huge fuss over nothing. We’re only the hired help. Bryan Fitzmaurice won’t even notice me,” she said with an airy wave.

“Now that would be a pretty tall order in that ridiculous uniform,” Geoffrey laughed.

“Please, don’t remind me,” she said, her mouth turning down into a moue of distaste at the Victorian parlormaid’s outfit which the future mistress of the house had left for the housekeeper to wear.

“Besides, I don’t know what you’re so smug about, Geoff. You look like something out of an Edwardian melodrama.”

Her cousin flashed her a brief smile. “I won’t tease if you don’t. Just remember, no matter what goes wrong tonight, and there’s bound to be something, try to keep hold of that feisty little Irish temper of yours.”

“It’s hard not to lose your temper in this thing. The petticoats and underthings are so starched I can barely bend over,” she complained, giving the apron a wrathful tug.

Then she smoothed it over her dress, and yanked the gown down all over. She adjusted the floppy mob cap for the hundredth time, trying to tuck all of her unruly ebony hair under it to keep it away from the food.

“How do I look?”

Geoffrey gave her an appraising glance. “You look fine, if you like that sort of thing. No, really, it’s not that bad. Don’t worry. Just remember, however fussy he is, he couldn’t be as bad as our uncle. Old Oliver was continuously going around picking up individual specs of dust.”

Megan laughed at the shared childhood memory and patted her cousin on the shoulder. “Thanks, that’s exactly what I needed to hear. You always do have a great knack for putting things into perspective.”

“Besides, David has paid us in full for the next four months, us and the children, to make sure we stay during this big transition in Bryan’s life, with him getting married and them having to merge two very different households into one. Plus tending to the place while they’re on their round the world honeymoon. Even if we make a total mess of things tonight, we really have nothing to lose.”

Megan shook her head. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better. We both know the chidlren and their mother are counting on our help. We can’t let them down.”

He took both her hands in his own for a brief moment. “You’ve never let us down in your life, and you’re not about to start. Tonight is going to be the beginning of something incredible for us all, I just know it.”

“That’s what I’ve been feeling all day too. But you’re right, I’m letting my nerves get the better of me for no reason.” She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and swallowed hard to steady her nerves.

Her fears put to rest for the moment, she headed to the reception room to introduce herself to Mr. Fitzmaurice and see if wanted her to pour the drinks or get him anything special.

Geoffrey as butler would answer the door and take the guests’ coats. The children would stay in the kitchen for the most part, helping with arranging all the different courses onto the expensive if gaudy china which was as overdone as the rest of the house, not to mention her much-hated uniform.

Megan was relieved she wouldn’t have to spend much time with the guests, since she was always so painfully shy amongst strangers, as were the Haugheys. She hoped they wouldn’t be too overwhelmed by the grand occasion, especially poor Patricia.

She had known the girl for a decade, ever since she’d been eight, and still Megan couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for the girl to be deaf in a hearing world. She only prayed Bryan Fitzmaurice would be tolerant if he discovered her disability.

But then, Megan reminded herself as she crossed the large hall and foyer, they were just the hired help. They were most likely invisible to a man of Bryan Fitzmaurice’s wealth and power.

She paused outside the thick oak door to the drawing room, as Geoffrey had insisted she call it. She listened for a moment and heard the tinkle of ice in a crystal glass, and some liquid being poured. She smoothed the gown down over her shapely hips once more, and took a deep breath.

Megan tapped on the portal softly. She entered as soon as she heard a voice call, “Come in.”

She stepped into the room briskly and gave her brightest smile, though inwardly she was trembling with fear. She had hears so much about Bryan Fitzmaurice from his brother David, she was sure he walked on water. And with everything for her family riding on keeping this job and home, she was desperate to make a good first impression.

“Yes?” the tall dark man demanded. He stared at her, his icy blue eyes, as a pale as a wolf’s, boring into her own emerald green ones.

Then he began to laugh. “Oh no, not now of all times…”

She stared at him, not sure how to respond to this odd reaction. “I’m sorry to disturb you, sir. I thought I might just see if there was anything I could get you.”

“My brother does seem to have the most ridiculous sense of timing for his absurd jokes. Though I suppose under the circumstances, I can’t blame him. It is tradition, after all. But I have some very important guests arriving within the next half hour. Please spare me the display of your, er, talents, and go.”

“But sir, I only came in here to ask if you had any specific instructions. Whether you had anything you particularly wanted. I am here to please you, after all.”

He gaped at her for a moment, then cleared his throat and shook his head. “Yes, er, thank you, but really, this is too much. Though I must admit, you are a rather lovely little thing.”

His frigid glance thawed slightly as he gazed down at her. He resisted the temptation to toy with the ebony curl which had sprung out of her flouncy mob cap, and was resting upon her delicate porcelain brow and rosy cheek.

Megan stared up at Mr. Fitzmaurice’s stunningly handsome face shyly as he towered over her. She was easily five foot ten, so his remark about her being little struck her as amusing. She had never felt dainty before. But then anyone would seem small from his commanding six foot six height.

“Mr. Fitzmaurice, there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe we should start again. I’m Megan. I need to know if there’s anything special you want me to do for you or your guests tonight.”

He stared at her in what she could only describe to herself inwardly as horror.

“You mean they’re all in on it? Oh no, I’m not giving them the satisfaction of taunting me about this for the rest of my life.”

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sure he was referring to the absurd housekeeper’s uniform. Talk about Upstairs, Downstairs…

His next words seemed to confirm her thoughts.

“I must admit, though, I’m a bit curious to see what you have on under that ridiculous outfit. So, all right, I have a few minutes, and nothing important to do. So do it.”

She stared up at him, a blank expression on her lovely face. “Do what?”

He sat down on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other. “All right. I’m ready.”

“Mr. Fitzmaurice, I really have no idea what you’d like…”

He frowned, his black brows lowering threateningly over his incredible piercing eyes. “I guess coy is part of the act, but I haven’t got all night. So just strip them off, and then leave, preferably by the back door.”

“What did you say?” Megan gasped, suddenly going cold all over.

He folded his hands with exaggerated patience. “I said, strip for me, show me your stuff, whatever you’d like to call it, then go.”

Megan was convinced her whole world had come crashing down around her ears. She had had such high hopes for this new job. They all had.

She sucked in a shaky breath, and then let fly. “I’ve never been so insulted in all my life! Geoff warned me the world was full of perverts. I thought I could handle it. Well, if that’s the way you want to me to behave in ordered to keep this position, you can go to hell! Stuff your bloody job. I’ll pack and be out of here in five minutes. Dinner is in the kitchen. Serve your sleazy guests yourself.”

She whirled on her heel and would have stormed out.

But Bryan had jumped off the sofa at her words, and grabbed her arm to stay her.

Megan didn’t even stop to think. Her right hand shot up automatically, delivering a cracking blow to his cheek. She could see the red welt raise at once on his lightly tanned cheek as he tugged her more tightly to him.

“Now hang on a minute.”

“Let me go, you bastard!” She somehow managed to jerk her arm free of his vice-like hold and yanked at the door handle desperately. She fled through the opening before he could stop her again.

Megan heard him calling out to her to wait, but she ran to the attic of the house and bolted her door.

Grabbing her suitcases from the top of the wardrobe, she threw them down on the bed and began to hurl all her clothes into them willy-nilly. The tears began to stream down her cheeks unheeded.

Damn it, just when they had all been starting to feel like Fitzmaurice Manor was really home….



Evelyn Trimborn

Rating: Sensual

Word Count: 75,000

Buy Now: $3.99


HerStory Books Banner

Back to The HerStory Books Home Page

© HerStory Books All Rights Reserved.


Clinton won’t quit; she is a true democrat

We strongly object to the coverage today on Obama’s supposedly huge endorsements-one junior senator from Pennsylvania, whoopie.

And one other disgruntled rep from Vermont, asking her to quit.

Well, excuse us, but if she were going to do that, she would have given up a long time ago, not kept on fighting for the nomination, fundraising, and above all, pulling head of Obama in the polls last week.

They think SHE had a bad week because of a slip of the tongue? The Obama Wright link is never going to go away-why? Because Obama told us that himself-he refuses to give him up as pastor, even willingly knowing  all Wright has said and done in the cause of hate-mongering.

Why is she staying in it? Because she is a true democrat.

She wants everyone to have a chance to vote again in Florida and Michigan. She wants the people of PA to have their say on April 22nd.

Obama has blocked EVERY effort by the states’ and national party to get those delegates counted fair and square.  If she wins all the super states, which it looks very likely she will, where is his mandate then?

Every time she does well, they say quit. And they are ALL men.

We don’t care about Leahy’s opinion. Vermont voted, yay for them. They got their say. Now let the rest of the country have its say! 


The Tide of Destiny-Druids of Destiny Book 1

The Tide of Destiny by Sorcha MacMurrough

The Tide of Destiny by Sorcha Mac Murrough

The Tide of Destiny

Shanna Murchison

Book One of The Druids of Destiny Series

Northern Wales, 1145

Angharad of Meriel seeks to escape from an enforced marriage to a vicious neighboring landlord. Instead of gaining her freedom, she is taken captive by Rhys, the Silver Wolf, a powerful Welsh warrior determined to revenge his family and end the rebellion which has broken out against Owain, the prince of Merionedd, led by the prince’s own brother Cadwalader.

Angharad had assumed fate would take her to a convent to spend her days in peace. But with war raging throughout the countryside she loves, she can see that the tide of her destiny has turned. Angharad forsakes the way of the saints and determines to live by her sword with Rhys’ rapidly dwindling band of increasingly desperate warriors.

When Cadwalader takes the ultimate gamble and invites Danish mercenaries from Dublin to invade Wales, Angharad and Rhys discover the latent druidic powers they have always possessed but tried to suppress. Only their daring to trust to love and these remarkable supernatural abilities can prevent their whole world from being destroyed. As Cadwalader’s Viking band bring nothing but death and destruction, all Rhys and Angharad have to cling to is their tempestuous love. Will it too prove to be another casualty of war?

  • The Tide Of Destiny by Sorcha MacMurrough
    Word Count: 115,000
    Setting: Northern Wales, 1145
    Rating: Sensual.
    ORDER NOW: $3.99 (US)
  • In the years of trial
    When life was inconceivable
    From the bottom of the sea the tide of destiny
    Washed her up to him.
    Boris Pasternak, Dr. Zhivago (1958)

    Chapter One
    Meriel, Merionedd
    North Wales, mid-June 1144

    Angharad’s head swam at the enormity of what she had discovered. What she’d done. Every instinct she possessed screamed for her to flee as fast as she could. But the dense summer foliage flanking either side of the forest track was so thick it hindered her black stallion’s every step.

    She tried not to cringe as the branches plucked the flaming red cloak she had been forced to wear for her supposed pending nuptials. Tried not to cry out in terror at every rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig.

    Angharad thanked the Lord for the tenth time since she had escaped from her escort that she’d stumbled across her step-mother Maelona’s real plans for her before she had fallen into the vile hands of blond, treacherous, Emlyn Ap Hugh. But what was she to do now?

    The thought of being touched by Emlyn made her stomach churn, but that was the least of Angharad’s worries. This was a matter of life and death now. Not just for her, but her entire homeland. She had to stay alive, if only to warn Prince Owain he was in grave danger. But how to reach him before it was too late? And even if she did find him, would he ever believe her?

    Angharad scarcely believed the extent of the treachery and betrayal herself, though she had seen the proof with her own eyes. Had heard Maelona and Emlyn conspiring against their lawful prince and plotting her death as well. She’d found the incriminating letter, with the usurping bastard Prince Cadwalder’s own seal of the Black Boar, secreted in her stepmother’s jewel casket. She’d read every scheming word twice just to be sure. Everyone knew Cadwalader was a man full of ambitions and violent passions. But to plot to overthrow his own half-brother Owain? It was unthinkable.

    Terror and fury warred in her breast as Angharad heeled her horse hard down the forest path. She had given her makeshift wedding retinue the slip and taken the road east as fast as Bran could carry her, hoping her pursuers would think she was heading for England, before doubling back to head north-west. She knew she had to warn Owain, but at the same time, she was torn. Owain was certainly in danger, but her own home Meriel was in the most dire peril as well….

    Angharad shoved a stray strand of auburn hair out of her emerald eyes impatiently to scan the wooded path once more for any sign of enemies. She was damned if she went back, and damned if she went forward. She longed to take out her sword and fight for her home, but certain death awaited her now that Cadwalader was using her beloved llys as the headquarters for his uprising. Yet she knew even if she found Owain, her reputation as the Mad Mistress of Meriel made it unlikely anyone would believe a single word she said. If only she had dared take the letter as proof before she had fled….

    Hurry, hurry, lass, she goaded herself sternly. Worry about proof if and when you get that far. The sweat rolled down her shivering spine in rivulets, terror saturating her palms and the soles of her feet. She urged Bran forward even more urgently, well aware that even if Emlyn’s men didn’t find her, Cadwalader’s troops were amassing in the verdant valleys all around her. Even at the best of times, the mountain passes were full of lawless brigands committing all manner of depredations. This was no place for a lone female, even one who could wield a sword.

    Cadwalader had already ravaged several prime estates in the south, leaving dozens dead, or homeless and desperate by all accounts. Angharad shuddered as she recalled the grim tales. Most horrid of all had been the stories regarding The Silver Wolf, whom Cadwalader painted as the Devil incarnate if anyone dared mention him in the Bastard Prince’s hearing. It was said that the Silver Wolf perfected every cruelty, the better to practice it upon those who fell under his nefarious power. Some even said he was a shape-shifter, a lycanthrope. A spawn of the devil, in league with the forces of darkness to make Cadwalader’s life a living hell. Angharad crossed herself fervently and prayed she would never cross paths with such a foul demon.

    Angharad dragged her thoughts back to her own enemies. Her heart filled with dread at the prospect of what would happen to her beloved home. With her stepmother in command at Meriel, and Emlyn’s estate at Nairne, Cadwalader could split Owain’s kingdom in two. Then he would finish his conquest of the south of Merionedd, and finally thrust northwards from Meriel to Owain’s very own stronghold at Aber. If he won, it would truly be the end for the land she loved so well.

    Unless she could reach Owain first, she reminded herself, clinging onto this tiny shred of hope amid the maelstrom of grim thoughts which tormented her as she galloped northwards on her mission. Perhaps I could get help from one of the local lords? But who was loyal to Owain? Think, for pity’s sake, think…

    She swallowed hard and fought back the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf her. No matter how she looked at it, she was surrounded by danger. Her life wasn’t worth a brass farthing if she couldn’t find Owain or his allies soon.

    Emlyn’s men were waiting in the forest for her, she was sure of it. Where better to do so dark a deed than murder her in the dense woods which separated Meriel from Nairne, and then blame her death on bandits? Though she had never cared before if Angharad was clad in naught but rags, Maelona had insisted upon dressing her richly in the flaming red velvet cloak to make sure Angharad was easily seen. The cunning woman had even ostentatiously ‘gifted’ her with a few baubles now in Bran’s saddlebags as plausible reasons for her eventual death. Angharad’s only escort for the short distance to her supposed wedding had been three of the oldest and most decrepit warriors at Meriel.

    Her stepmother had been clever, Angharad had to grant her that. Maelona and Emlyn had wanted to make sure she died under neither roof, so that neither guardian nor bridegroom would be blamed. Then they could enslave Angharad’s already oppressed people and bring Meriel to ruin with their selfishness and greed.

    If only Ifor were still alive, Angharad wished, finally allowing a single tear to flow.

    But her half-brother was dead, she recollected bitterly, and with him Ieuan, their master at arms, who had protected her, and taught her everything she knew about warfare. Who had been a kindly father figure to her when her remaining parent had died, and who had concealed her intelligence under guise of ‘madness’ from all save Ifor and a couple of select men.

    Now all her allies were gone, dead or fled once Ifor had been killed by a ravening wolf the summer before. She was all alone. There was no sense wishing for help at Meriel with Maelona there ruling with an iron hand. Far better to take her chances upon the road, amongst strangers even, than to be slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb upon the altar of Maelona’s ambitions.

    If only I were the Master of Meriel, instead of the Mad Mistress of Meriel, Angharad thought with a bitter pang, thinking of the great leader the local legends spoke of. The heroic Master of Meriel would turn back the tide of war and bring peace and prosperity in his wake. But as good as she was with her sword, she was a mere woman, no leader of men. Her birthright had been stolen from her by Maelona from the moment the sly woman had married Angharad’s father. Angharad knew she would never get her people to rally around her. Even if she asked them to help her save Owain, they would never believe her. Even if she showed the letter as proof, they would never forgive her for her years of deception and lack of courage.

    I should have stood up to Maelona when I had the chance. But Ifor’s death was just too cruel a blow. Now it’s too late. Cadwalader and his men will cut me to pieces if I even try to tell the truth.

    She steadied her trembling hands on the reins and scanned the shadowy woods once more for any sign of movement. The sun was dipping lower, the forest cooling already with the approach of night. She inhaled the pine fragrance of the forest, the salt tang of the nearby sea. She peered up the gloomy path and bit her lip pensively. All seemed peaceful and silent, but still….

    She slowed the stallion now and inched forward, straining to listen. She told herself she was being silly. There was nothing, not even the chirping of a bird.

    Angharad stiffened in the saddle. That telling silence prickled the length of her spine. Too late did she reach back for the sword she had concealed under her cloak. But the huge mail-clad warrior on a black stallion even more vast than her own had already loomed in front of her, and grabbed her right arm before she could even touch the hilt.

    “Who are you? What’s your business here?” he demanded, the words spitting from full lips thinned to a feral snarl.

    “I’m going to the convent but am lost, sir,” she replied, both astonished and thankful that her terror had not made her stammer like a serving girl.

    He looked mildly surprised at her reply, why, she could not say. “Nay, you’re not lost. I saw you ride out of the llys at Meriel and rid yourself of your companions, then come this way. You were acting like a woman wandering in your wits, and terrified those old fools in order to get them to let you go. And you carry some goodly weapons,” he said with a pointed look at the embossed gold and enamel sword and shield hanging over her horse’s flanks under her cloak, which he had flicked up over the beast’s back with one deft tug. “So I ask you again, who are you, and what is your business here?”

    Angharad stopped herself just in time from blurting out the whole truth about her terror of Cadwalader. Yet the fearsome-looking man was glaring at her in such a penetrating manner, she had to say something, and quickly too. She felt compelled to obey-he was so handsome despite his menacing air that she couldn’t help but feel under some sort of spell as she gazed back at him. “I’m escaping from an enforced marriage, heading for the convent at Awen to secure protection.”

    His grim frown relaxed slightly. “Ah, that sounds a bit more likely. Who are you?”

    “Angharad of Meriel.”

    His ebony brows drew down over his piercing blue eyes once more. “Impossible.”

    “Why?” she asked, bristling at his dismissive tone.

    “That lady is said to be a mad woman. You’re evidently coherent, though you do look like a rag bag.”

    She cringed inwardly at the mention of the dreadful cast-off green gown and crimson cloak her stepmother had given her as wedding ‘finery’. She lifted her chin and held her breath to stop the tears. What did it matter what she wore? Or what this ill-mannered man thought?

    “And you, sir, look like a brigand. Now let me pass.” She jerked her arm out of the manacle of his warm hard grip, and nudged her stallion forward.

    “Not until you tell me who you are,” he insisted, leaning forward to grasp a fistful of Bran’s thick jet mane.

    “For pity’s sake, night is coming!” She pointed to the darkening sky overhead. “I must get to the convent, to safety. The woods are full of Emlyn ap Hugh’s men-“

    His silvery eyes narrowed now. “Emlyn’s? Why?”

    “Because they’ll be seeking me, his escaped bride!”

    Now the stranger’s dark brows lofted skyward. “Damnation. Emlyn’s bride, you say? Who are you?”

    “Stop gaping at me like that. I’ve already told you who I am, and time’s passing. I must be away at once.” She tried to inch her horse past him, to no avail.

    “That lady is said to be mad. Who are you?” he demanded again, shaking her slightly.

    “I’ve been naught but feigning being mad, to protect myself until I came of age,” she blurted out.

    Her dark companion glowered even more darkly at that news. “It was quite a show. I imagine most fools would believe your performance. But even if you’re telling me the truth about who you are, Emlyn isn’t that foolish. And why would he ever wish to wed a half-wit?”

    Angharad cast him a withering look, as if he were the witless one. “I’m sole heiress to my poor father Lord Aled’s estate of Meriel. I’m supposed to inherit as soon as I reach the eighteenth anniversary of my birth in a few days’ time.”

    The warrior pressed closer, inching her toward the left side of the narrow track. “What’s Emlyn up to now? Trying to trap me?”

    She opened her mouth to utter a stinging retort, only to clamp it shut again as a twig snapped nearby. She jumped a foot out of the saddle and glanced right and left in terror. “Please, Sir, we haven’t time! The woods are crawling with Emlyn’s warriors and robbers and-“

    “Aye, the brigand called The Silver Wolf,” he said with a sneer, his strange cold eyes never leaving her face. “Was that rambling piece of lunacy the best tale you could come up with? I’ve never heard such a parcel of nonsense.”

    Angharad took in his less than immaculate dark clothing, and decided to keep the man talking in the hope that she could give him the slip. He wasn’t one of Emlyn’s men, nor a Black Boar, but that didn’t mean he was any less of a threat. She couldn’t afford any delay on her urgent quest to help Prince Owain. And didn’t dare risk testing his loyalty as a potential ally by telling him the whole truth. Yet still, he seemed intelligent, not completely lawless…

    “I assure you, every word of those stories was recounted to me by Prince Cadwalader himself at dinner last night,” she said, her eyes never leaving his handsome face as she gauged his response to her name-dropping.

    Angharad never saw a man change so rapidly. He grabbed her shoulder hard, fury etched in every line of his finely boned cheeks and broad jaw. “Cadwalader’s here?” he growled, the words coming from deep in his belly causing her own to quiver. “Where?”

    Angharad had tried to keep command of the situation with the raven-haired man through bluster and bravado, but the sudden shift in his emotions truly terrified her. She stared up into his odd blue eyes, so like quicksilver, changing from one strange hue to the next in the span of a blink.


    “Oh my God,” she gasped, staring up into his face.

    His lips thinned to a bitter smile. “Not quite. But I’m said to be the very Devil when crossed.” He grabbed her bridle and shoved his stallion closer, trapping her against a tree trunk with his mount and own huge body. “So if you value your soul, Madam, tell me who you are and why you’re spying on me, or not even the good Lord will be able to save you.”

  • The Tide Of Destiny by Sorcha MacMurrough
    Word Count: 115,000
    Setting: Northern Wales, 1145
    Rating: Sensual.
    ORDER NOW: $3.99 (US)


    I must say, I simply love your stories. This is the type of book I would buy. Had I not been asked to edit this book and had I seen it on the bookshelf instead, I very likely would have picked it up and purchased it. It was a joy to read. The story is gripping. Angharad is a heroine we women can sink our teeth into, and the romance is a delight. Your style is delicious. Your love scenes are breath-taking. You provide a real sense of time and place by using dialogue that seems reminiscent of that time period. Your novel has a wonderful flow that is scintillating.
    Carol Craig, former Kensington Editor

  • The Tide Of Destiny by Sorcha MacMurrough
    Word Count: 115,000
    Setting: Northern Wales, 1145
    Rating: Sensual.
    ORDER NOW: $3.99 (US)

    HerStory Books Banner

    Back to The HerStory Books Home Page

    © HerStory Books All Rights Reserved.

    Excerpted with their kind permission.