Publisher: Raven Queen Publications
Date of Publication: June 2014
ISBN: 978-1499390193
ASIN: B00KPJ27UW
Number of pages: 190
Word Count: 46,500
Cover Artist: Boulevard Photografica
When Ianthe began her career as a faery godmother, she stumbled so badly that Snow White will probably never speak to her again. After a long suspension, she’s finally been given a chance to redeem herself…but everything on this latest assignment is going wrong. But why? Worse, she definitely doesn’t need an attractive mortal man distracting her from her duties. Of course, needs and wants are two different things. Briak has had his eye on Ianthe for a very, very long time, but he’s been waiting for just the right moment to make his move. Despite the fact all hell’s about to break loose on his watch, he can’t resist the opportunity to insert himself into her earthly assignment. Can he convince Ianthe of her true calling and thereby win her heart? Or will his subterfuge ultimately cost him her love?
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
Sunlight
filtered into the office, tinkling musically as it bounced off a globe standing
to the far side of the room. A lone dust mote floated through the air to fall
onto the crystalline floorboards and as it hit, Ianthe Hypericum cringed when
she heard it clack against the floor, like the tinny clap of an iron breakfast
bell. Normally the sound didn’t bother her. Normally she found it lovely.
Not today.
Nervous sweat
ran down Ianthe’s back as she awaited her latest assignment. Maybe the Faery
Godmother High Council hadn’t changed their decision. Maybe Ms. Siabelle had
called her in to revoke her wand for good.
Why wouldn’t
she? After all, so many of her recent assignments had ended in disaster. The
High Council frowned upon her performance even before Snow White’s daughter had
run off with that traveling band of thieves. Ianthe still couldn’t quite figure
out how it had happened. She’d spent nearly fourteen hundred years on probation
for it. How it hadn’t driven her crazy enough to join those in the dark side of
the groves, she had no idea. It’d been a close call.
Some faery
godmother she’d turned out to be! She didn’t want to think what might happen if
she blew another assignment. They’d turn her out, maybe send her to the
shoemaker’s shop as punishment, and she didn’t want that. Everyone knew the
shoemaker’s shop was a dungeon compared to the human world.
What a disgrace
for her family, if the council banished her there! They were having a hard
enough time, socially, dealing with her failure with the Snow White family.
Banishment would undo them. She had to succeed at this assignment, she just had
to!
The door opened
and an older woman, wearing a gray Armani suit, stepped through.
Ianthe stood and
curtseyed, her lilac taffeta skirt rustling. “Good morning, Ms. Siabelle.”
The old woman
pushed her glasses up her pert nose with a thick finger. “Ah, Ianthe. I see
you’re on time, for once.” She scuttled around the huge oak desk like an
overweight crab.
Ianthe folded
her hands in her lap, twisting her fingers as she waited for her boss to settle
down.
“I trust all is
well.”
“Yes, ma’am,”
she said. “The Smith-Weiss affair’s all cleaned up.”
“They’re happy,
then?” Ms. Siabelle asked.
Ianthe bit her
lip. Hard. No, she wouldn’t say the couple was happy. Not unless the faery
godparent council had changed its definition of single parent households.
Still, she made her report on her latest assignment. “The couple is—April
is…Chuck will be—” She blew out a deep breath. “They’ll get there. Plenty of
babies grow up without their fathers. It’s for the best.”
“Is it?”
“April Smith and
Charles Weiss weren’t made for each other, no matter how much we wish it.” She
frowned at the old faery godmother. “You knew there were problems going into
that assignment.”
Ms. Siabelle
remained quiet in the face of Ianthe’s accusation. She twitched the platinum
chain on her glasses and turned her attention to her computer. “Yes, well, that
isn’t the issue today.” Adjusting her glasses to her liking, she turned her
head, gaze softening as she peered at Ianthe.
Ianthe could
feel a million tiny lightning bolts trying to find their way into her heart.
She could barely breathe under the elderly overseer’s gaze and she begged the
faery gods to be on her side, just this once.
Ms. Siabelle
cleared her throat.
Here it came.
Ianthe tried not to cringe.
“The Faery
Godparent High Council has decided to give you another chance, child.”
She blinked.
“Say that again?” Unbelievable!
“I said we’ve
decided in your favor.” Ms. Siabelle turned in her chair, and standing, crossed
the room to a tall filing cabinet. Batting away a stray sunbeam, she wrapped
old fingers around the silver handle gracing the top drawer, tugged it open,
and drew a finger in the air above the files. They flipped by themselves, one
after another, as if she pulled them. But she held her finger too high. “If the
couple can’t make a go of it even after what you’ve done, it’s not your fault.”
“I did try.”
“I told the
council so. Ah, here we are.” She stepped back as one file slid free. It spun
in the air before her a moment, then Ms. Siabelle reached out and took hold of
the thin folder. Ianthe wrung her hands as Ms. Siabelle sat back down and began
to read. “Hmm... It says here that you’re to be assigned to a young man.” Her
brow rose. “And his soon-to-be ex-wife.”
Ianthe sat up
straighter. A divorce? Oh, no. More battles over the children. She found being
saddled with the choice of which parent would be best heartbreaking. “Surely
you must be mistaken. Isn’t there some forlorn lover I can look after instead?”
This guy was probably as ugly as the frog prince, while the wife, well… she’d
met some doozies!
“No, the
assignment is quite clear. You’re to assist Randall and Mallory Davies.” Ms.
Siabelle shut the gleaming folder and folded her hands atop it. “According to
their files, it’s a clear case. Randall’s not sure he wants the divorce and
Mallory—well, I don’t see why she couldn’t be persuaded to drop the case.
Should be a piece of cake, as they say down there.”
She’d said that
about Snow White’s daughter, but Ianthe thought better of reminding her. “I’m
not sure.”
“Are you saying
you don’t want the assignment, my dear? I thought you hoped for a chance to get
your wand and title back.” Her nose twitched. “And everything else that goes
with it. Coaches and ball gowns and such.”
All of which had
gone out of style with the age of classic faery tales. Right now, Ianthe didn’t
feel like contradicting her. “I do, ma’am. It’s just that—”
“Good. I’ll see
the paperwork’s sent through; meanwhile—” She wiggled her finger over the file
and it rose from the desktop, floating like a bird into Ianthe’s less than
eager hands. “Why don’t you get started?” She shook her head sadly. “Seems
Randall and Mallory are in dire need of a happy ending, as you’ll see.”
Ianthe sighed.
The pages flipped open before her, and she took in the photographs. Randall,
his employees. One stood out: a man with a handsome angular face, tousled brown
hair, and deep, coffee-colored eyes.
She leaned
forward to study the picture, wondering who he was. Too handsome to ignore, she
thought. Was he the reason for the couple’s troubles? She could see that being
the case.
Maybe this
assignment wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.
She shoved the
file into her oversized purse and exited the office to take to the hall, a
renewed confidence in her gait. She could do this. Surely, she would finally
live down that fiasco of an assignment with Snow White’s daughter. Maybe it
would even garner her a promotion. Full Godmotherhood!
Dare she dream?
She was already
daydreaming for she plowed right into an oncoming faery.
She blinked at
him. Geldon P. Techsmauch.
“I’m sorry,
Geldon. I didn’t see you,” she said.
Son of a goblin,
how she hated him! She stepped back, hoping to escape him as soon as possible.
“Why don’t you
watch where you’re going?” he snarled.
When she stepped
around him he planted his right hand against the wall, blocking her escape.
“Where do you think you’re rushing off to in such a hurry?” he asked. “You
can’t have a princess awaiting you. You’re on probation after all. Or are you
late for a class? Beginning wand construction one-oh-one?”
How’m I supposed
to go anywhere with you in my way, you horsefly’s butt? What was he doing,
besides being a nuisance? “I said I’m sorry.” She tried not to snarl back, but
it was hard. She tapped a finger to her lips. “Didn’t I hear you just came back
from Desire Island? How’d that go?”
His mud brown
eyes narrowed. “You heard wrong. It was Devil’s Island.”
“Ah.” She
nodded. “My mistake.”
“Yes, you make
many.” He turned on his heel. “So, I see you have more studying to do. Good
luck with it, Hypericum. You’ll need it.”
Ianthe’s fists
clenched and she wanted to stamp her foot against the citrine floor tiles, but
the sound would reverberate through them as if she’d shattered a glass wall and
tell the whole kingdom how angry she was. The nerve of Techsmauch! He was such
an ass! Why did he constantly make her life a living hell? She didn’t want to
run the risk of meeting up with him again tonight. So she turned back the way
she’d come. She’d take the sub-elevators down to the Earth level if she had to
in order to avoid facing him again.
A wrinkly, gray
skinned goblin met her at the elevator and beckoned her inside. It was stuffed
full of trolls. Many smelled as if they needed a nice, long bath. No one would
ever catch Techsmauch dead in a sub-elevator so it seemed the best way to avoid
him.
She sniffed once
or twice and wrinkled her nose at the smell. The doors closed and she slowly
released her breath. Afraid to inhale, she wondered how long it would take to
reach Earth level. Don’t worry. We’ll arrive before you pass out from the
trolls’ stench. She hoped.
All she could
think about was the shower she’d take once on Earth. She’d have to freshen up
if she wanted to get close to her assignment. Troll-stench was known to drive
away any and all who came near. That was no way to begin this assignment.
She checked her
purse, pulling forth the file Ms. Siabelle had given her. She could swear she’d
seen that employee before, but where?
Briak. The name
sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Was it possible she had the name
incorrect? Maybe the k constituted a typo. The name niggled in a way she didn’t
like, but he looked so kind. Had she ever helped him? Or someone in his family?
Maybe I’m
mistaken. How many handsome ranch hands were there in Clover Glen, Florida,
after all?
About the Author:
Juli D. Revezzo is a Florida
girl, with a love of fantasy, science fiction, and Arthurian legend, so much so
she gained a B.A. in English and American Literature. She loves writing stories
with fantastical elements whether it be a full-on fantasy, or a story set in
this world-slightly askew.
She has been published in short
form in Eternal Haunted Summer, Dark Things II: Cat Crimes (a charity anthology
for cat related charities), Luna Station Quarterly, Crossing the River, An
Anthology in Honor of Sacred Journeys; The Scribing Ibis: An Anthology of Pagan
Fiction in Honor of Thoth, and Twisted Dreams Magazine. She’s the author of The
Antique Magic series and the Paranormal Romance Harshad Wars series.
She is a member of the
Independent Author Network and the Magic Appreciation Tour.
Website: http://julidrevezzo.com
Pintrest: http://pinterest.com/jewelsraven/
Twitter: @julidrevezzo
Newsletter signup at: http://bit.ly/SNI5K6
Thank you for hosting me and my little faeries, ladies! I hope your readers enjoy Changeling's Crown!
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