In this scene, Gratia has been trying to avoid a woman claiming to be her husband’s mistress by hiding in the darkness of a garden overlooking the Danube River. Her husband, Leo, has been gone with the emperor for over six months—most of their new marriage—and she fears this temptress is part of the reason why. As she hides, she presses herself against the high stone wall, enjoying the warmth left from the day, when a man suddenly steps up behind her and traps her.

“You should not be out here alone,” he said in a harsh whisper. The man smelled like horse and sweat and the thick dust of hard travel.

“Move away,” she squeaked. She could not free her hands nor turn her head far enough to see her attacker.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he rasped as he dared move his body close to hers, close enough she felt a heavy belt buckle press at the small of her back. “Perhaps a lover will meet you here in the dark, far from the light of the torches outside the house?”

“Move away,” she repeated, glad her voice carried more authority this time, though not enough to make the cur step back. What should she do? With what could she threaten him? “My cousin, the Lord of Regensburg, will hear of this!”

“Are you under his protection, then?” The whisper sounded angry now. Good. He should know he assaulted a woman of means, not some unguarded peasant.

“I am a guest here,” she snipped. “I also have a husband and a father who will—”

“Ah, so you do remember you have a husband.”

A shiver coursed down her spine like cold, inky river water as the whisper resolved into a deep voice on the word “husband.”

Her breath caught. “Leo?”

I really love this couple. Each of them is hurt and unsure, and they struggle to find the way back to each other over one tempestuous night.

If anyone would like a free review copy, please email me or comment below.

Love Like A River is available on Amazon for only 99 cents!

BLURB:

What is new bride Gratia to think when her husband’s been gone for six months and a woman claiming to be his lover attends her sister’s house party? Unsuspecting Leo returns eagerly home to a wife who isn’t there. When he finally locates her in a moonlit garden by the Danube, the reunion of these newlyweds sizzles with anger, accusations, and denied passion as each tries to find a path to the marriage they both desire. Love Like A River is Book Six in the Evolution Series set in Charlemagne’s Empire and is a novella of 11,000 words.

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SET UP OF THE SCENE

Magnus is a second generation Norman, a descendant of the first Vikings to settle in the Seine valley. Recently widowed, he is obliged to leave his grieving daughters to fight against Flemish incursions into Norman lands. In hotly disputed territory he comes across a wedding ceremony taking place outside a church. The bride, sister of the Flemish leader, swoons upon catching sight of the enemy troops. He jumps from his horse to save her from the mud.

EXCERPT

Magnus leapt from his horse and strode to the door of the abbey where an older woman—a servant he’d guess—struggled valiantly to keep her mistress from falling into the muck. He scooped up the mud-splattered maiden who’d swooned on first catching sight of them. His thoughts went back to the last time he’d held a woman in his arms, but he shook away the bitter memory. This one was still very much alive, as evidenced by the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

The appealing mounds of female flesh were big enough to fill his hand. A tingling tugged at the base of his spine, but then shame swamped him. He’d only recently buried his wife.

Judging by the presence of the priest and a young man in black who’d fled at their arrival, he’d wager the wedding had been underway. But where were the well-wishers?

He stared at the woman in his arms. Despite her disheveled appearance and pallor, heightened by the bright red of her nose, she was stunningly beautiful. Her tangled hair was the color of chestnuts. He willed her eyes to open, but she remained oblivious. A peculiar hope rose in his heart that he’d arrived in time to interrupt the wedding, but he quickly dismissed it. What did he care if Arnulf’s sister had wed a coward who’d run rather than defend his bride?

The priest scowled, though his anger seemed to be directed more at the woman in Magnus’s arms than at him. Something strange was going on.

“I am Magnus Kriger of Montdebryk,” he said to the cleric. “I am a Christian. You and your fellow priests have nothing to fear. We are Normans, part of an army sent to recapture Montreuil.”

The priest eyed him with scorn. “You claim to be Christian, yet you wear a pagan symbol around your neck.”

Magnus didn’t look down, but surmised his Thor’s hammer must have worked its way free from under his gambeson. He decided to ignore the priest’s comment.

The cleric shrugged. “What do you intend with the woman?”

He looked down at Arnulf’s sister. She felt right cradled against his chest, though she’d moaned softly a few times. He feared when she awoke and espied his father’s Viking helmet she’d think him a barbarian. Why it mattered he wasn’t sure.

“Take her for a moment,” he said, intending to remove his headgear, but the priest backed away, his palms held out as if warding off evil spirits. What ailed the man?

“I’ll take her,” his cousin, Bendik offered, coming to his side.

An surge of jealousy addled Magnus’s wits and he clutched the stricken woman more tightly.

Bendik chuckled. “I won’t harm her,” he said.

Magnus laughed at his foolishness and handed her over. He removed his helmet, thrust it into the priest’s hands, then retrieved his prize. It was lunacy and Bendik’s frown indicated he agreed. The town and abbey had to be secured, but the only thought on his mind was the desire to comfort a beautiful woman.

He thought of Katarina. “You and I would willingly kill anyone who might treat our sisters in such an abominable way,” he said to Bendik. “Does the Comte of Flandres care nothing for his sibling?”

***

Judith was warm for the first time in days. A man with a deep, soothing voice was carrying her. It rumbled from his chest—a solid chest, though it felt good to rest her weary head against it. She wanted to murmur her gratitude to the brave hero who had rescued her from a fate worse than death, but her throat was too dry. He must be one of Arnulf’s men.

She slowly opened one eye and looked up. She was in the arms of a fair-haired giant whose broad shoulders blotted out everything else around her. He was still speaking, but her head was stuffed with the wool of a newly shorn sheep and a drum pounded in her ears. She cleared her throat, but swallowing was difficult.

“Don’t be afraid,” Beatris said.

Judith opened the other eye and strained to see her maid. Where was the confounded woman? If there was no need for fear, that must mean—

Wait.

It wasn’t Theodoric carrying her. How unseemly to be in the arms of another man. The memory crashed in. Surely Arnulf hadn’t wed her to a freak of nature. “Husband,” she shrieked.

“He has fled,” the deep voice said with a strange accent. He must be a foreigner.

Foreigner? The only foreigners she’d seen recently—

Riders led by a massive barbarian.

Her heart raced. She looked up again at the stubbled chin of her hero. Her eyes fell on a silver pendant nestled in the folds of his gambeson. Dread seized her. It was a pagan symbol; the hammer of one of the Norse gods. Her savior was a Viking.

It didn’t make sense. Vikings didn’t save women. They carried them off, raped then slaughtered them. She flailed her arms and legs, desperate to escape. She had to warn Beatris. “Vikings!” she screamed.

END OF EXCERPT

You can find The Rover Betrayed at the following sites.

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Thanks, Anna, for visiting with me today!

My story, Unbidden is set in 831, when enough time had passed for Louis and his family to start screwing things up. This is a snippet from the scene where Rochelle, the heroine, meets her emperor.

EXCERPT

“Is there something you wish to say?” the emperor asked with a teeth-clenched softness, more than a little warning in his voice.

“I do not wish to marry,” she said, her voice cracking on the word marry. A hiss of indrawn breath came from her right, though she wasn’t sure if it was Theo or David. A slight buzz filled the room as the repetition of her words passed to its furthest corners. She lifted her chin to stare at him. “And I do not want a war fought on my estate.”

“I do not care what you wish,” he said quietly, his narrow face beginning to mottle with red. Then he shouted, “I do not care what you wish!”

END OF EXCERPT

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EXCERPT

She lifted the new summer fruit, yellow and fuzzy. He hadn’t had a peach since last year. His mouth watered. Without another word, she found a knife and cut a tiny, crescent sliver, releasing juice down the side of her hand. He could smell the sugary flesh as she lowered it to his mouth, deftly slipping the thin bite between his lips. The ripe pulp crushed succulently between his tongue and palate with a burst of flavor and sweet liquid. The strip of resilient skin rubbed satisfyingly in his mouth, giving him the welcome sensation of eating something substantial. She fed him one delicious bit after another until the entire globe of perfection was gone. She wiped her hands on a damp cloth, now smiling as though he had conquered not only Rome, but Athens, as well. He had forgotten those tiny dimples on her cheeks. He sighed as his stomach growled again, beginning the forgotten work of handling solid nourishment. He could not hold his eyes open another minute, dropping back into sleep, despite the distraction of fingers brushing the hair from his forehead.

END OF EXCERPT

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In this passage from historical romance Unbidden, the heroine endures a journey in the unexpected snow as her villainous brother-in-law kidnaps her to Bavaria. Since many of us are feeling the effects of holiday spending, I offer this first book in my series for FREE. Treat yourself to a warm, sensual read with a classic hero and a feisty heroine.

EXCERPT

Snow began to fly on the third day, setting up a night of misery. Rochelle couldn’t help but imagine how different it would be if David were curled behind her. She wondered if he slept safe in their bed. The thought of that chilled her as much as the weather, that he might be ensconced at Alda while Doeg dragged her across the empire. Her thoughts preyed on her. She swung the gamut of imagining him healthy or dead or every possibility in between. Healthy meant he’d sent her away from him, her home, and their marriage. Injured or dead meant Doeg had finally succeeded at whatever nefarious motivation drove him. If that was the case, however, what did he want from her now?  For what purpose would he kidnap her?  Exhaustion eventually stemmed the wild flow of her thoughts, letting her sleep.

A wet covering of snow as deep as the horses’ fetlocks coated the ground by morning. The further east they traveled, the more remote the surroundings became.

Doeg announced heartily, “We will pass Eichstadt today. Tonight we sleep in a hut, and by tomorrow we should arrive at Atrum Calx, if the snow does not slow us down too badly.” He’d become less arrogant, perhaps even a bit cautious with her of late. He acted like someone who had belatedly realized his own blunder, finding himself set on a track he could not leave.

“What will you do with me there?” Rochelle asked cautiously, trying to make out his purpose.

“I will show you the estate,” he replied, “after you have had a day or so to rest, of course.

The strange answer threw her, but his caring whether she had rest was even stranger. They retreated into the usual uncomfortable silence, only heightened by the muffling effect of the falling snow.

END OF EXCERPT

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Unbidden is not free at these vendors, but still a bargain!

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EXCERPT

He had never heard Lily sing, not consciously. He had never seen Lily dance. Had she ever really laughed in his presence?

They danced for over an hour, carried in the sea of sweaty bodies and injured toes. Theo bought ale and roasted nuts, and they sat on his cloak in the grass watching the chaos, then he pulled Lily back into the fray. When the musicians finally tired and the torches started to sputter out, he had to search in the darkness for his cloak while Lily giggled behind him. He finally found it, probably ruined by grass stains and people tramping on it. He flung it around his shoulders anyway. He took her hand in both of his.

“May I walk you home?” he asked earnestly, like a boy with his first love.

Her smile faded. She stared up at him, her face pale and her eyes wide in the light of the harvest moon.

END OF EXCERPT

What is Vain about? A tailor’s abandoned daughter fashions a vain nobleman’s tunic, finding passion between the neckline and hem as misfortune forces her into his precarious aristocratic world. Vain is book three in the Evolution Series, but stands alone as a story. In fact, I wasted two hours skimming back through Theo and Lily’s story, and decided it is my favorite.

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About the Curse of the Lost Isle series: From history shrouded in myths, emerges a family of immortal Celtic Ladies, who roam the medieval world in search of salvation from a curse… but if the Church ever suspects what they really are, they will be hunted, tortured, and burned at the stake.

Princess of Bretagne -Book One http://amzn.com/B007K1EGAM 

806 AD – Alba (Ancient Scotland)

As the Vikings raid the coast of Alba, Pressine of Bretagne sets out to seduce King Elinas of Dumfries, chosen by the Goddess to unite the tribes against the foreign invader. Elinas, still mourning his departed queen, has no intention to remarry. Head strong and independent, Pressine does not expect to fall for the very attractive, wise and noble ruler… Furthermore, her Pagan nature clashes with the religious fanaticism of the king’s Christian heir, who suspects her unholy ancestry and will stop at nothing to get rid of her.

EXCERPT

Without waiting for an invitation, Elinas stormed into the bedchamber.

Pressine shuddered at the loathing in his dark brown eyes.

“Whatever made you think you could violate the apartments of my beloved queen?” Stopping short in the middle of the room, Elinas glanced around, eyes wide with disbelief.

Pressine struggled to sound casual. “Surely your gracious queen would have wanted these rooms light, warm and clean, even alive with laughter, rather than dark, sealed, and stinking of decay.”

The king’s jaw tightened under the short black beard as he towered over her. His hands balled into fists at his sides. “I alone decide in my castle.” The low voice turned to a raucous whisper, more threatening than the shouts of any battlefield. “I shall not tolerate defiance of any kind under my roof. Restore these rooms to their previous state and leave.”

Barely able to slow her heartbeat, Pressine feigned distraction, dusting her blue riding dress. “It simply cannot be done.”

“You dare challenge me?” His surprise would have been comical, if not for the menacing tone.

“The old linens were burned,” Pressine said with a calm she did not feel, as if lecturing a child. She rose to fetch the bundle wrapped in blue silk and handed it to him.

Elinas looked at it suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Her comb, mirror, distaff, spindle, and other keepsakes.” Pressine waved her hand, encompassing the room. “The apartments themselves will never look the way they did before.” She had made certain of that.

The king’s eyes, velvety brown and soft this morning at the spring, now burned with the fiery amber of a wild cat’s glare. Elinas looked ready to pounce. He snatched the bundle from her arm. “Out!”

Pressine showed none of the apprehension gripping her. The king’s heart, beneath the leather gear, had more mettle than she anticipated.

“Remember that I have your sword.” She paused, observing the sobering effect of her words. “Only this morning, you gave it to me, swearing you would honor your oath of keeping me safe in your halls. Does a king’s word count for so little in Strathclyde?”

“I curse the ill fortune that made me hear you sing, lady.” Eyes tightly shut, Elinas tensed, fists at his side, obviously struggling for emotional control. “I should have known that a princess who refuses to bow to the will of men can only bring strife.”

Encouraged by the spark of reason returning to the distraught Elinas, Pressine hoped he could now face his grief. “I am sorry if I offended you. I meant no disrespect.”

“I have enough Vikings, Angles, Picts and Scots to give me trouble. The gods know I do not want feuds in my home.” Stillness made his stare frightening.

Pressine refused to be intimidated. “Will you honor your word and protect me, then?”

“I should throw you to the wolves!” His voice boomed.

“Wolves?” Pressine repressed a chuckle. She loved wolves. “What would your people think of a king who throws a defenseless princess to the wolves?”

“Defenseless?” The king’s face reddened.

“Everyone in the castle expects to see me at your side at the Beltane feast. If I do not attend, there will be questions. The rules of hospitality state that…”

“Let them ask,” Elinas snapped. “The rules of hospitality do not apply to princesses who misbehave!”

END OF EXCERPT

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The series begins with Betrothal, and here is more about the story.

Lady Alyse de Courcy has fallen in love with Lord Braeton, a nobleman in King Edward III’s court and a man to whom she has barely spoken. Fate, however, has decreed her betrothal to his best friend, Sir Geoffrey Longford—a handsome and imposing knight, yet hardly the man she wants to wed.

When Sir Geoffrey is bound in betrothal by his father, he could not have expected the beautiful stranger to win his heart the moment they meet. Nevertheless, the fascinating Lady Alyse has done exactly that, and his feelings for her only grow as he learns more of her gentle yet spirited nature. But Alyse’s infatuation with his friend casts doubt on whether she can ever return his regard and their wedding day is fast approaching…

Will he have time enough to win her love?

Find this beginning to a great serial novel at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, ARe, and Smashwords.

This story continues with books two and three, Betrayal and Beleaguered.

You can also get all three together in print from Amazon.

Find out more about Jenna Jaxon at her website, http://jennajaxon.wordpress.com.

Medieval Monday continues, so stop by again next week! 

In war torn England the battle lines between Saxon and Norman are clearly drawn. The Saxons must fight for everything they have in the hopes of winning their country back from the Normans who are determined to break their resistance.

Rowena Godwinson, the sole remaining member of the defeated royal family, stands proudly against the Normans that would trample them underfoot but her nobility and grace make her an ideal pawn in the Norman King William’s play for power with the Saxon people. When he decrees she marry a powerful Norman knight, her subjugation appears to be complete. The handsome soldier with the kind brown eyes and gentle touch is a threat to her determination to defy the interlopers. Can she hold firm to her Saxon heritage and refuse to give in to his advances?

John of Normandy wants only to prove himself worthy of the king’s trust. He is rewarded for his service and loyalty with land, titles and a Saxon beauty for a bride. John balks at the marriage, driven by the secret guilt of knowing Rowena’s father died at his sword. However, John’s reluctance is soon replaced by a burning desire to please this woman and win her over as well as her people.

As their people look to them for guidance and peace, can John and Rowena find a love that unites all of England?

EXCERPT

Pacing the small area like a confined animal, she finally paused to look out the window. The dreary day reflected her feelings, rain threatening at any moment. “Do you know when my husband will be returning?”

“I am back now.”

John stood in the doorway handsomely dressed as befit the new Lord of Essex. Rowena’s breath caught in her throat. She looked away before the immense pleasure she felt at his return showed on her face.

Joan quickly gathered her sewing and removed herself from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Will you attend me, my lady?”

Rowena went to him and helped him remove his surcoat before seeing to the heavier chainmail. He smelled of horses and leather. Manly. Rowena tried not to close her eyes as she drank in the intoxicating smell of him. Why would a dirty, sweaty man make her feel so light headed? She stepped away when she realized why, the chainmail slipping forward off his arms. His hooded eyes told her that he knew what she was feeling.

“Is there a problem?” His deep voice seemed to reverberate through her body.

Quickly putting the heavy material down, she headed to the door. “I will order a bath for you.”

“Wait.”

Rowena froze with her hand on the latch and heard him coming toward her. He stood close behind, his breath soft against her cheek.

“Yes?” Be done with this. Her body yearned for his arms to pull her against him, to feel his kiss again. She licked her lips.

“Why are you leaving in such a hurry?” His hand lightly touched the side of her head as he spoke, pushing her hair away from her face. He leaned in closer to her exposed ear. A responding shiver ran down her body. “Are you afraid of me?”

She backed up to the door with a thud and faced him. Her pulse was racing as she lied. “No, my lord. Methinks you have a rather strong odor about you and I would have you take a bath before the evening meal.”

John backed away quickly, his eyes flying open. “I am sorry if I offend you. Please see to the bath.”

Rowena felt only slightly guilty when he turned away from her, standing like a lost little boy in the middle of the room.

END OF EXCERPT

The Saxon Bride is available at Amazon.

Ashley York loves to hear from her fans. Email her at ashleyyorkauthor@gmail.com. Visit her website www.ashleyyorkauthor.com. She’s also on Facebook and Twitter.

Thank you for visiting, Ashley.

If you want to find more Medieval Monday posts, check my archives and come back next week.

MORE ABOUT The Good Knight

Intrigue, suspicion, and rivalry among the royal princes casts a shadow on the court of Owain, king of north Wales…

The year is 1143 and King Owain seeks to unite his daughter in marriage with an allied king.  But when the groom is murdered on the way to his wedding, the bride’s brother tasks his two best detectives—Gareth, a knight, and Gwen, the daughter of the court bard—with bringing the killer to justice.

And once blame for the murder falls on Gareth himself, Gwen must continue her search for the truth alone, finding unlikely allies in foreign lands, and ultimately uncovering a conspiracy that will shake the political foundations of Wales.

EXCERPT

“Look at you, girl.”

Gwen’s father, Meilyr, tsked under his breath and brought his borrowed horse closer to her side of the path. He’d been out of sorts since early morning when he’d found his horse lame and King Anarawd and his company of soldiers had left the castle without them, refusing to wait for Meilyr to find a replacement mount. Anarawd’s men-at-arms would have provided Meilyr with the fine escort he coveted.

“You’ll have no cause for complaint once we reach Owain Gwynedd’s court.” A breeze wafted over Gwen’s face and she closed her eyes, letting her pony find his own way for a moment. “I won’t embarrass you at the wedding.”

“If you cared more for your appearance, you would have been married yourself years ago and given me grandchildren long since.”

Gwen opened her eyes, her forehead wrinkling in annoyance. “And whose fault is it that I’m unmarried?” Her fingers flexed about the reins but she forced herself to relax. Her present appearance was her own doing, even if her father found it intolerable. In her bag, she had fine clothes and ribbons to weave through her hair, but saw no point in sullying any of them on the long journey to Aber Castle.

King Owain Gwynedd’s daughter was due to marry King Anarawd in three days’ time. Owain Gwynedd had invited Gwen, her father, and her almost twelve-year old brother, Gwalchmai, to furnish the entertainment for the event, provided King Owain and her father could bridge the six years of animosity and silence that separated them. Meilyr had sung for King Owain’s father, Gruffydd; he’d practically raised King Owain’s son, Hywel. But six years was six years. No wonder her father’s temper was short.

Even so, she couldn’t let her father’s comments go. Responsibility for the fact that she had no husband rested firmly on his shoulders. “Who refused the contract?”

“Rhys was a rapscallion and a laze-about,” Meilyr said.

And you weren’t about to give up your housekeeper, maidservant, cook, and child-minder to just anyone, were you?

But instead of speaking, Gwen bit her tongue and kept her thoughts to herself. She’d said it once and received a slap to her face. Many nights she’d lain quiet beside her younger brother, regretting that she hadn’t defied her father and stayed with Rhys. They could have eloped; in seven years, their marriage would have been as legal as any other. But her father was right and Gwen wasn’t too proud to admit it: Rhys had been a laze-about. She wouldn’t have been happy with him. Rhys’ father had almost cried when Meilyr had refused Rhys’ offer. It wasn’t only daughters who were sometimes hard to sell.

“Father!” Gwalchmai brought their cart to a halt. “Come look at this!”

“What now?” Meilyr said. “We’ll have to spend the night at Caerhun at present rate. You know how important it is not to keep King Owain waiting.”

“But Father!” Gwalchmai leapt from the cart and ran forward.

“He’s serious.” Gwen urged her pony after him, passing the cart, and then abruptly reined in beside her brother. “Mary, Mother of God…”

A slight rise and sudden dip in the path ahead had hidden the carnage until they were upon it. Twenty men and an equal number of horses lay dead in the road, their bodies contorted and their blood soaking the brown earth. Gwalchmai bent forward and retched into the grass beside the road. Gwen’s stomach threatened to undo her too, but she fought the bile down and dismounted to wrap her arms around her brother.

Meilyr reined in beside his children. “Stay back.”

Gwen glanced at her father and then back to the scene, noticing for the first time a man kneeling among the wreckage, one hand to a dead man’s chest and the other resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. The man straightened and Gwen’s breath caught in her throat.

Gareth.

He’d cropped his dark brown hair shorter than when she’d known him, but his blue eyes still reached into the core of her. Her heart beat a little faster as she drank him in. Five years ago, Gareth had been a man-at-arms in the service of Prince Cadwaladr, King Owain Gwynedd’s brother. Gareth and Gwen had become friends, and then more than friends, but before he could ask her father for her hand, Gareth had a falling out with Prince Cadwaladr. In the end, Gareth hadn’t been able to persuade Meilyr that he could support her despite his lack of station.

Gwen was so focused on Gareth that she wasn’t aware of the other men among them—live ones—until they approached her family. A half dozen converged on them at the same time. One caught her upper arm in a tight grip. Another grabbed Meilyr’s bridle. “Who are you?” the soldier said.

Meilyr stood in the stirrups and pointed a finger at Gareth. “Tell them who I am!”

Gareth came forward, his eyes flicking from Meilyr to Gwalchmai to Gwen. He was broader in the shoulders, too, than she remembered.

“They are friends,” Gareth said. “Release them.”

And to Gwen’s astonishment, the man-at-arms who held her obeyed Gareth. Could it be that in the years since she’d last seen him, Gareth had regained something of what he’d lost?

Gareth halted by Meilyr’s horse. “I was sent from Aber to meet King Anarawd and escort him through Gwynedd. He wasn’t even due to arrive at Dolwyddelan Castle until today, but …” He gestured to the men on the ground. “Clearly, we were too late.”

Gwen looked past Gareth to the murdered men in the road.

“Turn away, Gwen,” Gareth said.

But Gwen couldn’t. The blood—on the dead men, on the ground, on the knees of Gareth’s breeches—mesmerized her. The men here had been slaughtered. Her skin twitched at the hate in the air. “You mean King Anarawd is—is—is among them?”

“The King is dead,” Gareth said.

END OF EXCERPT

The Good Knight is free at all Amazon stores  Kobo  Smashwords  Apple iBookstore  Barnes and Noble  

It is also available in paperback.

Paperback at Amazon 

Paperback at Amazon UK

About Sarah Woodbury

With two historian parents, Sarah couldn’t help but develop an interest in the past. She went on to get more than enough education herself (in anthropology) and began writing fiction when the stories in her head overflowed and demanded she let them out.  While her ancestry is Welsh, she only visited Wales for the first time while in college.  She has been in love with the country, language, and people ever since. She even convinced her husband to give all four of their children Welsh names.

With over 300,000 books sold, Sarah is the author of 17 novels and 2 novellas, all set in medieval Wales. She is currently working on the next Gareth & Gwen Medieval Mystery.

Here’s where you can find Sarah on the web

Sarah’s web page:  www.sarahwoodbury.com

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