by Gerri Bowen
Every once in a while you come across an author who has a unique perspective and you know they'll come up with an original story. Such is the case with Gerri Bowen, who has been a friend of mine for many years.
For a listing of all her short stories and books, check out Gerri's Amazon page.
I asked her to write a little about her latest release, Love's Blood, so here she is. Enjoy!
Gerri tells how the story came about
Love’s Blood is my new paranormal~ fantasy~ historical romance, but took several years in the thinking part, and then to the writing it down part. And then all the stuff that comes after that. I believe I realized my first scene when I was listening to The Medieval Babes. I could see women chanting. Strong women. Warrior women. Sitting on the ground in the woods, chanting and singing. But why were they doing that? More thinking and other characters introduced themselves. Okay, an outcast Dane. I’m a sucker for The Outcast Dane. Had to get him in the story. I could make the time period work. Then the Wood Nymphs had to be in because, as everyone knows, Wood Nymphs love to sing and en-spell with their songs. The strong women have no need to en-spell, they have other gifts. Sapient animals were next; I just happen to have two that are in other stories. Yes! They were perfect. So I thought I had it down.
A wild-blooded Cymraes (Welsh woman) and an outcast Dane are aided by two sapient animals on a mission to protect their humans and ensure they join in fruitful matrimony.
A woman with inherited paranormal gifts begins a quest of protection for three girls. A cursed, outcast Dane welcomes the strange woman into his homestead.
She feels welcome and wanted for the first time in her life, but sees the evil behind the curse. She must hide her abilities, while fighting the evil. (And the evil is nasty!)
So I wrote it down, and as so often happens, other characters made themselves known. Some re-acquainted themselves to me. For those familiar with what I write, you can recognize certain characters or places. Breen is a sanctuary. The DaTamPanni is an immortal. The auld gods are, well, not gods, and are sleeping at Breen. Perseus makes another, longer appearance.
By the time I was done, I had a love story. Also, much emotional pain and turmoil; surprises for some of the characters; emotional and spiritual growth, and humor.
As to the why of my story, well, why not? Who is to say my story never happened?
by Gerri Bowen
Britta blinked, her eyes narrowing while they accustomed themselves to the bright light, and she held her hands up to shield her eyes. Then Inga was gone from her grasp, was being held by a man, a man Britta assumed was the father of the girls. Yea, she recognized him from their thoughts, although he was dirty, his clothes and face spattered with dried mud. He had dark hair while his daughters had light hair, almost white. She looked at the men accompanying him. All were large, rough looking men, also covered in mud. Armored, too, but not like the Saxons near her kin.
The girls were rescued; they didn’t need her now. Their father had come after them, had even brought men to help him. No doubt they were greatly loved, judging by the tears and laughter she saw from the girls. But hadn’t she already known that, from their thoughts?
Her quest had ended before it had begun.
She needed a new quest. Well, obviously she first had to escape. Go home to Breen? That didn’t seem like much of a quest.
She blinked and stared. The father was talking to her. And frowning. Big frowns coming from their father to her. Why? She looked at the girls, his girls, not hers, to see their reaction. They were smiling, and then Inga came over and wrapped her arms around her waist. Why was the father frowning at her? He looked at her like…
She reached up and felt her hair. It felt puffy even though it had been weeks since she washed it, although one side didn’t feel quite right, as if… She pulled out several twigs, leaves and clumps of dried mud. Yea, she probably looked like she’d been rolling in mud. Hmmm… There was a dim recollection of rolling and trying to get away… Doubtless her face was dirty as well. Holding out her arms, she saw dirt, very visible in the light of day. Yea, she needed to bathe. Doubtless that was the reason why their father looked at her so strangely.
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