KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench, where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site, so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!

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ONCE UPON TRUE LOVE’S KISS
Enchanted Realms Book 2
BY MICHELLE MILES

Blurb

Once Upon a Time… in the Enchanted Woodlands

A malevolent queen determined to destroy happiness. A master blacksmith who forges enchanted weapons. And an exiled princess with an extraordinary gift determined to reclaim her throne.
 
Snow White possesses an extraordinary gift—the ability to communicate with the forest and mystical creatures of the enchanted realm, from the ancient oaks to the playful forest sprites. Her connection garners the love and admiration of all but one, the jealous queen, Seraphina.

As Snow White’s power grows and her connection deepens to the forest and its magical creatures, so does Seraphina’s envy. Desperate to be the fairest of the land, she consults a dangerous magic mirror with the ability to manipulate reality. The mirror tells Seraphina that Snow must be destroyed for the queen to become the fairest of them all. With her heart set on malevolence, she sends the master blacksmith, Roderick, to kill Snow White with his enchanted dagger.

Instead of carrying out the queen’s dark orders, Roderick gives Snow White the blade and urges her to take back her throne. They form an alliance and embark on a journey to reclaim her kingdom and free it from Seraphina’s tyrannical rule. But Seraphina’s malevolence knows no bounds, and she’ll stop at nothing to thwart Snow White’s plans.

Will Snow White’s gift be enough to defeat a queen who has harnessed the darkest magic to protect her throne?

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Deep in the Wyldwood Forest of the Enchanted Woodlands, the first twitter of a morning bird sang out. A blue bird, by the sound of it. Its happy song echoed through the woodlands. A breeze rustled the treetops and whispered past, tickling her skin and lifting her hair. The first stirrings of the woodland creatures were beginning. And deep in the forest, a brook babbled its way over rocks and logs winding its way northeast to spill into Dunmeade Bay.

Snow White sensed all of this as she sat cross-legged, her hands on her knees, on the moss-covered ground, her back against the ancient oak tree, her eyes closed. She was attuned to the forest and its magical creatures around her. The energy thrummed through her, singing through her veins. It was peaceful and joyful all at once.

The flapping of delicate wings came close to her face and she remained still. A smile wanted to erupt, but she managed to keep it at bay as the fluttering buzzed her once again. Another buzz.

This time, Snow cracked open an eye. She caught a glimpse of the gossamer wings fluttering so fast, it was an iridescent blur. The creature was so quick, it was a tiny body zipping back and forth.

In the heart of our enchanted glade so bright, Snow White, a vision in the morning’s light.

The high-pitched voice lilted through her mind. She smiled and opened her eyes all the way to see the forest sprite dancing in front of her vision. She held up her hand, palm flat, and the tiny thing landed. Her bare feet were light as she alighted.

“Good morning, Annilen,” Snow said.

The forest sprite was one of her first friends when she came to the Wyldwood. She was barely six inches tall, with long, flowing golden hair, bright blue eyes and coppery skin that sparkled in the morning sun. She had a tiny, pert nose, high cheekbones, wide lips. Her wings, both upper and lower, were delicate, catching all the colors of the rainbow. Her outfit was formfitting, the leaf skirt hitting her above the knees. She was barefoot, as most sprites were.

“Good morning, my lady.” She gave a low curtsy in the palm of her hand.

Snow stretched out her long legs. After sitting cross-legged for so long, they had started to cramp. She leaned against the old oak, who gave a bit of a resigned sigh. She craned her neck to look up at the branches and leaves far overhead.

“Sorry, old friend, but I have to rest my back.”

As you wish, my lady, the oak replied. The oak was named Faradill. He stood in this forest for over a hundred years, but even at that age he was still one of the youngest trees.

In her palm, Annilen bounced back and forth from one foot to the other. “Snow, are we going to walk today?”

“Don’t we walk every day?” she asked, in return.

“It’s just that…with the Springtide festival…”

“Oh, the bloody moon! I forgot!”

Snow leapt to her feet so quickly, it jarred Annilen. She fluttered away, hovering near her head. Before she dashed off, she turned to Faradill and placed her palm flat on the trunk.

“Bless this tree with life and roots that go deep,” she whispered, reciting the blessing to the tree for keeping her safe.

“As in your shade we find solace and keep,” Annilen added.

Faradill’s voice rumbled, deep and low, through her mind. So, mote it be.

About Author Michelle Miles…

Links to Michelle’s websites, blogs, books, #ad etc.:

Amazon US:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CSV7DKQL

Amazon UK:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CSV7DKQL

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