Timeless (27 page)

Contact.

Email
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[email protected]

Web
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http://www.pattirobertsauthor.com/

Blog:
http://witchwoodestate.blogspot.com.au/p/characters.html

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/PattiParadox

Twitter
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http://twitter.com/#!/PattiRoberts7

Publications by Patti Roberts.

Witchwood Estate

Witchwood Estate – Going Home – (book 1) 2013

Witchwood Estate – Ferntree Falls 2013

Witchwood Estate – Print Edition (book 1 and 2) 2013

Witchwood Estate – Cursed (book 3) 2013

Paradox Series

Paradox – The Angels Are Here (book 1) 2010

Paradox – Progeny Of Innocence (book 2) 2011

Paradox – Bound By Blood (book 3) 2012

Paradox – Equilibrium (book 4) 2013

Co-authored Novels.

About Three Authors (with Ella Medler) 2014

Due for release December 2014.

When Becky Jensen's mother died on Christmas Eve a year ago, Becky stopped believing in Christmas.

When Becky’s father remarried four weeks ago to a woman old enough to be her sister, Becky stopped believing in family. An hour ago, when Becky thought there was nothing left to lose, Becky caught her high school sweetheart snogging her best friend down at the local pub in the ladies loo. Standing alone in the park, staring up at the angel on top of the Christmas tree, Becky makes a wish that changes her life forever…

The very next day, Becky is boarding a plane at Heathrow airport and jetting her way across the ocean to Australia to interview three authors. Friends since their twenties, the women are all now in their fifties. Not only does Becky learn about the lives of three incredible women, she also learns a lot about herself.

Fan Page
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You may also enjoy the following book by Tabitha Ormiston-Smith
.

PART I – THE YOUNG PRINCE LORN AND THE DRAGON’S HOARD.

Once upon a time, in a far-off land, there lived an old king who had three sons. The two older sons were fine young men: handsome and courageous. All the maidens would sigh as they passed through the village on their way to and from the hunt, their mighty sinews rippling in the sunlight.

But the young prince Lorn was a dreamer of dreams, a singer of songs and a teller of tales. He inhabited another world, different from that of his brothers, a world of clouds and rainbows, of dreams, legends and ideas.

Needless to say, this did not greatly endear Lorn to his father. He was unskilled in the hunt, useless at Harvest time, and generally absent in time of battle. Although Lorn did not lack courage, he was small and slight, unable to compete with his brothers in the fields of arms or the hunt, and frequently beaten up by them for having been too clever after dinner.

On the day that the young Prince Lorn turned twenty-one, he reached a momentous decision. He decided that he would leave the family castle and venture into the world to seek his fortune. He packed his lute and found a nice, quiet horse in the stables, and without further ado rode off into the sunset.

The young Prince Lorn rode for several days without incident, camping by streams and playing madrigals to the horse, who didn’t seem to mind even when Lorn explored new musical forms. Since he had had the forethought to leave a note, he was not followed, and as one calm, peaceful day succeeded another, and the bruises with which he had lived all his life healed, he began to experience a deep sense of well-being. Riding through dim ghostly woods, he took to shouting a sudden challenge to ogres. “Nyaa, nyaa, nyaa,” he would cry. “Wimpy little ogres, come out and fight.”

But there were no ogres in the forest, nor in the blasted heath on the other side of it.

The young Prince Lorn travelled for many days and nights. From time to time he would stop at a village inn, or a lonely farmhouse, where he would pay for his night’s lodging with an evening of song and stories. Most of the small and isolated communities would welcome a minstrel, glad to enliven their dull and brutish lives with music and tales of far-off places. As he moved towards the mountains bordering the great desert, though, human habitations became fewer and more widely separated, and being at best an indifferent hunter, Lorn was often hungry.

He had been travelling for some weeks, and was beginning to wonder, at least in the more dismal moments when the sun wasn’t shining, whether he would ever encounter any real adventure, when he heard the maiden screaming.

In the course of his travels Lorn had come, without realising it, nearly to the foot of the great mountain range that shut out the sandstorms of the impassable Western Desert, and as he looked about him for the source of the maiden’s cry, he was surprised to notice a great, grey, granite cliff; about halfway up there was a narrowish cleft in the rock, from which the screams, and also some wisps of smoke, seemed to be issuing. Lorn sighed, and wished he had paid more attention to his Physical Training with the Sergeant at Arms.

He took the time, before starting up the mountain, to remove the saddle and bridle from his horse; just in case. Slinging his lute over his shoulder, he spat for luck (a common habit picked up from the stable boys), and started to climb.

Look for Tabitha Ormiston-Smith on online book stores.

NOT JULIET
by Ella Medler.

Not juliet - Chapter 1.

The drive to the gypsy campsite wasn’t getting any easier. Riella gritted her teeth and swallowed her guilt at her disloyal thought. It would all be over sooner than she would have liked anyway. Her father would be lucky to see another Christmas, and once he was gone, she would take her mother back to civilization, back home, with her. Surely there would be nothing else left for her in camp anymore. Leaving the Romany settlement in which she grew up had been the hardest decision of her life, and Riella knew it would be just as hard for her mother to tear herself away from the familiar life she knew, but it would be worth it. She would make it worthy for her mother.

Over the narrow bridge and down the lane with forest on either side; twenty more minutes, at most. The last sunray skimmed over the crystals dangling from her rearview mirror, turning the quartz to diamond for a split second. Twilight was painting the sky in darker hues, and now that tall, ivy-swamped trees reached fingers of green over the road, the murky gloom of the thicket gave no further illusion of light.

Riella switched her lights to main beam and dropped her speed a notch. She would be careful, driving through the forest. Night-time belonged to the forest animals, the wild souls now finally free to search for food or play in peace for a few hours. She would make sure her passage through their territory would be uneventful and as quiet as possible.

One of the most cherished ideals of her gypsy upbringing was that she should respect all creatures of the universe and the way they fit within its order. Riella’s childhood had been filled with heart-warming stories of broadminded acceptance. By the time she’d hit puberty, her love-conditioned character had latched firmly onto the concept of affection for one another and her need to search for and find ‘the one’ had become paramount to her.

Riella believed firmly in the existence of a person that would match her perfectly, a second half that would complete her soul, as the stories playing out in her mind on a regular basis were hinting at. She just didn’t believe she would meet such a person on a gypsy trailer park, and as such she had moved away, to live among strangers and continue her search for true love.

She wondered what he would look like, the man who was meant for her. He would have to be tall and exude confidence. Imaginary arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her tight against a wide chest. “Mmmm,” she groaned in approval. A great kisser, so warm soft lips would be a must. Eyes to get lost in, deep and dark…