My thoughts: I have said this before, and it still holds true ~ Marcia Lynn McClure is a fantastic story teller. Her books pull me into the story and keep my attention throughout the book. Her story is stronger than her writing style.
This book deals with the story of "The 12 Dancing Princesses", but with a twist. It is seen through the eyes of an outsider, one who is not one of the afflicted princesses. In this case it is Evony, she has ties to the princesses and wishes for their release from the trial they are experiencing. Her fate and theirs are intertwined.
When an unfortunate accident brings her into the confidence of a visiting Prince, she is immediately drawn to him and trusts him with her secrets and the knowledge she has that may help him in his quest. The problem for her is that he wishes to wed one of the princesses once he has fulfilled his purpose. Their attraction for each other is manifest right from the start. Sparks are present, particularly in the intense kissing scenes.
I enjoyed reading this book. I have always been a fan of fairy tale re-tellings. If it is a genre that you enjoy, you should give this one a try.
Rating: 3.5 of 5 stars
Source: Received to Review
Genre: Romance /Fairy Tale retelling
Amazon* Barnes & NobleAuthor Marcia Lynn McClure Marcia Lynn McClure’s intoxicating succession of novels, novellas, and e-books, has established her as one of the most favored and engaging authors of true romance. Her unprecedented forte in weaving captivating stories of western, medieval, regency, and contemporary amour void of brusque intimacy has earned her the title “The Queen of Kissing.” Marcia, who was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, has spent her life intrigued with people, history, love, and romance. A wife, mother, grandmother, family historian, poet, and author, Marcia Lynn McClure spins her tales of splendor for the sake of offering respite through the beauty, mirth, and delight of a worthwhile and wonderful story.
Read an Excerpt:
Read an Excerpt:
She was tired—oh so very, very tired. Never—not in all her life—had Evony Elorietta known such thoroughgoing fatigue. As she trudged out of the dark woods still veiled in the shadows of early sunrise, out across the expanse of cold, dew-drenched grass and onto the main road of the village, Evony wondered how she would ever endure a day that was only just beginning. Every bone in her body ached—every muscle throbbed in misery, every inch of her flesh begged for respite. Yet there would be none—at least not until she had finished her stitching—finished the near thirteen hours of sewing she now faced under the ever observant, incessantly critical eye of seamstress Agnes Teche.
After such a long, chilled, and sleepless night spent in watching—peering through the darkness and into the rooms of the inn in the woods, until her eyes were too dry to watch any longer—after listening to the shallow, often vile conversations, until her ears hurt from the foul ferment of it—Evony dreaded sewing for Mrs. Teche more than ever before. The woman was a banshee of an employer. And yet, she was grateful Mrs. Teche had had the keen eye to recognize Evony’s superior skills with needle and thread—for how else would Evony have managed to feed Mikol and Tressa—to shelter them—to keep them hidden?
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