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#SALE Only .99 Cents For A Limited Time! Tangled Roots by #Author Rebekkah Ford
What would you do if you
discovered you were once a powerful witch in the 1600s and can regain your
magic . . . would you? Eighteen-year-old Carrie Jacobson once lived as a
powerful witch named Isadora in Europe during the 1600s. With the help of an
eccentric enchantress, Carrie regains her magic and unleashes an ancient curse
that will change not only her life but the lives of others as well.
¸.•*¨*.✫*¨*.¸¸.✶Tangled Roots*¨`*✶.¸¸.*¨*✫.*¨*•.¸
¸.•*¨*.✫*¨*.¸¸.✶Tangled Roots*¨`*✶.¸¸.*¨*✫.*¨*•.¸
Rebekkah
Ford weaves delicious erotic imagery through her universe of ghosts, magic and
the supernatural. Read one of her books and you will be an instant fan.~Reader's 5 star review
Excerpt from
Tangled Roots:
I stood in a
clearing deep in the forest with four followers. My fellows: Driscol, Jorsten,
Lukas, and my baby brother Niklas. All of them had on the same dark, hooded
cloak I wore. The torches we held blazed, casting us in a reddish orange glow
against the night sky. The full moon was white, like marble glass. Its rays
filtered through the canopy of trees, throwing layers of beams to the right and
left of us, crisscrossing, as if the Moon Goddess was sheltering our coven from
outsiders. Every cell in my body buzzed with magical energy from what I took
from the earth when I made the elixirs I now carried in my pocket.
“As you
know,” I said to the group, “Margaretha has been accused of causing frost on
the crops in a diabolical plan to destroy her competitors, resulting in crop
failure, plague, and malnutrition. Because of the loss of wine and grain, a
period of hyperinflation ensued. We all know the accusation are false and
misleading. Margaretha did nothing of the sort. The only guilt that weighs upon
her shoulders also lies on ours: practicing control of the weather. But by no
means were we the perpetrators of such stressful times. By no means did our
weather-making practice stimulate the vicious nexus of supernatural beliefs
and common reasoning. Nature is beautiful and ugly, temperamental even. From
its bosoms, it bears wondrous gifts, but her misgivings grow beneath the
surface and can erupt at any time and for any reason.” I paused long enough to
look at each one of my fellows. They nodded in agreement. A fierce,
affectionate love for them warmed my heart. “Margaretha,” I continued, “is
innocent of all charges, so are Simone, Tobias, Ulrich, and my father.”
“Why don’t
we save them?” Lukas asked.
He was the
most adorable one out of the bunch, with his golden hair and eyes to match.
However, he was the youngest and lacked common sense. He favored his emotions
over reasoning. We were lucky to have reached him before he made a foolish
mistake.
“Why ask
something you already know the answer to?” Niklas asked. “Your magic is no
longer effective due to your excessive use and possible punishment from the
high counsel of witches.”
“But Isadora
still has her magic,” Lukas countered. He met my eyes with his. There was no
malice in them, only curiosity. “Why won’t you free your father and our
friends? You have the power to do so.”
“My power is
waning,” I told him. “I must conserve it to protect us.”
“But—” Lukas
started to say, but Niklas elbowed him in the side and gestured for him to
listen.
“When Jaegar
told Niklas and me about the fate of our father and friends, I wanted to do
nothing more than bring Hell’s fury down upon those involved in these witch
hunts.” I pointed to Niklas. “He can confirm the truth I have just spoken.”
Niklas nodded, and I went on. “Thankfully, Jaegar had the presence of mind to
quell my wrathful state, so I could think clearly on the matter. After he
departed to attend his store, I formulated a plan which would surely guarantee
our survival.”
“An
immortality spell,” Driscol said, a grin crossing his handsome face.
Ah, he
possessed many enticing qualities that had more than once sent me in a tailspin
of unvirtuous thoughts. Countless nights, as I lay skyclad beneath the
moonlight, I’d envisioned straddling his tall, muscular frame and riding him as
we paid homage to our ancestors. Jaegar was a skillful lover, but Driscol was a
bit of a rogue—edgy and a trusted ally. Jaegar, on the other hand, I harbored
reservations for. However, I was drawn to his touch and had given him my heart
before I’d realized I did so. In truth, I knew it would be my undoing. There
was no future for us, yet I gravitated to him like bears to honey.
“Correct,” I
said, sending Driscol a flirty smile. He winked and brushed his brown hair out
of his eyes. They appeared darker green than normal, and a hungry need filled
them. Was it for me or for outwitting our oppressors? My body warmed at the
mere thought of him touching it. “Well . . . theoretically speaking.”
“What do you
mean?” Jorsten asked, shifting his weight, rubbing the stubble on his face. He
was the rugged, beastly type in our group, with his dark, shoulder-length
shaggy hair and dark eyes. He loved his ale and to have a grand time. He never
cowered from a challenge or authority. I admired those qualities about him.
“All spells
have a loophole,” I told them. “I plan on casting a transmigration spell after
I see Jaegar tonight. Once this nightmare is over, we’ll meet here, and I’ll
break the enchantment you’ll be under. If for some reason I run into some
trouble, you my friends will live on, unless you choose to die or some accident
befalls you.”
Here’s where you can
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About the Author
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