**Entangled Secrets by Pat Esden**
Good Morning,
Everyone! So thrilled to see you all today! Today I have another new-to-me
author! Please allow me to feature on the blog Pat Esden and her latest release,
ENTANGLED SECRETS … Plus, a GIVEAWAY!
**PAT ESDEN**
**BIO**
Pat
Esden would love to say she spent her childhood in intellectual pursuits. The
truth is she was fonder of exploring abandoned houses and old
cemeteries. When not out on her own adventures, she can be found in her
northern Vermont home writing stories about brave, smart women and the men who
capture their hearts.
She is the author of the contemporary fantasy Dark Heart series from Kensington Books, and the Northern Circle Coven series. Her short fiction has appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society's Mythic Circle, George Scither's Cat Tales Anthology, and the Fragments of Darkness anthology.
She is the author of the contemporary fantasy Dark Heart series from Kensington Books, and the Northern Circle Coven series. Her short fiction has appeared in a number of publications, including Orson Scott Card's Intergalactic Medicine Show, the Mythopoeic Society's Mythic Circle, George Scither's Cat Tales Anthology, and the Fragments of Darkness anthology.
To
find out more about Ms. Olson, please visit:
**ENTANGLED SECRETS**
Publication
date:
July 7th, 2020
Series:
Northern Circle Coven #3
Publisher:
Lyrical Press
Genres: Adult, Paranormal
Genres: Adult, Paranormal
**BLURB**
A searing battle of hearts, minds, and magic . . .
The Northern Circle
coven’s future is in question once again. But this time, hearts and souls are
on the line, making the stakes higher, the magic more crucial, and the battle
more fateful than ever before . . .
Pregnant
and alone at twenty-one, Chandler Parrish sought refuge within the Northern
Circle coven’s secluded complex. Never revealing the identity of her child’s
father, Chandler has raised her now eight-year-old son, Peregrine, in peace,
and used her talent as an artist and welder to become a renowned metal
sculptor. But her world is shaken to the core when Peregrine shows signs of natural
faerie sight—a rare and dangerous gift to see through faerie
glamour and disguises that could only have come from his father’s genes. Worse
yet, the boy has seen a monstrous faerie creature trailing Lionel Parker, a
magic-obsessed journalist determined to expose the witching world.
But
the very man who threatens the witches’ anonymity may also be key to healing
Chandler’s long broken heart. As dangerous desires and shocking secrets
entangle, new faerie threats and demonic foes close in on the coven and High
Council. Loyalties will be tested. Fierce magics will be called upon. And
Chandler will have to face her past to save all she holds dear: her coven, her
child—and perhaps even her own soul.
**EXCERPT**
Chapter 1
Burlington’s flying monkeys. The originals
were crafted out of steel decades ago.
I created mine out of car parts and garden tools as a gift to my son on his third birthday.
I created mine out of car parts and garden tools as a gift to my son on his third birthday.
Truly, if I could have made them fly, I would
have.
—WPZI
interview with artist Chandler Parrish
Chandler
set the hand grinder aside and flipped up the visor of her welding helmet. She
studied the fist-size heart on the workbench in front of her and smiled,
pleased with the results. If she could just find the perfect strands of wire to
use for the arteries and veins, the heart would be ready to install.
She
glanced across the workshop to where her latest flying monkey sculpture
crouched on a rusty oil drum. It was crafted from scrap metal like its
predecessors. But this one was going to be an updated model with a trapdoor in
its chest and a heart—a cross between the Tin Man and the flying monkeys of Oz
fame.
“Mama?”
Her son’s voice came from behind her.
“Yeah?”
She turned to see what he wanted.
Peregrine
stood in the workshop’s open doorway, silhouetted against the autumn-orange
leaves of a maple that sheltered the entry. Dirt smeared his jeans. His wild
blond hair was tangled. Her chest swelled with joy. If she could ask the Gods
and Goddesses for anything, it would be for his life to remain as carefree as
that of the eight-year-old he was right now.
“Devlin
sent me to get you. Some guy’s waiting in the main house.”
“Who
is it?” Chandler asked.
He
shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy saw a shapeshifter turn into a loup-garou.
Wish I’d seen it.”
Chandler
pulled off her welding helmet and thumped it down on the workbench. Damn it.
Their mystery visitor had to be the journalist. His spotting a shapeshifter
transforming in public—illegally, of course—wasn’t that recent of news, but his
dogged interest in the event, and his intrusion into the Northern Circle
coven’s ongoing issues in general, was proving to be a major pain. Actually,
she was shocked he’d showed up here at the coven’s complex. A couple of days
ago, two coven members had paid him a not-so-friendly visit at the fleabag
motel where he’d been staying to discover if he truly was a threat to the
witching world’s anonymity, or if he’d only come across as crazy to the average
person.
“Devlin
thinks the guy’s lying,” Peregrine added.
“Even
if Devlin did believe him, he couldn’t tell the journalist what he saw was
real, right?”
“I
don’t think Devlin likes him.”
“That’s
because the journalist is a troublemaker.” She walked over to Peregrine and
smoothed her hand down his cheek. At twenty-five, Devlin was younger than she
by almost four years, but that made him no less wise. He was Ivy League smart,
a powerful witch with polished good looks and a kind heart that made him perfect
for the Circle’s high priest position. She gentled her voice. “Do you know
where Brooklyn is?”
Peregrine
nodded. “She and Midas are making dinner.”
“I
need you to go help them until the visitor leaves. Okay?”
Peregrine
stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “Can’t I just listen? I wanna hear about
the loup-garou. Please?”
“Not
this time.” She crouched, looked him in the eyes, and turned on her mama-dragon
voice. “You need to stay away from this man. He’s dangerous. Understand?”
“He
didn’t look dangerous to me. He just talked kinda funny.”
“No
arguing. I want you to hang out with Brooklyn and Midas. I’ll tell you all
about it later.”
Peregrine
glanced over his shoulder toward the yard, then his gaze whipped back to her.
“What do redcaps really look like?”
Chandler
shook her head. Peregrine’s ability to shift seamlessly from one topic to
another never ceased to amaze her. “Where in the Goddesses’ name did that
question come from?”
He
tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Just wonderin’.” He stole
another glance behind him. His voice trembled a little. “Do they really dip
their hats in blood?”
Chandler
straightened to her full height. Hands on her hips, she followed his gaze.
There was nothing unfamiliar or strange in their yard or in the parking lot
beyond it, except for an old, lime-green Volkswagen Beetle in front of the main
house, undoubtedly the journalist’s ride.
A
spark of fear flickered to life inside her, a fear she’d prayed she’d never
have to face. “Did you see something strange?”
“There
was this creepy person-thing next to that guy’s car.”
In
two swift motions, she pulled him all the way inside and slammed the door shut.
Heat and the thrum of protective magic blazed up the dragon and monkey tattoos
on her arms and across her shoulders. She studied the yard again through the
door’s window, hoping to spot a fox or a mangy racoon. Something. Anything.
Peregrine
wriggled in beside her, his breath fogging the windowpane. “It kinda looked
like the drawings of redcaps I’ve seen in books.”
She
scrubbed her fingers over the soft bristle of her close-cropped hair. Shit.
Shit. Shit. Not this. Anything but this. Peregrine was the age when most
witches’ abilities manifested. And—though she rarely thought of him—Peregrine’s
biological father possessed the gift of faery sight, an ability to see through
the glamour faeries used to make themselves invisible; fae such as redcaps. The
gift was rare nowadays because the gene pool of witches with the ability had
shrunk to a handful, after eons of them being murdered or blinded by the fae,
who preferred to remain concealed. It was an extraordinarily dangerous gift for
the few adults who possessed it. But for an eight-year-old boy? For her boy?
She
wrapped an arm around Peregrine’s shoulder, snugging him closer. “Are you a
hundred percent sure you saw something?”
“Yeah.
Uh—maybe.”
Maybe? Her tension eased a
fraction. In truth, it could have been nothing more than wishful thinking on
Peregrine’s part, combined with an imagination as active as hers. Even if he
had seen a faery, it could have been a benign and unglamoured one that Brooklyn
had invited into the complex to help with her herbs and concoctions.
A
movement caught Chandler’s eye. Something coyote-size and hunched low to the
ground was creeping out from behind the Volkswagen. It slunk along, dragging
something—
Chandler
shrieked. A body! A child.
She
pushed Peregrine behind her, then eased the door open just far enough to get a
better view. She had to have been mistaken. It couldn’t be carrying a child.
The
creature swiveled to look at her. It dropped the body. Tufts of straw trailed
from where the child was missing an arm.
Chandler
let out a relieved breath. She recognized the child and the creature now.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “It’s just Henry with Brooklyn’s
scarecrow.” Well, there wasn’t anything to worry about as long as Brooklyn
didn’t see Henry, Devlin’s golden retriever, making off with her straw man. If
she did, there’d be hell to pay.
Peregrine
wiggled past her to look. “I wasn’t afraid of nothin’. And that isn’t what I
saw. What I saw was bigger. A lot bigger.” He fanned his arms, indicating
something twice as tall and large as the scrap-metal rhinoceros that she’d sold
to a client last month, impossibly larger than a redcap.
She
gave him a side-eye look. Now he was fibbing, except...
A
chill traveled up her arms, prickling against the magic in her tattoos. But
what if—other than the size—it wasn’t a fib? What if he did have the sight like
his father?
Buy Links
**HEART OF THE LABYRINTH**
Entangled Secrets: Heart
of the Labyrinth
Instead of Entangled Secrets, Heart of the Labyrinth
could have easily been the title of book three in the Northern Circle Coven
series. The main character is Chandler Parrish, a single mom and artist who
creates creatures out of scrap iron, including her infamous flying monkeys.
When Chandler first joined the coven, she was fresh out of college, single, and
pregnant with Peregrine. She setup her art studio and small apartment in an old
garage on the coven’s property, then she built a remarkable walking labyrinth
in the field behind it. Her labyrinth isn’t just for meditation and centering
herself, it also speaks directly to her abilities as a witch with affinities
for both the earth and fire.
Here’s a glimpse into Chandler’s magic and her unique
labyrinth:
After a few more yards, the field gave way to a circular space of mowed grass. In the middle of it was a coiled path outlined by ankle-high rocks. Her walking labyrinth.
A few days before Chandler had given birth to Peregrine, she’d been drawn to build the labyrinth. She’d tamped down the snow by torchlight to mark its classic outline. In the spring, she’d bundled Peregrine against her chest and walked the labyrinth every day, packing the earth and creating the winding trail one bare footstep at a time. Rather than creating a traditional labyrinth, she’d left a large open area at its center. There, she’d built a firepit in honor of the Great Fire Salamander, her personal guide and guardian, who’d always been there for her, even in the dark days after her father’s death. It was where her magic was the strongest. It was also the spot she’d told Peregrine to go if he ever was alone and needed protection, his safe place.
When Chandler reached the beginning of the labyrinth’s path, she took a deep breath, quieting her mind and opening her heart. As she moved forward, she surrendered her conscious self to the rhythm of her steps and the sense of the earth against her feet.”
I’m avoiding spoilers by not giving you the entire scene of Chandler walking to the heart of the labyrinth, but here’s a bit more just to give you a deeper look into the Northern Circle Coven member with the most surprising past—and future.
“At the entry to the labyrinth’s heart, she stopped beside the tarp-covered rack that held a supply of firewood and kindling, sorted by size and variety. Her father had always said maple was best for cooking and roasting marshmallows. Oak, birch, and hawthorn were for calling the Great Salamander, the Serpent of the Embers.
She carried an armload of mixed woods to the firepit and assembled a small pyre. The bundled rosemary was the last thing she added. With that done, she knelt. The ley lines hummed in the earth beneath her knees. In front of her, the pyre begged for her to call forth fire. She held out her hands, visualized the rosemary bursting into flame. “Ignis ignite.” Fire ignite.
Using Latin—or even speaking aloud—was technically unnecessary. But it was the way her adoptive mom had taught her the Craft.
Sparks crackle-snapped across the rosemary, responding to her command. They ignited the birch twigs and flared upward to encircle the oak and hawthorn. Sweet smoke filled the air, whirling off into the moonlight.
She focused her magic where the burning wood met the firepit’s fieldstone lining. Fire and earth. Her elements. Her abilities. The gifts that allowed her to work metal with her inborn energy as well as with traditional tools.”
If you’d like to take your own walk to the heart of a
labyrinth, the Labyrinth Society has links to great printable finger and
virtual labyrinths. Check them out here: https://bit.ly/3bZF4Tp
**PLAYLIST**
ENTANGLED
SECRETS: my playlist!
This is a playlist of
the songs I listened to while writing ENTANGLED SECRETS. Some of them
like Sweet Child and Rockabye helped me get into Chandler’s head.
Others like After Midnight, Brave Enough, and Yuve Yuve Yu
put me in the right place for writing specific scenes. Just Like Fire
reminded me of Chander’s determination. Rubberband
and Devils Touch speaks to the past that drives her. Set Fire to the
Rain? Well, it was the lyrics that made me chose that song. And The Fire and Illusion are
for Lionel because sometimes life an caring isn’t easy.
Sweet
Child—Alex Cruz…
She
Burns—Foy Vance
Father
Figure—George Michael
Rockabye—Clean
Bandit…
Love
Triangle--RaeLynn
Lord of The
Greenwood—Jenneth Tollin
Rubberband—Alex
Cruz…
Yuve Yuve
Yu—The HU
After
Midnight—J.J. Cale
The
Fire—Rag’n’Bone Man
Illusion—Kevin
Davy White
Hares on
The Mountain—alt-J
Devils
Touch—TIAAN
Set Fire to
the Rain—Adele
Just like
Fire—Pink
**SECRET PINTEREST BOARDS**
ENTANGLED SECRETS Pinterest boards reveal!
Before I even start to write a novel, I create secret
Pinterest boards for the characters, settings, and my plot ideas. It’s one of my
absolutely favorite things to do, and helps me remember ideas and details. As I
write, I add things and delete images that no longer fit the story. When it
gets close to the novel’s release date, I go back through and cut duplicate
images and ones that I simply don’t like any more.
For ENTANGLED SECRETS, I have a main board that gives an
overview of the world as Chandler Parrish experiences it, things from her past
and present. Then I have secondary boards devoted to Chandler and her love
interest in the story (Lionel). Those boards give a closer peek into their
lives and loves.
I want to forewarn you that my Pinterest boards do contain
spoilers. But if you’re still curious, here’s a link to my recently revealed
ENTANGLED SECRETS boards: https://bit.ly/2R1k1rq
**GIVEAWAY**
Blitz-wide giveaway (INT)
$10 Amazon Gift
Card
Thanks so much for joining us today!
HAPPY READING!!!
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