Guest Author: Maggie Berkley

Maggie BerkleyI am excited to welcome Maggie Berkley, author of Behind the Throne.

Alone, pregnant and cranky, Morgan Crowe finds herself surrounded by enemies and with no one to trust when luck finds her on the doorstep of a friend long forgotten. Taken in by the daughter of a powerful King who would rather see her dead, Morgan relies on her instincts for survival and hopes she could live through the next few months in order to give birth, and then she would be up to her normal strength and skill.

As her rotten luck would have it an enemy has found itself in her safe haven and has taken revenge, by taking her only surviving friend and causing her to come face to face with her past. Court intrigue and danger rears its ugly head as the grip on her tightens, causing her to reach out for help and learn that to trust may not be as bad as she thought. Especially when that trust comes in the form a young Werewolf met once on a rainy night that seems so long ago.

But attractions are not that simple are they? Especially when an old rival shows up and the heat between them flares. But Morgan has no time for macho games, especially when her friend’s life is in her grasp.

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My son just had a birthday.

Seventeen years old. Almost a grown man. Six foot five and handsome. He has a girlfriend now. They’re serious for a couple that have been together for only six months and it’s almost sickening yet cute at the same time how they coo and ahh at each other, calling one another sweet heart and baby.

What a minute! Baby? I growl softly deep inside, feeling my stomach twist and turn and realize, ‘Argh…I have to let go’.

It’s just not fair! I mean, for seventeen years he’s been my baby (never mind the eye rolls he gives me when I say that) and before that for nine months I carried him. I fed him, cuddled him, cleaned up after him and kissed his boo boos when he was hurt and this is how he repays me? Gets a girlfriend and spends all his time with her? Transfers all the adoration he felt toward me to another?

Let go.

I remember the first time I held him, looked into his perfect face and brushed my fingers through his dark curls. The way his eyes searched for me and the smile that curled his toothless mouth when he discovered me watching him in turn. The trust and love, knowing I’ll always be there no matter what. My heart fair swelled to bursting. This was my child, my son.

Let go.

As a toddler he followed me everywhere, always inquisitive and questioning. He loved everything about life; running, playing, eating, experiencing . I remember so clearly being at a fruit stand and glancing over to see a small hand reach up into a bin before snatching something only to replace it a moment later. When I went to investigate I discovered a row full of fruit bins, each filled with different delicacies, and each with one fruit that had a toddler sized bite taken out of it.

Let go.

I cried the first time he went away to camp. My husband would sigh and shake his head before patting me on the head. “He’ll be back.” “Yes I know.” Soon school came and I could feel him pulling away. Friends, activities, life in general. But he always came back, always with a smile and a hug. “I love you, mom.”

Let go.

I tried to teach him right as he grew; how to respect a woman, to treat her as a lady. To honor his elders, love his family and the Lord. He created his own set of personal morals and follows them rigidly. He is growing into a man, a man I helped shaped and one any mother can be proud of. Any parent. In order to be that man he needs to be, he has to do it on his own and that means stepping back.

As hard as it is, I’m letting go.

(dedicated to mothers everywhere)

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A long time fan of dark fantasy with a touch of romance and horror, Maggie Berkley grew up in a world all her own, one she created as a teenager during her long times of parental lock down due to a rebellious nature. As a youth she created stories and plays for her friends to act out for anyone willing (and at times unwilling) to watch and as time went by drew upon her love of fantasy and horror to write longer stories and fan fiction. Due to the encouragement of friends and family she decided rather than keep her stories for herself she would publish and in doing so created different worlds to feature her vast imagination.

Behind the ThroneContact Info
Website: http://maggieberkley.viviti.com/
Blog: http://maggieberkley.wordpress.com/
Social Media: Facebook, Twitter and mySpace

Want to purchase Maggie’s novels?
Diary of A Vampire at Red Rose Publishing

Morgan Crowe Trilogy

  1. Enter the Night at Red Rose Publishing
  2. Behind the Throne at Red Rose Publishing
  3. Out of the ShadowLands – coming soon

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Excerpt:
Alone, pregnant and cranky, Morgan Crowe finds herself surrounded by enemies and with no one to trust when luck finds her on the doorstep of a friend long forgotten. Taken in by the daughter of a powerful King who would rather see her dead, Morgan relies on her instincts for survival and hopes she could live through the next few months in order to give birth, and then she would be up to her normal strength and skill.

As her rotten luck would have it an enemy has found itself in her safe haven and has taken revenge, by taking her only surviving friend and causing her to come face to face with her past. Court intrigue and danger rears its ugly head as the grip on her tightens, causing her to reach out for help and learn that to trust may not be as bad as she thought. Especially when that trust comes in the form a young Werewolf met once on a rainy night that seems so long ago.

But attractions are not that simple are they? Especially when an old rival shows up and the heat between them flares. But Morgan has no time for macho games, especially when her friend’s life is in her grasp.
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Preview:
Opening her eyes with a start, Morgan Crowe leaned forward in the leather seat of her Mustang, breathing hard. She swallowed several times, trying to push the nightmare back and situate herself in the reality of the now. Once her heart beat slowed and her breathing calmed she rubbed her face with her hands then brushed her fingers through the front of her thick dark hair. Putting the car in park, she turned off the motor and leaned her head back against the headrest, closing her tired eyes.

It had been three and half months since she left Portland and her past. Three and a half long months since she had any contact with anyone she knew. Cracking her eyes open, she turned her dark head, gazing at the large gray brick house with creeping ivy along the walls before taking a moment to rub the heavy mound of her belly. The twins within were ready to come. They pushed against her back kicking her bladder every chance they had but now, thankfully, they were quiet.

Letting out a weary sigh, Morgan reached for the door handle and opened the door. After sliding out, she closed it behind her then headed up the walk, moving to the large oak door. The lights inside were on, revealing shadowy figures behind curtained windows. Raising her hand, she grasped the bronze knocker, rapped sharply three times then stood back, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. Danu, she felt nervous, not a feeling she enjoyed.

The door opened to reveal a tall handsome man with long rich brown hair, braided back to fall to his waist, surrounding a darkly tanned face with deep liquidity brown eyes. He looked the dark haired woman up and down with a practiced eye, noting her heavy pregnancy and frowned.

“Ye might want tae go tae the hospital.” His voice was rich and Morgan recognized the lilting Irish accent right away.

Steeling herself for rejection and her eventual rise in temper, she raised a delicate eyebrow at him. “I’m here to see Vivienne. Is she here?”

The man continued to look at her then after a long stretch of silence, finally deemed to answer. “Aye, but she’s nae available right now. Ye can come back later.”

He started to close the door when Morgan stuck out a hand, stopping the door from closing and pushed it back open as she stepped forward.

“I’d prefer to wait, thank you.” She stared him down until he stepped aside, making room for her to enter.

As she passed by, the scent of roses, light musk and jasmine reached his nose. He reached out a hand, grasping her shoulder and turned her to face him. Morgan’s eyes grew cold as she stared up at him, squaring her jaw as she mentally prepared herself for a fight. His dark brows gathered as he searched her face then not finding what he was looking for, released her.

“Who are ye?” He asked.

“A friend. I met Vivienne years ago and she asked me to visit. I’ve decided now was that time.” Morgan held his dark gaze with her own jade green ones, daring him to challenge her answer.

“Ye seem familiar. Have we met before?” He questioned her further, his frown deepening as his eyes narrowed, for echoes of a memory skimmed through his mind, teasing him but not allowing him to place her face. His stomach knotted as the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He opened his mouth to protest when she cut him off.

“I really need to sit.” Morgan smiled sweetly, revealing even white teeth as she patted her belly to emphasize the point. “We can talk about it then.” Shit, she silently groused. Just what I need, prissy Sin’dar’rin Court Sidhe. She wasn’t looking forward to this.

Dismissing any further conversation with the brown man, Morgan turned to the left, where she thought the living room would be and stopped dead in her tracks. Sittings in various areas around the room, reclining in chairs, were two more Sidhe males. She closed her eyes for a brief second, cursing to herself then opened them to study the men around her.

A long, lanky one sat spread legged in a wingback chair, with dark wrap around sunglasses covering his eyes and long midnight black hair that draped over his shoulders to reach the hardwood floor. To the left of him a giant of a man, who was built like a mountain, sat cross armed on the couch, his jewel colored eyes watching her from his scarred face. Coarse steel grey hair was pulled back tightly and the expression on his face screamed asshole. Spying the newcomer, he leaned forward, his pale eyes narrowing.

“Why are ye here, assassin?” His voice cut through the silence, grating and rough with a touch of steel, his tone enough to stiffen Morgan’s spine. “I’m a sportin’ man. I’ll give ye three seconds tae run then I’m hunting ye.”

About Jackie 3273 Articles
I am a 30-something SAHM with two adorable boys and a supportive husband who is very tolerant of my reading addiction. I love to read and easily go through about a dozen books a month – well I did before I had kids. Now, not so much. After my first son was born, I began to take my hobby of reviewing a little more serious and started Literary Escapism to help with my sanity. I love to discuss the fabulous novels I’ve read and meeting all the wonderful people in the book blogging community has been amazing.