The
Black Swans
A
Tale of the Antrim Cycle
Book
One
N.W.
Moors
Genre:
Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Publisher:
Sunday Morning Publishing
Date
of Publication: March 1, 2015
ISBN:
978-0692397602
ASIN:
B00U6I9PUC
Number
of pages: 277
Word
Count: 96,003
Cover
Artist: N.W.Moors
Book
Description:
Taisie
MacDonnell loves Celtic music and when a traditional Irish group
moves to her small town of Antrim, Maine, she's thrilled. She has no
idea that becoming involved with Conn McLaren, the handsome pipe
player will enmesh her in magic, a centuries-old enchantment and
pursuit by the Fae.
This
is a modern retelling of the Irish story "The Children of Lir".
Each
book in the series can be read as a standalone.
Excerpt:
“Maybe
I should put some lime green color on the other side, to contrast
with the magenta.” Nola had pulled the rear view mirror over to the
passenger side, her long black hair pulled down in front of her face.
She was peeking through the strands over her eyes, studying herself
in the dim light of the dashboard.
She
tilted her head to the side, then pulled hair from each side of her
head and held it out in front of her. The hair on the right side of
her head had swathes of purple. “What do you think?” she asked,
studying him from under her hair.
Owen
had been driving the van for five hours without any breaks. The way
from Montreal was mostly highway, but once he crossed into the United
States, he was on two lane roads that climbed up and down mountains
and were lined by thick brush and trees, occasionally marked by small
towns and farms. He was mostly following the white line marking the
middle of the road at this point, just trying to make it to his
destination, and wasn’t paying all that much attention to what Nola
was saying to him.
Nola
squinted and frowned at Owen, then tried again. “Hmm, I wonder if I
cut my hair like Finn’s….” This time she got his attention. He
looked over at her, just in time to catch the grin as she swept her
hair back behind her ears.
“I
don’t believe it would look as good on you as that haircut does on
Finn, but, hey, if it’s what you want, go for it,” Owen played
along. Nola grunted and pushed the rear view mirror back over to an
approximation of where it should be.
Owen
reached up and positioned the mirror in place again. He used it to
look in the back seat to where Finn sat, headset in his ears,
listening to his iPod, his head bouncing to the music. His hair was a
mess of colors and stuck up in short spikes. While it was a hairstyle
that worked for Finn, Nola would definitely not be cutting her hair
like her brother, not if Owen had anything to say about it. He liked
her hair long and silky way too much.
There
was a street light blinking up ahead and Owen braked, gradually
slowing the van. They were approaching another small town or maybe it
was just a crossroads. This one looked like it was a gas station
combined with a dilapidated general store. Owen glanced down at the
dashboard. There was about half a tank of gasoline left according to
the gauge. And it was a good thing he didn’t need gas because the
station was closed up tight. No one seemed to be around, just a dim
light in the store and a crooked “Closed” sign on the front door.
The only thing in the parking lot was a rusty pickup truck, parked
over on the edge of the asphalt. He wheeled in anyway and stopped the
van in front of the pump.
“I
need to stretch a minute,” he announced and turned off the key.
Heads
popped up in the back seat. “What are we doing?” said Finn who
couldn’t hear Owen over the music from his iPod. Conn, who was
sitting next to his twin in the middle seat, pulled his earphones
off, mussing his long hair, and waited patiently, looking around the
dimly lit parking area. He had been working on his laptop, probably
on an arrangement for one of their songs, Owen guessed. There was no
sign of Hugh who had been stretched out sleeping in the bench seat in
the very back of the van.
“I
need to get out and walk around a little,” Owen restated. “And I
want to check the trailer.” Nola had already opened her door and
was standing on the pavement, stretching her arms over her head,
getting the kinks out of her back.
Owen
got out, headed around the back of the building and stepped back into
the trees. He was joined by the rest of the lads, Hugh wandering back
last. He must have woken up with the slamming of the doors. It had
been a long ride with no stops and Owen had drunk at least three cups
of coffee out of the thermos jug that Nola kept in the front seat for
him.
Once
they had finished their business, Conn and Owen went back out front
to check on the trailer. Owen crouched down and looked under the
frame while Conn pushed on the tires. The rig looked fine. The
trailer wasn’t very heavy, loaded mostly with sound equipment and
camping supplies. Their instruments and personal items were in the
way back of the van. Nola wandered out from the other side of the
garage where she had gone to find a bit of privacy away from the
guys.
“How
much further is it to the pub?” Conn asked.
“I
think that we have a couple more hours to go. It’s going to be late
when we get there,” Owen answered. Nola came over and wrapped her
arms around Owen’s waist, snuggling under the denim jean jacket he
wore. He stood there, resting his chin on her head, while she rubbed
the lower part of his back, pulling up his tee shirt to get at his
stiff muscles.
About
the Author:
N.W.
Moors lives in Portland, Maine, land of lobster and pine trees. She
is a voracious reader and avid traveler. She loves visiting Great
Britain and Ireland especially. Researching trips meant that she
tries to learn as much about the area as possible and uses those
tidbits in her books. She enjoys interacting with readers.
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A magical tale of amazing sacrifice...
