Genevieve Iseult Eldredge (A Circuit Fae NEMESIS Prequel Novella, #3.5) Published by: Firefly Hill Press Publication date: March 26th 2019 Genres: Urban Fantasy, Young Adult
“If you like reading about the fae, other realms and watching two bada** chicks fight then you will love this series! – The Avid Reader
It’s good to be queen. Except when it’s a total disaster.
Syl Skye, newly crowned Queen of Fair Faerie, would be psyched to be the ruler of her Summer realm, except for two things.
First, her girlfriend Rouen Rivoche became Queen of Dark Faerie, the Winter realm. That would be great except the Winter realm’s always been at war with Summer. By tradition, that makes Rouen Syl’s mortal enemy. That said, love can break past old hatred, right? Especially with a new foe about to attack them both.
Ah, no.
Which brings us to Syl’s second problem. Rouen’s under a dark spell and doesn’t remember Syl, their lives, their love. Worse, if Syl doesn’t break the spell by the next new moon, Rouen will forget her forever.
“Fast paced, full of action, never a moment of bore! Strongly recommended!”
– Annarella, Goodreads
To defeat their foe, it’ll take two soul-bound queens whose hearts and minds act as one. Trouble is, no one has ever broken the dark spell Rouen suffers from.
Good thing Syl isn’t the type of queen who gives up easily.
Don’t miss Syl and Roue’s adventures in REKINDLED, the new prequel novella to NEMESIS, Book 4 of the Circuit Fae
Don’t miss out!
Perfect for readers of romance, urban fantasy, fairy stories and LGBT.
And now for the EXCERPT:
CIRCUIT FAE is about two Fae queens, Syl the Summer Queen and Rouen the Winter Queen. Mortal enemies. Girlfriends. Relationship status: it’s complicated. In this scene, an enemy has Rouen captive and has cast a memory curse on her to forget Syl. Of course, Syl breaks in to save her. Here’s Rouen’s POV.
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My mystery dream girl is real. And she’s standing in my dressing room.
Everything pales in comparison to her, the rest of the world fading to a dim buzz of background noise.
My heart stutter-stops, then races, a pounding wreck inside my chest.
Get it together, Roue.
After all, what rockstar wouldn’t be psyched to have a pretty girl to hang with after their show? Red hair, grey eyes, freckles. Adorable. Plus, she snuck in, so she’s got to be smart. Jess has Club Abattoir locked down tighter than Fort Knox. She’s warned me about this girl—that she’s a stalker, a crazed superfan. Every rockstar has them.
But the soul-deep pull inside me, tells me this girl is different.
We’re connected. Somehow.
“H-hi,” she tries again, blushing adorably.
Her voice, pleasant and sweet, plucks at my soul. Memories, long buried, flutter at the edges of my mind. I struggle to dredge them up, but they fade even faster. I’m losing more of myself every moment, and my heart tells me this girl is the key to it all.
All my conflicted emotions bubble up, boiling over. “Hi.”
Ever since she made first contact—two weeks ago at my Las Vegas show, pushing through the crowd, calling my name, reaching for me across the barrier—I’ve been imagining what I’d do, what I’d say if we were ever alone together. I’ve run through every possible scenario multiple times.
Not like I was practicing or anything. Hell no.
Now that we’re actually alone together, my brain unhelpfully short-circuits. I can only stare at her, drinking her in: cute minidresspatterned with cartoon animal skulls, oxblood Docs and torn fishnets, ivory skin dusted with freckles, curly red hair charmingly unruly, her grey eyes serious, so hopeful.
It’s her eyes that draw me in, that have me stumbling over my words. “C-can…” I clear my throat. “Can I help you?”
My pulse kicks up a notch. I certainly hope so.
“I hope so too,” she says softly.
Shock rolls through me like thunder. Wait. How did she do that?
She chuckles at the surprised look on my face, toeing the parquet floor with endearing awkwardness. “Sometimes I can still hear your thoughts.”
That doesn’t make any sense, except…it does. Something about her words rings true.
“I know it sounds crazy.” There’s pain in her voice, in her eyes.
I’d do anything to make it stop.
She steps in, reaching for my hand. Her fingers brush mine, sending a burst of tingles up my arm and down my spine.
My entire body awakening at her closeness.
I find myself moving closer, letting our fingers linger together. I’m mesmerized by her eyes, her voice, her smile—everything. “Yeah…”
The air between us electrifies, and the whole time, my heart’s doing this careening two-step, threatening to pitch me into her arms like we’re in a teen rom-com. Because the truth is, I want to be close to her, to wrap my arms around her and—
Hold up, hormones. I just met this girl. What is wrong with me?
Wrong? my heart seems to whisper. She’s finally here. Things are suddenly very right. This goes beyond the typical lesbian move-in-together-after-one-date syndrome.
Our connection echoes between us, bone-deep, blood-deep,heart–deep.
I know her. She means something to me.
She daringly links her fingers with mine, and all my emotions freak out at once, anticipation curling in my stomach, excitement cheering me on, fear rooting me to the spot.
When did I become the uncertain one?
I blow out a breath and give her my patented cool rockstarsmile. “So…”
“Roue.” When she says my name, I’m Jell-O all over again.
I want—no, I need—to know more about her. “You know my name. What’s yours, princess?”
What the—? Princess? I swear, it just slipped out.
It’s too late to take it back. But a genuine smile lights her face. “I’m Syl.” Her grey eyes are serious on mine. “And I am your princess.”
She’s so close, our bodies nearly touching, only an inch separating us.
I take a breath to calm myself, but her scent hits me—vanilla and sunshine. Something about the sunshine rings my warning bells, but I don’t care. I’m so on fire for her, all my cool goes right out the window.
Bye-bye, Roue’s cool! Be sure to write.
“Who are you?”
“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” She slides her palm against mine, and an electric jolt shoots between us, like a circuit…
The heat of her body burns me up inside and out.
Her hand is soft, smooth, not a callus on it. Unlike mine, my fingers rough from playing my violin. She caresses me with her fingertips, and chills shiver over me. I shudder from head to toe.
Suddenly, I don’t care about cool. I don’t care about anything but her.