New Book Releases and a Snip

ots of books are available this week, including Terry Lynn Johnson's middle grade novel, Dogsled Dreams - check out Susan Kaye Quinn's lovely review - and Kate Kaynak's Legacy - my review of Legacy is here.


Here's a little snip from Out of the Water (still in editing stage, of course), in which Rosa, on her way to Genoa with her aunts and uncles, and cousin Joseph, has just discovered that a number of officers of the Inquisition are coming to inspect their ship. The deadline for leaving Spain has passed, and if they are questioned and captured now, there's no telling what may happen. Yet, suddenly, she has something more to fear, of a slightly personal nature...

Joseph was pacing in the companionway below decks. "Rosa!" He cried, then rushed on in a whisper. "Where have you been? I heard you up there – what's going on?"

"Oh, Joseph, it's the worst that could have happened. I’m sorry, it's all my fault." She shook her head, grasping his hand. It must have been her questioning at the harbourmaster's that had drawn the inquisitors to them. "Come, I have to tell your father."

"Wait, Rosa."

She dropped her hand. He had not raised his voice this time, but there was a definite note of command in his words.

"I want to know what you meant by saying you've decided not to stay at Genoa."

"I have to go to Constantinople." She took a step toward her aunts' cabin, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm, fingers digging into her sleeve. "Joseph, you’re hurting me. I'll explain everything, but I have to warn –"

"It's nothing to do with this rescuer of yours, is it?" He asked harshly. "I saw the way you were looking at him last night – and that night by the fire."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let go!" She jerked her arm out of his clutches and shoved off toward the cabin door.

"I'll tell!" He ran up behind her and whispered in her ear as she knocked and opened the door. "I'll tell my father to pay more attention to the way that man looks at you."

She was grateful for the dimness of the cabin, lit only by the flicker of a single oil lamp, for the furious blush that heated her cheeks.

"Tío Aram, Tío Idel." Her uncles were seated side by side on the floor, praying, a couple of steps from where her aunts huddled together on a single bunk, as they had huddled on the sofa in the monastery. She could not bear to be the one bringing the news that they might be headed for captivity once more.

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