Award-winning fantasy authors Shannah Biondine and Sheri L. McGathy team up again, delivering twice the mystical adventure in this enthralling duet, Twice Upon an Eventide. Here are faraway worlds of danger and intrigue, where dark mirrors hold strange and dark secrets.

A Varlet's Bond

Captain Praxis, wyvern rider, former slave turned royal reeve and bounty hunter, has never forgotten her brief partnership with Prince Zavend of Glacia. Years have passed and now find Praxis a wealthy woman and sometime comrade of Zavend's disreputable brother, Vitus. A twist of fate draws all three back to the heart of Glacia, where an evil is spreading across the land. Can anyone or any sworn oath be trusted? Will Praxis find her heart soaring higher than a wyvern or crushed once and for all?

Summersong

Summersong, a magical border Keep created to maintain the fragile peace between Man and Faery, has lost its glory, its grandeur, and its loyal guardians. The land is dark, filled with turmoil. Yet, one bright glimmer of hope still exists. Long ago, Myree, daughter of a proud nobleman, made a childish vow of undying love in a secluded garden to an equally as young Connair. Now grown, both have not forgotten their pledges. When Myree is abducted into a realm of shadows, Connair risks everything in his quest to save her and recover the heart of Summersong.

REVIEW

TWICE UPON AN EVENTIDE is two wonderful fantasy tales. Both authors, Shannah Biondine and Sheri L. McGathy, have done wonderfully at bringing these stories to life. While reading them, I was taken back to the time when I sat upon my mother's lap as she read fairytales to me, for this is exactly what they remind me of--one of the old fairytales by the Brothers Grimm. The plots are exciting, the characters all remain true to themselves, and the stories themselves enchanted me. If you love fantasy as much as I do, complete with morals, pick this book up. You won't be sorry you did.

Reviewed by: Chere Gruver
www.paranormalromance.org

EXCERPT

And so, the tales begin...

The old storyteller swirled the mead in his mug as he watched the pale pinks and blues of a dying day give way to the ghostly glow of twilight. The first impatient star of the approaching eve sparkled in the north sky, just above the tree line. It would not be long before full night blanketed the land.

"Yet another day passes in a string of endless days."

As he raised the mug to his lips, a man called out from the road, "Hail and hearty greetings. 'Tis a fine fire you have there." The man drew closer revealing he was old, perhaps even older than he himself had become. "Such a fire deserves more than one admirer to watch it dance. Such a fire," the man stepped into the glow of the flame, "begs for a tale or two to see it through the long dark."

The man bowed, causing his faded robes to pool at his feet, and though tattered and worn, they could not hide the fact they were wizard's robes. "I, kind sir, would be most happy to offer those tales if you would but allow me to share your fire this eve." The wizard peeked through the veil of his snow-white hair as he rose, a sly grin flirting across his lips.

"Aye, indeed," the storyteller mumbled over the lip of his mug, "it truly is a fire that begs for a tale or two, yet tales I have aplenty." He tossed another stick into the fire pit. "Tales I would gladly trade for a fine hen roasting over the hot flame."

"Ah," the wizard said, "then it appears fortune has guided my feet and smiled down upon us both, for you have something I require, and I," he lifted a string of quail from his belt,

"have something you desire." He winked, his eyes dancing with merriment.
The storyteller laughed. "Then you, my friend, are most welcome to share my fire." He waved to a spot across from him. "Sit, and we shall see how happy your game makes my flame." As soon as the man was settled, the storyteller tossed him the skin of mead. The wizard took a long pull and smacked his lips as mead trickled down his chin to stain his white whiskers. "Such nectar."

"To ease our tongues for the tales yet to come." The storyteller lifted his mug in salute.

"Aye," the wizard said as he raised the skin, "to the tale."

As if in agreement, a shaft of light streaked across the dark sky, trailing a fine stream of sparkling dust in its wake. With ancient eyes pinned skyward, the old wizard whispered,

"And so begins my tale..."