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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