Review for Winds of Ericiel II

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

“Again, the author’s poetic prose carries the reader away. She is able to recreate this fantasy world not only with clarity and reality, but with a haunting love only a poet knows.”

Hello,

I’m Mae. I’m thrilled to share my romantasy series, Winds of Ericiel, with you. It feels like I’ve launched a piece of myself into the universe like an arrow, hoping it will resonate with people who love an epic story—people who I’ll never meet, but might read my series as they curl up at night, take a bus, or relax on a beach. What a blessing to have readers let me lead them into a realm where many forms of love, summoning the strength to endure loss, and peace are what matter in the end. I wrote the story that I wanted to read. My series is for adults, as I delve deeply into the relationships between the characters as they grow. I embrace intimacy openly because it’s a romance and I wanted the reader to experience everything the characters do—mentally and physically. I have been blessed as readers have enjoyed the journey with Catherine and her Torthian warriors.

I’d love to hear from readers about my book or what you are reading.

Pass with peace,

Mae

Besides lavender, my favorite fragrance is an old book. My favorite memory is standing in the middle of the NYC Library and taking a deep breath. Heaven!

A reviewer on Amazon left an unpleasant review, calling my warriors juvenile.

She was right!

Adrian and the Elite Brothers are arrogant, bullish, aggressive, controlling, gorgeous, alpha males.

But give it time.

They come around without knowing what hit them.

But not too much!

Winds of Ericiel

Book I

PROPHECY

Chapter 3 | A Sprig of Lavender

Locking eyes with Adrian, she dared to walk his way calmly, not sparing another glance at the ten livid Elites behind him. She stopped before him, craning her neck to see his face. Unmoved, he glared at her with an icy expression that made men tremble. But unaffected, she spoke in a sure voice, sounding much older than her seven years.

"Your Imperial Majesty, Lyrian hearts weep for the loss of Torthia's women and daughters. Your loss is unimaginable."

Glaring impatiently over her head at King Cyrus, Adrian looked back down at the girl who, unafraid, drew a small sprig of lavender from behind her skirts and offered it to him. Glancing at the sprig, he almost sneered at the child, but something in her eyes stopped him. They were wet, making them shine and shimmer blue and violet. She appeared more golden curls than anything else, small and vulnerable with huge eyes full of empathy, her tiny chin trembling slightly.

Taking her in, he stilled. The girl's countenance betrayed deep sorrow, and he recalled she had lost her mother just moons before. Her brother had perished at Sepdonia, making her the sole heir to the Lyrian throne.

Considering this tiny, future queen poised so bravely before him, Adriannus slowly reached out, took the sprig from her fragile fingers, and unsuccessfully attempted to smile.