Writing with N. D. Hansen-Hill...
On writing SFF & horror novels, publishers & publishing...and the writing life... Watch for book excerpts!
Name: N. D. Hansen-Hill
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+ a bit more of elf
a book blurb from judy lawn
anthology
anthropology - its about people
blue cosmic blobs
books
cosmic blue blobs
ebook
elf
fantasy
fiction
gilded folly
hansen-hill
her smile
hollowing
horror
in flames
in trysts
knight
melody-knight
melody knight
n d hansen-hill
n d hansen-hills elf chapter 3
nd hansen-hill
novel
novels
nz author yvonne walus
of dragons
print
raven starr
return of the sword
romance
shelley munro
shiela steward
studying ancient humans
suspense
the hollowing
thriller
time-travel
trees
volunteermatch
visited *loading* times
AUTHOR: Melody Knight
GENRE: Mainstream Romance Sci-Fi/Fantasy
PUBLISHER: Red Rose Publishing
ISBN: 978--1-60435-077-7
RATING: Explicit sexual content
BLURB: Ryon Colley can't understand what's happening to his life. This morning, he was a policeman investigating a potential hazard: a sparking, flashing, rainbow-spitting light show in the sky overhead. The source of the odd light appeared to be an unruly-haired blonde hellion, who couldn't figure out what normal was. Her radiant display scared him, but his physical reaction to it scares him more. By lunchtime he's gone from having coarse brown hair, to sporting a head full of blond locks—and from facing felons, to fending off thousands of voracious dragonflies.
Glynt has been sent to Earth to guard the dimensional gateways, but her arrival spawns nothing but trouble. Quite accidentally, she's summoned swarms of dragonflies, and lured in captors determined to return her—clearly a mischief maker—to her own world. Only Ryon—her gilded hero and the object of her newfound dreams—can rescue her from certain death.
AUTHOR WEBSITES: N. D. Hansen-Hill | Melody Knight
EXCERPT: She was nearly dressed when she heard them. The vibration rattled the shiny Christmas ornaments on her dressing table, making the glass ping harshly against the table top.
No!
Her fingers clasped the adamantine dragonfly encircling her neck, as terror quickened her heartbeat. Chills raced down her limbs in spiky little arrays. That sound—that horrifying, buzzing thunder—was one she recognized, deep inside. The fear of them—and their appetites—had been bred into her through a hundred generations.
Glynt ran. Panicked, she fled the bedroom with its flimsy-looking glass and raced for the balcony doors. They were thick fire doors—surely, they could resist the impact?
Ten thousand dragonfly wings…
The daylight went. The thickness of the horde—the sheer mass—was blotting out the sun. Desperate, near-petrified, she yanked the curtains closed.
The ramming slam of ten thousand exoskeletonned bodies splintered the glass, but it didn’t stop the beating—that horrific, mechanical swish of their wings. They were driving themselves at the doors, at the glass, frenzied. Day sounds were lost in the ceaseless roar of overlying wing beats.
In the bedroom, the glass imploded. Shatters of refracted light caught her eye, as they showered the door jamb.
As they blasted through, onto the carpet.
I didn’t close the door.
Her eyes widened in horror, and she raced for the exit. She was nearly to the front door when it began vibrating. They were in the hall, in hunting mode, and desperate to get to her.
Hide.
Where?! Frantic, she ran back to the curtained windows, in hopes of fooling Them. She was out of her element, and hidey holes were nowhere to be found. She cowered down, wrapped herself in curtain fabric, and scrunched into her smallest form. Already, she knew it wouldn’t help—couldn’t help. They were lured. Starving. Driven. Those multifaceted eyes would find her.
Ever hungry, they’d hunt her…on the wing.
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