Showing posts with label fairy tales. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairy tales. Show all posts

Saturday, July 18, 2026

Beyond Ever After - Fairy Tales - Fantasy - Romance - Young Adult - and a Giveaway #FairyTales #Fantasy #Romance #Young Adult #Giveaway

Chantal Gadoury is here to tell us about Beyond Ever After, fairy tales, fantasy, romance, young adult.

There's also a great giveaway.

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Beyond Ever After
Chantal Gadoury
Publication date: July 14th 2026
Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Romance, Young Adult

Return to the world of fairytales that readers first fell in love with in Until the Last Page in this magically charming sequel.

When Jo fell into a book of fairytales, she thought she would only have to save one prince. But now she has to save his brother, too.
In this new chapter, Jo finds herself lost once more in a world of magic, crowns, and impossible choices. The stories have changed, but the dangers haven’t—and neither has the loving a frog prince was never meant to be easy.

He thought one kiss would solve everything—but now, Prince Aneurin must stop a doomed royal wedding. With Josephine by his side, they tumble through twisting tales in search of a clever witch hiding behind a perfect disguise.

Between running from bearded kings, and avoiding unwanted betrothals, they navigate kingdoms and stories that refuse to stay neatly written. As adventures collide and hearts are tested, Jo and Aneurin soon discover that even in fairytales, the most dangerous magic of all is love.

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EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE: ANEURIN

I was certain I could not tolerate another insufferable evening in these damned confining clothes. Tugging at the collar of my tunic, I silently let out a curse into the cool night air. The music from the festivities below, a gentle, enchanting melody of the celebration, drifted up to where I stood on the balcony of my chamber. I’d done my best in avoiding the gossiping members of the court who still could not cease bringing up Josephine’s name around me.

This was a night of grand celebration. My brother was finally engaged, and there was once again a promise of stability – a guarantee of a prosperous future now that he was to be wed. My brother, the epitome of regal charm, and his beautiful future bride-to-be were at the center of everyone’s attention. I was grateful for the distraction from myself.

Sliding a hand through my hair, I let out a deep sigh. It had been apparent from the ballroom floor just how much of a stark contrast I was to the idyllic scene. The years I’d spent as a cursed amphibian had only isolated me from the kingdom, and worse, my family. Sitting at the dining table night after night, left me quiet and disconnected, while my family went on as I imagined they had for years without me. The courtiers had much to say about their theories of my previous life. I couldn’t stand to hear their remarks. Memories of the long nights, being confined in a body that had never truly been mine, feeling so far away from home…from my family. My manservant Henry had tried to tend to my every whim, except for the one I’d truly wanted the most—the freedom to be a man again. In the quiet evenings, when only the sounds of grasshoppers kept me company, I had imagined myself as I once had been, and it had filled me with a sadness I’d never known how to describe. I had dreamed of my return home, to the welcoming arms of my father and mother. But the reality of my return was not one of excitement, but uncertainty and fear.

I overheard the whispers about “the mysterious woman,” who had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared. Her presence had unwittingly brought danger by luring the very man who had cursed me into the heart of the palace. Despite it being me who had bargained with the man called Rumpelstiltskin again, Josephine’s disappearance had left unanswered questions and an uneasy tension that permeated the palace walls.

The festivities below were a cruel reminder of the life I could have had but had lost.

I slid my hands over the cool stone of the balcony railing and closed my eyes. For so long, my life had been consumed by one purpose—breaking the curse with a true love’s kiss. I had never allowed myself to imagine what came after. I supposed that I would slip back into the role I had left as a young man. I would be welcomed back with open arms and take my place beside my father as his heir – his true heir. However, as that path had changed, I was forced to forge a new one —a life in which I would stand beside my brother as a symbol of unity. It was my duty to assist him in his new role, and it was an honor to do so – or so I was told. Even as I stood beside him in the glowing ballroom, I saw the hope in his eyes as he looked at me, and the quiet joy as his gaze shifted to his bride-to-be. The way he held her hand to his lips, the love that passed between them – it was clear. Charming would be a noble and worthy king, and I would serve him with unwavering loyalty.

Loosening the necktie of my tunic, I tilted my chin up towards the sky, gazing over the sparkling stars above. “Josephine…” I whispered.

In all honesty, despite my impeccable ability to keep track of the hours of a day as a frog, I had lost track of how many weeks had slipped by since the last time I had seen her. Had it been a fortnight? Longer? Or perhaps even shorter?

The memory of our last night was etched vividly in my mind. The gentle touch of her hand in mine, the sparkle of mischief in her dark brown eyes, and the softness of her laughter as I held her in my arms while we danced. I had been a fool not to kiss her then. Maybe if I had, she would have been able to stay by my side. I had ignored the silent plea in her eyes, ignored the gnawing in my stomach. I’d been so determined to fulfil the foolish bargain I’d made with Rumpelstiltskin, and it had made me so willingly blind.

I had known Josephine had been the one for me ever since seeing her with that irritating woodland man—Arch, with his untamed beard and wise eyes. For as insufferable as I found Arch to be, I knew it was because he was her friend. I had yearned for the warmth of her friendship, to be on the receiving end of her charms, her smiles.

I had also been a fool to deny the truth for so long, until it was too late. It was maddening how deeply Josephine had worked her way into my heart—only to be torn away before I could fully grasp it.

After the defeat of Rumpelstiltskin, Josephine was returned to her world by a mysterious woman. As the clock in the grand hall began to strike twelve, she dissolved before my very eyes, her form fading like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind nothing but the pair of glass slippers my mother had lent her. Instantly, my heart had been filled with longing. I had remained alone on the dance floor for several minutes until my brother pulled me away. In my manic desperation, I pleaded with my parents to allow me to search for her—to search for ‘the mysterious woman.’ They inevitably gave in to the request. Hours bled into days, and there was no trace of Josephine, nor the woman. It was as though Josephine had never existed in my world. Perhaps she hadn’t.

Since that moment, I had been haunted by the memory of her disappearance, by the ache of her absence that grew with each passing day. I missed her with a depth of longing that threatened to consume me. A yearning that gnawed at my soul and left me restless in the quiet hours of the night.

I knew I would never find her again. She’d claimed to come from another world that existed outside of my own. Many days, I found myself longing to retreat to my chambers and escape the routine of long meetings with my brother and silent dinners with my parents. I preferred to sit in the quiet darkness and bury my sorrows in a decanter of mead by my bedside. I hoped that if I stayed there long enough, the world outside would fade away, and with it, the ache in my heart.

Maybe then, the enchantress—the cruel and cunning one who had spirited Josephine from me would decide to grace me with her presence again. Many nights, I pictured her slipping into the room, her voice as dangerous as a snake’s whisper. She would look upon my pitiful state and offer to curse me back into the amphibious form I once loathed but now yearned for.

I knew I couldn’t let myself remain lost in those thoughts forever. As much as I wanted to linger in the past, I had a role to fulfill, just as I always had. It was time to reintegrate myself into my family, to reclaim my place—it sounded more noble than it felt. I had to come to terms with my brother’s ascension to the throne, and by the night’s end, I wanted to offer my congratulations to him and his soon-to-be bride convincingly. After all, who wouldn’t want to celebrate the fact that my dear brother would someday be the ruler I’d been trained to become? Duty demanded I play my part, and so I arrived, prepared—armed with charm and wit to navigate a room teeming with courtiers, who were more interested in gossip than actual conversation. I preferred the company of the men in the forest that Josephine and I had encountered to the people of my family’s kingdom.

I danced with many of the eligible women, aware that my participation would help pacify their gossip-hungry mothers. I moved through circles of small talk, offering pleasant smiles and well-rehearsed banter. With every conversation, I maintained an air of composure, masking my lingering thoughts of Josephine. It took considerable effort to hide my discomfort behind a polished facade, to act as though her absence didn’t linger like a shadow at the edge of my mind. I had learned to hide so much when I’d only been a few inches tall.

Opening my eyes, I stared out into the darkness and released a slow breath, letting the night air wash over me. I’d been gone long enough and didn’t want to give anyone a moment to question why I’d been gone for so long. I only had an hour more, and then it would be midnight, and I’d be able to depart from the festivities for good. I peered back up at the night sky, gazing at the brightest star above me. I hoped that wherever Josephine was, she too could see this star and think of me.

Perhaps it wasn’t very reasonable to hold onto that hope…to entertain such wishes. “Find me then,” were her last words to me, and yet here I was, unable to do even that.

“A drink would do me good,” I muttered to myself. I just needed a goblet of mead before I returned to the festivities. As I turned on my heel, something stirred in the shadows beside the velvet-curtained door, barely visible from the corner of my eye. I froze, my body tensing as I waited, my breath catching in my throat.

A faint rustling reached my ears as I watched the curtain sway on its own.

“Gerrit?” I asked, calling out the name of my valet. But there was nothing but silence. “I’m in no mood for games,” I continued. “Show yourself.”

Taking a step forward, I reached for the curtain. Almost on cue, a shadowed figure slowly emerged from behind. To my surprise, the figure was much smaller than I had expected, barely reaching half my height. There was a pause before the figure stepped into the faint light, illuminated by the moonlight. What I saw took me by surprise—a fairy! Her delicate wings shimmered like iridescent pearls as they caught the faint glow from above. She hovered before me, her wide violet eyes reflecting determination as she drifted closer.

“Who are you?” I asked, taking a step back. In truth, despite all the stories I had heard as a young boy, stories about witches and enchantresses, mermaids and trolls, I had never quite believed in fairies. The woman’s gown, a deep blue that sparkled under the moonlight, glistened as if woven from the very stars. Her hair, short and white, was pinned back with tiny glass baubles that gleamed faintly in the night. She looked ethereal, otherworldly—like something pulled from a dream.

“Your Highness,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, “I must speak with you.” Her words hung in the air as she paused in front of me. The timing, her sudden appearance, couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Did she come bearing news of Josephine? My thoughts raced between hope and dread.

“I am Lunelle,” she murmured. “A fairy of the stars.”

“The stars?” I echoed, disbelief mingling with curiosity. I had never imagined fairies could exist beyond the skies, let alone among the stars themselves. Was this how wishes were granted?

“My sisters and I observe from above,” Lunelle continued, her gaze centered on me. “We hear the wishes whispered from those down below. And we see everything.” Her eyes grew wide, and she gestured at the sky. “And I have seen something perilous, Your Highness. Something you must know.” Her final words fell to a whisper, delicate yet heavy with forewarning.

I forced my brow to remain calm, though frustration flared beneath my skin. “If you could elaborate,” I said dryly, my tone clipped but measured. Mystical proclamations were of little use without answers.

“Your brother, sire…” She continued. Her delicate features were etched with genuine concern. “Your brother is in grave danger.”

My heart skipped in my chest as I peered at her with wide eyes. My brother? I looked over my shoulder, listening to the soft melody of the ball taking place below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

“If he’s in danger, I must go to him,” I said firmly, attempting to move past her. If there were something to be done, I wouldn’t waste a moment standing idle. But before I could take another step, Lunelle’s small hand darted out, her fingers clutching the sleeve of my white tunic. Her grip, impossibly firm for her slight frame, held me fast. I pulled against her, but my feet felt rooted to the stone, as if the ground itself had conspired to keep me still.

“It is far too dangerous,” she murmured. “Neither you nor your brother is safe—at least not yet.”

My patience waned under the weight of her cryptic warnings. “You’d best explain yourself,” I snapped, my voice sharp with frustration. I leaned closer, my eyes narrowing. “Now.”

Lunelle released a shaky breath before replying, “There is an evil witch who has set her sights on you and your brother. She seeks to undermine you both, to plant herself in a seat of irrefutable power.”

“A witch?” I repeated, incredulously.

“One of the most powerful in all the land,” she continued, ignoring my question. “Her magic is dark, ancient, and fueled by envy.”

I narrowed my eyes, determination flaring in my chest. “If you release me, I can go directly to my father. Surely, he can do something about this.”

A bitter smile twisted her lips, and for the first time, a flicker of something almost human crossed her delicate features. “If it were that simple,” she said quietly, “do you not think I would have already alerted him?”

I gritted my teeth, frustration mounting. “Is this not exactly the sort of thing you’re supposed to handle? Instead of trapping me here, shouldn’t you be doing something about this witch?” If an enchantress had the power to send Josephine away with just a flick of her fingers, surely this fairy could deal with a rogue witch.

“You honor me with your compliment, Your Highness—”

“It was no compliment,” I interjected, scowling.

“But even my magic has limits.”

I let out a slow, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“There is…one person who can help you,” Lunelle said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “One person who can save your brother from making a grave mistake.”

“A mistake?” My mind reeled at her words. What in God’s teeth had Charming done now?

“It’s the woman he intends to marry,” she continued, her tone somber, her words deliberate. “She is not who she seems. The maiden he met a fortnight ago is no longer the one with whom he plans to exchange vows.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“You must find the one who can break the witch’s hold.”

“God’s teeth, not this again,” I muttered, frustration boiling over. Another vague warning, another puzzle without a key.

“You must find her,” the fairy pressed, her tone sharp now, cutting through my doubts.

“Her?” I repeated the word hanging in the air like a storm cloud. “Who? Who am I supposed to find?”

Lunelle leaned closer, her luminous eyes locking onto mine as she pulled her wand free from the waistband of her gown. With a simple touch against the sleeve of my tunic, I watched as my white royal finery was transformed into a simple blue tunic with a leather satchel on my side.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked, tugging on the simple fabric.

“Remember, Prince Aneurin,” she said, “The face you seek is not the face you see.”

“Speaking in riddles does nothing to aid this situation,” I retorted.

Before I could demand more answers from her, the fairy pulled out her wand. It gleamed in the moonlight as she pointed it toward me.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” Lunelle said softly, almost regretfully. “But you will soon understand.”

In an instant, a blinding light erupted from the wand, enveloping me completely. I tried to shield my eyes, but the brightness was overwhelming. The ground vanished beneath me, and I felt weightless, as if flung through the air by an invisible force. The rush of wind roared in my ears, and my heart pounded in a frantic rhythm. When the light finally ebbed away, I gasped for air, disoriented and breathless. My feet landed unsteadily, and I stumbled, blinking rapidly as my surroundings came into focus.

The world around me had changed entirely.

Author Bio:

Chantal Gadoury is a best selling fairytale-retelling and romance author, living in the beautiful countryside of Muncy, Pennsylvania with her mom and family yorkie, Taran.

When Chantal isn't pursuing her next writing endeavor, she enjoys spending time with her loved ones, and taking long walks to the sounds of BTS. She is a TikTok enthusiast, loves all things Disney and loves a good, romantic K-Drama.

Chantal first started writing stories at the age of seven and continues that love of writing today. After graduating from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing, writing novels has become a dream come true.

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Wednesday, March 25, 2026

Maiden Tomb - Twelve Cursed Maidens #1 - Fantasy - Fairy Tales - Historical Retelling - Romance - and a Giveaway #Romance #Fantasy #FairyTales #HistoricalRetelling #Giveaway

Cynthia Sally Haggard is here to tell us about Maiden Tomb, Twelve Cursed Maidens #1, romance, fantasy, fairy tales, and historical retelling.

There's also a great giveaway.

______________________________

Maiden Tomb
Cynthia Sally Haggard
(Twelve Cursed Maidens, #1)
Publication date: February 5th 2025
Genres: Adult, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Historical, Retelling, Romance

Follow twelve princesses down a dark tunnel into a grove of jeweled trees to a too-placid lake, where a prince will row you across to a gleaming castle to dance the night away. This historical fantasy—a retelling of the Twelve Dancing Princesses folktale—drifts backwards in time from the Early Middle Ages of Sicily to the Bronze Age of the Trojan War. It is perfect for fans of Circe and Spinning Silver.

Sixteen-year-old Justice wants to release her sisters from the jaws of Father’s imprisonment. But what can she do? The easiest way would be to find suitors for them.

However, that is not so easy, for Justice’s elder sisters are strange. What with All-Gifted’s madness, Protectress’s hair writhing with snakes, Death-Bringer’s grief (not to mention her strange name), Shining’s scandalous doings, Maiden’s tart tongue, Shadow’s crippling shyness, no sensible man would want her sisters as wives. Which leaves Justice, the seventh daughter, the one who possesses a quiet authority.

Maiden Tomb, Book One of the Twelve Cursed Maidens series, is a clean enemies-to-lovers romance.

The original fairytale—about twelve young ladies dancing all night—sounds so jolly doesn’t it? But I don’t think Twelve Dancing Princesses is about dancing at all.

I think it is about death.

Why do I think that? Well there appear to be some elements to the tale that go back, way back, hundreds, no, thousands of years, back into the Ancient World.

First of all, being rowed across a body of water sounds like a thread of Greek Mythology found its way into this tale. It is very reminiscent of Charon the boatman rowing the souls of the newly dead across the River Styx.

Then there are those jeweled trees. Where do they come from? Several scholars believe that element of the story comes from the Tale of Gilgamesh, which may have been originally composed around 1800 BCE. It tells the story of Gilgamesh, a King of Uruk a city-state in Sumeria, who is grieving for the death of his best friend. According to scholars, Gilgamesh ruled the Kingdom of Uruk in around 2700 BCE.

Then there are the princesses themselves. Have you ever wondered why their are twelve princesses? Again, the answer points towards the ancient kingdom of Sumeria, which existed in what is now present day Iraq, beginning in around 6,000 BCE. The Sumerians were renowned astronomers who used a base-12 numerical system, unlike the base-10 or decimal system we use today.

And so, there you have it. When you dig below the surface, a charming story from Europe has roots in the Middle East and seems to be thousands of years old!

And so, when I came to write Maiden Tomb, a piece of women’s fiction that explores the all-too-often captivity of women, I put back all those elements. We have the Gilgamesh epic, and elements of Greek Mythology, complete with snakes, ancient gods, and powerful goddesses. And far from being a jolly novel about young people dancing, as the title suggests, I made it a book about death.

I hope you find this coming-of-age novella as enjoyable to read as I found it fascinating to write.

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EXCERPT:

In the past week or so since we’ve arrived, life has taken on a predictable rhythm. I spend the mornings entertaining the ladies of the castle, with the lyre, my singing, playing knucklebones, and listening to their gossip. Truth to tell, nothing they say is particularly interesting as high-born ladies spend their time inside. When they are not diverting themselves with such pastimes as I provide, they are spinning, weaving, running the household, and caring for their children. They talk incessantly about their children. They know little of the outside world.

I escape after the midday meal, taking advantage of the ladies’ habit of resting as the sun’s chariot crests at the highest point of the day. While they sleep, I head out into the scorching countryside looking for Father.

We sit together in the shade, while Father does some task, usually repairing something, while I tell him everything I’ve learned the evening before. It is not that hard. Because I am small, and people are now familiar with my face, no one pays me any mind as I take my seat at the bench that runs along the side of the huge table where all the working folk of the castle eat their meals.

Father has told me never to be inquisitive, but I am dying to know more about the twelve mysterious ladies locked up in the castle tower, the ones people whisper about behind their hands when they think no-one is noticing.

As the light of the sun drains from the sky, as the king’s men sink lower onto wooden benches eating dish after dish, quail, pheasant, peacock, duck, eggs, bread, olive oil, wine, and olives, the noise of seven hundred men sharing jokes, laughing, and swilling wine reverberates around the hall.

Finally, I can take it no more.”Is it true what they say about the King’s daughters?”

The grizzled stranger on the bench next to me wipes the grease off his mouth with the back of a hand and spits out an olive pit.

“Where’ve you popped up from? You shouldn’t be here. You’re only a young lad.”

I am used to these remarks. After I left home I took a ship that was blown off course, taking me west to the land of the Italoi. I had to beg for money in the streets and in the taverns and it was not long before I heard news of Father, who was sailing to the west of this land.

And so I made my way across steep mountains before coming down to a lush plain. Playing my lyre to entertain strangers I followed their directions to the sea, to a wide bay within sight of a simmering, high, conical-shaped mountain.

And there, in a tavern, I met Father.

Now we are traveling home together. But Father is not here on the bench beside me, as he should be, but outside at a nearby farm pretending to be a stable hand.

This is one of Father’s clever strategies. He is a master at extracting information. He calls his strategy “divide and conquer” and it means that I have to use my lyre to find a berth for the night in some local chieftain’s house. This is not usually difficult, especially if there are ladies around because for some reason they always want to pet me.

Meanwhile, Father finds work on the outside as a shepherd, farmhand, or stable boy. By concealing his origins and pretending to be dumb, drunk, or both, Father is able to overhear a great many things. We have a plan to meet every day at noon, I escaping the blandishments of the ladies to visit the local farm for milk, cheese, eggs where I could happen upon the new stable boy, farmhand, or shepherd.

The only fly in the ointment is my age. I am only twelve years old and to my great annoyance, I look it. So Father made me memorize some phrases to offer when this issue arises.

“Father is here with me, but is suffering with an ache to his belly.”

One sentence is usually enough for most people. Father has instructed me never to offer explanations that are not asked for as it only makes people more curious.

But the fellow is staring at me, waiting for more.

I turn my eyes down. “Father told me to eat supper and then berth with him in the stable yard.”

“He’s the new stable hand, is he?”

I nod.

“Much good he’ll be with a bellyache.”

I look up. “Do you have a remedy for that good sir?”

Father always stresses the importance of asking for advice when a conversation turns sour, as it flatters the vanity.

The fellow hawks and spits, rising from his seat. “You’ll have to go to the kitchens for that, son.” He ambles off.

Author Bio:

Cynthia Sally Haggard was born and reared in Surrey, England. About 40 years ago, she surfaced in the United States, inhabiting the Mid-Atlantic region as she wound her way through four careers: violinist, cognitive scientist, medical writer, and novelist.

Her first novel, Thwarted Queen, a saga set in 1400s England with a Game of Thrones vibe, won the 2021 Gold Medal IPPY Award for Audiobook. Her second novel, Farewell My Life, a dark historical about a hidden murderer, won the 2021 Independent Press Award for Women’s Fiction and was the 2019 Distinguished Favorite for the New York City Big Book Award.

Cynthia graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University, Cambridge MA, in June 2015.

When she’s not annoying everyone by insisting her fictional characters are more real than they are, Cynthia likes to go for long walks, knit something glamorous, cook in her wonderful kitchen, and play the piano.

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