When the
Black Roses Grow
Angela Christina Archer
Soul Mate Publishing
Bio
Growing up in Nevada, reading was
always a pastime that took second place to trail riding and showing horses. When
she did find the time in her youth to curl up with a book, she found enjoyment
in the Saddle Club Series, the Sweet Valley High series, and the classics of
Anne of Green Gables, The Box Car Children, and Little House on the Prairie. Although,
writing always piqued her curiosity, it wasn’t until September 2009 that she
worked up the courage to put her passion to paper and started her debut novel.
When she’s not writing, Angela spends
her days from dawn to dusk as a stay at home, homeschooling mom. She also works
in her garden and takes care of her many farm animals, as well as loves to bake
and cook from scratch. She doesn't show horses anymore, but she still loves to
trail ride her paint horse, Honky, as well as enjoys teaching her daughters how
to ride their horses, Sunny and Cowboy.
Links:
https://angelachristinaarcher.com/
https://longvalleypress.com/
https://twitter.com/AuthorACArcher
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorACArcher/
https://www.amazon.com/Angela-Christina-Archer/e/B00J4IVVZM
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8073551.Angela_Christina_Archer
Book Links:
https://www.amazon.com/Black-Roses-Angela-Christina-Archer-ebook/dp/B017RJWYS2
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-the-black-roses-grow-angela-christina-archer/1124207110
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28094400-when-the-black-roses-grow
Blurb
Twenty-five men and women were accused.
Nineteen hung to their death on Gallow Hills.
One suffocated under bone-crushing stones.
All believed to possess the power of witchcraft.
In 1692 the fear of witchcraft is spreading around Salem Village. While those who are accused and sentenced face death, everyone else faces the risk of accusations placed upon them.
As Emmalynn Hawthorne, the daughter of a woman hung for witchcraft, places a bouquet of flowers upon her mother’s grave, a circle of black roses sprouts out of thin air. Dark magic, the roses strike fear through her heart when Mary Pruett and the handsome newcomer, James DeKane, spy upon her as they pass along the traveling road. Emmalynn flees and her panic soon turns into terror as another vine of black roses sprouts and grows throughout the inside of her home. Is she a witch? Will she be the next accused?
James DeKane has secrets of his own—ones that could prove deadly for him and anyone he holds dear. At fault for the untimely death of his parents, he must protect his hidden brother and dying sister, all while fearing that the haunting prophecy bestowed upon him at birth will come to pass. Desperate and fighting the monster deep inside of him, he’s searching for the one love who can alter his destiny.
Nineteen hung to their death on Gallow Hills.
One suffocated under bone-crushing stones.
All believed to possess the power of witchcraft.
In 1692 the fear of witchcraft is spreading around Salem Village. While those who are accused and sentenced face death, everyone else faces the risk of accusations placed upon them.
As Emmalynn Hawthorne, the daughter of a woman hung for witchcraft, places a bouquet of flowers upon her mother’s grave, a circle of black roses sprouts out of thin air. Dark magic, the roses strike fear through her heart when Mary Pruett and the handsome newcomer, James DeKane, spy upon her as they pass along the traveling road. Emmalynn flees and her panic soon turns into terror as another vine of black roses sprouts and grows throughout the inside of her home. Is she a witch? Will she be the next accused?
James DeKane has secrets of his own—ones that could prove deadly for him and anyone he holds dear. At fault for the untimely death of his parents, he must protect his hidden brother and dying sister, all while fearing that the haunting prophecy bestowed upon him at birth will come to pass. Desperate and fighting the monster deep inside of him, he’s searching for the one love who can alter his destiny.
Excerpt
Out of the corner of my
eye, a dark green vine whispered for my attention. It appeared in the
corner—the stem grew quickly from my floorboards, growing a few inches every
passing second. Smaller vines sprouted from the first, curling in all
directions. A few leaves grew from the stems, popping outward and bouncing a
little from their sudden burst of movement.
I flung my arms—the sudden
jerk of my body sent my rump slamming hard onto the floor. My hand slapped
across my mouth to hide my scream. The dark magic fluttered through the air in
a teasing and taunting dance, waving its leaves as if to scold me for my sins.
I scrambled to my feet, and
grabbed the handle of the pot, not caring that the hot piece of the wire burned
the palm of my hand. I shoved the back door open. It collided with the outside
wall of the house as I shoved the pot through the doorway and cast the iron
flying through the air. It plunged to the grass, landing with a loud bong.
I slammed the door, raced
to my chopping block, and grabbed the large knife laying on the cutting board.
If
I cut it, it will wither and die. Tis nothing more than a weed, a simple weed,
and if I cut it, it will wither and die.
My heels slid across the
floor slowly. Hesitation stirred in my blood, and my hands trembled as I
hovered over the vine.
The
familiar green vine I had seen before...floating over my mother's grave.
In a bold, swift swipe, I
slashed the stem. The green color turned into a deep black, and the vine
shriveled and vanished.
My rump hit the floor, and
curled my legs up into my chest. My heart pounded in panic. My lungs heaved.
The thought of moving, even an inch, overwhelmed me.
Please
do not return. Please do not return.
I sat upon the floor,
trying desperately to control my breathing and slow my rapid heartbeat. The
anxiety of needing to calm myself immediately only made me want to crawl out of
my own skin even more.
Please,
Lord, do not allow it to return. Please.
I finally heaved myself up
off the floor onto my knees, and slowly placed one foot on the floor, rose, and
placed the other foot down.
Please,
Lord, plea—
Another vine sprouted
before my eyes.
Clunk.
The knife slipped from my
fingers, landing on the floor with a thud and bounced a couple of times. The
green vine reappeared, curling through the air once again. Leaves sprung from
the stem, waving just as the others had don. The vine's growth as short-lived
as it sprouted, although larger than before.
My mind whirled out of
control, lost in a sea of unexplainable reasons and sheer terror. Shadows
closed in all around me with one single wave of panic I did not know if I could
withstand.
A knock gently rapped
against by back door. I spun on my heel, and covered my mouth. Surely, twas
nightfall, surely, the sun had set, giving way to the darkness for its evening
slumber. The only expected visitors were the ones invited, and I certainly did
not invite anyone over to my home.
Another knock rapped, this
time a little harder than the first, and I tiptoed over to the door.
“Who is there?” My voice
cracked on the last word.
“Tis James DeKane.”
