Handbag and Book: guest #author Sylvie Grayson A small suitcase? #readromance #newbook #RLFblog

My day-to-day handbag is like a small suitcase with everything inside that I could possibly need during an outing.

This handbag is my go-to bag for travel. When I bought it, I loved the textured black leather construction and dull silver emblem on the front flap. It has a long handle, fits over the shoulder and easily holds my cell phone, pen, credit card case and money pocket. It has been all over the world with me. I've taken it to Hong Kong and Florence, Singapore and Heidelburg. It fits easily in my larger travel bag, can be packed for evening use or short excursions. I wouldn't part with it.

A Penrhy prince caught between duty and desire. Can he win the impending battle?Shandro, Prince of the Penrhy tribe of Jiran, disagrees with his father, Sovereign Pollack, on nearly every issue that arises between them. But his goal is to uphold the family values in spite of Pollack’s conniving moves as he deals with the hotbed of competing nations surrounding them.Then Shandro is sent on a mission across the mountains into Khandarken to bring back Princess Chinata, a bride for Emperor Carlton’s Advisor. In exchange, Jiran and the Penrhy tribe are given a peace agreement, protection against invasion by the Emperor’s troops. This seems a good trade, as Carlton is hovering on their borders with his need for more land. However, not far into the journey, it becomes apparent someone is not adhering to the terms of the peace accord.Near the tribal border, Shandro and his troops have come under direct attack from unknown forces. He digs deeper into Chinata’s background to find strong ties to the New Empire. Is it too dangerous to bring Princess Chinata into Jiran? Or as her escort, does Shandro become her defender against the Emperor’s troops.
It had begun to snow again and the flakes were coming thicker, a steady silent fall that muffled sound and blinded them as they rode. The air was icy against China’s skin. Soon the wind picked up and it looked like another blizzard setting in. She watched Prince Shandro ride ahead to consult with his commander, then rein in and wait for Haggskyll and Boz to catch up. She studied him as he talked with the men, first gesturing toward the women and then ahead to the trail leading through the trees. He was a handsome man in a very physical way with his broad muscled shoulders, lean frame and golden-brown skin. The attraction to him only got stronger as the days passed. What would she do when they arrived at their destination? How to concentrate on being bride of the ancient Judson Lanser when this virile young man had guarded her through the mountains, and looked at her with such focussed attention her breath caught in her throat? There was a muffled shout up ahead, then a sharp bang. The men halted immediately, all attention focussed on the trail before them. More loud roars, and the guards were galvanized into action. Everyone rushed to pull weapons from their harnesses or behind their saddles, and crowd in around the women as others galloped forward into the blinding snow. Shandro moved quickly, riding in her direction and waving at his men. “Go back,” he yelled. “We don’t know what’s ahead.” The men were milling in a circle now, trying to herd the women back the way they’d come. Horses neighed and reared in the confusion. China grabbed her reins in one hand and the saddle horn in the other as her mount sidestepped swiftly and plunged into the mount beside her. Suddenly new riders appeared on both sides of the churning group. They materialised out of the trees, riding low in the saddle, weapons in hand. Mass confusion ensued. One of the guards grabbed her bridle, dragging China’s horse around to go back down the trail the way they’d come, and she clung desperately to the horn as she swayed in the saddle. There were more sharp sounds, what must be the firing of weapons although it seemed muffled by the falling snow, and in the milling of bodies she couldn’t see where they were. Then something hit her, knocking her sideways in the saddle. She reached for the horn but her hand didn’t work. The pain arrived in an overwhelming wave and she cried out low, unheard in the rush around her. Looking down, she saw blood bloom on her cloak and ripple in a slow wave down her arm. She was falling and someone was bellowing in surprise or rage, a wild cry that followed her down.
Find Prince of Jiran at: AmazonFind Sylvie Grayson at: Website