Sunday, March 9, 2014


Title: A Serpent in the Garden

Genre: YA Historical Mystery

Word Count: 60,000


Amid the grit and splendor of medieval Germany, an impetuous teenage noblewoman investigates a brutal murder.

When a young woman is killed near the abbey of St. Nicholas, fifteen-year-old Eva von Hirschburg is struck by similarities between the victim and her own dead mother. She vows to find the culprit and convinces peace-loving Brother Clement to help, but they clash when Eva accuses a man Clement wants to protect.

Meanwhile, Eva is courted by the charismatic Friderich. Eva is drawn to the dashing nobleman, but fears he is only looking for an indiscretion. Worse, Friderich doesn't trust Clement and wants Eva to relinquish her obsession with the murdered woman.

When Eva suspects Friderich's childhood friend, she must risk her heart and life to catch the killer before he strikes again.

A SERPENT IN THE GARDEN is a medieval Veronica Mars with the lush, sexy feel of Anna Godberson's Luxe series.

First Page:

No one prayed for my mother's soul. No one spoke of her. My uncle Baldric forbade it. But I refused to forget her. She died fifteen years ago when I was only a babe, but every morning, before the rest of the castle woke, I went to the chapel to plead for her.

Darkness filled the room, intensifying the smell of incense and the aching in my legs as I knelt on the stone floor. I recited the De Profundis, the Misere, and the Requiem Aeternam, prayers suitable for a soul suffering in Purgatory. I considered praying that my uncle Arnulf might finally drink himself to death, but I decided against it. I stood and walked out to the chapel garden.

On my right loomed the bergfried, a defensive tower and, in troubled times, a holding place for prisoners. On my left, the crenellated battlements of the south wall snapped at the sapphire sky. I shuddered, feeling like a mouse trapped in the jaws of a lion. Father Gregory would have reproached me for such ingratitude. Most ladies would count themselves lucky to have a guardian as wise and temperate as Baron Baldric, but I knew he kept me out of duty rather than love. And most ladies do not have to contend with an uncle as reckless and cruel as his brother, Baron Arnulf.

I walked toward the stone archway that led to the main courtyard. A ghostly voice cried out. “Judge thou, O Lord, them that wrong me.

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