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About the author:
KATE KENNELLY started writing creatively when she was ten years old. She let a bad grade on a creative writing project in seventh grade get her down and stopped writing altogether. Many years later, now suffering from chronic pain, someone asked her “When are you not in pain?” The answer was “When I do creative things.” Kate challenged herself to sit down and write something – anything – for the therapeutic value. Thirteen chapters later, not only was she writing, but she was reading books on writing, watching YouTube videos, learning all she could to try and craft a good story.
In her free time, Kate loves to Irish dance, play fiddle, do yoga, meditate and play World of Warcraft with her book club friends. She lives in Maryland with her husband, two daughters, and two rescue dogs.
What inspired you to write your book?
So I had a scene in my mind of a woman working with herbs to make medicine. She looks up and a dashing young man appears. I knew he'd been away for some time and that he used to be her teacher.
I sat down to write this super romantic scene—and they started fighting.
Then I had to figure out why they were fighting, where he had been, and before I knew it, a book grew under my finger tips.
Here is a short sample from the book:
The next morning, Natalie drifted awake, eyes still closed, and relished how comfortable she was. Odd, considering she’d slept on the ground in a bedroll in a tent. She knew a room full of dying people awaited her, but for the moment, she mentally shoved that to the side. Just a bit of breeze shifted through the tent, bringing with it the salt scent of the sea. The early morning sunlight filtered by the canvas of the tent rested on her eyelids. Lying on her right side, snuggled under her bedroll with her head nestled against Jules’s shoulder, she was cozy and warm. Wait—
Her eyes flew open. Jules slept on his side, facing her. Natalie delicately maneuvered her body back little by little so they no longer touched. The early morning sun on his face made him seem younger, although the occasional scar and dark circles under his eyes were proof of his time in the army and the stress he’d been under. This close to his dark hair, she could see tiny copper highlights glint in the sun. He kept his hair cut short, but given its waviness, she thought it might be curly if he ever grew it out. Her fingers ached to thread through his hair and—
“Am I very fascinating?” His deep voice startled her.
Natalie found his emerald eyes looking at hers, crinkled at the edges, and a smile on his face.
Blood rushed to her cheeks. “I … well, I …”
He laughed. “Goddess, woman, you should see your face.”
She punched him in the arm and flopped onto her back on her bedroll, only to have Jules’s face appear above hers.
“What?” she demanded.
“Well, it seems only fair,” he whispered, “since you had time to study my face, I should have time to study yours.”