For me, writing is my time machine, and books are my means of navigating from one wondrous age to the next. For as long as I can remember, books have been an integral part of my life. Family knew me as the girl who always had a paperback in her pocket. I wrote my first story in third grade, and pretty much haven’t stopped since. It sometimes feels like I gleaned a major part of my education via reading. Stories taught me many things, including that the power of the mind can take us anywhere with magical ease, and that imagination is everything.
Becoming lost in a story is still my pastime of choice. In my “real life” day job, I work for a library system in Western New York, doing everything from processing new books to cherishing old ones. Books always seem to surround me, and many have become good friends.
One of the best things reading has taught me, is that the magic spun by words has no limits. As a writer, I’ve tested the truth of this time after time. Often, readers ask me why I write across so many different genres, from Scottish Historical Romance to Steampunk, to the retelling of Fairy Tales. My answer is, I’m always testing those limits, and proving to myself that if I reach for the story, the magic will come.
Now, some forty titles later, here are just some of the places writing has taken me:
To Husavik, Iceland with The Berserker’s Bride, where a Scottish captive, daughter to a chieftain, is claimed as spoils of raiding by the one man she fears most. Can love, conjured like sweet music, save them?
To the Western Highlands of Scotland, where the incorrigible Finnan MacAllister practices His Wicked Highland Ways. He’s bent on seeking revenge and breaking widow Jeannie MacWherter’s heart. Is it too late for him to seek wisdom, and save his soul?
To the wild moors of Devon, while retelling the fairy tale Rum Paul Stillskin. A half-human, half-faerie, wrathful and misunderstood, Rum Paul longs for young Mallie, the one lass who loved him, Because the strength of one person’s love is sometimes enough to let us survive.
To the brick streets of Victorian Buffalo, where Clara Allen, in desperate need of a husband, decides to exercise an ancestral power and raise one from the dead. Fortunately for her, he proves to be Dead Handsome. Side note, here: readers sometimes hesitate to embark upon my Buffalo Steampunk Adventures series, which now numbers eight. But not to fear—Steampunk is nothing more than Victorian Historical with a delightful twist!
Not least of all, I’ve journeyed to medieval Sherwood Forest, where Daughter of Sherwood launched the Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy. Here we discover that Robin Hood lives on in his descendants, in a mystical world where the trees whisper to one another, and the old gods still reside. And love, like magic, never dies.
Lately, I’ve traveled to Wylder Wyoming, circa 1870, where my publisher, The Wild Rose Press, has set a new series. New adventures to come, carried on the scent of sagebrush.
Which world, out of those I’ve created, is my favorite? Whichever one I happen to inhabit at the time! For me, changing from genre to genre keeps the story fresh. It’s my fondest hope I may bring my readers along with me, to share that magical ride.
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Title: Daughter of Sherwood (The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book One)
Author: Laura Strickland
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Book Blurb:
Raised in the kitchens of Nottingham Castle, Wren has no idea she is the daughter of the legendary Robin Hood until she is summoned to Sherwood Forest. Since Robin's death many years before, the resistance against Norman tyranny has been upheld by a magical triad, but now one of the guardians has died. With two young men, Sparrow and Martin, Wren must form a new triad with a bond strong enough to defend Sherwood's magic. To one of them, she will also give her heart.
From the moment Wren bursts into his life, Sparrow loves her. But he knows she may choose his lifelong rival, Martin, as her mate. Martin wants Wren also, but Sparrow fears Martin is driven not by love but by ambition. When Martin is captured and held at Nottingham Castle, will the conflict between love and duty destroy the triad?
Excerpt:
In the gathering gloom, the man looked tall and slender, a shadow seen only indistinctly. But she knew him, had seen him numerous times in both dream and imagination.
A sob burst from her throat. "You are dead."
“But I live on, here in Sherwood. That to which we give our love in life is never lost."
Rennie continued to examine him through narrowed eyes. This must be how he had looked at the time of his death, strong and handsome, vital as the forest itself.
"Long have I tried to reach you, Daughter, to tell you the importance of your place here."
There, he had said it: daughter. A chill chased its way through Rennie's limbs.
"Wren, life is a series of cycles. The flesh rises and falls as do the stars in the sky; the spirit endures. The three of you – Sparrow, Martin and yourself – must prepare to take your places on the wheel."
"The wheel?"
"Of life."
"It is not fair," Rennie cried, suddenly aware of how much she would have liked knowing this man.
"It is not fair," he agreed, "when a child is born into serfdom, an old woman bled to death for the king's taxes, or the father of a family deprived of his hand, so those he loves must starve. There is but one thing fair about our world."
"And, what is that?"
"That love does not die, but rides the wheel and goes round until it meets with those who love, again. You must do as you must do. Keep the magic strong."
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Title: Champion of Sherwood (The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book Two)
Author: Laura Strickland
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Book Blurb:
When Gareth de Vavasour, nephew of the Sheriff of Nottingham, is captured by the outlaws of Sherwood Forest and held for ransom, he knows he will be fortunate to escape with his life. Amid the magic and danger that surround him, he soon realizes his true peril lies in the beautiful dark eyes of Linnet, the Saxon healer sent to tend his wounds.
Granddaughter of Robin Hood, Linnet has always known she is destined to become a guardian of Sherwood Forest, along with her sister and a close childhood companion. She believes her life well settled until the arrival of Gareth. Then all her loyalties are tested even as her heart is forced to choose between love and the ties of duty, while Sherwood declares its own champion.
Excerpt:
"Champion."
He spun once more. A man stood behind him, wreathed in white mist pure as the moonlight. Gareth reached for a weapon he no longer wore.
"Peace," the man said.
"Who are you? How come you here?"
"I am the spirit of this place. Some call me the Green Man. Others call me Robin Hood."
"Robin Hood is long dead." Gareth had heard the tales. Who had not?
"Aye, long dead," the man agreed, "as are many here. This is our bastion, our refuge, a place of faith and strength."
"What do you want with me?" Surely, and surely, he was back asleep on his tether, and dreaming.
"Nay, lad, you are not dreaming."
"Can you hear my thoughts?" What madness was this?
"I ask of you, young man, only one thing, one boon, one favor if you would survive this night."
"Of course I will survive. This is but darkness, and trees, and moonlight."
The man waved one of his hands. A creature appeared beside him, a pure white wolf with its hackles raised. Another subtle movement and he stood flanked on the other side by a great, white hart, its sides streaming mist. The trees overhead tossed their branches and Gareth felt the power gather, sharp and vital, around this being who faced him.
Fear such as he had never known – not even when awaiting the arrival of his father with the strap – engulfed him. He said, "What do you seek of me? What boon, what bidding?"
"I ask of you but one promise, that you should follow what is in your heart." He smiled again. "Does not a true champion, always follow his heart?"
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Title: Lord of Sherwood (The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy Book Three)
Author: Laura Strickland
Genre: Historical Romance
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Book Blurb:
Curlew Champion, master archer, has always known his destiny. With his cousin, Heron Scarlet, he will become a guardian of Sherwood Forest and further his people's fight against Norman tyranny. But the third member of the triad is still to be revealed, the woman who will complete the magical circle and, perhaps, answer the longing in Curlew's heart.
Anwyn Montfort has fled disgrace in Shrewsbury and come to Nottingham at her father's bidding. He wishes her to make a good marriage and settle down. But the wildness that possesses her refuses to quiet. She knows she's been searching for something all her life, but not until she glimpses Curlew does her spirit begin to hope it has found its home. Only the magic of Sherwood can bring them together, and only their union can complete the spell woven so long ago...
Excerpt:
He bowed his head over his mother's hands, closed his eyes and called upon the things he loved best -- the trees that arched above him, the water that carried promise and memory, the deep loam and the eternal light. His heart opened like a new shoot in spring.
"Mother?"
No response. Her flame burned very low but steady. He saw what she saw: Flames on a winter hearth, throwing warmth, safety and comfort. A flash of silver in his father's eyes and the smile Gareth Champion kept for her alone. Himself as a child, lying in her arms, the future in his eyes.
She was not alone where her spirit lay. Others gathered round her, some he knew and some he did not. A few he had met, in spirit form, on his own journeys through Sherwood. He felt, rather than heard their message: You cannot linger here. You are needed. Your time approaches.
Send her back with me, he appealed to them. We cannot go on without her. He cannot.
Go and play your part, Lord of Sherwood. Uphold the circle.
I cannot. We cannot. We are missing the third of our number.
She comes.
She comes.
She comes!
They thrust him away from them, out of that deep and silent place back into the light of the autumn morning. It rushed in upon him with its scents of damp earth and dying leaves, the much-loved essence of Sherwood itself. His mother's hands were still clutched in his, and she still lay like a carved effigy of herself.
He turned his head and met the gaze of the man who crouched beside him. "I could not bring her, Pa."
His father bent his head and wept like a man heartbroken.
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