Well, it didn’t last long, but Branded by Étaín made it onto the Kindle Top 100 list!

And That Pearly Drop is #40 on the ARe Best Seller list (and it released in October – yay!).

I’ve never paid attention to these lists – too depressing if you never make them and too addictive to chart a new release’s dramatic climb and drop. For Branded though a fan emailed me the book’s rise and fall every couple of hours or so. Yuck. I hope never to know again. Honestly, I’d prefer to be blissfully unaware – it’s too easy to stumble into that I’ve-no-talent-and-should-quit crevasse.

So, today I’m grateful for the news, but plan to stop this maddening, obsessive, endless loop of checking book and author stats constantly.

I leave you with another titillating preview of Branded by Étaín:

“When begins The Choosing?”

“I know not if I will wait for it. I am loath to gamble on her choosing me.” Brand fingered the stubble on his chin.

Once every five summers on the last night of the festival of Lúnasa, the women of Caul Cairlinne could choose their mate. The church blessed the unions, which lasted a year and a day. After that time, the couples could decide to remain married or separate.

“’Twould be better if she picked you.”

“Aye, but what if she does not?” Brand’s gaze never wavered from the line of marriageable women weaving their way through the hall.

He held his breath when Étaín came into view. Her glorious golden curls hung in glistening tendrils clear to her knees. She had a habit of flaring her nostrils and firming her chin when all eyes were upon her. He knew in his gut she hated being the center of attention.

’Twas her obvious vulnerability that stirred him.

’Twas her startling beauty that had him hard and aching in a heartbeat.

He had studied her these past months searching for flaws, for the arrogance and conceit that always accompanied females of royal birth, and found naught. She spoke to beggar and princes alike with the same gentle inquiry, gifted all with a sparkling smile that twisted his belly into coils, and appeared unaware of the rough sailors and traders who stared at her with blatant, greedy lust.

A slight draft molded the fine linen of the leine she wore around her firm breasts. She blinked and unerringly swung her head and met his stare. A smile fluttered around her rosy lips.

Those haunting eyes the color of rich molasses spoke to him.

He fisted his hands, the urge to reach for her nigh overwhelming.

Mine.

She halted for a moment as if hearing his silent declaration, and the sheer joy lighting her features dazzled him. All the blood in his body pooled in his groin. Desire speared him.

Taking a deep breath, Brand inclined his head and smiled.

Her teeth gleamed snowy white under the flickering candles when she beamed at him. Giving a little shake of her head, she dipped into her basket and threw petals and green-needled twigs high into the air. A couple of skips and a hop later, she arrived at the dais, the last female to line up below the table, and made a graceful curtsey.

King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh had taken his place on the dais and stood smiling benignly at the women standing before him, his gaze lingering on Étaín. The pride on his face could not be denied, nor the love.

Brand inspected the others present at the high table. He had made it his business to know who was who in Caul Cairlinne.

Étaín’s two younger sisters stood on either side of the king. Irvin, a distant relative, stood at the left end of table speaking with a couple of his warriors. To the right of King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh, three of the men who stood as Caul Cairlinne’s elderly council watched the assembly while sipping from brass goblets. Five women who had seen at least two score summers stood whispering and grinning at the line of young women before the high table.

Two men on either side of the dais put long curved trumpets to their lips and blew. A series of triumphant, melodic blasts echoed around the great hall.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” one of the elders on the dais yelled.

“The ear of corn has been planted, the bull slaughtered,” another declared.

“’Tis time for The Choosing,” the last shouted.

“Princess Étaín, do you choose or not?” King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh asked, his sole focus on his daughter.

The hall fell silent. Every pair of eyes in the packed chamber trained on the petite Princess.

Hope you enjoyed!

Cheers,

Jianne