Give some #AuthorLove to #Romance Writer C.B. Maurice

AuthorLoveBadge#AuthorLove is a new romance writer blog exchange for summer, starting today with C. B. Maurice, author of Finding Roanoke, a historical paranormal romance.

Finding Roanoke cover


Emme is the midwife for the Roanoak Colony. Circumstances threaten their survival, but Emme has met a European man calling himself Tighe in the forest where no European man should be.

Tighe has problems of his own. His people fled across the sea to escape mortal men and their iron weapons, but now they are dying out. Stealing children is not an option, but Tighe hopes if Emme and some of the other from the failing colony will agree to come live with his people they will interbreed. However his mother is opposed to bringing mortals into Faerie and threatens to close the border sealing the Fae in and sealing their doom. At the same time, he has lost Emme’s trust and does not know how to regain it. His efforts to protect her with Fae magic have also cast a suspicion of witchcraft on her from the expedition.


“I want you to teach me how to heal a broken bone.”

“I would teach you if I could, but I cannot.”

“Why? Because I’m a woman? I’m a midwife trained in healing. I’m a willing student.”

He stepped around the tree and leaned on it. “I cannot. You must be born to it.”

“I must be born a man, you mean.” Emme folded her arms.


Emme waited. She wasn’t sure why. None of the men in her life ever explained ‘no.’ For them, it was the end of the conversation. Why should this one be different? “What is your name?”


“Tighe? That is not a good English name.”

He laughed. The warm, rich sound of it trilled down her spine. “No, it is not.”

“Then where are you from? What are you doing here? There isn’t supposed to be anyone living in these parts.” Emme smacked her hands against her skirts. The sound wasn’t loud enough to be satisfying. “We are supposed to be the only English here. We have a contract from the Queen.”

“You didn’t tell anyone about me, did you?”

His tone was wrong. In addition to the striking coloring, she now noticed the stranger was a little odd looking. His face was thin, regal even. And a little anxious. Something about the tight set of his eyes and the pressure along his lips. His accent was a bit odd too. Like none she’d ever heard. “No, why?”

He sighed, the first overt sign of his tension. “We don’t need your people hunting us again.”

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Author Bio:

C. B. Maurice was an odd child who grew into an odd woman with a fascination for short, sweet stories and things unknown. When not reading or writing, she enjoys travel and rain, though not for days. (The rain, not the travel. Travel can go on for weeks. Rain has worn out its welcome after 24 hours.)

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Many authors were “odd” children; I know I was!

Please show C. B. some #AuthorLove by tweeting or sharing this post. And as always, feel free to leave a comment below.


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