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I love writing novels set in ancient Egypt and the opportunities for doing research on different topics. This one involved checking into everything from herbal medications of the time to musical instruments to post traumatic stress disorder issues (PTSD). Of course the Egyptians didn't call it that but there are tablets going back 3000 years discussing the issues ancient soldiers had when they returned from war.
The heart of the story is the romance between Lady Pebatma and General Marnamaret of course, aided by the gods and her younger brother, who seeks help for the impoverishedf family from Pharaoh.
Here's the blurb:
1550 BCE
Forced by a vengeful Pharaoh to flee for her life and hide
in the poorest section of Thebes, Lady Pebatma has scraped and struggled to
support her ailing mother and young brother for the past two years. Now, out of
funds with the rent to pay and no possessions left to sell, she begs the
goddess Hathor for help. With a new pharaoh taking the throne, surely something
can be done…
A powerful general in command of the army and best friend to
Pharaoh, Marnamaret has everything a nobleman in Egypt could desire…except for
true love. He refuses to settle for less. On a whim, he prays to Hathor to send
him the woman of his dreams.
Will the goddess answer these heartfelt petitions? And if
she does, will Shai the god of Fate allow the course of two lives to be changed
by love? For none can deny Fate….
Author’s Note: This is
a connected series. Heiress of the Nile can be read as a standalone. Although
it’s my newest novel, the story falls between Priestess of the Nile and Warrior
of the Nile timewise and is set in the early days of this Pharaoh’s reign.
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Here's the excerpt. Pebatma has gone to the temple of Hathor to beg for help as she has no rent money and a kindly priestess takes her into a mysterious garden to chat.
“You’ve been a devoted servant to the
Great One, through all your own travails. Not a word of reproach have you
offered to her for what your family has suffered. Diligent in your daily
prayers, offering what you can, when you can. I’m sorry you never became one of
the sacred order yourself, but Shai the God of Fate had other plans. We must
all bow to his will of course.”
Wondering how this person could know so
much about her, when she’d never spoken a word to anyone at the temple since
the day she and her mother were refused entry, Pebatma swallowed hard. “You’re
remarkably well informed, my lady.”
With a vague gesture, the other
dismissed the remark. “Temple walls have eyes and ears, or so it is said. Why
not tell me yourself what troubles you today? What would you ask of Hathor were
she standing here?”
Pebatma heard a cow moo in the distance
and the faint sounds of a sistrum whirring. Goose bumps rose on her skin and
she shivered, unable to take another bite of the roll. She became uneasy about
where it was she truly sat right now and to whom she spoke. The priestess was
watching her intently and Pebatma opened
her lips to demur but heard herself explaining about her mother’s terrible
illness, her own toil at the inn—“Not that I mind honest work of course because
we’re blessed to be able to stay together and have a roof” —her worries about
her brother, who was to have had a secure and illustrious career in the
military until their family’s disaster and now labored as a mere baker’s
apprentice—“He eats more than he bakes.” —and found herself weeping over her own
crushed dreams for a worthy man of her station and true love.
The priestess listened silently, making
encouraging murmurs and finally gathered Pebatma into her arms for a hug as she
wept.
It’s
like being in my mother’s arms, Pebatma marveled. Yet the other had
seemed no more than her own age. Perhaps being in the temple made the woman
wise beyond her years. Comforted, she hiccupped and wiped her eyes. “I’m so
sorry to burden you with my entire basket of worries.”
“I asked, did I not?” Tapping her toe,
the priestess watched her for a moment, her eyes dark and sparkling. “Today is
the day, little sister. Change is carried in the breeze from Mother Nile and
the god of Fate plays with the lives of others now. Be patient, walk one step
at a time and remember in life as in the game of senet one cannot jump to the
golden square and claim victory without passing through the challenges first.”
She raised one hand, sketching the symbol for Hathor in midair, which glowed
turquoise. “Go forth, have faith and be well.”
Pebatma blinked as the glare from the
blazing symbol grew blinding. When she opened her eyes, she was outside the
temple, standing in the doorway of a shop, having no memory of how she left the
priestess. An unaccustomed sensation at her wrist caught her attention and she
lifted her arm to stare at an amulet, a faience bead bearing the cartouche of
Hathor, on a knotted black-and-red cord. She’d never seen it before but when
she touched the bead with a fingertip, the stone was cool and a wave of peace
swept through her.
Horns sounded as a squad of soldiers
marched past. Pebatma checked the position of the sun and gasped. She was
fearfully late and would have to endure a scolding when she got to the inn. How
much time had she and the priestess talked? Not overly long, she’d believed.
Running her fingers over the new amulet again, she broke into a run and hurried
through the maze of back alleys with which she was all too familiar now,
heading for work.
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Author Bio and Links: USA Today Best Selling Author
Veronica Scott grew
up in a house with a library as its heart. Dad loved science fiction, Mom loved
ancient history and Veronica thought there needed to be more romance in
everything. When she ran out of books to read, she started writing her own
stories.
Seven time winner of the SFR Galaxy Award, as well as a
National Excellence in Romance Fiction Award, Veronica is also the proud
recipient of a NASA Exceptional Service Medal relating to her former day job,
not her romances!
She read the part of
Star Trek Crew Member in the official audiobook production of Harlan Ellison’s
“The City On the Edge of Forever.”
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