Fabulous Fan Art!

A couple of the beta readers for Rosaline’s Curse sent me fan art and it made me laugh so much, I asked them if I could share!

The first couple are from Grace Woods. You can see more of her art here: https://legendfiction.com/post/grace-woods-2/

And these are from Max Woods. You can see more of his art here: https://legendfiction.com/post/max-woods-2/

Chapter 35: Mark Doesn’t Keep Calm
Portrait of Rosaline’s Evil Ex

Thank you, Grace and Max! You guys are crazy talented!


You can get Rosaline’s Curse for free in exchange for an honest review on your favorite online book store. Free copies are limited so get them while they last. 🙂

Podcast: How to Make Dialogue Sound More Real and Readable

Dialogue! We all engage in it every single day. So why is it so hard to write? In this episode, Dominic and Katy talk about what makes good dialogue and why it is critical to your story.

Join us for a 15 minute tip each week, short enough to squeeze in, long enough to learn something, and definitely not enough to last a whole cup of coffee. Why? So that you can get back to stunning your readers.

Just Write Already is the short show for new authors to create pop fiction that means something! It’s filled with tips, real-life stories, and terrible advice you should definitely ignore. We are Dominic de Souza & Katy Campbell, novel-writers and story-lovers who really need to stop talking and get back to writing. We’re helping you break free, get better, and write wilder – so that readers can’t put your story down!

Chapter One: The Magic Rectangle

Hello folks! Wanted to share Chapter One of my new book Rosaline’s Curse.

This book will be released on June 25th!

(But if you want to read it for free, right now, scroll to the bottom of this post for the super-secret, exclusive, VIP link.)

Enjoy!


Rosaline awoke to the astonished face of a mustached man. The last thing she remembered was cutting her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel. She furrowed her brow. Why on earth had she touched the spindle? That was stupid.

The mustached man was standing next to her bed frozen in shock. Rosaline studied him. It truly was an awful mustache—like a balding caterpillar crawling across his upper lip. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-three. His hair, like his mustache, was a sandy color.

He was wearing an ornament on his face. A silver frame rested on his nose and held a rectangular piece of glass over each eye. It could have been decorative, but Rosaline suspected it had some practical purpose. Behind the device, his hazel eyes were bright and curious.

She sat up and looked around. She was in a tower room, not all that different from the one she occupied at home in Kaltehafen. It contained a table with an open Bible on it, a chest, and of course, that stupid spinning wheel.  Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. She looked at her own hands and noticed that she was as dusty as everything else in the room. Her finger was scabbed where she had pricked herself.

In addition to the mustached man, three others were present. 

A man stood by the door dressed in black from head to foot, except for his sleeves which were white. He wore a shiny black hat, with a brim only on the front. 

A short, round, gray-haired man stood in the middle of the room holding a tiny book in one hand and what Rosaline guessed was a writing implement in the other.  

The last person was standing next to the table holding some sort of flat, metal, rectangle in both hands over the Bible. She gaped at Rosaline, then looking at the mustached man said one word:

“Mark?”

The mustached man started stuttering something in a language Rosaline couldn’t understand. He kept pointing to Rosaline and shrugging. 

“Who are you?” Rosaline asked, hoping one of the four strangers would answer. 

Then they swarmed around her all talking at once, and looking at each other and looking at her. 

It was immediately clear to Rosaline that they were just as confused as she was. 

Then the woman held up her hands and yelled something that silenced the others. She stooped down so she was at eye level with Rosaline and asked her a question. 

Rosaline could not understand the words. What language were they all speaking? The woman asked her another question. Rosaline still could not understand, but she recognised the woman had switched languages. 

Loquerisne Latine?” Rosaline asked, which means, “do you speak Latin? 

All four people started chattering excitedly. Rosaline tried not to roll her eyes. It was a bad habit of hers. The mustached man held up a finger and then pulled a rectangle out of his pocket.

It was like the one the woman had been holding—flat and very shiny. 

He tapped on it, and then the surface illuminated. Rosaline stood up and leaned over to get a better view. The surface of the rectangle looked like a page from a book with Latin letters lined up on the bottom in little squares. When the man tapped them, they appeared in a frame on the upper left side of the page. He was writing words, but the words didn’t make sense. He tapped a tiny blue rectangle and suddenly a new sentence appeared in the box on the right. It made sense, sort of: 

I am Mark Reid, The Learner of Humans. How do you live? What is the year?

Rosaline wanted to get a closer look at the rectangle. Was it some sort of magic? Or a machine maybe? What was the light source and where did the letters come from? She extended her hand toward it. Mark Reid, The Learner of Humans, pulled it back and shook his head. 

Rosaline wondered if it was dangerous if used by someone uneducated in its ways.

He withdrew a tiny book from his clothing and gave it to her. Rosaline laughed when she looked at it. She’d never seen such a little book before. The pages were very smooth. He handed her what she supposed was a pen but didn’t give her any ink. When he saw the confusion in her eyes, he took the pen from her and scrawled it over the parchment. Lines appeared without ink. Rosaline took the pen and wrote: 

I am Princess Rosaline of Kaltehafen. It is the Year of Our Lord 1227. Why shouldn’t I be alive?

The mustached man looked at her words and added them to the page on his rectangle which changed them from Latin into the gibberish she supposed was his native tongue. 

His eyes widened. He looked from her to the magic rectangle and back again. He held out the rectangle for the older woman to see and they both exchanged excited words. He added his reply and turned the magic rectangle around for her to see. 

The year is 2017. 

Rosaline stared astonished. Then all at once, she burst out laughing. It was too wonderful to believe. She looked at the strange people in front of her and their funny clothes and their funny little machines. 

What other wonders were beyond the castle walls in this marvelous future? 

Mark and his companions exchanged confused glances and spoke to each other for a moment. Rosaline jumped down from her bed. She had no interest in exploring the room. She doubted anything in it had changed much in seven hundred and ninety years. She brushed herself off as she walked, in a futile attempt to remove the dust.

The four strangers all started speaking again, clearly confused. Rosaline took the opportunity to brush past them and head for the exit. 

They started calling after her. She paused and looked over her shoulder. Mark, The Learner of Humans, was beckoning for her to come back. She felt a twinge of irritation at this. She had been locked in that oppressive room for centuries. What lay in store for her beyond the castle walls? What other people? What other machines? What other marvels had she yet to see? She ignored his calls and sprinted out the door.

She could hardly contain her excitement. The best part about waking up seven hundred and ninety years in the future was that it meant Lord Julyan was dead. And if Lord Julyan was dead, she wouldn’t have to marry him. 

This future—her future—was entirely her own.


Want to read the rest, right now, for FREE? You can sign up for an Advanced Review Copy here! All you need to do is commit to leaving a review on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or wherever you buy books! The review only needs to be a few sentences, and it should be honest. (You still get the book if your review is, “I regret putting this in my brain. Getting hypnotherapy to forget the contents of this disaster.”)

There are limited spots available and this promo ends on June 24th.

Thank you in advance to all my reviewers!

Preorder Rosaline’s Curse

Good news! The digital version of Rosaline’s Curse is now available for preorder on Amazon! I have a paperback in the works! I will update you when that version is ready!

You can tell I am excited by my excessive use of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Rosaline’s ex-fiancé is an evil god. 

At least, that’s what he claims to be. He could be a purple gnome for all Rosaline cares, she just wants him out of her life. 

Unfortunately, his presence is the result of a curse she brought upon herself when she stole the sacred relics of Ilona the Godslayer. 

Since the ill-advised theft, her luck changed for the worse in several ways.

Her brother died, she was betrothed to that awful swine, and put into an enchanted sleep for almost eight hundred years. To add insult to injury, her fiancé was somehow still alive when she woke up. 

It seems the only way to turn her luck around and get rid of her evil ex, is to return the relics she stole. 

Unfortunately, a lot changed while she was in that enchanted sleep. For one thing, everyone now spends most of their time staring at the magic rectangles they keep in their pockets. For another thing, moving human bones across international borders requires a permit.

It seems if Rosaline is to return the relics and break her curse, she has to learn to navigate this new and remarkable world of paperwork and machines.

Luckily, she gets a little help from a friend. 

Mark Reid is working toward a master’s degree in forensic anthropology. His near-perfect life is turned upside down when what he thinks is a perfectly preserved eight-hundred-year-old corpse turns out to be a princess who is still very much alive.

Now, he must help her integrate into the modern world while somehow convincing her that this holy quest to return the relics she stole is a bad idea.


This book is a sequel to Love, Treachery, and Other Terrors. While you can still follow the plot without reading the first book, there are a number of callbacks, so I highly recommend reading LTOT while you are waiting for the new one!

More soon! Subscribe for updates!

Chainsaw Sharks

I am finished writing. Done. Forever.

You see, yesterday my husband wrote this short story. Upon reading it, I gathered up all my classics: my Shakespeare, Tolkien, Dickens, Orwell, and Homer and I threw them all in the trash. I then vowed that I would never write anything again.

You see, nothing will ever come anywhere near the mastery that is this literary work by Joe Campbell. Though he shares a name with a philosopher, it is clear from this masterpiece that he is the superior mind.

Read his story, and meditate upon it. Let these words shine light upon what it means to be truly human.

Readers, I give you…

Chainsaw Sharks

by

Joe Campbell

Gary was a shark.

Not a particularly ferocious shark, and maybe a little on the small side, but a perfectly serviceable example of your typical man-eating variety.  He wasn’t terribly close to his family (sharks like their space, after all) but once a year they’d all get together in a wrecked submarine to catch up with each other.

Now, Gary always loathed his skinny little fins and unnaturally short body, and he was never more ashamed than when he joined the family gatherings.  He would wander the ocean, snack on wayward fish, maybe even confront a dolphin or two, but he could never match his family’s feats of daring.  Every reunion became a contest to see who had accumulated the most garish scars over the past year.  Gary’s father had a respectable gash on his left side from a tangle with a whale and his siblings would go on about how they had most recently lost teeth to boats and squids.  But Uncle Bruce was the worst.

Every year, Uncle Bruce would sport some new bite out of a fin, show off some harpoon he’d recently been impaled on, or exhibit whole rows of teeth replaced with jagged steel from a boat’s hull.  He would subject the family to the tale of how he had single-finnedly taken down a fishing boat that was hunting him, and how he’d swallowed half the crew whole (he claimed he could still feel some of them struggling to escape his gut, years later).

Gary was always enraptured by the gory details of these escapades, and he envied the respect they drew from his relatives.  He told himself that he was perfectly happy with his minor skirmishes with slightly larger fish, but he knew deep down if he was only bigger, or if his teeth were sharper, he could match Uncle Bruce’s stories of how he’d recently taken down some lone armed surfer, or giant squid.  Beneath those weak fins and scraggly frame slept a true predator, just waiting to be unleashed.

This year when Uncle Bruce concluded the tale of his most recent kill, he called out Gary, who was hiding in one of the torpedo tubes.

“Gary, me lad!  Ye’ve been quieter than an angler fish!  Come, tell the family how ye’ve been faring!”

Gary sheepishly swam out.  He hated the attention.  Uncle Bruce pretended he was doing Gary a favor, but he knew full well what an embarrassment this was.

“I see ye’re looking good!” Uncle Bruce patronized, “Everything intact, as usual?  What new adventures have ye to tell us this year?”

Gary trod water with his eyes cast downward.

“Well, Uncle Bruce, there was this…sea turtle-”

“A Sea turtle, ye say?” Uncle Bruce interjected, “Yes, pesky buggers those are, I hear.  Can’t say I’ve had too many run-ins with them, meself.”

Gary looked up, thinking how he could spin this to his advantage, “Oh yes they’re quite tough animals, you know.  Very difficult in their own right.  I struggled with this particular sea turtle for a full thirty minutes at least!  Look, he wobbled a tooth loose.”

“Indeed!” Uncle Bruce’s eye gleamed with a mean-spirited delight, “Well, it isn’t the size of the battle, but the victory that matters.  I’m sure ye gave him hell!”

“I did…but wouldn’t you know it, the darn thing got away from me.  Those shells are slippery, you know.”

A roar of laughter erupted so loudly that every creature within a hundred leagues of the submarine took off in the opposite direction.  Uncle Bruce feigned wiping a tear of mirth from his eye (an especially insulting gesture as sharks don’t have tear ducts) before responding.

“Poor little Gary.  We can’t even call ye ‘Terror of the Turtles’ because ye’d have to win a fight with one first!”

This started the whole family up again and dejectedly left the submarine.  It was true, he wasn’t a real shark after all, was he?  How could he be when he couldn’t even tangle with a three-foot turtle?  He was going to swim off into the uncharted parts of the ocean and either return a killer or not return at all.

For days he swam, grabbing a smallish fish here and a bird there.  A couple of times he passed scuba divers and tried to build up the courage to catch them while they were unaware, but each time he turned away at the last second.  What glory was there in that, coming upon a human that way?  That wasn’t very sporting.  And if he did happen upon a real fight, he was too scared to engage.

After a few weeks of aimless wandering, he ventured into deeper territories where there were fewer fish, and fewer humans.  He was lost in the wide-open sea, growing hungrier as pickings grew slimmer until he felt for sure that he was famished enough to take on anything that came his way.  But nothing did, and as his strength failed, he sank deeper into the darkness of the ocean until he blacked out.

When he came to, he was face-to-face with a different sort of shark.  This one looked meaner than anything he’d ever seen before.  It was a slightly different shade of gray and had a mischievous look in its eye.  Gary jumped up and saw that he was in the wreck of a massive supply ship, stuck in a cove off some forgotten island.  He was surrounded by dozens of this new breed of shark, and they all eyed him in a suspicious manner.  Gary timidly introduced himself.

“I’m…I’m sorry I seem to have intruded on your territory.  You see, I’m lost and I think I blacked out and I don’t know where I am-”

The first shark waved him off, “Oooooh don’t worry about that, kiddo.  We were the ones ‘o rescued you!  Ol’ Terence over there found you sinking into a trench a few miles from ‘ere.  Thought you could use some ‘elp.  My name’s Kriller”

Gary nodded in appreciation, trying to think what he should say next, when he noticed the sharks’ odd-looking fins.  They didn’t seem organic, like most fins, but more like some bladed machine grafted onto their sides.  You and I, dear reader, would instantly reccognize them as chainsaws, but of course Gary was unfamiliar with such things.

Kriller noticed Gary’s curiosity and proudly showed off his chainsaw fins.

“I see you’re admiring our modifications!  We are the deadly Chainsaw Sharks I’m sure you’ve ‘eard of [Gary hadn’t], and this ‘ere is where we call ‘ome: Clawtooth Island!”

For the next few days, Kriller and the Chainsaw Sharks brought Gary food until he had built his strength back up, and told him all about their mechanical attachments.  Many years ago, Kriller had lost both his fins in an unfortunate scuffle with another shark, and he drifted to Clawtooth Island where he met with a marooned human engineer.  The engineer had lost everything when his supply ship was dragged onto Clawtooth’s rocky shores, everything except a few crates of chainsaws.

The engineer took pity on Kriller and, through an ingenious bit of ingenuity, built a harness that replaced Kriller’s missing fins with chainsaws.  The chainsaws worked surprisingly well, and Kriller eventually befriended other unfortunate sharks and brought them to Clawtooth Island, where the engineer happily rigged them up as well in exchange for a steady delivery of fresh fish.

Gary listened to Kriller’s story with rapt attention.

“And…these chainsaws, they make you fierce?”

“Fierce!” Kriller laughed, “Why we’re the most feared creatures within leagues!  Nothing can escape our terrible chainsaw limbs!  Join us tomorrow and we’ll show you what a real shark can do!”

The next day, Kriller woke Gary up early to join the other Chainsaw Sharks on a hunt.  They laughed and jostled each other around, playfully revving up their chainsaws in anticipation of the kill.  They made a quick visit to the engineer, who made sure their deadly fins were sharpened and fueled before they took off (they needed extra lubrication and sealant, being underwater and all).  Kriller had gotten wind of a pod of orcas passing a few islands over, and the other sharks clapped their chainsaw fins together in eager anticipation.

Gary was in awe of his newfound friends.  Here were sharks that even Uncle Bruce would respect.  True killers in spirit, built for blood-lust and comrades in combat.  If Gary could just get his fins on a pair of those chainsaws, nobody back home would laugh at him ever again.

The frenzy of the battle was unlike anything Gary had ever seen before.  The killer whales were expecting the sharks, but it made no difference.  The water frothed as the chainsaw roared, the sharks tearing through the orcas like a knife through butter.  The waves churned red, and the battle was over before it had hardly begun.

As the victors returned to Clawtooth Island, singing and dragging their spoils, Gary turned to Kriller, “Do all the sharks who come to Clawtooth need to be…previously maimed, to be outfitted with a chainsaw?”

Kriller gave Gary a long hard look before answering, “Not necessarily, there is an operation we’ve done before.  It would mean you’d lose your fins permanently, but you’d gain the envy of all sharkdom.”

Gary couldn’t help admit that he was rather attached to his fins, but he thought of returning home with a pair of glorious, gleaming, murder fins was too alluring.  He knew that deep down he wasn’t a wimpy little shark, but a true killer at heart.

That night the engineer put Gary to sleep while he amputated his fins.  When Gary awoke the next morning, he was sporting a shiny new pair of chainsaws on his sides, strapped tightly with the engineer’s finest harness.  Gary leaped for joy.  Now at least he could truly call himself a shark.  A streamlined eating machine ready to do battle with the worst.

He found at first he had to relearn how to swim.  He had to manipulate the bulk of his body more to steer, rather than depend on his fins to guide him.  It was awkward and tiring, but he figured he’d grow more accustomed to it with time.

“You ‘ave to watch out for rusting, too.” Kriller warned him, “Every night, make sure you ‘ang your chainsaws up to dry out of the water.  Otherwise, the rust will cut into your ‘ide and poison you.”

There were other considerations Gary hadn’t expected, such as refueling the chainsaws, learning how to manipulate the harness to rev up the engine, and figuring out how to unhook them without hands when he wanted to dry them out.  They were annoying, sure, but he told himself these were small sacrifices for living his new killer self.  All the trouble would be worth it once he tested his weapons against a real challenge.  He was anxious to swim out into open water and find a respectable kill, but Kriller cautioned him to take things slowly.

“You’ve got to live with ‘em a little first, kid.  Get used to them.  You don’t become an expert overnight.”

Still, Gary grew restless.  Before a week was out, he took off one night on his own to search for prey.  It was wobbly going, but he was quickly getting the hang of his attachments.  He had the spirit for battle, that’s all that mattered, surely his instinct would kick in when it really counted.

He passed a dolphin, some other sharks, even a whale, but none of them was quite the challenge he was looking for.  He needed a real story to bring home to his family.  Something that would make their jaws drop in awe.  Something he could really sink his teeth into.  Then he saw the yacht.  A big, beautiful, formidable vessel, no doubt loaded with aggressive shark-hating humans, raring for a fight.


“I’m sorry hon, but the senior VP of sales is gonna be here next week and they want me to be in that meeting, so I’m gonna have to stay out here another week.”

The handsome junior executive kicked his feet up on the yacht’s railing while sipping on a margarita with his cell to his ear.

“I know sweetie, but you know it isn’t like this is a vacation for me either.  I’m absolutely miserable!  If it were up to me, I’d be back home with you right now.”

A beautiful, bronzed Aphrodite of a woman sashayed up and refreshed his drink.

“I’ll tell you what though,” he wheedled into the phone, “as soon as this earnings call is over, I’ll come right home and we’ll go out on a little vacation together, just the two of us.”

The woman silently draped herself on the armrest of the executive’s chair while he tried to close the conversation quickly, “I know, I love you too.  Tell the kids I said hi.  Bye-bye!”

Elsewhere on the deck, other businessmen and women chatted by the railings and flirted, while violins serenaded the calm waters.  The executive sighed and threw his arm around the brunette at his side.

“This is the real deal, isn’t it?  What a quiet night, what beautiful stars,” he looked into her eyes, “they look especially beautiful reflected in-.”

The night air exploded with the whir of chainsaws as the shark erupted from the water and torpedoed onto the deck.  The merry party was thrown into chaos, screaming men and women tripping over each other in bewilderment to escape the creature flailing about the deck, wheeling its deadly chainsaw limbs about in a frenzy.

Gary was taken aback by just how little control he had over his movements.  He’d never been this far out of the water before, and he found that he now had no idea how to maneuver himself, and wouldn’t have even if he’d had his old fins.  He flopped awkwardly, but the running chainsaws made his already disjointed movements even more unruly.  He figured from the occasional human limb or piece of crushed furniture he happened upon that he was doing some sort of damage, but it brought no fulfillment.

He caught the terrified looks in the passengers’ eyes as he trashed uncontrollably.  There was no glory in this; it was just ugly carnage and death.  Uncle Bruce never told him about the screams, the fear, the agony of destruction.  In the stories it was always about one warrior fighting against the odds, but there was no honor in a massacre.   His thoughts turned to his home and comfort.  All he wanted now was to live peacefully with his dinky fins and modest pickings.  He wasn’t the killer he thought he was after all, he was just a little shark in a big world, and maybe he could be happy with that after all.

As suddenly as he had arrived, he flopped off the deck and sunk into the depths, apologizing as he carved a path of carnage in his wake (not that it made much difference, as humans can’t understand shark speech).  He wobbled back to the island, where he requested the engineer remove his chainsaw limbs.  The other Chainsaw Sharks laughed, but he was used to laughter.  What did it bother him?  He finally knew who he wanted to be, and it wasn’t one of them.

The engineer didn’t laugh.  He quietly took pity on Gary and fashioned a perfectly ordinary rudimentary pair of wooden fins for him.  Gary splashed his thanks and swam back home.

At the next family gathering, Gary was the talk of the town.  Everybody flocked to admire Gary’s wooden fins.  They hardly acknowledge Uncle Bruce when he arrived missing an eye; all they wanted to know was what daring feats had Gary accomplished to lose his fins?

Gary just smiled and answered, “Oh it was quite an adventure, I must admit, but when it comes down to it, I think I’d rather have my old fins instead.”


Podcast: More on Plotting Your Story

So you have your basic plot–your hero, her goal, and the obstacles she faces. The trouble is, you have no idea where to go next. A lot of the time, your writing feels like slogging through a swamp of tedious scenes. Fear not! In this episode, Dominic and Katy will talk through the eight story points you need to map out your plot.

Join us for a 15 minute tip each week, short enough to squeeze in, long enough to learn something, and definitely not enough to last a whole cup of coffee. Why? So that you can get back to stunning your readers.

How to Plot Your Story

Plotting to take over the world? Don’t do that. It’s totally rude.

However, you should carefully plot your next story! In this week’s podcast, Dominic and I will explain how!

You are busting with awesome ideas. You’ve written pages and pages of exciting story scenes. All you need to do now is figure out how they go together. It’s easy, right? Except it totally isn’t. You are crying at the bottom of the well of despair. Fear not! In this episode, Dominic and Katy provide a quick overview of story structure. You’ll learn the secret to keeping your story moving toward a logical conclusion so your readers can’t put it down!

Join us for a 15 minute tip each week, short enough to squeeze in, long enough to learn something, and definitely not enough to last a whole cup of coffee. Why? So that you can get back to stunning your readers.

Rosaline’s Curse

I am super excited to announce the completion of my next novel Rosaline’s Curse! This book will be available in late June and I will offer advanced review copies before then! Follow my blog to stay updated!

Summary

Rosaline’s ex-fiancé is an evil god. 

At least, that’s what he claims to be. He could be a purple gnome for all Rosaline cares, she just wants him out of her life. 

Unfortunately, his presence is the result of a curse she brought upon herself when she stole the sacred relics of Ilona the Godslayer. 

Since the ill-advised theft, her luck changed for the worse in several ways.

Her brother died, she was betrothed to that awful swine, and put into an enchanted sleep for almost eight hundred years. To add insult to injury, her fiancé was somehow still alive when she woke up. 

It seems the only way to turn her luck around and get rid of her evil ex, is to return the relics she stole. 

Unfortunately, a lot changed while she was in that enchanted sleep. For one thing, everyone now spends most of their time staring at the magic rectangles they keep in their pockets. For another thing, moving human bones across international borders requires a permit.

It seems if Rosaline is to return the relics and break her curse, she has to learn to navigate this new and remarkable world of paperwork and machines.

Luckily, she gets a little help from a friend. 

Mark Reid is working toward a master’s degree in forensic anthropology. His near-perfect life is turned upside down when what he thinks is a perfectly preserved eight hundred-year-old corpse turns out to be a princess who is still very much alive.

Now, he must help her integrate into the modern world while somehow convincing her that this holy quest to return the relics she stole is a bad idea.


This book is a spin-off to my last novel Love, Treachery, and Other Terrors. While it is not necessary to read this book to follow the plot of Rosaline’s Curse, I recommend it since there are a number of callbacks.

If you are looking for a fun, light-hearted, fantasy novel full of cultural collisions, romance, and adventure, this is the book for you!


Rosaline’s Curse is appropriate for adults 15 and up. It does not contain graphic content, but it deals with some mature themes. If your child reads it, they may be confused and ask some awkward questions about why Rosaline is so scandalized by twenty-first-century university life. And you don’t want to explain that right now, you just want to cook dinner and pass out.