The hunter Liam Michaels lies wounded, bleeding in the forests of the Canaan mountains. For him, the world is a bloody sky of red beneath which he can’t move. The surprised shooter Ian Lambert stands above him, persecuted by his past. For him, there’s only thoughts of how long he must now track the crippled buck. Sarah Michaels, disillusioned with her marriage, has decided to cross the line. For her, taking off the ring means giving up the fairy tale. Watching over all, the Lord of the Forest and keeper of the paths is witness and protector. With brutal force, the truth of Liam’s nature is thrust on him in the form of a buck’s head, bleeding, dripping, and hollow. He is to see what it feels like to now be the prey. What he does with a second chance will redefine love and life. With the guile of wolves, the war has come to claim him but Lambert takes what he wants and he wants Sarah. But wanting her will only bring death. As the long winter bends and folds into the spring of day, Sarah makes a discovery that questions second chances. Fearing hope has fled through the gap in the fence and into the Forest beyond, she is unaware of what follows her in.
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Dean Michael Christian started as a poet, learning about rhyme while a freshman in high school. From there, a love of words began and during his twenties, he penned his first novel. Well, half-finished novel, of which many authors and would-be authors quite understand. At age 43, life changed and with it came close encounters with emotions he hadn’t before experienced. Poetry became a savior and a catharsis (per poet-speak), and he delved heavily into public (and not so public) poetry forums, learning to write in terms of showing and not telling. Once purged of this need, prose beckoned and he laid his heart bare to pen a first complete novel, something based on the year of turmoil that included divorce from a 19 year marriage. The novel redefined ‘catharsis’ but also brought a hunger for more stories. From this moment, the poet transformed into an author. Dean has published three novels with Beryl being the fourth. Along with the prose, he’s compiled three volumes of poetry, one of which highlights his best. Once the written word took hold, he even dusted off a children’s book, one he’d written and illustrated for his then young son Erik. On a dead-end road in an upscale Michigan suburban neighborhood, he lives with his new wife Traci, grown up son Erik, and three cats. In a ranch home he built himself, relishing moments with family and playing cards in the pondhouse out back, Dean is trying to fulfill his purpose. Like his name, his faith is vital toward forging an identity, with hours spent listening to the Word. It’s his hope that he’ll grow along with his stories. Immersed in both photography and computer graphics, he’s also an avid gardener and winter weekend warrior on the ice. When summer wanes and words call to be heard though, that’s when he takes up the quill, cracks his knuckles, and begins filling the screen with words, describing images which will fulfill his earliest bio: I am a spirit spilled from the age of Shakespeare and flowing into Frost. Dylan holds my banner, Aragorn my broken blade, and EvenStar my heart. I drown in iambic, look for the golden light, and feel the sand pass between my fingers... In the beginning there was a poet; now, author Dean Michael Christian speaks in metaphorical tones, not bereft of verse, but rather, filled to the full. He brings you the magic inherent in words, and hopes you’ll lose yourself in their bliss.
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