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Queen of Love and Beauty
Queen of Love and Beauty
Queen of Love and Beauty
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Queen of Love and Beauty

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After a visit from Athena, Aphrodite and her mortal daughter, Jocelyn, decide to place Anne Boleyn in Henry VIII's path, hoping to make her the next Queen of England. But Hera is not ready to see her chosen, Queen Katharine, unseated. When Hera sends an assassin to stop them, Jocelyn and Aphrodite must strike a deal with Hades to save Anne. Unfortunately, things are not what they seem and Jocelyn soon finds herself embroiled in the ancient grievances of Mount Olympus.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKatie Roman
Release dateNov 17, 2021
ISBN9781370276295
Queen of Love and Beauty
Author

Katie Roman

Raised in the suburbs of Chicago, Katie Roman has been many things. Student, band geek, dog sitter, history major , and consummate tea drinker, but above all things she's been a writer.

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    Book preview

    Queen of Love and Beauty - Katie Roman

    Queen of Love and Beauty

    A Laurel and Roses Story

    By

    Katie Roman

    Copyright 2021 by Katie Roman

    Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

    Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

    Cover Artist: Fionn Jameson – Milktee Studios

    Editor: Stacy Sanford – The Girl with the Red Pen

    Printed in the United States of America

    Dedication

    Chapter I

    Chapter II

    Chapter III

    Chapter IV

    Chapter V

    Chapter VI

    Chapter VII

    Chapter VIII

    Epilogue

    Sneak Peak of Book Three

    More from the Author

    To Melanie

    Michigan, am I right?

    Chapter I

    June 1525

    I hear my mother talking to someone through the bedroom door. I hesitate at the door, trying to think of who could be with her. A lover? No, I doubt that very much. She is careful with her liaisons, and it is early evening. A lover at this hour is likely to be caught. I knock, knowing she'll want to know I've returned with her wine.

    Come in, Jocelyn, my mother calls. Her voice is taut as a bowstring.

    Hesitantly I open the door and see she has shed her mortal persona. She stands naked in the solar of our chambers, wearing only a crown of flowers in her hair. Her skin shines like she has been dipped in starlight, shimmering in the dim glow of the candles flickering around the room. Her hair is like that of spun gold. With her is a woman similarly without the facade of a mortal. While my mother is willowy and full of grace, this woman looks like she has been cast in bronze. With black hair that curls wildly about her face, she wears the armor of a warrior. I bob a curtsy, knowing this to be Athena.

    Ah, Athena says in a voice hard as nails. You are Aphrodite's mortal daughter. How do you go about here? she asks, looking at my mother. Is it Lady Rose and Miss Jocelyn Dormer? She says our names with a mocking tone. How lovely you look, Jocelyn.

    I rise from my curtsy with a quiet thanks. Aside from Hera, I have never met another from Olympus. My mother does not speak of or to them; Hera being the exception, since she follows the English court the same as us. I want to ask what Athena is doing here, but all will be revealed in good time. Mother keeps no secrets from me.

    My mother beckons me to her side. I go and allow her to wrap an arm around my shoulders. I see now there is a bushel of golden apples on the table in our room. They look almost too beautiful to eat.

    Gifts from Athena, my mother says when she sees where I am looking.

    Gifts? I ask, sure no gift from an Olympian is given freely.

    Bribes? Athena laughs.

    I look at my mother, lifting one of my eyebrows. She smiles at me and squeezes my shoulders. She turns her attention back to Athena.

    Zeus’s dear child thinks Hera has reigned here too long.

    Athena rolls her dark eyes. They look bottomless in the weak candlelight, like two fathomless wells. Why should Hera prance about court like she is queen? She took up Katharine's mantle the moment that Spanish princess set foot on English soil and has stood beside her ever since. In doing so, she has kept the rest of us out.

    My mother releases me, stroking my hair as she ushers me to a cushioned chair by the fireplace. She hasn't kept me out.

    My mother has been in court for years, finding beautiful, witty, kind young women to share the bed of King Henry. She has butted heads with Hera enough times over it. Though as long as my mother keeps to mistresses, it has never gone beyond heated words.

    Yes, but look at the honors so recently bestowed on Henry FitzRoy, Athena counters. Katharine is old. She'll not bear him another child.

    I look toward Mother. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at Athena. I wonder at this. She has said the same to me more than once. Why now does she treat this information with annoyance?

    What are you getting at, Athena? Mother shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her skin sparkles with the movement.

    I am saying that you might pick a new queen for the King, and then hold court and drive Hera out. Then there might be room for those like myself in England.

    Mother frowns. Her brows knit together and she shakes her head. Why should I wish to benefit you?

    Athena places a hand on her chest. You wound me. Injustices of the past are long gone. You cannot still be mad that the Greeks saw the defeat of your chosen one, Paris. There is a mocking lilt in her voice.

    My mother speaks rarely

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