Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
His voice trailed off in embarrassment as he recognized that he was being overzealous in his eagerness to share his favorite author with her. He sneaked a glance at her—she was watching him with an enigmatic smile on her full lips.
“Is it a series?”
“Uh, yes. This is the fifth book in the saga. It started with Alpha Gen, the original stranded colonials.”
“So you don’t have one hero to root for?”
“The first book was mostly world building. A prologue of sorts, it gave us an insight into the struggles the original generation faced. The next book skipped two hundred and fifty years ahead and showed us how everything pretty much went to hell. Books three to five focus on the current generation. The series follows one particular clan, the Cedarians—all the clans are named after trees—which is why the outlying tribe named itself Dendroignis, which literally translates into ‘tree fire’.”
Charity couldn’t stop staring at him. He reminded her of an excited little boy telling her about his favorite toy. The story sounded frankly ridiculous, but the delight he took in it was charming to witness. She let him continue on about these fictitious clans, their spirit trees, and their mortal enemies the tree burners or whatever. And she couldn’t prevent a silly smile from creeping onto her lips.
Miles Hollingsworth was kind of adorable when he was geeking out, and she kept him talking with the occasional leading question.
She was happy she had summoned up the guts to join him and Stormy that morning. It felt good to be out of the house again. She hadn’t left the premises aside from that one shopping trip to Riversend on the day after his arrival nearly two weeks ago. He had gone into town to get Stormy checked out after the power outage but, with the exception of his daily walks, he had also been pretty much housebound.
Something he said drew her back to the conversation.
“Wait, so there’s magic?”
“No, just powerful elemental forces at play.”
“But you just said the fire starter guy was a mage.”
“The planet contains powerful mystical and elemental forces and the Dendroignis outliers have learned to harness them. But the current leader of the Cedarians, Willow, is a first-generation weather mage. She draws her power from the cedar trees Alpha Gen planted five hundred years ago. Something in the soil has mutated them into powerful…”
And on he went… this story sounded crazy and convoluted. The author had clearly been unable to decide if he wanted to write sci-fi, or fantasy, or good old-fashioned mythology. So he had thrown everything but the kitchen sink into the story.
Aaaand now there were…
“Dragons?” Seriously?
“Well, not dragons as we know them,” he explained earnestly. “A native species of flying reptile. Willow has leaf-bonded with a hatchling. I think the connection between her and Delonix—the hatchling—is going to be a serious game changer.”
“How many books are in this series?”
“Ten. The author, Michael Quinn, has written several epic series before this one. I’ve read them all, but this is my favorite.”
“I see,” she said faintly. “And you like this space opera stuff?”
“They haven’t all been space operas. The last one was straight up fantasy.”
She honestly wouldn’t have taken Mr. Straitlaced Hollingsworth as someone who enjoyed anything as fantastical as this. She’d only ever seen him read newspapers. Then again; he often sat in isolation—a pair of headphones clamped over his ears—while his siblings and friends laughed and played. She had always believed that he chose to cut himself off from them because he was dour and unfriendly and a workaholic. But she now understood that this was his way of relaxing. All those times he had been lost in one of these insane stories.
This man: rescuer of stray pups, avid fan of over-the-top fantasy fiction, sudden boiled egg naysayer, recent frequenter of her most erotic fantasies, was nothing like the cold, calculating person she had originally believed him to be.
“Do you only listen? Or do you read these books as well?” she asked when he took a breath between raving about dragon bonds and the discovery of a new and hotly contested continent.
“I don’t usually have the time, or patience, to sit and read a book. I can’t remember the last time I read one from start to finish. I often multitask when I’m listening to a book. It’s a more efficient use of my time. We’re here.”
The last two words surprised her and she glanced out to see that they were, indeed, pulling up to the dirt parking area at Klein Bekkie. There were only three other cars in the lot. The half hour journey had flown by. She had been so riveted by his retelling of the bizarre space saga, that she hadn’t paid much attention to the passing scenery.
“You ready for your beach debut, Monster Mutt?” he asked over his shoulder as he put the vehicle in park. The pup whined in anticipation and he grinned—a wide, open, boyish grin. He turned to Charity and gave her the full force of that smile, dimple and all, and it stripped her breath away.