Yes, folks, you read the genre correctly. I’m trying my hand at writing a Romantic Fantasy. The working title of the WIP is Return of Queen Sala the first book in the Chronicles of Islana.
She appreciated the loving warm smile from her mother and with another peck on the cheek headed to the stairs and her bedroom.
“Hang on a sec babe. You can’t nap on an empty stomach. Come back and I’ll give you a small slice of chocolate cake.”
She knew what a small slice meant, anywhere from just that to the outside edge measuring a good three inches. Enough to but the most diehard chocoholic into a comma. Her mother had been known to use at least a pound of semi-sweet baker chocolate in the icing alone, another half-pound in the cake itself.
“With ice cold milk?” Sallie Ann called back.
“What else. Can’t have a slice without out the requisite drink,” her mother said.
Of all the things Sallie Ann loved about her mother was her skill at baking. Sure she could do a good cake or pie but she could never hold a candle to her.
Taking the proffered plate and glass she headed to her room, still decorated from when she was a young girl. The walls were covered in wallpaper featuring dolls from all over the world with a matching bedspread. Set on the three window sills and specially made shelves the actual dolls her parents had collected in their travels. Unfortunately, due to her young age and school she’d never been able to go with them. Now with her job as assistant coordinator of projects the chances to travel had increased, all though to date the only places she’d gone were home and work.
Little did she know, because of what she’d done earlier that would change and drastically.
Setting the food down on her bedside table, painted a light pink to match the rest of the furniture, she stripped out of her business suit and into a pair of well-worn jeans and tank top. Now comfortable she sat cross-legged on the bed and scoffed up the cake swallowing it down with ice cold milk.
With a comfortable belly she stretched out and closed her eyes. The memory of the day drifted into her mind but was quickly forced out by thoughts of lying naked on a sun-warmed beach, alone.
The sound of voices screaming woke her but, where she couldn’t tell. What was so strange, the street where she lived was quiet and sedate, one reason her parents had bought the house.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she noticed she no longer was in the clothes she’d put on. Now she was wearing leather pants which felt butter soft against her skin and conformed to her svelte figure like a pair of fine gloves. Instead of the tank top now she had on a short-sleeved linen feeling shirt under a, she guessed from the feel, wool vest. On her feet were knee high leather boots in black and so shiny she could see her reflection in them.
Even more confused now than from the continued noise coming from downstairs she got up and stepped over to her full length mirror, except she had to step back to take in the full picture as she seemed to have gotten taller. What she saw reflected back was even more confusing. Where she’d once been a blonde now her hair was raven black and tied with a leather strap at her nape. Eyes formerly pale blue were now bright green and her skin pale no matter how much time she lay in the sun was now a warm tan. To add to her confusion, on the inside of her left forearm a tattoo of a stylized star with unusual makings.