At long last, I am so excited to share with you the sixth book in my series, The Stag at Hand. We pick up the story about a thousand years after The War and the Petrichor ended. And I can't wait for you to meet all the new faces. So without further ado, I present: The Stag at Hand, Prologue One Thousand and One Years after the Great War Bound by the sea For all eternity Leviathan awaits her destiny. By fire and flame She sets the world ablaze For the coming of the new age. “Get your nose out
I think some of you are going to be a bit taken aback by this next book. There are reasons for that, namely that the content is a lot darker, the subject matter is a lot heavier, and the imagery is a bit bleaker. No, I'm not going through an existential crisis that I projected onto these pages. The truth is, I pushed myself to write something more honest than I've ever written. I took off some of the dampers I had self-inflicted and allowed myself to explore some of the darkest themes I have personally faced. Abuse. Neglect. Fear.
I’ve been waiting with bated breath to announce this. It’s been a long time coming... This summer, I’m FINALLY releasing my books in hardback!!! And in case you can’t tell, I’ve updated the artwork!!!! I am in LOVE with this style. It’s my own hybrid of a few things: Victorian book covers, dark whimsy, and of course, fairy tales. So many of you amazing folks have asked for this. I am thrilled to say they’ll be coming your way soon. And yes, I’ll release the paperbacks with this new art, too. Stay tuned for a release date!
I've been writing this series for more than five years now. And this book is the culmination of Ferryl and Adelaide's story. While it's not the end of the series, it is the end of this particular storyline. And it feels surreal to be releasing it into the world. Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I hope you love this book as much as I do. The War and the Petrichor The Chalam Færytales Book V Get it Here
Dear Mom, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. Sex has never been a comfortable topic for me. Partly because of my upbringing, and partly because of my faith, sex has been, for the majority of my life, somewhat of a taboo. Even after marriage, there were aspects of my sexuality that I could not bring myself to terms with (because God forbid a woman should not only enjoy it but... you know... want it). But here I am, writing this, knowing that people I know will read it. Knowing my MOM will read it (good lord in heaven). Maybe even
Notice: Contains adult language and thematic violence. Reader discretion advised. Chapter I The attacks always happened in the open air—the wind in her face, the skies clear and cool, and she a target, a beacon. A fool. She banked left hard, dodging a branch as she made for the cover under the canopy. She flew as hard as her wings could carry her, not daring to risk the time it might cost her just to look over her shoulder, to see how close they were. The forest stretched before her—a maze of shadow and moonlight, flora and rot. She could
I thought I'd try something new. A way to share with you my WIPs without giving away spoilers or plot points. So I'm calling this "Non Sequiturs." A place in which I share with you random bits from current projects for you to get a sample of raw, unedited manuscripts, whilst simultaneously peering behind the curtain of what it's like to write a novel. So today, I bring you this Non Sequitur, lovingly entitled: You Would Have Made A Fine Grand Duke. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! “It’s a pity you were not born male,” Ezra said.
Chapter V "Where is she?” the king asked Michael. After sharing the news with his friends and taking a few moments to let them reel, he had asked Michael to call a council meeting so he could meet with the people who helped run this kingdom. To tell them that damning truth, too. “She said she would be here,” Michael responded, standing shoulder to shoulder with Ferryl. The king’s council room buzzed with advisors—lords and dukes from around the kingdom who had been granted lands, powers, and a place on the council in exchange for loyalty to the throne. In
Chapter IV The carriage bumped and jolted down the gravel drive, but Adelaide’s hand rested firmly in her husband’s. The dreary clouds hung low, a blanket of gray over the city of Benalle, casting silvery light through the window and onto Ferryl’s unruly locks. The castle loomed before them, great white stone halls flanked by towering turrets that looked as if they staked the castle to the edge of the cliffs. The black-and-white flag of Navah flew proudly at each corner of the castle, greeting Ferryl’s return. Hailing the return of the king. And the queen they did not know
Chapter III General Titus Melamed made his way down the busy streets of the little village near his home. Cobblestones and dirt combined to make a mess of the roads during the wet, cold winter that had settled in northern Midvar. He passed by the apothecary he had visited frequently in the last few weeks, procuring tonics for his wife’s aches and pains. All part of a normal pregnancy, she had promised. He prayed to the gods every day that it was true. But today was not for a trek to the apothecary. Today, he had a very different but
Chapter II The room was dark. Too dark for the middle of the day. Michael walked gingerly down the small hall that spilled into the sitting room before him. The windows that boasted views of the hazelnut forest beyond the castle were hidden behind thick velvet curtains, allowing not a single ray of sunlight to penetrate the space. Instead, ghostly orbs of candlelight hovered in the room like the souls of the dead. A candle on a table. A single candle by the chair. Hardly enough light to see the next step in front of him. But Michael walked on.
Chapter I The snow bit through his gloves, burning his trembling knuckles as they ground into the white expanse. His breath came in gusts, puffing clouds around his beloved’s face as she lay trembling beneath him. He kept his head low, below the fray, his body covering hers as best he could as arrow after arrow whizzed over them. The last one had been too close for comfort, the dribble of blood on her cheek already drying on her skin. “Through the trees!” “Don’t let them get away!” The Haravellian soldiers shouted their commands as the king and queen of
My Interview with Voyage Dallas Recently, I had the privilege of being interviewed by Voyage Dallas Magazine, a local magazine dedicated to the entrepreneurs and visionaries in the Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas, metroplex. In the article, you'll learn a little bit about my journey from musician to author to publisher, and what's in store for the future! Check out the article below! [av_button label='Voyage Dallas Interview' link='manually,http://voyagedallas.com/interview/mee-morgan-g-farris-granbury-texas/?fbclid=IwAR3daI800SuZ_fqBdH9vm7QKIugAZCMed_E4TD77t1EfjhET4QFnntORO7c' link_target='_blank' size='x-large' position='center' label_display='' icon_select='no' icon='ue800' font='entypo-fontello' color='theme-color' custom_bg='#444444' custom_font='#ffffff' av_uid='av-2fb3e0' admin_preview_bg='']
I want to inspire you today. I hear this a lot: "Gosh, Morgan, is there anything you can't do?" And I cringe when I hear it, to be honest, because DEAR SWEET JESUS, YES THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS I CANNOT DO. Just the other night, I went to play Top Golf with my friends and, well, let's just say I proved my ineptitude for anything remotely athletic. I'm a spaz, to be quite honest. While God may have gifted me in the artistic arena, he definitely did not see fit to bestow even an iota of coordination into
What I've learned, what I'm changing, and what to expect for 2019 » When I look back on this year, I have to admit that it has been full of surprises—some good, some not so good. As most of you know, my first novel was released into the world in January of this year, with the second following in October. It has been a whirlwind of learning curves and exciting moments (like when book two became a number one new release on Amazon), but all in all, I have enjoyed every minute of my first year in publishing, and I'm
Shallow art does not equal good theology. Let me say that again. Shallow art does not equal good theology. If art isn't authentic to the human experience, it's not art. There. I said it. *breathes* This topic can be...touchy, to say the least. For Christians, anyway. I think we're scared... I've avoided it, to be honest. I thought to myself, "If someone brings it up, then talk about it. But don't open that Pandora's Box. It's not worth it." People have brought it up in my inner circle. But I can tell that they, like me, weren't sure what to
Chapter III Duchess Delaney Dupree stood before the edge of the gardens at Benalle Palace—before the edge of the world, it seemed—letting the ocean winds whip her hair around her face, letting the endless waters, the pounding waves soothe as the dawn approached. The cliff-side garden nestled in the heart of the bow-shaped castle had become a favorite retreat. To escape. To think. No one really visited it much either, which she didn’t understand, considering the breathtaking views and lush flora. But while she would never understand the ignorance of such beauty by the court at Benalle, nor did she
Chapter II It was by a feather-light touch that he had awoken. Like a flutter of wings against his cheek, the intoxicating scent of lavender whirling about him as he opened his eyes and understood it hadn’t been a dream. She was alive. Elizabeth was alive. And she had kissed him good morning from the place where she had slept beside him. His back barked in protest as he shifted from his seated position on the floor of her cottage, feeling as if he had been thoroughly beaten from where the settee had apparently dug in all night. Prince Ferryl
Chapter I Present Day Something like a tidal wave of relief washed over General Titus Melamed, retired Commander of the Navarian armies, as he crested the rolling hills that surrounded his land. His home. It had been a grueling journey across the plains that separated Navah from the north of Midvar. A month of dingy inns and sleepless nights. A month of bread too dry and wine too sour. A month of nothing on his mind but starting over. His horse crested the last hill that separated the wilderness from his land—the land he had inherited at the too-young age
Prologue Fifteen Years Ago Myron was late. Damned late. And these godsforsaken mountains were freezing, even though it was spring. The snow had melted for the most part, but patches of it remained scattered across the mountain, leaving the loamy forest floor a patchwork of soggy grass, crumbling dirt, and dirty snow. Titus rubbed his hands together, clinging to the paltry heat that the friction caused, the kidskin gloves a pathetic ward against this icy wintry air. Dark. It was so dark that it was hard to see much more than the hands in front of his face. And he