She says that her first novel was born out of a profound love of medieval history, but I fear that what she really loves is historical romance, fantasy, and bodice-rippery.

For he holds, that there is a certain virulent anodyne Quality in extravenated Blood, or in some such Matter, which makes the Kidney forget its Office of separating the forum and so sends it back to the Belly.

Joyous, th' impatient huſbandman perceives / Relenting Nature, and his luſty ſteers / Drives from their ſtalls, to where the well-us'd plough / Lies in the furrow, looſened from the froſt. / There, unrefuſing, to the harneſs'd yoke / They lend their ſhoulder, and begin their toil, / Chear'd by the ſimple ſong and ſoaring lark.

Out inside the works of some neurotic Bavarian cuckoo clock of a village, were-elves streaking in out of the forests at night to leave subversive handbills at door and window ...