The Wind Whisperer by Krista Holle
Genre: Young Adult Fiction (Historical/Paranormal Romance)
Date Published: October 2013Publisher: Sweet River Romance
At fifteen, Anaii is the most important member of her tribe—and the most mysterious. Ever since Anaii can remember, the spirits of the wind have whispered of fertile hunting grounds and imminent enemy attacks. But when her people are ambushed by a brother clan without any apparent cause, the spirits remain eerily silent.
As the village prepares to retaliate, Anaii is pressured by her best friend, Elan, to marry him. It’s an old plea—Elan has spent a lifetime loving her, but Anaii only sees a childhood playmate out of an imposing warrior. Stifled by Elan’s insistence, Anaii escapes into the forest where she meets Jayttin, the beautiful son of the enemy chief.
Enamored by Jayttin’s carefree spirit and hope for peace, she repeatedly sneaks away to be with him, but when her deception is discovered, Elan is devastated. Pledging his lifelong affection, Elan gives her a passionate kiss, and Anaii begins to see her friend in a new light.
While Anaii is tormented over which man she must choose, the wind whispers of a new threat that could destroy both tribes. Only a union will afford a chance at survival, but the reality of that union is based on one thing—which man Anaii chooses to die.
The Wind Whisperer by Krista Holle was an incredible story of first love, second love, growing up, and responsibility. I guess you could call it a coming of age story, because it pretty much is, but it's a lot more too. You have the Native American tribe setting with their superstitions and rivalries. There was a fun paranormal element. Then you have Anaii who's stuck in the middle because of her gift. I loved the wind whispering. She could be talking to someone and the wind will start whispering something to her. Sometimes it was of importance while other times it was something random that was going on. They made me giggle. What a fun gift to have. the love triangle was put together exceptionally well. I really couldn't decide who to root for. Elan and Jayttin were both wonderful characters. They both would have been great for Anaii. I grew attached to both of them.
This story can appeal to such a wide variety of readers. Whether you're a fan of Historical or Paranormal fiction with a good dose of suspense and romance, you are sure to enjoy the Wind Whisperer.
The Wind Whisperer by Krista Holle was kindly provided to me by Dark World Books for review. The opinions are my own.
In 2004, Krista began an intensive four year period working part-time as a critical care nurse while homeschooling her four children. During this hectic time, courses of writing were taught and learned, and rules of syntax were scolded to memory. Ironically this period of study equipped Krista with the tools she needed to enter the next phase of her writing experience. Now equipped with the mysteries of the comma, Krista was ready to tackle a much bigger project—a full fledged novel.
After the kids were enrolled in public school in 2009, it occurred to Krista that there is an insatiable audience of women and girls who want to read books filled with stories about true love. Convinced that there was an unfulfilled audience waiting for what Krista loves to write—romance, she sat down in the family’s dungeon, a.k.a. the basement, and began to furiously type. In no time, her first novel was drying on crisp white paper.
Krista currently resides in Midlothian, Virginia with her husband, four daughters, and an eccentric cat with an attachment to the family’s socks. She continues to write obsessively every chance she can get.
To learn more about Krista Holle and her books, visit her blog.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.
Check out my interview with Krista Holle and a review of The Lure of Shapinsay!
This story can appeal to such a wide variety of readers. Whether you're a fan of Historical or Paranormal fiction with a good dose of suspense and romance, you are sure to enjoy the Wind Whisperer.
I looked around cautiously before freezing at the sketchy outline of a muscular man partially hidden in the grass. A man! He was sprawled on his back and golden pink from too many hours in the sun. My heart pounded to see the unfamiliar pattern of a deer on his breechcloth. I had marched myself directly into the reach of a Zennite warrior!
I gingerly took a step backwards, but to my horror, the man’s black eyes fluttered open. I turned and hurled myself back across the meadow, just as the man shot up and flew after me like a predatory bird. My muscles burned and strained to lengthen the space between us, but getting away was hopeless. I was not a challenge to even the young boys in the foot races.
After a few powerful strides, the warrior tackled me to the ground, painfully grazing the skin on my cheek. I wheezed a few times before my lungs filled with air.
“A Chippoke?” he asked between breaths.
I feverishly punched and kicked to free myself. “Get—off—me!”
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” the warrior chuckled as he struggled to pin my arms and legs. His voice was calm and pleasant, but lying was no different than breathing to a Zennite.
“I cannot promise the same,” I wheezed as I fought.
“You’re a bobcat,” he said with a laugh. “A bobcat with no teeth or claws.”
“Let me go!”
“I will when you’re calm.”
Strong hands held my wrists while his full weight pinned my torso against the earth. Fighting him was as useless as running. “You are not a boy,” I spat angrily, fully taking in my attacker. It was little comfort that he didn’t look like a bloodthirsty killer. He was admittedly handsome with an angular face and sleek black hair that hung well past his shoulders. He was not as tall as Elan, but his muscles were narrow and built for speed. There was something different about his eyes too. They were as black as soot—very unlike the brown woodsy colors from our tribe.
The warrior smirked down at me. “My mother will be very surprised to hear that. All this time she’s assumed…”
My face heated, but I fiercely met his gaze. The Zenni were like wild dogs and pumas—they could smell emotions. “What I meant was, you are a man, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see, but you must understand, I’m not a man yet.”
“You must understand I’m a squirrel! Get off! You’re hurting me!” I ordered with a useless heave.
“No,” he said with a smirk.
It was then I realized I might die—right after I was lulled into a false sense of security. My chest pounded as I searched for the killer’s weapon. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I do not feel like killing you just yet,” he said as his long hair swirled in my face. Were we to play a game before he killed me?
“I am glad the mood doesn’t strike you,” I snarled. The warrior studied me with a drawn brow. Was he guessing that I was the forest witch? I didn’t think I looked like a witch, but I wasn’t certain what one should look like—evil at least.
“I don’t understand something,” the warrior said. “Your eyes are blue—the blue of an angry sky.
Are you the daughter of a god?”
“Yes,” I said, heaving against his weight again. “Now get off me, or my father Achak will strike you dead with lightening.”
I gingerly took a step backwards, but to my horror, the man’s black eyes fluttered open. I turned and hurled myself back across the meadow, just as the man shot up and flew after me like a predatory bird. My muscles burned and strained to lengthen the space between us, but getting away was hopeless. I was not a challenge to even the young boys in the foot races.
After a few powerful strides, the warrior tackled me to the ground, painfully grazing the skin on my cheek. I wheezed a few times before my lungs filled with air.
“A Chippoke?” he asked between breaths.
I feverishly punched and kicked to free myself. “Get—off—me!”
“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you,” the warrior chuckled as he struggled to pin my arms and legs. His voice was calm and pleasant, but lying was no different than breathing to a Zennite.
“I cannot promise the same,” I wheezed as I fought.
“You’re a bobcat,” he said with a laugh. “A bobcat with no teeth or claws.”
“Let me go!”
“I will when you’re calm.”
Strong hands held my wrists while his full weight pinned my torso against the earth. Fighting him was as useless as running. “You are not a boy,” I spat angrily, fully taking in my attacker. It was little comfort that he didn’t look like a bloodthirsty killer. He was admittedly handsome with an angular face and sleek black hair that hung well past his shoulders. He was not as tall as Elan, but his muscles were narrow and built for speed. There was something different about his eyes too. They were as black as soot—very unlike the brown woodsy colors from our tribe.
The warrior smirked down at me. “My mother will be very surprised to hear that. All this time she’s assumed…”
My face heated, but I fiercely met his gaze. The Zenni were like wild dogs and pumas—they could smell emotions. “What I meant was, you are a man, not a boy.”
“Oh, I see, but you must understand, I’m not a man yet.”
“You must understand I’m a squirrel! Get off! You’re hurting me!” I ordered with a useless heave.
“No,” he said with a smirk.
It was then I realized I might die—right after I was lulled into a false sense of security. My chest pounded as I searched for the killer’s weapon. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I do not feel like killing you just yet,” he said as his long hair swirled in my face. Were we to play a game before he killed me?
“I am glad the mood doesn’t strike you,” I snarled. The warrior studied me with a drawn brow. Was he guessing that I was the forest witch? I didn’t think I looked like a witch, but I wasn’t certain what one should look like—evil at least.
“I don’t understand something,” the warrior said. “Your eyes are blue—the blue of an angry sky.
Are you the daughter of a god?”
“Yes,” I said, heaving against his weight again. “Now get off me, or my father Achak will strike you dead with lightening.”
Top 5 Things that Inspire Me the Most
Writers find inspiration from everywhere. Monticello is one of my favorite places in the world
to visit. It wasn’t long after one of my visits to Thomas Jefferson’s home when I began writing a century romance between a slave and the plantation’s new mistress. Once I was inspired by a walk through my neighborhood. It was dark outside and I inadvertently “voyered” a handsome
young father snuggling a baby against his chest. This tender scene made my brain buzz with ideas. There are many things that influence who I am as a writer but I made a list of five things that influence me the most.
1. Romance: I really don’t care for the traditional romance novel that centers around heaving chests, corsets, and dukes. Can you say cheesy? What really inspires me is a good love story. If a story doesn’t have at least some element of a love story in it, I’m probably not interested in reading it. This translates heavily into my writing.
2. Magic: I love all things paranormal. Can anyone of us explain why we love super powers, vampires, and ghosts? Adding magic to a story really opens up a whole new world and cancels out all rules. I find that paranormal stories are so much more unpredictable—and refreshing.
3. Fairy Tales: When I was in middle school and the other girls were gobbling up Judy Blume novels, I was scouring the library for fairy tales from around the world. Fairy tales are a part of me. They are 50% magic and 50% romance—at least most of them. Although I don’t write fairy tales, I still strive for my stories to have a fairy tale feel about them.
4. Other Writers: Many writers inspire me. I love Tracy Chevalier, Shannon Hale, and Cynthia Voigt. Each of these women have a writing trait I love, but the writer that has influenced my writing style the most is Stephanie Meyer. When you read a Stephanie Meyer’s novel (The Host & Twilight) you step into the shoes of the protagonist. “Becoming the main character” is a vital element in a story that is emotionally driven.
5. History: We’ve all been to McDonalds and struggled through an Algebra exam. There’s no mystery in the 21st comfort food, but for me everyday life is a bit mundane. This is why I’m more attracted to stories with a historical or foreign setting. These types of stories have more color to me. When you pick up a Krista Holle novel, it most likely will give you a glimpse of another place and time. century. For some people contemporary reads are.
In 2004, Krista began an intensive four year period working part-time as a critical care nurse while homeschooling her four children. During this hectic time, courses of writing were taught and learned, and rules of syntax were scolded to memory. Ironically this period of study equipped Krista with the tools she needed to enter the next phase of her writing experience. Now equipped with the mysteries of the comma, Krista was ready to tackle a much bigger project—a full fledged novel.After the kids were enrolled in public school in 2009, it occurred to Krista that there is an insatiable audience of women and girls who want to read books filled with stories about true love. Convinced that there was an unfulfilled audience waiting for what Krista loves to write—romance, she sat down in the family’s dungeon, a.k.a. the basement, and began to furiously type. In no time, her first novel was drying on crisp white paper.
Krista currently resides in Midlothian, Virginia with her husband, four daughters, and an eccentric cat with an attachment to the family’s socks. She continues to write obsessively every chance she can get.
To learn more about Krista Holle and her books, visit her blog.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, and Twitter.
Check out my interview with Krista Holle and a review of The Lure of Shapinsay!
Great guest post! I love magic too. :) I have been hearing awesome things about The Wind Whisperer. Best of luck to Krista.
ReplyDelete~Jess