Books published by publisher Unicorn Books

Running away leads right back home—or does it? Sarvet walks with a grinding limp, and her mountain culture keeps girls close to home. Worse, her mother emphasizes all the things Sarvet can't do. No matter how gutsy her spirit or bold her defiance, staying put means growing weaker. Yet only boys get wanderyars. Lacking their supplies and training, how can Sarvet escape? Can dreams—even big dreams—and inner certainty transform impossible barricades into a way out? Kaunis Clan Saga The Hammarleeding people dwell in the high mountain valleys of J.M. Ney-Grimm's North-lands. They wield a tribal magic born of dance and song and the flow of sacred waters. Ritual and tradition hold a special place in Hammarleeding culture. Their rites are beautiful and uplifting, but they underpin a way of life that features many thou-shalt-nots. In each story of the Kaunis Clan Saga, one woman—or one man—challenges the shibboleths that threaten her—or his—particular bright dream. Sarvet's Wanderyar (1) Crossing the Naiad (2) Livli's Gift (3) Winter Glory (4) Each installment presents a unique protagonist from a fresh generation of the family. The stories stand alone and need not be read in order. Praise for Sarvet's Wanderyar "...great introduction to the Hammarleeding's society that left me craving more. Sarvet is a wonderfully strong female character who you also meet again in Livli's Gift." — PCS, Amazon review "...it's an entrancing story with a character you care about, and desperately want to succeed... At first I saw Paiam as the clear antagonist, but I came to sympathize with her. This makes for a complex interaction between the two characters that rages almost completely in the subtext—very clever on Ney-Grimm's part, and very effective... On a side note, one of my favourite things about Ney-Grimm's work is her treatment of fantastical creatures...the pegasi seem ethereal...creatures of light and gauze that are somehow the most real things in the world." — James J. Parsons, Speaking to the Eyes review "J.M. Ney-Grimm has woven a beautiful, multi-layered tapestry... All the characters, human and otherwise, in her world are well-rounded and believable." — Barbara Karp, Readers' Favorite review Excerpt from Sarvet's Wanderyar Tense and furious, Sarvet shook her mother's angry grip from her forearm. "I'll petition the lodge-meet for filial severance," she snapped, and then wished she'd swallowed the words, so hateful, too hateful to speak. And yet she'd spoken them. The breeze swirling on the mountain slope picked up, nudging the springy branches of the three great pines at Sarvet's back and purring among their needles. Their scent infused the moving air. Paiam's narrowed eyes widened an instant—in hurt?—flicked up to encompass the swaying tree tops behind her daughter, then went flat. "You dare!" she breathed. "You're my daughter. Mine alone. And I'll see to it that you and every other mother in the lodge knows it too. You'll stay under my aegis till you're grown, young sister, even if I must declare you careless and remiss to do it!" Oh! Sarvet only thought she'd been mad before. "You never wanted me!" she accused. Was it true? Or was she just aiming for Paiam's greatest vulnerability, aiming to hurt? Because under her own rage lay . . . desperation. Something needed to change. She just didn't know what, didn't know how. And didn't want to be facing it right now, facing her mother right now.

This book is illustrated version of Fairy Tales Every Child Should Know. The fairy tale is a poetic recording of the facts of life, an interpretation by the imagination of its hard conditions, an effort to reconcile the spirit which loves freedom and goodness and beauty with its harsh, bare and disappointing conditions. It is, in its earliest form, a spontaneous and instinctive endeavor to shape the facts of the world to meet the needs of the imagination, the cravings of the heart. It involves a free, poetic dealing with realities in accordance with the law of mental growth; it is the naïve activity of the young imagination of the race, untrammelled by the necessity of rigid adherence to the fact.

In a time when there were damsels in distress to save, and mythical dragons to slay, King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table were there to render justice in the face of any danger. From the incredible wizardry of Merlin to the undeniable passion of Sir Launcelot, these tales of Arthur and his knights offer epic adventures with the supernatural, as well as timeless battles with our humanity.Keith Baine's splendid rendition of Le Morte d'Arthur faithfully preserves the original flavor of Malory's masterpiece - that of banners and bloodshed, knights and ladies, Christians and sorcerers, sentiment and savagery. It remains a vivid medieval tapestry, woven about a central figure who symbolizes the birth of an age of chivalry.

When young Fae awakens in a locked and deserted castle, she remembers nothing. Who she is, where she comes from, none of it. Beauty from all the ages graces the castle—medieval towers, renaissance columns, and gothic vaults—but underneath the loveliness a lurking evil stirs. Fae hates the loneliness and the sense of hidden malice oppressing her. Even more, she hates the feeling that just around some receding corner of lost memory lies the answer to her predicament—an answer just out of reach. An answer essential to surviving this castle's dangers—both subtle and not so subtle. Somewhere in her forgotten past lies the key. A mythic tale of family and betrayal told with all the twists and moments of sheer joy that J.M. Ney-Grimm brings to epic fantasy. PRAISE FOR CAUGHT IN AMBER “The writing is atmospheric and lyrical...we're in myth/folktale territory...an excellent thoughtful read. One that combines mundane necessities...with a sense of myth and mystery. Very few writers can pull that off. Ney-Grimm did.” —E F T “...a breath of fresh air in its originality.” —M. Pars EXCERPT FROM CAUGHT IN AMBER She'd been betrayed by someone she trusted. It felt awful. She snatched a pillow from the head of her bed and clutched it, muffling her mouth in its softness. Was she going to cry? No, she decided. She wasn't. She'd hold out for more information. There was so much that she didn't know. More she didn't know than she did know. And knowledge was the key out of her prison, she felt more and more sure. I'll go find out. I'll hunt down my answers. She paused before the mirror of her dressing table. Did she look like a girl who deserved to be betrayed? Thick dark hair pulled back in a simple braid. Gray eyes, slightly reddened, even though she had not cried. Pointed chin, a little wobbly. No, she didn't look like a girl who deserved betrayal. But she did look like a girl who wasn't getting enough to eat. Did she? Really? Chin a little pointier, cheeks a little thinner, eyes and temples a little stretched? Maybe. Or maybe not. She felt hollow inside, and scared. Which made her face look scared too. I'll figure something out. She'd figured out a lot already. I'm not giving up.

Freckles is a one-handed, plucky waif of an orphan, who has been raised since infancy in a Chicago orphanage and yet speaks with a powerful Irish accent. He applies for a job guarding timber in the swamp, and is accepted despite his youth and the disability of his having only one hand. He insists that the name given him in the orphanage "is no more my name than it is yours."

Ancient, cold, and perilous. Its truth forgotten in the mists of time, the old bridge harbors a lethal secret. Neither marble statues awakened for battle nor an ancient roadbed grown hungry, something darker and more primal haunts the stones and the wild river below. Kimmer knows the stories, but she doesn't know why the crumbling span feels so fraught with menace. Her way home lies across the ruin. Dare she take it? Or will horror from the lost past rise up to claim her, when she does? Kaunis Clan SagaThe Hammarleeding people dwell in the high mountain valleys of J.M. Ney-Grimm's North-lands. They wield a tribal magic born of dance and song and the flow of sacred waters.Ritual and tradition hold a special place in Hammarleeding culture. Their rites are beautiful and uplifting, but they underpin a way of life that features many thou-shalt-nots.In each story of the Kaunis Clan Saga, one woman—or one man—challenges the shibboleths that threaten her—or his—particular bright dream.Sarvet's Wanderyar (1)Crossing the Naiad (2)Livli's Gift (3)Winter Glory (4)Each installment presents a unique protagonist from a fresh generation of the family. The stories stand alone and need not be read in order.Praise for Crossing the Naiad"A quick, refreshing piece of literature. Like a cool sip of water after a grueling endurance marathon . . . It's swift and concise, but the prose is eloquent and deft, to the point, yet gracefully articulate . . . again I am enthralled with the completeness of the picture the author is painting. The world comes to life . . ." —Tyler Shiers, Goodreads review Praise for J.M. Ney-Grimm "...the world depicted is magical, but the people are very real." —Mary Anna Dunn, Smashwords review of Troll-magic "...left me craving more." —Paty Saternye, Amazon review of Sarvet's Wanderyar "She has an ethereal sort of quality to her writing which is extremely effective-all the more so because I can't pin down exactly why. It's almost mystical. This ephemeral tone is what sets her work apart from anything else I've read-it's absolutely unique, and absolutely engaging." —James J. Parsons, Speaking to the Eyes review of Perilous Chance "Her work compares favorably with Robin McKinley and Patricia McKillip ...I'm really pleased to have discovered her!" —Mira, Amazon review of Troll-magic Excerpt from Crossing the NaiadShe stood looking across the bridge, feeling the cool breeze and . . . something wrong.The bridge was old—the leached stones worn by weather and time, a structure of ancient Silmaren.But that wasn't it.Something—sinister?—rose from its broken paving. A miasma of despair and defeat that had nothing to do with its gap-toothed balustrade, the holes in its surface giving wide views of the forested ravine and fast river below, or the crumbling statue of a toga-draped maiden from the past ages of the world.Kimmer hesitated.The new bridge, upstream and crossing low to the water rather than high from one steep brink to the other, was flooded and unsafe.Oga and Chedli and Deas—the goats—had balked. Likely they knew, and . . . only a fool would risk a span immersed in a swift current.But she had to get home somehow.

Secrets, like troubles, come in threes. When you possess one of either, two more arrive to keep it company.Nerine, a sea nymph of the ancient world, knows too much about both.Each morning, in the chill before the sun’s rising, Nerine and the three Fates stand under the mighty branches of the World Tree, gazing into the depths of the root-girdled Well of Destiny, watching the dooms that must come to pass that day.When the dawn’s visions show Nerine’s lover—shipwrecked and drowning—all her renounced yearning for him rises anew.Surely, as handmaiden to the Fates themselves, she might tilt the odds to give her beloved a chance.Somehow—this day, this morning, this time—Nerine must subvert destiny or lose the companion of her heart forever.Love and coming of age in a mythic Mediterranean where the gods and goddesses of old shape history.EXCERPT FROM FATE'S DOORNerine served all three norns as handmaiden. And Nerine would choose the new materials required for this day's weaving. She would need pale peach for the baby born to a king, blood red for a battle between Sparta and Athens, gold for a hero's bright deed. And if she failed to watch the images unfolding in the Well of Destiny, she would not know the other threads to choose for the day's work. She had to know. So Nerine watched, but her heart ached, and memories from her past overlaid the flowing images on the waters of the well. Altairos as a curly black-haired boy, laughing, his eyes crinkling in that way that only he had. Altairos as a gangly youth, earnest and passionate, reciting poetry to her. Altairos as a young man, strong and sure, pressing a first kiss upon her willing lips. Who but she would lay out the symbols of his death? She, the handmaiden of the fates. She couldn't bear it—to lose him so.

William Butler Yeats was an Irish poet and dramatist. As one of the foremost figures of 20th century literature, he was a pillar of both the Irish and British literary establishments. He was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival, and along with Lady Gregory and Edward Martyn founded the Abbey Theatre, serving as its chief during its early years. In 1923 he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for what the Nobel Committee described as "inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation."