Winter Princess – Daughter of Winter Book 1 by Skye MacKinnon

Winter Princess
Daughter of Winter Book 1
USA Today Bestselling Author
Skye MacKinnon


One sassy demi-goddess.
Four hot Guardians.
And a few evil people.

As a demi-goddess, Wyn has always stood out from the human crowd. And now, on her 22nd birthday, her magic finally surfaces with a bang. A Big bang. She’ll need the help of not one, but four (sexy) guardians to control her destructive powers. If only they weren’t so distracting…

Her mother, the Winter Queen, waits for Wyn in the Realms of Gods, but there are enemies who will try and prevent her from ever reaching the Realms, even if that means going to war.

Will Wyn be able to survive the journey? And if she does, can she resist falling for her Guardians?

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Nobody warned Wyn that her powers could come on line suddenly and erratically. She knew there would be changes but this seriously sucked. Lacking any control it is a wild and painful start to her birthday.

As things are literally burning around her she meets her guardians and finds out that her ‘human’ mother had a letter from her birth mother. This leads to anger and another flare.

This is a favorite scene.

“How many flares has she been through?” A man’s voice, unfamiliar.

“Flares?” my father asks.

“The ice was one, the fire another. Did anything else happen before that?”

“Oh yes, she destroyed her kitchen. Made things fly.”

“Air, fire, ice. Shouldn’t be many more then.”

What? More of this stuff is going to happen to me? I can’t go through this, not again. I’m exhausted and fainting once was enough. I just want to go back to bed, forget about all this and be normal. Not human normal, I’ll never be that. Demi-god normal.

When I’m all warm again, the mild air around me disappears. I open my eyes. The four men are standing in a row, watching me. One of them, with long black hair and a black cloak – yes, a wizard kind of cloak – is lowering his arms. He’s looking exhausted. Tendrils of magic are slowly pulling back into his hands, taking the warmth of the air with them.

Not every mage can see magic; in fact, I only know of two others.

I give him a small smile. “Thank you.”

He nods and gives me a small bow. Not a smile though.

“Storm. At your service.” “Storm? Is that your name?” I ask, a little confused. “Yes, is something wrong with that? Your name is Wynter, isn’t it?” He gives me an annoyed look. Oops, I upset the guy who just helped me.

“Yeah,” I mutter. Don’t remind me. I know every Wynter-winter joke there is.


“He’s playing with you, lass,” the largest of them laughs. He must have giant blood in him. His hair is as ginger as it gets, and he is wearing – please believe me – a kilt. I mean, yes, I live in Scotland and people here wear kilts occasionally, but that’s at weddings or festivals, and not in everyday life. A beautiful white sporran is hanging right over where his – anyways, he looks like a Scottish caricature. Except better looking. A lot better looking.

“I’m Arc. And over there are Frost and Crispin.” He points to the other two guys who’ve been quiet so far. One of them is the blond man with the blue eyes. The other, Frost, is the spitting image of Storm: black hair that falls to his shoulders, dark brown eyes, tall. Kudos to the parents who named their twin sons Storm and Frost.

“Hello,” Frost says, smiling at me. While his brother is gorgeous and serious, he’s gorgeous and friendly. Dimples are adorning his cheeks. I shoot a quick glance at Storm. Nope, no dimples there. I guess this will be the way to tell them apart. And the fact that Frost is wearing normal clothes, not looking like someone straight out of Hogwarts.

My mother rips me out of my men-admiring thoughts. “Are you alright, sweetie? What happened?” She pushes past the four men and wraps me in her arms. She’s a slender woman, but her grip is strong. “When Beira wrote that you were going to—”

“What? She wrote to you?” I interrupt her.

“Yes, a few weeks ago. She—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Anger is rising up in me and I clench my fists. She knew! She knew and she didn’t warn me. I could have prepared, I could have stayed away. I almost hurt her. I almost died. The house was burning. Anger is overtaking me, and suddenly I start shaking. And with me, the ground.

I can see the people around me fighting to stay upright, but I have no such problems. The ground is holding me up, stabilising me, giving me strength, while I do its bidding. It has wanted to move for so long and now it has finally found an outlet. I can feel the pain of the earth where houses are burrowing deep into its skin. They shouldn’t be there. It’s not right.

I raise my arms and gather as much of the earth’s power as I can hold. And then I let it free. The ground shakes violently and deep cuts open up in the tarmac. I only half notice the screaming around me. I am strong, and I need to make things right. I point to one house, and it crumbles like a giant just stepped on it. Its walls collapse and roof tiles cover the rubble like sprinkles on a cake. It feels good. I adjust my stance on the trembling ground and draw more energy into myself. There is so much magic in the earth, so much power. It’s been waiting for a long time for someone to use it. I point my arms to another house and it leans to one side, aching, shivering, until it collapses, burying half the garden under it. I laugh. It looks so pretty.

Something touches me and with a simple flick of my wrist, I repel them. I’m busy, no one will get in my way. Another touch, this time from the other side. Again, I move my hand to make them fly away, but before I can do so, my arms are captured and pressed to my side. The magic I had ready to flow to one side bursts out of me into the ground. This time, I don’t stay on my feet. I fall, hitting my knees on the broken asphalt. Magic is still flowing out of me, shaking the earth. It hurts. The gentle embrace of magic turns into a white-hot stream that uses my body as its conduit. I’m just a tool for it. A channel. It betrayed me. I scream and beat my hands against the ground. With everything I’ve got, I expel all the magic within me.

The ground shakes one last time, then it stills. My vision goes black and I sink backwards, into the warm waiting arms of my guardians.
Skye MacKinnon. Kilts and Kisses (Kindle Locations 335-376). Peryton Press.

The Guardians need to get her to her birth mother. This is no easy task what with magic flares. Traveling to the nearest gate to the realm, is fraught with challenges including an attempted kidnapping.

We meet lots of interesting characters in this book, including some reformed demons.

Lots of action, humor, tears and some sizzle.

5 Contented Purrs for Skye!

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Skye MacKinnon

Skye MacKinnon is a USA Today & International Bestselling Author whose books are filled with strong heroines who don’t have to choose.

She embraces her Scottishness with fantastical Scottish settings and a dash of mythology, no matter if she’s writing about Celtic gods, cat shifters, or the streets of Edinburgh.

When she’s not typing away at her favourite cafe, Skye loves dried mango, as much exotic tea as she can squeeze into her cupboards, and being covered in pet hair by her two bunnies, Emma and Darwin.

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