Cindy Lynn Speer loves books and the written word, and has spent much of her life involved in them in some way, from working as a librarian to freelancing as an editor. She’s also written several book reviews and articles. This is the part that she usually attempts to be clever, saying something like “When not chained to the computer or reading she can be found doing something else, usually something exciting and mysterious.” Sadly, this would be fantasy, and she likes saving that for her readers. Her first book, Blue Moon, was published by Zumaya. If you want to find out more about her, please visit her website.

Tasmin, William’s wife to be, was chosen by a spell, as all wives and husbands are chosen. It’s a nice, tidy way to find a reasonable mate for almost everyone. Unfortunately, Tasmin is from the North, a place of magic and strange ritual, and William is from the South, where people pride themselves on being above the kind of insanity practiced by the Northerners, which has nothing to do with the fact that most people in the South have lost their ability to practice magic.

William doesn’t seem in a hurry to send for Tasmin, for which none of his family blame him. After all, she’s a barbarian. She, on the other hand, would like to know what’s keeping him. When he’s framed for murdering his patron, Tasmin takes matters into her own hands, harnessing the wind to bring her to William’s side. She’s gotten to know Wiliam from his letters. He’s not a murderer and she’s going to help him prove it.

William, incarcerated for a crime he didn’t commit is shunned by his family for the embarrassment, and for giving up the family shipping business for foolishness, and for saddling them with a Hag for a wife, which means he can’t protect Tasmin from his family’s cold dislike of his barbiaran wife-to-be–but that’s not the worst of it.

Someone out there doesn’t like him and is beginning to dislike Tasmin almost as much, and that someone isn’t at all averse to making sure William and Tasmin aren’t around long enough to celebrate their wedding.

Tasmin, of course, has other plans.

The stories in StereoOption are fairy tales in split vision because they’re not, not quite, the fairy tales of childhood, but they evoke that same sense of wonder. A handful are re-imaginings of old favorites, such as David Sklar’s Little Red Riding Hood, “Red ’Hood”, which could have happened—be happening—in any major city today; C. S. Inman’s lyrical Beauty and the Beast, “The Castle of Masks”; Cindy Lynn Speer’s regency-flavored Bluebeard, “A Necklace of Rubies”; and Imogen Howson’s futuristic “Falling”, a retelling of Rapunzel.

Some of these stories are entirely new but still tell us tales we know in our heart of hearts. In “Dream-Drinker,” Heather Ingemar’s Isabele must rise to a frightening occasion and be the heroine she never dreamed she could be. In “Flame in the Night Regions,” J. A. Howe’s heroine fights to give the woman she loves exactly what she wants. Which, you know, in fairy tales never ends as well as one might like. Bree Donovan takes us to a thoroughly modern Ireland for a tale of a kind of green knight, a man who uncovers the best in everyone he meets.

An unmarried girl of little means has nothing to offer a wealthy, powerful king. Nothing but her heart—until a kind fairy grants a wish that makes her irresistible to every man on earth.

But such a gift comes with a cost. And love is a very high price to pay…