Sandra Cox's Blog, page 288

Beach Wedding

The wedding went perfectly. The weather was balmy. A light wind blew. The music was  furnished by the surf. It was a small group only family and friends. A notary republic performed a short but poignant ceremony. The simplicity and beauty made it one of the best  I've ever attended.
It's not their first marriage, but I have no doubts it will be their last.

   The happy couple
The fam~*~ I am Love
Some say I can fly on the wind, yet I haven’t any wings. Some have found me flowing on the open sea, yet I cannot swim. Some have felt my warmth on cold nights, yet I have no flame.  And though you cannot see me, I lay between two lovers at the hearth of fireplaces. I am the twinkle in your child’s eyes. I am hidden in the lines of your mother’s face. I am your father’s shield as he guards your home. And yet….Some say I am stronger than steel, yet I am as fragile as a tear. Some have never searched for me, yet I am around them always. Some say I die with loss, yet I am endless. And though you cannot hear me, I dance on the laughter of children. I am woven into the whispers of passion. I am in the blessings of Grandmothers. I embrace the cries of newborn babies. And yet….Some say I am a flower, yet I am also the seed. Some have little faith in me, yet I will always believe in them. Some say I cannot cure the ill, yet I nourish the soul. And though you cannot touch me, I am the gentle hand of the kind. I am the fingertips that caress your cheek at night. I am the hug of a child.I am love.
Author Unknown

In The Shadow of War

Ever read the popular comic strip Beetle Baileyabout the antics of a soldier stationed at Camp Swampy? Mort Walker didn’t just dream up a mythical Army post – he based it on his time stationed at the “real” Camp Swampy, a World War II training camp in the wilds of southern Missouri called Camp Crowder. These days, not much remains of the original Camp Crowder or the short-lived Fort Crowder years but there’s still a National Guard base on site, still called Camp Crowder. A few of the original barracks buildings are still there too. Since I happen to live in Neosho, where Camp Crowder is located, I’ve long been intrigued with the history. As one older resident, now deceased, once told me, life changed forever in this small sleepy town when the Army arrived. “It was night and day,” Mr. Harold Welcher told me, “night and day.”

My new Rebel Ink Press release, In The Shadow of War, is set during World War II. I think the blurb explains what the story is about so here it is:

Blurb:
Her great-granddaughter wants to know if Bette remembers World War II for a school project and her questions revive old memories….

Small town school teacher Bette Sullivan's life was interrupted when the Japanese bomb Pearl Harbor on December 7th 1941 but her world changed forever when she met Private Benny Levy, a soldier from the Flatbush neighborhood in Brooklyn, New York stationed at Camp Crowder, the local Army base.

Their attraction is immediate and mutual but as their relationship grows their love and lives are shadowed by World War II. As the future looms uncertain the couple comes together with almost desperate need and a powerful love they hope can weather anything, including the war.

It’s my first full length historical romance but so far, a lot of important (well, to me, anyway) people tell me they think I’ve hit on something, a genre which works for me. Since I earned a dual BA degree in History and English, it may be so. I hope it is – because my second full length historical romance, Guy’s Angel debuts on June 3 from Rebel Ink Press.

Here’s a little excerpt from In The Shadow of War:
This soldier sported a neat snub nose and a strong chin. When he turned as if he sensed her gaze, Bette noted his slender gold-rimmed eyeglasses. Behind the specs, his beautiful grey eyes were framed with black lashes. His slender lips curved in a half-smile and a blush heated her cheeks as she glanced away. If she read his expression right, he liked her admiration. When she fumbled the next response, Aunt Virgie glared at her so she tried to pay more attention, but after Mass she tried to get outside to see if the soldier lingered. She saw him as soon as they exited the church, but he stood in the center of a group of other Army men, smoking.

Bette watched him while her aunt chattered. The more she saw, the more she liked. He stood with a Lucky clinging to his lip, his stance more cocky than military. He laughed at something one of the other soldiers said and started to move away from the group headed in her general direction. Bette took two steps forward, jerked one of the dime store hoop earrings from her ear, and dropped it.
“Whoops,” she said, raising her voice as she touched her fingers to her ear lobe. “I just lost an earring.”
The earbob dropped into a thick clump of clover but before she could attempt to retrieve it, a shadow fell across the green patch and the soldier she’d admired scooped up the earring with one hand. He stretched out his hand, his square fingers wrapped around the little gold hoop.
“Is this yours?”he asked, his voice coming out with an accent she’d never heard outside the pictures. To Bette’s ears, it sounded like he’d said. Is dis yers?, with the last word stretched out into multiple syllables.
“It is, thanks,”she said and held out her hand. He dropped the hoop into her palm as his fingers tickled over her skin. The slight touch made her shiver. “I guess you’re stationed at Camp Crowder?”
“Yeah,” he said in a voice similar to Jimmy Cagney’s. “I’ve been here a coupla weeks now. It’s a long way from home.”
“Where are you from?” she asked, unable to stop staring at his gorgeous eyes.
“Brooklyn,” he said without hesitation. “Flatbush, Brooklyn. I’m Private Levy, Benjamin Levy although my ma calls me Benny.”
Bette couldn’t stop smiling at him. “Well, Benny Levy, I’m Bette Sullivan and I’m a farm girl from just outside Neosho.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Ben Levy said. “Hey you wanta go have coffee with me downtown or something? I’ll buy you breakfast if you like. I’m starving.”

She admired his dark looks, enhanced by the starched summer khakis he wore and nodded. “I’d love to. Let me go tell my aunt so she won’t expect me home.”
Bette turned around to find Aunt Virgie watching, mouth drooped open and eyes broad with surprise. Her cadre of lady friends wore the same stunned expression.
“Aunt Virgie,”Bette said, in her best polite tone. “I’m going downtown with Private Levy, but I’ll be home for dinner, okay?”
“Child, you don’t even know him!” Her aunt’s shocked outrage wasn’t faked. “You weren’t raised like this.”
“We’re at war,”Bette replied, voice mild. “I’m going to breakfast, not a bar room.”
“Good morning, ladies,” Ben Levy said, appearing at Bette’s side. “I’m Private Benjamin Levy from Brooklyn, New York. My home parish is Our Lady of Refuge. I’ve been an altar boy and until I joined the Army, I worked as an auto mechanic. If you need a reference, Father Connolly can give you one if you write him a letter or you can call my ma. We ain’t got a phone but the neighbor downstairs will fetch her if you want the number.
Although his voice remained even and polite, nice as anyone at any social gathering, his cheek amused Bette. With just a few words, he charmed and disarmed her aunt.
“Well, I don’t think I need to,” Aunt Virgie said with a sigh. “Honey, go ahead and have breakfast. Private Levy, would you like to join us for Sunday dinner?”
He grinned wide and Bette’s heart heated up a few more degrees. Lord but his good looks and sweet words warmed her.


http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1110895080?ean=2940014427760

http://www.amazon.com/In-The-Shadow-War-ebook/dp/B0083V4RUW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1337249940&sr=1-1

http://www.bookstrand.com/in-the-shadow-of-war

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-intheshadowofwar-792577-148.html

http://cblspromotions.blogspot.com/2012/05/scheduled-vbt-in-shadow-of-war-by-lee.html
 

  About the Author: Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy is a full-time romance author.  A native of the old historic city of St. Joseph, Missouri, one time home to both Jesse James and the Pony Express, she now lives and writes in the beautiful Missouri Ozark region.  Her romance novels include Love Never Fails, Witness Protection Program, Sing We Now of Christmas, A Patient Heart, In Love’s Own Time, Miss Good Samaritan, In The Shadow of War, Guy’s Angel,  and Heart of the Ozarks, all from Rebel Ink Press.  She also has six other novels and several novellas available. Her work also appears in more than twenty anthologies and she has multiple short story/non-fiction credits.
She is a member of RWA, Missouri Writers Guild, EPIC, and the Ozarks Writers League. Her work also appears in multiple anthologies. She earned a BA degree in both English and History from Missouri Southern State University as well as an AA Degree in Journalism from Crowder College.  She worked in broadcast media for a decade and also has a background in education.  Her weekly column “Hindsight” appears each week in the Neosho Daily News.
She is married to Roy W. Murphy and the couple has three children, Emily, Megan, and Patrick Murphy.
If Lee Ann – or Lee as many of her writing friends know her – isn’t writing, she’s reading or spending time outdoors.
In Neosho, Missouri, the small town she now calls home, she serves on the local library board, is active in the annual Relay For Life fight against cancer, has worked with the local Arts Council, and is active in her parish.
A Page In The Life: http://leeannsontheimermurphywriterauthor.blogspot.comRebel Writer - Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy: http://leeannsontheimermurphy.blogspot.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/leeann.sontheimermurphyTwitter: https://twitter.com/#!/leeannwriter

I'm At The Beach

My brother and  his lovely fiancee are getting married today at Folly Beach. It's going to be joyous.

To celebrate the release of Minder, I'll be running a mon...

To celebrate the release of Minder, I'll be running a month long contest. The winner  gets:
A set of butterfly pins--on right
A Starbucks gift certificate
A book dedication
and
A download of Minder
To enter: Just leave a coment mentioning Minder and  include your email addie.
 Blurb:
Among the northern tribes there is a legend passed down from generation to generation about shape-shifting Minders—guardians of the innocents—and how they came to be.  It is said that nowadays only a handful of Minders exist, hunted to near extinction by a fearsome beast. Of the remaining Minders, only one wears a garnet-studded collar, the symbol of protection and royalty.   Even when my aunt told me the story, and handed me an ancient garnet-studded band, I had no idea the tale applied to me. After all, it’s only a legend…
Excerpt: I opened the drawstrings andshook the contents of the bag into my hand. An antique necklace glittered in my palm. It appeared to be some sort of choker. The material was like nothing I’d ever seen, almost like stretchy soft leather glittering with fire opal dust, inlaid with oval garnets. I held it to the light. My eyes widened when prisms of color danced around the stones, breathtaking in their beauty. While I examined it, I felt someone’s stare. Drawn, I turned my head. My breath caught in my throat, my heart pounded, and my palms began to sweat. The buzz from the surrounding tables faded. People nearby became shadowy figures.A golden glow bathed the room as I stared at the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Thick, tawny, almost leonine hair capped his skull. His unusual amber eyes glowed like a cat’s. Skin stretched taut and smooth over high cheekbones. His lips made my mouth water. My face must have reflected the same rapture I saw on his. Unfortunately, his gaze was fastened on my necklace.
http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=470&category_id=69&manufacturer_id=233&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1
 

From Sci Fi to Reality

How exciting is this? Another frontier. I'd like to see what the inside of the pods look like and what the plans are for anyone who develops health issues.

I Admire People

As some of you know, I work at a community college. We've got a lot of great folks there, but especially our maintenance crew. One of the men was helping me set up for an event the other day. While he was helping me, he told me, that every morning he tries to think of something he can do to help someone else. Is that not an awesome attitude? It gave me perspective.

The King Must Die

The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour.
The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/04/virtual-book-tour-king-must-die-by-n.html
~*~
I asked Gemini to tell us about the clothes in the period of The King Must Die, how they are similar to what we wear today. And how are they different.

In the late Middle Ages, clothes were, first and foremost, about function. What people wore had to be versatile, comfortable and durable. A woolen cloak had to keep the rain off, warm you during winter, sometimes double as a blanket and last until it fell apart at the seams. Unless they were nobility, people didn’t have wardrobes full of clothes. Money, when they had any, was better spent on food. By the twelfth century, roads had improved enough so that trading increased options for fabrics. Flanders (a region encompassing part of modern day Belgium, France and Holland), for example, became known for its weaving and tapestries. Linen (made from flax) and wool were the most common fabrics; it wasn’t until later that silk and velvet were known in Europe and those were affordable only by the rich. As the centuries progressed and various dyes from afar were more available, clothes became more colorful, but there were often restrictions on what colors you could wear, depending on your class. Feel like wearing purple? Sorry, not unless you’re the king or queen.
The very rich often took fashion to extremes, such as oversized draping sleeves that swept to the floor and long pointed toes on the men’s hose. Young girls wore their hair loose or plaited, but married women were more likely to keep their heads covered with a type of veil called a wimple. This not only kept one’s head warmer in the colder months and kept the sun off one’s neck in summer, but solved the problem of what to do with unwashed hair. More than mere decoration, jewels were a status symbol for both sexes. It wouldn’t have been unusual for a lord or earl to wear a jeweled clasp on his cloak or a jewel-studded belt.
It’s easier to say that men’s clothes in the Middle Ages held more similarities to those of today than women’s. For shirts, men wore tunics – a type of loose-fitting shirt, belted at the waist and hanging to somewhere between the hips and knees, depending on the era. Instead of tailored pants or jeans, men wore leggings – baggier in a way than the leggings we have today, but meant for movement. Women, for reasons of modesty, couldn’t wear anything but long skirts, not even when riding horses. Heaven forbid we should see an ankle or calf! Layers were the thing back then, particularly for women, and yes, they did sometimes wear undergarments, but nothing elaborate and entirely for practical purposes.
While it may seem impractical to me to wear a gown I had to lace up the back and skirts with multiple layers, it would have been absolutely scandalous to a woman of the thirteenth century to wear pants. Nowadays we have far more flexibility in the fabrics, colors and styles we can choose – and I’m grateful for that.
BLURB:What is done cannot be undone.
England, 1326. Edward II has been dethroned. Queen Isabella and her lover, Sir Roger Mortimer, are at the pinnacle of their power.
Fated to rule, Isabella’s son becomes King Edward III at the callow age of fourteen. Young Edward, however, must bide his time as the loyal son until he can break the shackles of his minority and dissolve the regency council which dictates his every action.
When the former king is found mysteriously dead in his cell, the truth becomes obscured and Isabella can no longer trust her own memory . . . or confide in those closest to her. Meanwhile, she struggles to keep her beloved Mortimer at her side and gain yet another crown—France’s—for the son who no longer trusts her.
Amidst a maelstrom of shifting loyalties, accusations of murder propel England to the brink of civil war.
In the sequel to Isabeau, secrecy and treason, conspiracy and revenge once again overtake England. The future rests in the hands of a mother and son whose bonds have reached a breaking point.
The Wedding of Edward III and Philippa of Hainault Edward III – York, January 1328
While a howling wind lashed the snow into knee-high drifts, we proceeded to the castle. Philippa and I rode abreast of one another, our horses caparisoned in heraldic silks, the silver bells attached to their bridles and reins tinkling gaily amid the clamor. It may well have been the coldest and snowiest day in years, but it did nothing to dampen the spirits of England’s people. We dismounted before the steps to the great hall, the bells of York’s churches pealing in celebration. She slipped her hand from beneath the warmth of her miniver-edged cloak. I grasped her fingers and pulled her closer.
“I regret to say,” I whispered rapidly, before anyone could close in and overhear, “that my mother has raised objection to our wedding night being so close to Lent. She thinks we should forego, ah, a certain ‘rite’ in the hopes of receiving God’s blessing upon our union.”
Philippa clasped her other hand over my forearm. “I had not thought of that. Will we not ...?”
Casting a glance around, I guided her up the steps. A pair of porters opened the great doors before us. I shrugged. “Do youwant to?”
“I do.” Lowering her chin, she shrank inside her hood to conceal her blushing. “That is, if it would not trouble your conscience.”
“Mine? No.” I scoffed. “Christ himself could not keep me from you tonight.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
N. Gemini Sasson is also the author of The Crown in the Heather (The Bruce Trilogy: Book I), Worth Dying For (The Bruce Trilogy: Book II), The Honor Due a King (The Bruce Trilogy: Book III) and Isabeau, A Novel of Queen Isabella and Sir Roger Mortimer (2011 IPPY Silver Medalist for Historical Fiction). She holds a M.S. in Biology from Wright State University where she ran cross country on athletic scholarship. She has worked as an aquatic toxicologist, an environmental engineer, a teacher and a track and cross country coach. A longtime breeder and judge of Australian Shepherds, her articles on bobtail genetics have been translated into seven languages.
Links:Web site: http://www.ngeminisasson.comBlog: http://ngeminisasson.blogspot.com Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/NGeminiSassonTwitter: http://www.twitter.com/NGeminiSasson

I Know This One

Yay! Finally, one I know. This is a  Moon Moth. Hmm, sounds like a good book title doesn't it? This guy was on the kitchen screen window. I looked him up in my butterflies and moths book. I blush to confess what caught my attention was: 'Mating pairs will often stay in position for up to twenty hours.' Yee gods.

Minder Contest

To celebrate the release of Minder, I'll be running a month long contest. The winner  gets:
A set of butterfly pins--on right
A Starbucks gift certificate
A book dedication
and
A download of Minder
To enter: Just leave a coment mentioning Minder and  include your email addie.
 Blurb:
Among the northern tribes there is a legend passed down from generation to generation about shape-shifting Minders—guardians of the innocents—and how they came to be.  It is said that nowadays only a handful of Minders exist, hunted to near extinction by a fearsome beast. Of the remaining Minders, only one wears a garnet-studded collar, the symbol of protection and royalty.   Even when my aunt told me the story, and handed me an ancient garnet-studded band, I had no idea the tale applied to me. After all, it’s only a legend…
Excerpt: We left Bayforks about five o’clock and once again cut through the forest. A Monarch butterfly fluttered over my head for a moment then flew away. We were almost home when a deer leaped across our path. “Oh look.” My aunt pointed at the tawny blur. I’d already seen it. My butt twitched and quick as a cat I gave chase. I couldn’t believe my speed. I bounded easily over a fallen log. My blood hummed with joy. I chased the deer for a quarter of a mile through the winding forest then leaped. As I reached out to grab its flank, the deer kicked out with small hooves that caught me square in the stomach. “Oof.” I flew through the air and landed on my butt, jolted back to reality. “Oh crap. Not again.” I drew up my knees and put my head in my hands. What’s wrong with me? I began to shake.       I heard racing footsteps but I was too embarrassed to look up. Aunt knelt beside me and put her arms around me. Her subtle fragrance enveloped me as she laid her cheek next to mine and rocked me as best she could. Her racing heart belied her calm manner. “It’s okay, Rora.”“How can you say that, Aunt? I just chased a deer,” I mumbled.To my surprise she laughed. “Not your usual reaction, I grant you. Come on, let’s get cleaned up. We can talk over dinner.”I winced and grabbed my stomach as I rose.“Are you all right?”Before I could respond she raised my shirt. Goose bumps rose as the wind blasted my bare skin. I looked down. Two hoof prints stood out red against my toned abs. “I’ll be black and blue by tomorrow,” I grumbled even though I have no one to blame but myself.
Available at:http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=470&category_id=69&manufacturer_id=233&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1&vmcchk=1&Itemid=1
 

Destiny's Fall

Topic:  How did you approach world building for this novel?
One of the best parts of writing a sequel is the chance to return to a much-loved world.  The first wisps of inspiration upon returning to the world of Destiny were the unsettled questions of my world.  Without giving away spoilers, the world played an important part in the first book of the series, Destiny’s Blood.  It’s a space-faring story, and featured many worlds with different cultures and belief systems.  As a lover of cultural anthropology and a professional storyteller, I’ve always been a fan of exploring the human element of world building, and how cultures and peoples interpret the world through their own lenses and life experiences.  I get to experience these various interpretations as I discover the world through my characters’ points of view (I love multiple points of view!)
The world of Destiny is hinged on Mirial, the First Star, cloaked in legends, myths and multiple interpretations.  The Solarian Empire, the greatest expended force in the known universe, believes it to be riddled with treachery and that it promises only destruction, or perhaps profitable trade.  The ether creatures, who rely on the First Star’s continuous flow of ether, believe the First Star brings both salvation while promising destruction.  And Layela, a child of The world of Destiny bloomed in the first book, Destiny’s Blood, but it blossomed in the second book, Destiny’s Fall. The third book promises even more world building and exploration, and I can’t wait to discover its other secrets!


BLURB:
A broken tradition. A hunted child. A rebellion that threatens to topple the very fabric of the universe. 

When Layela Delamores gives birth to her first child, the ether immediately rejects what should be its only heir. A wave of destruction sweeps the ether races and sparks Solaria’s ire and rebellion on Mirial. A new heir rises to take the throne of Mirial, one who wields tainted ether.

Unable to access the flow of ether, Layela is left with little choice but to flee Mirial, seeking answers that may no longer exist, prepared to sacrifice everything to free herself and her daughter from the clutches of the First Star.
Excerpt
 “Cap’ain!” her second-in-command, a short man named Larod, screamed.
 “Gun the engines, get us out!”
 “Solariers are telling us to stand down,” said Jaru, her systems analyst.
 “And I’m saying the docks need redecorating. Gun the engines!”
The two moved quickly to obey her order. The engines churned to life, the scent of rotten cabbage pumping through the entire ship. The ship jerked once and the engine popped, and her hull vibrated, resonating in Avienne’s skull.
 “Come on, you useless piece of crap!” She kicked the tactical controls and half the panel lights blinked out.
 “Blood and bones, I need to steal a better ship!” The engines sputtered and the ship stopped vibrating.
 “Engines online, Captain!” Jaru screamed. Avienne whooped and switched the viewport on. The entire metal structure of the docks buckled as they pulled free without first de-clamping, ripping great chunks of metal. The Dessicate’s engines kicked in full blast, throwing Avienne back into her seat. The docks swayed for a moment when the engine’s jet of hot hair struck them, then buckled sideways, and seemed to be righting themselves before suddenly collapsing in a heap of smoke and metal, dragging a few of the smaller ships down.
Avienne hissed. That made a nice, round ten worlds on which she would no longer be welcome. She was running out of planets to do business on.
“Where to, Captain?” Larod asked from navigations.
“Mirial. I believe it’s time to pay my brother a visit.”


 




 Marie will give away a signed eBook copy of Destiny's Blood (the first book in the series) to one randomly drawn commenter at every stop, and an autographed set of Destiny's Blood and Destiny's Fall in print (US and Canada only) or eBook (International) to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour. The tour dates can be found here:  http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/04/virtual-book-tour-destinys-fall-by.html