Edward Hoornaert's Blog, page 84

Focus on Angela Quarles–Must Love Breeches

As part of Mr. Valentine’s ongoing look at newly published SFR, we focus today on Angela Quarles’ newest time travel romance, Must Love Breeches.

She’s finally met the man of her dreams. There’s only one problem: he lives in a different century.

“A fresh, charming new voice” – New York Times bestselling author Tessa Dare

 HOW FAR WOULD YOU TRAVEL FOR LOVE?

A mysterious artifact zaps Isabelle Rochon to pre-Victorian England, but before she understands the card case’s significance a thief steals it. Now she must find the artifact, navigate the pitfalls of a stiffly polite London, keep her time-traveling origins a secret, and resist her growing attraction to Lord Montagu, the Vicious Viscount so hot, he curls her toes.

To Lord Montagu nothing makes more sense than keeping his distance from the strange but lovely Colonial. However, when his scheme for revenge reaches a stalemate, he convinces Isabelle to masquerade as his fiancée. What he did not bargain on is being drawn to her intellectually as well as physically.

Lord Montagu’s now constant presence overthrows her equilibrium and her common sense. Isabelle thought all she wanted was to return home, but as passion flares between them, she must decide when her true home—as well as her heart—lies.

Interesting, eh? Read an excerpt from Must Love Breeches

A reenactment ball was the perfect setting for romance. Or not.

Isabelle Rochon fidgeted in her oddly-shaped-but-oh-so-accurate ball gown, surrounded by women who’d sacrificed historical authenticity for sex appeal. Red carpet ball gowns in the nineteenth century, really? Once again she was like the dorky kid participating in dress-up day at school when everyone else had magically decided it was lame.

“Gah. I feel like a green robot with strange battle armor.” Isabelle pointed to her dark green dress, the shoulders flaring out almost to a point, exaggerating their width. “What were the fashionistas in 1834 thinking?”

“I have no bloody idea.” Jocelyn squeezed the poof of fabric at her shoulder. “These huge-ass sleeves are ridiculous.”

“Ah, screw it, we’re having fun, right? I’m not going to self-sabotage the ball. Not after all the time I spent obsessing over my costume.”

“And obsessing over the etiquette rules.”

“That too.” Besides, how fun was it to learn Jocelyn shared her obsession with guys in period clothes and bodice-ripper romances?

Isabelle eyed a guy strolling past in tight-fitting, buff-colored pantaloons. She pitched her voice to be heard over the string quartet. “Hmm. How about the clothes on that daring derriere?”

Jocelyn sucked on her olive and plopped the empty stir stick into her martini. “Oh, yes. Definitely a breech-ripper.”

Isabelle choked on her Bellini, the champagne fizz tickling her throat and nose. This was the first opportunity they’d had to socialize outside work, so she treated this moment delicately, afraid to puncture the mood. No need to point out he sported pantaloons, not breeches.

She should ease up on the drink, though. She didn’t want to get plastered at the Thirty-fourth Annual Prancing Through History Reenactment Ball. Especially since her new colleagues would be around. And her boss. She needed to impress him.

“Look lively,” Jocelyn said, her voice low, with a dollop of teasing. “Here comes the office hottie.”

She’d been cultivating a mild crush on Andrew since starting her new job at the British Museum six months ago. The whole situation was perfect. A guy in the same field would respect her interests, wouldn’t expect her to give up her profession for a relationship. He was safe. If it worked out, great, if not, no biggie. She was happy, finally, with how her life was working out.

She’d pictured him in period clothing before, looking resplendent.

He did.

“Hi, Andrew.” Her voice came out a little too high. Jeez, could she sound any more like a lovesick fool? She always did this around gorgeous men—went ga-ga as if she couldn’t rub two brain cells together. She gazed around the Duke of Chelmsford’s newly renovated ballroom and pretended as if her breath hadn’t quickened and her body hadn’t heated at the sight of Andrew.

“Hello, Isabelle. Jocelyn.” Andrew nodded. His smile felt like a gift for her alone.

Her pulse throbbed. He’d sought her out. Play it cool. Say something witty. “So, uh, having fun yet?” Having fun yet?

Something, or someone, in the crowd hogged his attention. She followed his gaze until she found it. Or rather him. Their boss at the bar.

Andrew faced her and the remnants of calculation on his hot-as-heck features disappeared behind his over-bright grin.

He leaned closer.

The artificial tang of his cologne drifted her way. She wrinkled her nose.

“Well done on the Whittaker exhibit. Finding that journal was a bit of a coup. It’ll be a fine addition to the exhibit, once it’s built.”

He’d noticed. She’d worked damn hard. “Thank you.” Why couldn’t Brits find her Southern accent as sexy as she found theirs?

“Glad you came across the pond to work with us. That find should put you in the running for the promotion.”

Good. The promotion would mean she could stay in London. Well, it would make staying easier. No matter what, she was determined to remain.

“Of course, you’ll have to beat me out.”

Cold clarity hit her stomach like accidentally gulping a glass of iced gin instead of iced water, jolting her from her usual foray into Incoherent Land around attractive guys. “You’re applying too?” Of course he was.

“Without a doubt. Career changer and all. I’m a shoo-in. Sure you still want to apply?”

Could she scrub the smug look off his face? She settled for the less satisfactory, but more controlled, “Yes.”

Now catching her boss’s attention was more important than ever. Besides wanting to escape into another era, she’d also hoped her costume would impress him. She glanced at the wet bar. Drat. Where had her boss gone?

Andrew slipped his hand around her elbow, pulling her closer. “How about we ditch this party and grab a pint? You and me.” He ignored Jocelyn, who stared back and forth between them.

It all made sense—his sudden interest after dismissing her for months, the calculation she’d caught when he’d turned back—he thought he’d intimidate and charm her into giving up the position.

She yanked her arm free, saying, “Fat chance, you smarmy horndog,” which cut through the room because, of course, the music had just ended.

Jocelyn snorted her drink, eyes watering, and coughed, fighting to catch her breath. For a moment, her coughing was the only sound punctuating the silence.

The curious eyes of the onlookers made Isabelle feel as if a huge moat had sprung up around her. The moat of Beware, All Ye Who Enter—Idiot in the Center. If one of those eyes were her boss…

Andrew trotted out his grin, the one that used to make her insides hum. “Thought we had a connection. No?” He backed away, hands up, eyes locked with hers in a you’re-such-a-fool stare, his heels snapping on the marble floor with each backward step. “Cheers, then, babe. May the best man win.” He nodded and sauntered off.

Jocelyn, bless her, completely ignored the Moat of Embarrassment and stepped to Isabelle’s side. “How had we never noticed what an ass he was?”

“Probably because we were too busy drooling?”

“There is that.”

“Seriously, I should just go pound my head against the nearest vertical object and repeat one hundred times, ‘When will I learn?’”

“Just be careful not to poke out your eye with those lethal shoulder sleeves.”

“Ha.” But Jocelyn’s dry humor softened Isabelle’s mood. “Can’t believe he expects me to just roll over. I have to get the promotion, I need the security. No way am I going to sacrifice my dream to be with a guy, I don’t care how hot he is.”

Never again would she let a jerk encased in good-looking skin influence her life. Been there. Done that. Have the gold-stitched Fool’s cap.

About Angela

Angela is a geek girl romance writer. What makes her romances geeky? Whether it’s fan girling over Ada Lovelace by having her as a secondary character in Must Love Breeches, or outright geek references with geek types in her romantic comedy with paranormal elements, Beer and Groping in Las Vegas, or going all Southern steampunk in Steam Me Up, Rawley, she likes to have fun with her romances and hopes her readers do too.

Angela works at an independent bookstore and lives in an historic house in the beautiful and quirky town of Mobile, AL. When she’s not writing, she enjoys the usual stuff like gardening, reading, hanging out, eating, drinking, chasing squirrels out of the walls and creating the occasional knitted scarf. She’s had a varied career, including website programming and directing a small local history museum, and has discovered that writing allows her to explore all her interests.

She’s an admitted geek and is proud to be among the few but mighty Browncoats who watched Firefly the first night it aired. She was introduced to the wonderful world of science fiction by her father, by way of watching reruns of the original Star Trek in her tweens and later giving her a copy of Walter M. Miller Jr’s A Canticle for Leibowitz as a teenager. She hasn’t looked back since.

She has a B.A. in Anthropology and International Studies with a minor in German from Emory University, and a Masters in Heritage Preservation from Georgia State University. She was an exchange student to Finland in high school and studied abroad in Vienna one summer in college.

 Author Links

Website
Blog
Official Book Page

Buy Must Love Breeches at:

Amazon
Kobo
ARe
iTunes
Google Play
Nook

 

Meet Tresky Buffrum

My good friend Celia Breslin, author of Haven, tagged me in the Meet My Characters Blog Hop.

Unfortunately I’m busy working on the re-release of my science fiction novel The Midas Rush (a new paperback edition is due out next week ), and so I’m turning this blog over to Midas Rush’s reluctant hero, Tresky Buffrum.

So take it away, Tresky. Answer all the good folks’ question honestly and thoroughly.

Thanks, Mr. Valentine. Sorry, gentle readers, but Mr. V. is busy right now watching a baseball game. He said he’s working, but don’t believe him, eh? He’s right, though, that a second edition of Midas Rush is indeed in the works, along with a dramatic new cover.

I can’t hope to fill my author’s shoes—he has big feet—but I’ll answer your questions to the best of my humble ability. Be patient with me, please.  I’m not a baseball-loving, oboe-playing, multi-published author like some people.  I’m just innocent, naive, and, well … nice.  But dang, with all I’m going through I’m not sure I can stay that way.

Q: Are you fictional or a historic person?

Tresky: I’m from the future, so I can’t be historic, eh?

As for being fictional–absootively not!  I’m real, I assure you.  I mean, I have emotions, I made friends with a dangerous alien, I married a woman the day after I met her. Could all that have happened if I wasn’t real?  Course not!

 Q: When and where is the story set?

Tresky: The story is set right here, of course.

What do you mean, where’s here?  On planet Jones, of course. I thought everybody, even Offworlders, heard of Jones after folks found some aliens transformed into gold. I guess the transmutation thingie is impossible–but it happened.  The discovery has caused an interplanetary gold rush.

The golden statues are just Sloths, though–that’s what we call our intelligent but slow-moving native aliens–so I don’t see what the big deal is.

Q: What should we know about you?

Tresky: Well, I’m a Gasparre tribesman. Like most Gasparres, I was a shepherd, but I wanted more.  I wanted to taste the excitement of the Midas Rush.  I know, I know; us male Gasparres are always henpecked and timid.  Not me, though.  I wanted adventure.

What I got, however, is a mysterious wife who insists on remaining chaste–and that’s hard on a 22-year-old virgin like me.  Now Ebbril has dragged me off on the long, dangerous trek to the Midas Crater.  I can’t help the feeling that Ebbril’s up to no good, and that her trouble has to do with Sloths.  Maybe I shoulda stuck to tending sheep.

Q: What is the main conflict? What messes up your life?

Tresky: Woman trouble, obviously.  Not just my wife, either.  There’s this gorgeous, really nice policewoman I wish I’d met before Ebbril.  She–the policewoman, I mean–yearns to sleep with me even though my wife doesn’t.  But I won’t do that.  Not right, no matter how badly Ebbril treats me.

The even bigger trouble, though, is the Sloths.  Some of them are thinking about exterminating all the humans here on Jones. If that isn’t bad enough, all sorts of unsavory, murderous, and downright crazy humans from off-world are traveling on the caravan with us to the Midas Crater.  I dunno what they’re up to, but they’re even more dangerous than the Sloths.

 Q: What is your personal goal?

Tresky: Got more than one goal, even if I am just a naive shepherd.

First, I want to love my wife so much (and ignore my feelings for the policewoman) that Ebbril will love me back.  She already does, kinda.  A little.  I think.

Second, I want to bridge the chasm between Sloths and humans.  I know, I know, that’s danged ambitious for an ignorant Gasparre shepherd–but I’ve made friends with a Sloth and nobody’s ever done that before.  Thing is, everyone else wants to fight, and if my Sloth friend and I can’t figure something out, fast, I’m afraid things are gonna end real badly.

 Q: Is Midas Rush published, and where can we read more about it?

Tresky: Yep, it’s available right now in ebook formats. A new and improved second edition will be available soon, at which time you’ll be able to buy it in trade paperback. I really hope you do.  I need all the folks rooting for me I can get.

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
Kobo
Smashwords


 Most important of all

Check out the fine writers Mr. V has tagged to follow him in this blog hop:

Marie Laval, a fellow author for Muse It Up Publishing who lives in Bronte country in England. Marie is the author of historical romances, including Angel Heart and The Lion’s Embrace.


Paula Millhouse, an author whose work I’ve read and enjoyed for a few years now.  Paula is the author of Dragonstone, Three Wishes, CAREFUL… (The Wishes Chronicles Book 1), and ALL YOUR WISHES… (The Wishes Chronicles Book 2).

New Releases–and Farflung Angel

Today, a bit of news here and there.

First

I’ve gotten a tentative release date for my science fiction romance novella, The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station.  Muse It Up publishing scheduled the release for October 21. Shiny!

Farflung Angel is one of those extremely rare works that came to me in a flash, in structure at least, though not all the details.  Unable to sleep one evening, I watched a late movie–Amelie.  I loved the character, an anonymous do-gooder who’s too reserved to do good for herself, and poof! Sandrina was born. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Last but far from least

Authors have been sending in a lot of new science fiction romance releases lately. For September alone, we now have:

Captured by the Hawk by Aurora Springer
Ghost Phoenix by Corrina Lawson
Golden Perspective, by Lynn B. Davidson
My Name Is A’yen, by Rachel Leigh Smith
Red Rex: Blood Echoes by Calinda B
Sol: Legacy, by Vanessa Kittle and Erin Grooms

Plus new books have been added to the pages for July, August, and October–so be sure to check out the New SFR pages.

How Does Science Fiction Measure Up?

All of us are many things–often, contradictory things. For myself, I’m a hockey fan (go Canucks, go!) who can’t skate.

I once built a functioning robot with my own little soldering iron, yet I refuse to buy anything but a cheap, unsmart phone.

I’m a husband and a lover—of the same lovely lady, I hasten to add.

And I am 74. Also 188.

No, not years, wise guy.  Sheesh.  I’m 74 inches tall in Imperial measurements or 188 centimeters in metric.

I bring this up because of a recent thread on the Science Fiction Romance (SFR) Brigade  about which of the two system of measurements is most appropriate for science fiction. In my manuscript for The Guardian Angel of Farflung Station (due out next month), I used Imperial measures, but the editor suggested metric.  I then posed the question to the writers of SFRB, and they were close to unanimous.

Metric!

For those familiar with only one system, click here for a handy converter.

How about you? I wouldn’t dare ask how much you weigh, but how tall are you in metric? In imperial?

More Science Fiction Cats

A while back, I posted about my favorite cats in science fiction literature. Folks responded with a bunch of their favorite cats, and so here they are–the long list of SF puddy tats.

(picture courtesy Deposit Photos)

Petronius the Arbiter (AKA Pete) from The Door into Summer by Robert A. Heinlein
Linnea Sinclair, Games of Command
Ruthven Todd and Paul Galdone, Space Cat Meets Mars
“The Game of Rat and Dragon” in Rediscovery of Man: The Complete Short Science Fiction of Cordwainer Smith
C.J. Cherryh, Chanur
Larry Niven, Kzin books
McCaffery, Doona series
Andre Norton, almost anything
All the firecat characters in Mercedes Lackeys Valdemar books
Robin Robb, Farseer trilogy
Julian May, Galactic Milieu
Lark Eden, Loving Spirits– Cranston (Crannie)
Shadow Dancer from Cat Magic by Lynda Trent
Cat and Sheba from Moonstruck by Colleen Shannon
Panjit and Henri from Get Thee A Cat by Coral Smith Saxe
Sebestyen (Smudge) from One Magic Moment by Victoria Alexander
Hector from Heart’s Desire by Nina Coombs
Venus (Aphrodite) from The Black Cat by Hayley Ann Solomon.
S’kat and S’kitty – from Mercedes Lackey’s Shipscat
Galahad from J.D. Robb’s In Death series
Harry Dresden from Jim Butcher’s famed “Dresden Files” has a cat who is quite the tough cookie
Gael Greeno wrote a series about a race of telepathic cats who work with humans and go from village to village working together as a circuit court judge and the cat can verify the truth of what the humans are saying.
Hallan Meras from Legacy of Chanur and Pyanfar Chanur from Price of Chanur, Chanur’s Venture, the Kif Strike Back, by C.J. Cherryh
Chee Lan from Poul Anderson;s Polesotechnic series
C’Mell from Nortralia and The Ballad of Lost C’Mell (short story) by Cordwainer Smith
The cat in Fledgling by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller who starts off at Jen Sar Kiladi’s cat but makes his preference for Theo Waitely obvious
Sprockets from Mission to Universe by Gordon R. Dickson
The character who said “Tails high, brothers!” in The Vortex Blasters/Masters of the Vortex by EE Doc Smith
The Green Cat from Green Millennium by Fritz Lieber
The Barque Cats (take your pick from a shipload of cats). They’re the stars of two books: Catalyst by Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough and Catacombs by Anne McCaffrey and Elizabeth Ann Scarborough
The Cat from Outer Space by Ted Key
The Cheshire Cat, from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Krosp King of Cats in Phil and Kaja Foglio’s series Girl Genius
Teela (Antella, Lord Antella), a Barrani in Michelle Sagara’s Elantra book (they all start with “Cast in”)
Nightshade, a Barrani, in the Elantra books
Sergant Marcus Kassan, a Leotine, form the Elantra books
Imaili the Arrin-ken in P C Hodgell’s books
Shadow, Night, and Snow from Michelle Sagara writing as MIchelle West’s books—one of the books in the series The Sun Sword, where they show up as three large, HEAVY stone cats, squabbling with one another (“I’m BORED!”) and shoving other another around.  They show up again in the House War series, when Jewel Markess returns to Averaalan from the war in the South (Note, I think Michelle  Sagara is allergic to cats!)
Blake (Kitten) and Tomolina from A Fairy Tale by Cindy Holbrook
Jelly from A Bewitching Minx by Nancy Lawrence
Diane Duane, The Book of Night With Moon with cat-wizards Rhiow and her friends/team Saash and Urruah and apprentice Arhu
Fritti Tailchaser of Tailchaser’s song byTad Williams
Tanya Huff had a series of “Keeper Chronicles” featuring talking cats
Chester from The Celery Stalks at Midnight by James Howe
Captain Wow in The Game of Rat and Dragon by Cordwainer Smith and the Lady May from the same story
Gummitch in Spacetime for Springers by Fritz Leiber

How about you?  Any other science fiction cats you’d like to add?

A Google selfie … and I don’t recognize myself

Belgian?  Born in 1981?

I googled myself today.  Hadn’t done that in years.  There were 6540 results, which is more than I would’ve expected … if I had any expectations at all, that is.

The number two hit on the results gave me the best laugh I’ve had in quite awhile.  It’s my entry page in the Encyclopedia of Science Fiction:

So I was born in Roeselare,  Belgium, eh?  And that white stuff atop my head … it’s premature greyness, because I’m actually in my mid-thirties?

I wish.

Actually, the birth information is almost kinda close to correct.  Roeselare–Roulers in French, because Belgian towns have a French and a Flemish name–is indeed where my family originated.  I have many relatives there and in Bruges.

(Great movie, BTW–In Bruges, I mean.  If you haven’t seen it you ought to, because it’s funny, it’s Colin Farrell’s best picture, and it shows lots and lots of Bruges, the best preserved Renaissance city in northern Europe.)

This just goes to prove, folks, that you can’t trust everything you read on the Internet.  I hope I didn’t disillusion you.

 

Thought du jour:  “If science fiction is the mythology of modern technology, then its myth is tragic.” — Ursala K. Le Guin.

New SFR Books

Check out a new feature—Mr. Valentine’s monthly listing of newly published science fiction romance, everything from hard sf with elements of romance to full-blown romances set in the future.

 

Want to know what’s new and hot?  Here’s the place to look.

The Glory and Reality of Comets

The Glories of Science

A comet soars over Mission San Xavier, near Tucson, Arizona.
“Sonoran Hyakutake”, by James Scotti; used by the kind permission of the artist.

Sometimes science reveals stunning, overwhelming beauty.  Imagine the lacy symmetries of a snowflake.  Or the spectacular, simple-yet-complex symmetry of DNA molecules.

I tapped into this feeling in The Triumph of Tompa Lee, when Tompa discusses with the ghost of her dead mother the value of a mathematical constant an alien needs to decipher a complex equation:

 Finally, Mayfeng said, my favorite.  The glory of science is that sometimes you stumble upon something so fundamental and beautiful that you realize you’re in the presence of divinity.

“You’re already in the head of divinity, so cut the damned theological raptures.  What’s the value of the flickin’ constant?”

The value of constant O is…

Maggots and cockroaches, another dramatic pause.  Tompa squeezed her eyes shut, searching for patience.  There were crades, and murderers, and who knew what else lurking in the darkness, yet this ghost played around for effect.

Pi. Mayfeng rattled out a chuckle. Isn’t that beautiful and awe inspiring?  Pi!

“Ree,” Tompa said, “she says the value of O is pi.”

The radio remained silent for several seconds.  Then Ree bleated, “O equals incomprehensibly a human fruit dessert?”

But this isn’t one of those stories about the stunning beauty of science.  Nor about yummy fruit pies.

Sorry about that.

Comets in the Human Imagination

This story is about comets.

In ancient times, people saw the unexpected appearance of comets as portents of extraordinary occurrences.

For example, the Florentine painter Giotto di Bondone witnessed an appearance of Halley’s Comet in 1301, and it obviously made a great impression on him.  When he painted the Adoration of the Magi, he depicted a comet, not the traditional Star of Bethlehem, above the child.

Halley’s Comet in 1066 tolled the knell for King Harold at the Battle of Hastings. Its depiction on the Bayeux Tapestry, being pointed out to King Harold by his worried aides (at left), is perhaps the most famous image of a comet in history.

Earlier, in 837, Halley’s comet was particularly spectacular, as recorded by Chinese scribes. ‘On the night of April 9 its length was more than 50 degrees. It branched into two tails . . . On the night of April 11 the length of the broom was 60 degrees. The tail was without branches and it pointed north. The Emperor summoned the Astronomer Royal and asked him the reason for these star changes.’

Comets have fired men’s imaginations all over the world. Ancient Native Americans depicted comets in their rock art.

What, then is the glorious reality that science finds behind the glorious facade of a comet?

The Reality of Comets

Comet 67P/Churyumov-Gerasimenko, photographed by Rosetta spacecraft

Not quite so lovely, eh?

Yet fascinating  nonetheless, because this week the European spacecraft Rosetta became the first ever to catch up with a comet.  This is a landmark in a decade-long space mission that scientists hope will help unlock some of the secrets of the solar system. Eventually, a module from Rosetta will land on the comet and follow its progress toward the sun.

I plan to follow this incredible story. The landing of the Curiosity Rover on Mars was fascinating, but now scientists are trying to land on some much small, rougher, and which constantly sheds dust.

If you’re interested, as well, here are a few links:

European Space Agency
A UK article with excellent “spaceships for Dummies” illustrations
The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, with video
Youtube’s selection of videos about the Rosetta mission

Maybe comets aren’t as beautiful as snowflakes–but they’re a whole lot rarer and harder to see up close. And just think … before now, no one, ever, in all of history, has seen a comet so close.  This is a privilege, folks.  Appreciate it!

Shiny Grey Wisdom

Shiny!

All you Browncoats out there know the secret meaning of the word ‘shiny,’ right?*  No, I’m wrong–that sentence shouldn’t have a question mark, but an exclamation point!  Maybe two!

All you browncoats out there know the secret meaning of the word ‘shiny,’ right! !

To me, this is the all-time best piece of invented slang in all of science fiction. * (For those of you whose coats are other colors, shiny is the superb exclamation meaning ‘cool’ or ‘great’ on Firefly. Really and truly, you need to watch the series!)

Grey!

The next greatext example of invented slang comes from Robert J. Sawyer’s award-winning Neanderthal Parallax trilogy: Humans, Hominids, and Hybrids. In these fantastic, engrossing books, anything wise, such as advice, is ‘grey’.  As someone with grey hair (more like white, really) I appreciate the nod to elder wisdom.

Wisdom!

Here’s an example of words that are both shiny and grey. I’ve never quoted the pope before and don’t expect to quote him ever again, but here are Pope Francis’s ten tips for happiness:

“Live and let live.”
“Be giving of yourself to others.”
“Proceed calmly” in life. 
Have “a healthy sense of leisure.”
“Sunday is for family.”
Be “creative” with young people and find innovative ways to create dignified jobs.
Respect and take care of nature.
Stop being negative. “Letting go of negative things quickly is healthy,” he said.
“The worst thing of all is religious proselytism, which paralyzes.”
Work for peace. “We are living in a time of many wars,” he said. “The call for peace must be shouted.”

Number 6, ‘create dignified jobs’ is kind of beyond me, but as for the rest–absolutely!

Take number 5: the wife and I tried to do this when the children were growing; not always, but often.

I especially appreciate number 9, because my extended family spans more than one religion–and as a youth, I was rather painfully aware of the differences.  How much better to live and let live (number 1 on the pope’s list), without trying to force our beliefs on others.  Very grey advice.

How about you? Do you have any tips for wise, happy living?

The Triumph of Tompa Lee — now available!

Tompa Lee finally gets her happily-ever-after

Toss some confetti!

Blow a trumpet fanfare!

The Triumph of Tompa Lee is now available!

Yes, my underdog heroine, who has been compared to Lisbeth Salander inthe Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,  finally gets her happily-ever-after in this, the final book of The Trilogy of Tompa Lee.

The Trouble with Tribbles Trilogies

Personally, I hesitate to start reading trilogies or continuing series until they’re done.  Game of Thrones aficionados can empathize, I imagine.  You’ve read all these books and you’re practically panting with eagerness to know how it all turns out.

But the final book isn’t ready yet.  And when it is, you’ve forgotten what made you so eager.

Well, hesitate no longer to start reading the Trilogy of Tompa Lee.  While I’ve left wiggle room for additional stories set in Tompa’s universe, they will not feature Tompa.  After all the tragedies and dangers I’ve heaped onto the poor woman, she deserves some peace.  I hereby promise to stop picking on her now!

Previous books in the trilogy:

The Trial of Tompa Lee
The Tribulations of Tompa Lee

Interested?

You can purchase Triumph in trade paperback at Amazon.com, and in various electronic formats wherever fine e-books are sold:

Kindle version
Kobo version
Nook version
All other versions

My thanks to all my readers.  Without you, why bother to write?  You’re a crucial part of the writing process, so take a bow.  I love to hear from all of you, so please feel free to leave a comment.