Pam Lecky's Blog, page 6
February 6, 2024
The Low Road by Katharine Quarmby: The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Katharine Quarmby on the Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour for her latest release, The Low Road. Katharine has kindly provided an excerpt for your enjoyment. (See below).
You can follow the full tour here:
Tour Schedule Page: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/12/blog-tour-the-low-road-by-katharine-quarmby.html
The Low Road by Katharine QuarmbyIn 1828, two young women were torn apart as they were sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay. Will they ever meet again?
Norfolk, 1813. In the quiet Waveney Valley, the body of a woman – Mary Tyrell – is staked through the heart after her death by suicide. She had been under arrest for the suspected murder of her newborn child. Mary leaves behind a young daughter, Hannah, who is later sent away to the Refuge for the Destitute in London, where she will be trained for a life of domestic service.
It is at the Refuge that Hannah meets Annie Simpkins, a fellow resident, and together they forge a friendship that deepens into passionate love. But the strength of this bond is put to the test when the girls are caught stealing from the Refuge’s laundry, and they are sentenced to transportation to Botany Bay, setting them on separate paths that may never cross again.
Drawing on real events, The Low Road is a gripping, atmospheric tale that brings to life the forgotten voices of the past – convicts, servants, the rural poor – as well as a moving evocation of love that blossomed in the face of prejudice and ill fortune.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/mg5RAD
An Excerpt from The Low RoadCHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Trial day. They shake us awake at dawn, command us to hurry, to dress and tidy ourselves. There are twenty of us on trial at the sessions and we line up, file through the corridors. I count seven gates to be locked, unlocked, locked again, until we arrive at last at a great wooden door and stop. Behind it, as it opens, I see a long brick passage, and we pass through it and into the fortress. The Old Bailey. Eight times a year they hold the sessions there, and the death sentences are handed down after the king has considered and confirmed them.
This is the Middlesex Sessions, and the jurymen file in as we stand up straight in the dock and then the judge comes in, Judge Newman Knowlys, and then the clerk intones the date, 10 January 1822, and our trial starts. The staff from the refuge are there and so is Potter. I look for Maria.
Just for a moment I look sideways at Annie. She holds the edge of the dock, her fingers white, and is trembling. I had forgotten that she had been here before, and that last time Mr Haskin had seen her and looked kindly on her and so her sentence had been respited. I see how she gazes on the jury and the judge, perhaps hoping that again she can dodge punishment, but I refuse to do so. I see how the jurymen are crammed in a stall to our right, and how below us are clerks, lawyers and writers. I look up and see a mirror above our heads. I remember talk in our cell of why this is, that the jury can examine our faces, tell whether or not we are telling the truth. I look up at the chandeliers and see that they are shining bright and for some reason wonder that they are shined to such a buff and how a servant must be put on a high ladder to go up there and balance as they polish. The clerk glares at us, tells us to look forward. He reads out the charges. The minute hand on the large clock ticks round twice before he is finished, for the list of items that we stole is long and carefully detailed. He intones at first, then speeds up and gallops through the list.
“They are accused of stealing three gowns, value nine shillings; eight aprons, value four shillings; three remnants of printed calico, value four shillings; six petticoats, value six shillings; three pair of stockings, value one shilling.; three caps, value sixpence; four shifts, value four shillings; one dresser-cloth, value sixpence; two slips of muslin, value one penny; two combs, value three pennies; two handkerchiefs, value two pennies; one shawl, value ninepence; two pair of stays, value one shilling, and two bonnets, value two shillings, the goods of Edward Forster, Stephen Lushington and Peter Martineaux, trustees of the Refuge for the Destitute; and one gown, value two shillings; one bag, value one pence; two gown bodies, value two shillings; two yards of muslin, value one shilling.; one pocket-book, value one pence, and two yards of lace, value one shilling, the goods of Rachel Clements, spinster.”
How far would all that soiled and dirty washing really have got us, I wonder, as he nods, sits down. Where would we be now if Old Ma had come earlier, and we had gone with her?
Charles Haskin is called first, and he gives his name and his title. I see a writer setting down his account in squiggles I do not understand. He does not look at us once, although I steal a glance sideways, see how Annie gazes at him with those great soft eyes, framed by glistening lashes. She must have done this last time to win him over, reminding him of his poor sister. “I am superintendent of the Refuge for the Destitute, in the Hackney Road. I live in the house, and have the charge of it; Tyrell was admitted first, and Simpkins came to the refuge from this place the following April. I commanded Tyrell to have care of Simpkins, but she abused my trust, as did Simpkins. I sent Tyrell away to service, but her mistress returned her. On the tenth of December, between seven and eight o’clock in the evening, they both left the house without notice, and this property was missed. Between eight and nine o’clock the same night, I found them in St George’s Fields, walking in the road. I took a bundle from Tyrell and Simpkins, containing the property belonging to the institution.”
There are no cross-questions, and he leaves the stand. I wonder where Maria is, for she had been there, she should be a witness. I realise that I have missed her, that quiet companionship we shared, our small jokes; that I should have tried so much harder, that I didn’t need to choose between loving Annie and liking my first friend.
Miss Clements comes next. She has been taken in hand and neatened by someone, I can see it, for her hair is tied back in a neat bun and greased down and not one strand falls out as she speaks. “I am bookkeeper and housekeeper to the institution. The prisoners left the house on the tenth of December. Here is a pocket-book and a gown body in the bag. They are mine, among other items; “they were kept in the counting house.” She brings them out, shows them to the jurymen and I wonder, why do they need to see them? Then she bursts out, “Please have mercy on them, the girls, the poor girls,” and the judge hammers down and she leaves the witness box in tears and I find I am crying too. Poor Miss Clements.
Mrs Clark is next; she climbs up to give evidence with a heavy sigh I recognise. She looks at us both and shakes her head.
“I am the matron. The prisoners left unknown to me; part of the property was under my care. I know it to belong to the Society.”
I am called to defend myself. I cannot, will not hurt Maria or Annie. But there is one person I can lay the blame on. I stare at her. She will never have her now, and nor will the Hardings, and so it was worth it. I stand up and I fix the jury with my gaze. I will not beg. I will blame.
Author Bio:
Katharine Quarmby has written non-fiction, short stories and books for children and her debut novel, The Low Road, is published by Unbound in 2023. Her non-fiction works include Scapegoat: Why We Are Failing Disabled People (Portobello Books, 2011) and No Place to Call Home: Inside the Real Lives of Gypsies and Travellers (Oneworld, 2013). She has also written picture books and shorter e-books.
She is an investigative journalist and editor, with particular interests in disability, the environment, race and ethnicity, and the care system. Her reporting has appeared in outlets including The Guardian, The Economist, The Atlantic, The Times of London, the Telegraph, New Statesman and The Spectator. Katharine lives in London.
Katharine also works as an editor for investigative journalism outlets, including Investigative Reporting Denmark and The Bureau of Investigative Journalism.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.katharinequarmby.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KatharineQ
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/katharinequarmbywriter/
LinkedIn: Katharine Quarmby – Writer, Journalist, Editor – Self-employed | LinkedIn
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/katharinequarmby_/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Katharine-Quarmby/author/B004GH8LS6
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2082356.Katharine_Quarmby
January 19, 2024
The Beauty Doctor by Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard: The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour
Media Kit
Today I am delighted to host Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard for the book blog tour for her newest release, The Beauty Doctor. Elizabeth has kindly provided an excerpt for you to enjoy – please see below.
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/12/blog-tour-the-beauty-doctor-by-elizabeth-hutchison-bernard.html
THE BEAUTY DOCTOR: A NOVEL by Elizabeth Hutchison BernardAudiobook narrator: Lisa Bozek
A Bone-Chilling Mystery-Suspense-Thriller Set in the Edwardian Era
Finalist, Eric Hoffer Book Award
“Beauty is power,” Dr. Rome told her. “And with enough power, one can achieve anything.”
Straightening noses, trimming eyelids, lifting jowls . . . In the year 1907, his revolutionary beauty surgery is considered daring, perhaps dangerous. Still, women want what Dr. Rome promises. Neither is his young assistant Abigail Platford immune to Dr. Rome’s persuasive charm.
Abigail once dreamed of becoming a doctor, though of a much different sort. That dream ended with her father’s tragic death from a medical error for which she holds herself responsible. Dr. Rome, who proudly displays his medical degree from Johns Hopkins, seems to believe in her. If he were willing to act as her mentor, might there still be a chance to realize her dream of someday becoming a doctor serving New York City’s poor?
But something feels terribly wrong, as though an insidious evil is closing in. Broken promises, lies, and intrigues abound. The powerful are threatening to destroy the weak, and a doctor’s sacred duty hangs in the balance. Abigail no longer knows who to believe; but with Dr. Rome now her mentor and her lover, she desperately wants to trust him.
Even when she discovers that one of their patients has mysteriously disappeared.
From bestselling author Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard, a suspenseful work of historical fiction grounded in the social and moral issues of the Edwardian era in America. Second Edition with Author’s Preface.
Buy Links:
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/316BAr
The Beauty Doctor: An ExcerptOn the chance Dr. Rome was still attending to Mr. Kilroy, she lay in wait. He was clearly surprised to find her loitering in front of the Kilroys’ townhome. She explained that she was calling off her engagement and needed to find employment. He seemed interested. It wasn’t until they were sitting across from each other at Café Le Jour on Forty-sixth Street that Abigail began to think she’d made yet another terrible mistake.
“You are a very beautiful young woman,” he said, smiling at her over his coffee cup. “I suppose people tell you that all the time.”
“Not so often, actually.” That he had begun on such a personal note, and with the same overabundance of charm he’d displayed at the Hennessys’ banquet, had an unsettling effect on her. As did his gaze, which was direct and insistent.
“I’m sure you’re only being modest, but you need not be around me. I appreciate beauty for what it is and for the entitlements it brings to those lucky enough to have it.”
“I’ve never been one to think much about entitlements. I was taught that if you desire something, you work for it. Which is why I wanted to speak with you—”
“There are lots of women who work very hard at being beautiful and still they can’t hold a candle to you. I’d even go so far as to say that you, Miss Platford, are the embodiment of everything I hope to achieve for my patients. That’s why you may actually be the perfect one to assist me with my new practice. You see, what I really need,” he said, the excitement in his voice building, “is a foil. A stunningly beautiful foil.”
“A foil?” She wasn’t sure what the word meant, but didn’t like the way it sounded.
“Yes. Someone to make the rounds with me at parties and events, anywhere we can meet women—the kind of women with both the desire and the means to avail themselves of my services.” This was not what she’d expected, nor was it a welcome development. Her purpose in approaching Dr. Rome was a far more serious one than his words implied. She had imagined herself working at his side, much as she had done with her father, helping to put patients at ease, assisting with their care. And though it was not her favorite duty, she would readily have consented to manage his schedule and fulfill the required paperwork if he were to ask her. But this business of attending parties and events—what did it have to do with doctoring?
“You speak of meeting women in need of your services, but surely you plan to take care of men as well. Mr. Kilroy is your patient, isn’t he?”
“For the moment, yes—though that was only a favor. But let me explain.” He took a hasty gulp of his coffee and set down the cup. “I’m about to embark on a new facet of my career, a new field. Transformative surgery. Have you heard of it?”
“I don’t believe I have.”
“Some call it beauty surgery.”
She instantly recalled splashy advertisements she’d seen in the newspapers for practitioners who claimed to specialize in straightening noses, pinning back ears, and plumping up wrinkles with paraffin. At best, such solicitations had struck her as tasteless. At worst … might Dr. Rome be nothing more than a charlatan?
“Oh—you’re a beauty doctor.” The inflection in her voice no doubt came across as somewhat disparaging. She dipped her head, hoping to obscure the visual evidence of her skepticism beneath the plethora of ostrich feathers on the brim of her blue velvet hat.
“Just imagine it for a moment, Miss Platford,” he said, seeming not to have found anything disturbing in her reaction. “Your mere presence by my side would stimulate, in any average woman, an intense longing for beauty; then, arising quite naturally from that, a burning curiosity. With just a hint, she would be eager to learn what I offer in the way of beautifying procedures. That’s how one goes about building a thriving beauty practice. Stimulate the need, offer the solution. Or, if you prefer, think of it this way: You would be helping to enlighten women about advances that can greatly enhance their lives. No different from selling a product. A product that people would certainly buy if they only knew its benefits.”
So, he wanted her to help him sell the concept of beauty surgery to other women? That was not what a doctor does! To take part in such activities would compromise everything she believed in. “Your idea is to use me as a sort of walking advertisement?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but are you really a doctor?”
He shoved aside his coffee cup, almost knocking it over. “Would I call myself a doctor if I wasn’t one?”
“I don’t mean to offend you. It’s just that I don’t know any other doctors who are engaged in your kind of work.”
“Because no medical school in this country has the foresight to embrace transformative surgery. That’s why it was necessary for me to receive advanced training in Europe. I returned from Paris only recently.”
“But you did train in medicine? Here in America?”
“Certainly, but the typical doctor’s training only goes so far. The medical establishment is very set in its ways. It resists anything that might challenge the status quo. And that is exactly what transformative surgery does. The social implications are immense. It represents possibly the greatest force for the empowerment of women in all of human history.”
“Empowerment of women?” Despite her disappointment, she had to smile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see what your transformative surgery could have to do with the movement for women’s rights.”
“Maybe you’ve never thought of it this way, but beauty is power,” Dr. Rome said, with the calm certainty of a man who knows he speaks the truth. “And with enough power, Miss Platford, a woman can achieve anything.”
Author Bio:
Elizabeth Hutchison Bernard is the author of bestselling historical novels. Her 2023 release, Sisters of Castle Leod, is an Amazon Kindle #1 Bestseller (Historical Biographical Fiction, Historical Literary Fiction), winner of the 2023 Maxy Award for Historical and Adventure Fiction, and an Editors’ Choice of the Historical Novel Society. Her biographical novel Temptation Rag (2018) was hailed by Publishers Weekly as a “resonant novel . . . about the birth and demise of ragtime . . . in which romance and creative passions abound.” Elizabeth’s 2017 historical mystery-suspense-thriller, The Beauty Doctor, was a finalist for the prestigious Eric Hoffer Book Award. The book’s re-release (Jan. 4, 2024) features a stunning new cover and an Author Preface with insights into social and moral issues of the Edwardian era that frame this shocking fictional story set in the early days of cosmetic surgery. Before becoming a full-time author, Elizabeth was executive editor of an international aesthetic surgery journal, and senior consultant to the National Cosmetic Network in conjunction with Johns Hopkins University’s plastic surgery educational program. Learn more about Elizabeth and her books at http://www.EHBernard.com.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.ehbernard.com
Twitter: https://www.X.com/EHBernardAuthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EHBernardAuthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/EHBernardAuthor
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Elizabeth-Hutchison-Bernard/author/B072N681MZ
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16953486.Elizabeth_Hutchison_Bernard
January 11, 2024
The Dream Collector “Sabrine & Sigmund Freud: The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Rw Meek on the blog tour for his new release, The Dream Collector “Sabrine & Sigmund Freud”. Please take a look at the excerpt below.
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/12/blog-tour-the-dream-collector-by-rw-meek.html
The Dream Collector “Sabrine & Sigmund Freud” (Book 1) by R.w. MeekThe Dream Collector immerses the reader into the exciting milieu of late 19th Century Paris when art and medicine were in the throes of revolution, art turning to Impressionism, medicine turning to psychology. In 1885, Julie Forette, a self-educated woman from Marseilles, finds employment at the infamous Salpêtrière, hospital and asylum to over five thousand disabled, demented and abandoned women, a walled city ruled by the famed neurologist and arrogant director, Dr. Jean-Martin Charcot.
Julie Forette forms a friendship with the young, visiting intern Sigmund Freud who introduces her to the altering-conscious power of cocaine. Together they pursue the hidden potential of hypnotism and dream interpretation. After Freud receives the baffling case of the star hysteric, Sabrine Weiss, he is encouraged by Julie to experiment with different modes of treatment, including “talking sessions.” Their urgent quest is to find a cure for Sabrine, Princess of the Hysterics, before Dr. Charcot resorts to the radical removal of her ovaries.
In Paris, Julie finds a passion for the new art emerging, Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, and forms friendships with the major artists of the period, including Pissarro, Monet, and Degas. Julie becomes intimately involved with the reclusive Cezanne only to be seduced by the “Peruvian Savage” Paul Gauguin. Julie is the eponymous ‘Dream Collector’ collecting the one unforgettable, soul-defining dream of the major historical figures of the period.
Praise for The Dream Collector:
“Meek never fails to stun and impress with his evocation of scenes and events, of sights and dialogue, and of peoples’ reactions to them.”
~ HFC Reviews
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/4jE52j
Excerpt:The Dream Collector
The decipherable power of the Rosetta Stone intrigued me. How for millenniums the strange hieroglyphs painted on Egyptian tomb walls were considered unreadable, a mystery buried with the Pharaohs, until the Rosetta Stone supplied the code, and inserted meaning to what seemed only fanciful imaginings. I kept wondering if dreams, whether laughable, weird or lunatic, could be deciphered. What if dreams were, like hieroglyphics, nothing less than pictograms, a parade of symbols that, when gathered together, told hidden stories? Suppose the scenes in dreams, which appeared disconnected, vague and absurd, were quite rational—if you had a Rosetta Stone to interpret them.
So my new experiment came to be: collecting dreams.
Author Bio:
R.w. MeekR.w. Meek has a Master’s degree in Art History from the American University in Washington, D.C., his areas of expertise are Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, with a particular interest in Vincent van Gogh. He has interned and conducted tours at the National Museum of American and the National Gallery of Art. In 2022 and 2023 five of his chapter excerpts from his soon to be published novel “The Dream Collector” were either finalists or published in various literary journals. The author has also won the Palm Beach Book Festival Competition for “Best Writer in Palm Beach’ his manuscript judged by a panel of NYT Best Selling authors. “The Dream Collector” also received gold and silver medals in the Historical Fiction Company literary contest and earned runner-up for the “Best Historical Fiction Novel’ of 2022.
The author was born in Baltimore, adventured in Europe for many years, and recently moved from Delray Beach, Florida to Santa Clarita, California. His wife is a psychologist, sculptress, playwright and stand-up story teller. His daughter Nora is a story board artist in the animation world and resides in Hollywood, California. His favorite writers are Dostoevsky, John Fowles, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.ronmeekauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100010220437381
December 14, 2023
The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu by Ann Bennett: The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Ann Bennett for her book blog tour for The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu. Ann has been kind enough to include an excerpt from the book (see below).
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-fortune-teller-of-kathmandu-by-ann-bennett.html
The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu by Ann BennettA sweeping wartime tale of secrets and love, mystery and redemption, moving from the snow-capped Himalayas to the steamy heat of battle in the Burmese jungle.
Perfect for fans of Dinah Jeffries, Victoria Hislop and Rosie Thomas.
Hampshire, UK, 2015. When Chloe Harper’s beloved grandmother, Lena dies, a stranger hands her Lena’s wartime diary. Chloe sets out to uncover deep family secrets that Lena guarded to her grave.
Darjeeling, India, 1943, Lena Chatterjee leaves the confines of a strict boarding school to work as assistant to Lieutenant George Harper, an officer in the British Indian Army. She accompanies him to Nepal and deep into the Himalayas to recruit Gurkhas for the failing Burma Campaign. There, she discovers that Lieutenant Harper has a secret, which she vows never to reveal.
In Kathmandu, the prophesy of a mysterious fortune teller sets Lena on a dangerous course. She joins the Women’s Auxiliary Service Burma (the Wasbies), risking her life to follow the man she loves to the front line. What happens there changes the course of her life.
On her quest to uncover her grandmother’s hidden past, Chloe herself encounters mystery and romance. Helped by young Nepalese tour guide, Kiran Rai, she finds history repeating itself when she is swept up in events that spiral out of control…
“What a wonderful book… I loved it. The dual time lines were delineated to perfection… the settings were perfectly rendered.” Advance Reader.
Buy Links:
This title is available to read with #KindleUnlimited.
Universal Buy Link: https://mybook.to/tftok
An Excerpt from The Fortune Teller of KathmanduPrologue
There was little natural light in the cell-like room, tucked away in the back of an ancient building in the maze of narrow, cobbled streets in the heart of old Kathmandu. Despite that, Devisha had the sense that daylight was fading quickly outside, and that darkness would soon envelop the neighbourhood.
It had been quiet that day. But the usual mix of people had made their way through the backstreets and alleyways to her door, crossed the outer chamber lit only by flickering candles, and drawn back the velvet curtain that divided Devisha’s alcove from the chamber. As they did every day, they had sat down opposite her with their timid, hopeful faces, extended their palms across the table, raised their eyes tentatively to hers before she dropped her gaze to read the future mapped out in their lines. The Line of Life, the Line of Fate, the Line of Heart, the Line of Fortune. The mounts of Jupiter, Saturn, Apollo, Mercury and Venus. Devisha knew every permutation of every line intimately, as well as what they signified.
Today had been much like every other day. There had been the young daughter of a rice farmer from Nagarkot who had arrived with her mother. They’d walked the length of the Kathmandu valley to Devisha’s rooms. They wanted to be sure that the girl’s chosen betrothed was auspicious, and to get Devisha’s advice on the best date to set the wedding. There had been the old, stooping carpenter from Bodinath, his brow furrowed with worry. His business was failing as well as his health. He’d asked if things would pick up in the future. Then, there had been the middle-aged woman from Thamel who’d already lost three babies in childbirth. With a pleading look in her eyes, she’d wanted to know if the one she was now carrying would survive.
All Devisha could tell them was what she saw in their palms. She could usually see, as soon as she turned a hand over in her own, peered at the palm and traced the lines with her own fingers. Their futures played out in her mind. She would try to tell them exactly what she saw, what they craved to know.
It wasn’t always easy living with the gift that had been passed to her down the generations. She’d learned it at her mother’s knee and her mother from her grandmother before her. To witness the pain in people’s faces when she told them what she could see was sometimes hard to bear. Their heartache would often become her own. She knew she would be thinking about the woman from Thamel long into the night. But in amongst the pain was joy too, joy and light and hope for the future. She’d foreseen that the rice-farmer’s daughter’s marriage would be happy and prosperous, and that she would have a long, rich life, filled with love and laughter.
With a sigh, Devisha got up from her chair. It was time to get ready to go home. But as she held back her veil and stooped to blow out the first candle, she heard the click and creak of the outer door. Then came footsteps. Someone was walking slowly across the chamber towards her. The footsteps stopped and, as often happened, the newcomer hesitated for a couple of seconds before pulling back the curtain and peeping through.
The face of a stranger appeared in the flickering candlelight. A young woman, with soft dark hair and pale skin. She looked different to most of Devisha’s customers. She wasn’t local, and in this hidden quarter, it was rare to see a foreigner. Although the newcomer had Indian features, she was wearing western clothes. Devisha noticed the scepticism in the woman’s narrowed eyes, but there was a hint of curiosity, and a sort of yearning there too.
Devisha quickly sat down and beckoned the young woman forward. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ she said. ‘Please, come in. Sit down. Give me your hand.’
The girl’s eyes flickered hesitantly, darting around the room, taking in the smoking candles, the incense and the wall hangings. Then she took a couple of steps forward, sat down in the chair opposite and extended her right hand across the red tablecloth.
Devisha took the soft, manicured hand in her own, studied it for a few seconds. Her eyes widened and she stifled a gasp.
This was unusual indeed. There was a lot to see in this palm. There was everything there she’d expected from such a subject, but there was more. Much, much more.
Devisha narrowed her eyes and peered closer concentrating deeply. Whatever it was, was elusive. She traced the Line of Luna with her long, painted fingernail, letting it rest briefly on the Mount of Mercury.
This young woman would be tested, that was clear. But she was strong too. Stronger than she looked. There was something more there though… something dark, something troubling. Something that even Devisha couldn’t fathom, not straightaway. She bent forward, her many necklaces clanking against the table, and looked closer.
Author Bio:
Ann Bennett is a British author of historical fiction. She was born in Pury End, a small village in Northamptonshire, UK and now lives in Surrey. Her first book, Bamboo Heart: A Daughter’s Quest, was inspired by researching her father’s experience as a prisoner of war on the Thai-Burma Railway. Bamboo Island: The Planter’s Wife, A Daughter’s Promise and Bamboo Road:The Homecoming, The Tea Panter’s Club and The Amulet are also about the war in South East Asia, which together with The Fortune Teller of Kathmandu make up the Echoes of Empire Collection.
Ann is also author of The Runaway Sisters, bestselling The Orphan House, The Forgotten Children and The Child Without a Home, published by Bookouture.
The Lake Pavilion, The Lake Palace, both set in British India in the 1930s and WW2, and The Lake Pagoda and The Lake Villa, set in French Indochina during WW2, make up The Oriental Lake Collection.
Ann is married with three grown up sons and a granddaughter and works as a lawyer. For more details please visit www.annbennettauthor.com.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.annbennettauthor.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/annbennett71
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annbennettauthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/annbennettauthor/
Amazon Author Page UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00D21SJ7A
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1951323.Ann_Bennett
December 6, 2023
How to Dress Like a Tudor: Book Spotlight with the Coffee Pot Book Club
Today, I am delighted to host Judith Arnopp for her non-fiction book spotlight tour for How to Dress Like a Tudor. Judith is passionate about the Tudor period and really knows her stuff, so this is a must-have for any historical fashion and reenactment fans.
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-how-to-dress-like-a-tudor-by-judith-arnopp.html
How to Dress Like a Tudor by Judith ArnoppHave you ever hankered to dress like a Tudor lord or lady, or perhaps you prefer the status of goodwife, or costermonger, or even a bawd?
For beginner historical reenactors, the path to authenticity can be bewildering and sometimes intimidating. Judith Arnopp uses her own experience, both as a historian and a medieval/Tudor lady, to make your own journey a little easier.
The author traces the transition of fashion from the relatively subtle styles popular at the court of Henry VII, through the carefully constructed royal grandeur of Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Mary I to the pinnacle of majesty and splendid iconography of Elizabeth I.
In contrast to the magnificence of court come the ordinary folk who, subject to sumptuary laws and regulations, wore garments of a simpler cut and cloth – a strata of society that formed the back bone of Tudor England.
This brief history of 16th century fashion examines clothing for both rich and poor, adult and child, and offers tips and tricks on how to begin to sew your first historically inspired garment, this book is aimed at helping the beginner learn How to Dress like a Tudor.
Buy Link:
Universal Buy Link: mybook.to/howtodress
Author Bio:
Judith writes historical fiction set during the late medieval and Tudor period. Her usual focus is on the women who lived close to the monarch, women like Margaret Beaufort, Elizabeth of York and Mary Tudor but more recently has been writing from the perspective of Henry VIII himself. Her books are on Kindle, Audible and Paperback.
You can find her fiction books here: http://author.to/juditharnoppbooks
She also writes non-fiction, her work featuring in many anthologies and online magazines. Her latest non-fiction, How to Dress like a Tudor, published by Pen & Sword Books is available now.
Judith is a founder member of a reenactment group The Fyne Company of Cambria, and began making Tudor costumes for herself, her husband, John, and other members of the group. It was this that inspired How to Dress like a Tudor and she hopes to write more non-fiction Tudor history in the future.
Author Links:
Website: http://www.judithmarnopp.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JudithArnopp
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/judith-arnopp-ba999025
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tudor_juditharnopp/
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/jarnopp.bsky.social
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/judith-arnopp
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Judith-Arnopp/e/B003CGLWLA/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4088659.Judith_Arnopp
December 5, 2023
The Redemption of Mattie Silks by Kimberly Burns: The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Kimberly Burns for the Book Blog Tour for The Redemption of Mattie Silks. Kimberly has kindly provided an excerpt for you to read (see below).l
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/11/blog-tour-the-redemption-of-mattie-silks-by-kimberly-burns.html
The Redemption of Mattie Silks by Kimberly BurnsSEEKING REDEMPTION, SHE FINDS RETRIBUTION
In 1892, running one of the West’s fanciest brothels is a rough game. In a town filled with brazen criminals, corrupt police, zealous politicians, and morality committees, Madam Mattie Silks makes her fortune catering to Colorado’s gold and silver millionaires.
Notorious crime boss “Soapy” Smith is at the top of the Denver underworld. There are no rules for Smith’s gang. They solve problems with bribes and bullets. When Mattie’s husband stumbles into Soapy’s dealings, she struggles to protect him.
Gold is discovered in the Yukon and Mattie seizes the opportunity for adventure and profit. But Skagway, Alaska, is even more lawless than Denver. Mattie must use all her business sense and street smarts to safeguard those she cares about. Will it be enough? Or will Lady Justice again turn a blind eye?
Based on a true story, The Redemption of Mattie Silks is an action-packed tale of a woman succeeding in a man’s world even when the cards are stacked against her.
“The research on the era shines through, as do the grit and spirit of the characters. … A colorful and enthralling journey.”
~ K.T. Blakemore, award-winning author of The Good Time Girlsseries
Buy Links:
This title is available to read with #KindleUnlimited
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/mlpKRv
Excerpt from The Redemption of Mattie Silks:June 1894
The new police and fire commissioners’ first order of business was to sort out the conflicting allegiances of the members of the police force and find a new chief of police to lead them. The job required someone with law enforcement experience who had not participated in the city hall barricade and was not overly friendly within Denver’s criminal element. From the chaos emerged the incorruptible Hamilton Armstrong. Although slight in stature, he attacked his new job with the tenacity of a bulldog.
“Policemen are hereby ordered to stay out of saloons and brothels except to detect crime and make arrests,” he announced on his first day. The citizens of Denver were skeptical.
***
A couple of weeks later, two black police vans stopped at the lower end of Market Street. Thirty policemen fanned out to the saloons and cribs within a five-block area. Mattie and her girls watched from behind the lace curtains as Negro, Chinese, Irish, and French women were rounded up. By the end of the day, one hundred and ten warrants had been served.
The entire third floor of the county courthouse was commandeered as a temporary jail. Curious citizens watched the paddy wagons rushing to and fro and gathered at the courthouse to get a peek at the ladies of joy. The girls accommodated the throng by throwing open the window and waving hankies. A rake in the crowd sang to them “Oh Girls, Why Won’t You Try to be Good.”
“Beer! Send up beer,” shouted a couple of Irish doxies. The mostly male crowd hooted.
A petit dark head poked out of another window, speaking in French.
“What did she say?” the men below asked each other.
“The French girls want cigarettes,” the Irish reported.
“Fair damsels in yon high castle, your wish is my command,” called a gent.
Chief Armstrong stood in the doorway of the county building with arms crossed and face blazing red. “Absolutely no beer or cigarettes will be allowed in the building,” he bellowed to those assembled. He stomped back into the building. “And take the playing cards away from the Negros.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I don’t know if I’m head of the police department or the ringmaster of a circus.”
***
Judge Walburn’s enormous white eyebrows crawled up his forehead as over one hundred women were herded into his court. His brows then plunged as he frowned, slamming his gavel down in an effort to quiet the babble and gain control of the overcrowded room. “Mr. Stevens,” he called to the district attorney. “What is this all about?”
“These women are all part of the Market Street raid that you may have heard about. They are all being charged with encouraging drinking and fornication.” The prosecuting attorney had to speak up in order to be heard.
“Is there anyone that wishes to plead guilty?” the judge asked.
Several Irish girls, dressed in dingy white nightgowns, standing nearest the rail began to protest.
“No, we are not guilty.”
“Aye, we be good girls.”
“We be innocent boarders in a women’s rooming house.”
“We are wrongly accused.”
The French mademoiselles joined in the babble with their rapid-fire language, accompanied by hand gestures that did little to clear the confusion.
“Silence,” the judge commanded, beating the gavel again and again. When the defendants quieted, he tried a different tack. “Perhaps the complaining witnesses can identify which women…” The judge hooked spectacles around his ears and read from the charging document, “encouraged them to fornicate.”
Laughter rippled through the room. District Attorney Stevens cleared his throat. “Your Honor, this is a very delicate situation. It is not possible for the men who are the victims of these criminal enterprises to come forward and publicly press charges.”
The judge rubbed his forehead further ruffling his bushy brows. “I assume no one was caught red-handed, as it were.” At this, hardy guffaws were heard from the gallery.
“No, Your Honor.”
“So, there are no victims nor any evidence of a crime?”
The prosecutor shook his head no. At the back of the room, Chief Armstrong groaned.
Judge Walburn sighed and tapped the gavel once. “Case dismissed. Everyone is free to go.”
Author Bio:
Kimberly Burns grew up in Colorado hearing stories about the colourful characters of the Old West. She has degrees from the University of Colorado and the University of Hartford. Kimberly is a member of the Historical Novel Society, Western Writers of America, and Women Writing the West. She lives with her husband and black Lab in Leesburg, Virginia.
Her debut novel The Mrs. Tabor won numerous awards including the Western Fictioneers Peacemaker Award for Best New Novel, a gold medal for Best Regional Fiction from the Independent Publisher Book Awards, a National Indie Excellence Award, and a silver medal from the Colorado Independent Publishers Association EVVY Awards.
Kimberly and her unruly heroines make for an entertaining book talk. She is available to discuss her novels with book groups in person or online. Email her at info@kimberlyburnsauthor.com.
Author Links:
Website: www.kimberlyburnsauthor.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100072454670660
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kimberlyburnsauthor/
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Kimberly-Burns/author/B09G4S8N2L
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21851914.Kimberly_Burns
November 20, 2023
Book Spotlight: A Class Inherited by Susie Murphy
Happy Publication Day, Susie!
Today I am really delighted to feature Susie Murphy’s latest book which I highly recommend. Susie was recently shortlisted for the prestigious CAP book award for best fiction. Susie is flying the flag for Irish historical fiction, so do check out her series; it won’t disappoint.
A Class Inherited by Susie Murphy
An extraordinary bequest alters their fate…
In the winter of 1846, Cormac and Bridget receive two letters that will change their lives forever. Lord Bewley has died and left Bewley Hall to Cormac, while potato blight has struck the Oakleigh Estate, driving the tenants to appeal to Bridget for help. With their world turned upside down, they decide to leave America and cross the Atlantic to meet the challenges of their pressing responsibilities.
As for their daughter Emily, she faces a choice of her own: will she go with her family or stay in America for her art…and for Rory?
Heading towards new horizons, they must all strive to re-establish themselves while hampered by distrust and prejudice on multiple fronts. When separation once again plunges a member of the family into grave danger, will they be able to distinguish friend from foe?
A Class Inherited is the sixth book in Susie Murphy’s historical fiction series A Matter of Class. The story will continue in the seventh book, A Class Divided.
Buy Link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CKQ1FM2Y
A little bit about Susie …
Susie Murphy is an Irish historical fiction author. She loves historical fiction so much that she often wishes she had been born two hundred years ago. Still, she remains grateful for many aspects of the modern age, including women’s suffrage, electric showers and pizza. Susie has published six books in her A Matter of Class series, which is set in Ireland, England and America in the 19th century and spans almost two decades and two family generations.
Susie’s A Matter of Class series has achieved acclaim from the Historical Novel Society which selected her third book, A Class Forsaken, as an Editors’ Choice in spring 2021. Her first book, A Class Apart, was shortlisted in the final five in the fiction category of the Carousel Aware Prize for Independently Published Authors in November 2023.
November 14, 2023
Times of Turmoil by Anna Belfrage: The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Anna Belfrage on the blog tour for Times of Turmoil, which was published in September. Anna has kindly provided an excerpt for you to enjoy.
You can follow the full tour here:
https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/09/blog-tour-times-of-turmoil-by-anna-belfrage.html
Times of Turmoil by Anna BelfrageIt is 1718 and Duncan Melville and his time traveller wife, Erin, are concentrating on building a peaceful existence for themselves and their twin daughters. Difficult to do, when they are beleaguered by enemies.
Erin Melville is not about to stand to the side and watch as a child is abused—which is how she makes deadly enemies of Hyland Nelson and his family.
Then there’s that ghost from their past, Armand Joseph Chardon, a person they were certain was dead. Apparently not. Monsieur Chardon wants revenge and his sons are tasked with making Duncan—and his wife—pay.
Things aren’t helped by the arrival of Duncan’s cousin, fleeing her abusive husband. Or the reappearance of Nicholas Farrell in their lives, as much of a warped bully now as he was when he almost beat Duncan to death years ago. Plus, their safety is constantly threatened as Erin is a woman of colour in a time and place where that could mean ostracism, enslavement or even death.
Will Duncan and Erin ever achieve their simple wish – to live and love free from fear of those who wish to destroy them?
Buy Links:
This title is available on #KindleUnlimited.
Universal link: https://myBook.to/ToTABG
An Excerpt from Times of TurmoilIt was common knowledge that the Quakers—or Friends, as they called themselves—had arrived in Pennsylvania with an ingrained mistrust for the British legal system. Too many years of persecution, too many accusations of being in breach of the Conventicle Act, had left them with a desire to build their own legislation. Accordingly—or so Lloyd said, being a pragmatic soul no matter his faith—the original penal code had been somewhat lax. Some years later, the colony had swung the other way, implementing punishments that were particularly brutal—at least for some crimes, like sodomy.
“Now I believe we have found an adequate balance,” Lloyd had confided with some smugness. After all, he’d been a major contributor to the recent reforms. But some things hadn’t changed: the Friends preferred to settle their disputes in venues that were more reminiscent of their meetinghouses than a courtroom, which was why today’s proceedings were held in a simply furnished room adjoining Lloyd’s office. Uncluttered and full of light, the bare room was evidently to Erin’s liking, as were the chairs, unadorned but well-made. Duncan was not in the mood to inspect furnishings or interiors. Truth be told, he didn’t believe Erin was either: she was merely distracting herself from the coming proceedings.
Lloyd entered, followed by a group of silent men, the jurors. Some were landowners; some ran businesses in Chester itself. All of them looked serious, inclining their heads politely at Erin—albeit some chose not to look directly at her—and greeting Duncan with more familiarity.
Last came Caleb Nelson, strutting into the room accompanied by his lawyer, John Edwards. Lloyd and Duncan shared a look: Edwards was a recent transplant from England and was prone to wordy comparisons between the glories of England and the woeful state of affairs in this sad corner of the world, Pennsylvania.
Today, Edwards oozed confidence. Where Caleb had opted for a brightly embroidered waistcoat under an ill-fitting coat and boots rather than shoes, John Edwards sported expensive black. Black coat adorned with silver buttons, a black waistcoat, neat black breeches, black stockings and polished silver-buckled shoes. Cuffs frothed with pristine lace, a blindingly white collar contrasting starkly with the darkness of his coat. He bowed to the assembled jurors, totally ignoring Duncan and Erin. Duncan bristled. Erin’s hand clasped his forearm, urging him to sit back.
“Well, this won’t take long, will it?” Edwards said, and Caleb grinned.
“No? How so?” Lloyd asked.
“Nonsense!” Edwards said. “Unsubstantiated accusations! Everyone knows it was that man who shot our dear Hyland Nelson.” He pointed at Hans, for the day in his best coat.
“Ah. And thou wert there, wert thou?” Lloyd asked.
“Me?” Edwards snorted. “Of course not, but Caleb—Mr Nelson—says that—”
“Ah. So Caleb Nelson admits to being there.”
Edwards gave Lloyd an irritated look. “What of it?”
“Trespassing, John Edwards. A most serious offense. Who knows what dastardly deeds he and his father were planning?” Lloyd nodded repeatedly.
“Dastardly deeds?” Edwards squeaked. “It was Hyland Nelson who was murdered!”
“Hmm,” Lloyd said. “Murder requires premeditation. Surely, thou knowest that, educated man that thou art.”
Edwards puffed up. “Of course.”
“So if Hyland Nelson died in stables he had no reason to be in, one could argue it was as a consequence of his actions: breaking and entering.”
“How dare you! My father and I—”
“Were trespassing,” Lloyd cut him off. “Or art thou saying Duncan Melville invited you?”
“Melville wasn’t home,” Caleb Nelson said.
“No. Which likely means thou were not invited. So in fact, thou wert trespassing, likely to do Duncan Melville damage. As I hear it, thou wert planning theft, Nelson.”
Caleb Nelson spluttered, but Edwards frowned, gesturing that he hold his tongue.
“We can but speculate for their presence at the Melville home,” he began, at which Duncan shot to his feet.
“Speculate? They were there to steal back my latest indenture.”
“Our indenture! You tricked us out of him!” Caleb roared.
“Duncan Melville bought him off thee,” Lloyd said, waving for Duncan to sit down. “At a fair price. And we all know why he did, do we not?” He fixed Edwards with a narrow, wintry gaze. “I assume thou dost know why we interceded on behalf of the lad, John Edwards?”
“I do,” the lawyer muttered.
“So,” Lloyd continued, “I think we can ascertain that Nelson, father and son, were at Papegoja Plantation to steal.” He turned to glare at Celeb. “Am I not correct?”
“He belongs with us,” Caleb said, and beside him Edwards shook his head.
“Not anymore.” Lloyd turned to Edwards. “Tell me, John Edwards, if this were England, how would a thief be punished?”
Edwards paled. “Err . . .”
“He would hang, would he not?” Lloyd said.
“Well, it depends,” Edwards began. “For stealing a horse, likely, but—”
“Hang?” Caleb interrupted. “Me? It was him, the German, who shot my father, he should hang!”
“Tut-tut: For defending his master’s property against thieves? I think not. Besides, both Hans Muller and Erin Melville give a different account of events,” Lloyd said. He turned to the jurors. “Erin Melville will not testify, of course, but we have here her written statement.”
Duncan suppressed a yelp when Erin pinched him. Bright green eyes met his.
“I want to testify,” she said in an undertone.
“But you will not.” He’d have preferred it if she hadn’t been here at all, but Erin had been adamant: she had a right to be present. And he couldn’t quite tell her that he didn’t want her exposed, that he didn’t like men looking at her with a speculating gleam in their eyes, wondering if there was some truth in the lies spread by Nelson about Erin once having been a slave.
“All lies, lies, I say!” Caleb Nelson said once Lloyd had finished reading Erin’s account out loud. He swivelled to glare at Erin. “She knows it was the German who shot my father; she’s just lying to protect her man.” He sniffed. “What else can one expect of a coloured h—”
“Careful,” Lloyd said. “Tread with care, Nelson.”
“Her word should not count,” Caleb blustered. “Not against me, a white man.”
“How fortunate, then, that our first witness is white,” Lloyd said.
Author Bio:Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests: history and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England.
Anna has also published The Wanderer, a fast-paced contemporary romantic suspense trilogy with paranormal and time-slip ingredients.
More recently, Anna has been hard at work with her Castilian series. The first book, His Castilian Hawk, published in 2020, is set against the complications of Edward I’s invasion of Wales, His Castilian Hawk is a story of loyalty, integrity—and love. In the second instalment, The Castilian Pomegranate, we travel with the protagonists to the complex political world of medieval Spain, while the third, Her Castilian Heart, finds our protagonists back in England—not necessarily any safer than the wilds of Spain! The fourth book, Their Castilian Orphan, is scheduled for early 2024.
Anna has recently released Times of Turmoil, the sequel to her 2021 release, The Whirlpools of Time. Here she returns to the world of time travel. Where The Whirlpools of Time had Duncan and the somewhat reluctant time-traveller Erin navigating the complexities of the first Jacobean rebellion in Scotland, in Times of Turmoil our protagonists are in Colonial Pennsylvania, hoping for a peaceful existence. Not about to happen—not in one of Anna’s books!
All of Anna’s books have been awarded the IndieBRAG Medallion, she has several Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choices, and one of her books won the HNS Indie Award in 2015. She is also the proud recipient of various Reader’s Favorite medals as well as having won various Gold, Silver and Bronze Coffee Pot Book Club awards.
Author Links:
Website: www.annabelfrage.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/abelfrageauthor
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/annabelfrageauthor
Instagram: https://instagram.com/annabelfrageauthor
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/anna-belfrage
Amazon Author Page: http://Author.to/ABG or http://amazon.com/author/anna_belfrage
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6449528.Anna_Belfrage
November 7, 2023
The Warmth of Snow by Heidi Eljarbo: The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Heidi Eljarbo on the blog tour for The Warmth of Snow. Heidi has kindly provided a snippet from the book – see below.
You can follow the full tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/10/blog-tour-the-warmth-of-snow-by-heidi-eljarbo.html
The Warmth of Snow by Heidi EljarboThere must be a way to thaw a heart long frozen. Can she help him, or does he have other plans?
Sweden 1810.
August Brandell, the count of Linborg, has returned home after four years of war against the French Empire under the direction of Napoléon Bonaparte. Wounded and downtrodden, he is a meager shadow of the man he used to be. One day, a lovely young woman comes calling. She’s strong and bright and, unlike the rest, seems unaffected by his wealth and unfortunate disability. He soon discovers he wants more than a sweet friendship, but a life of caring for him would not be fair to such a beautiful soul. Oh, how dearly, deeply he loves her and secretly wants her to stay, but he cannot and will not ask such a sacrifice from her … especially not when it’s out of pity for him.
Erica Gustava Ebbesdotter has primarily been left to herself since she was orphaned at an early age. Although grateful to her aunt and uncle for taking her in, they pay her no attention and even keep her in the dark about her parents. Hearing about Count Brandell’s unfortunate fate on the battlefield, she knocks on the door at Castle Linborg to leave him a card of encouragement. Meeting Count Brandell changes Erica’s entire world. Falling for him is utterly unexpected. Soon, he fills her heart, but he is far above her station. How can a man like him see beyond her less refined clothes and past? Worst of all, he is already betrothed.
This is a sweet and wholesome historical romance—a hauntingly beautiful tale of two hearts meant to be together.
This title is available to read with #KindleUnlimited.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/bPerOr
A Snippet from The Warmth of SnowShe flung the long-strapped bag on her back and helped the stableboy saddle the gray horse. Soon, she was on her way to town. The first seven cards were meant for elderly widows, gentle women Erica visited from time to time. Most of them had known her mother, and Erica gladly sat and listened to these women repeat their memories of how her sweet mother had spent time with them.
The last cottage she visited belonged to her elderly friend Ingela.
“I have one card left,” Erica said.
“Say, why don’t you ride to Castle Linborg? I heard the count returned from soldiering a while back. He used to be out and about all the time, talking to people and helping them settle disputes. He even showed up unannounced if someone was in need. But since he returned from war down in Europe, hardly anyone has seen him. His reputation as a fair and good nobleman has dwindled since he’s been away from the public eye. Now, rumors say he keeps to himself and has become both grumpy and of little use to people in our area.”
Castle Linborg? Twice Erica had received advice to go there. Although she had considered going there to spite Aunt Brita, here was the same suggestion from dear, old Ingela. The woman had been more family to her than the foursome at Holst Manor had ever been. Erica pulled the inkbottle and quill out of her bag and placed them next to the last card on the table.
“I’ll go see him then.”
“Do you dare? Will you knock on the door of an aristocrat who has the power to make your life miserable if things don’t go his way.”
Erica smiled back. “You just said the count used to be fair and good. My guess is that he still is … And although perhaps these traits are now hidden, there must be a reason for it.” She wrote his name on the back of the last card.
Count August Brandell of Linborg.
Why not try?
Author Bio:HEIDI ELJARBO grew up in a home full of books, artwork, and happy creativity. She is the author of award-winning historical novels filled with courage, hope, mystery, adventure, and sweet romance in the midst of challenging times. She’s been named a master of dual timelines and often writes about strong-willed women of past centuries.
Heidi EljarboAfter living in Canada, six US states, Japan, Switzerland, and Austria, Heidi now calls Norway home. She lives with her husband on a charming island and enjoys walking their Wheaten Terrier in any kind of weather, hugging her grandchildren, and has a passion for art and history.
Her family’s chosen retreat is a mountain cabin, where they hike in the summer and ski the vast white terrain during winter.
Heidi’s favorites are her family, God’s beautiful nature, and the word whimsical.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.heidieljarbo.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/HeidiEljarbo
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorheidieljarbo/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/authorheidieljarbo/
Pinterest: https://no.pinterest.com/heidieljarbo/
Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/heidi-eljarbo
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Heidi-Eljarbo/e/B073D852VG/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16984270.Heidi_Eljarbo
October 19, 2023
War Sonnets by Susannah Willey: The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour
Today, I am delighted to host Susannah Willey for the blog tour for her latest release, War Sonnets. Susannah has kindly provided an excerpt – please see below.
You can follow the full blog tour here: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2023/09/blog-tour-war-sonnets-by-susannah-willey.html
War Sonnets by Susannah Willey1942: In the war-torn jungles of Luzon, two soldiers scout the landscape. Under ordinary circumstances they might be friends, but in the hostile environment of World War II, they are mortal enemies.
Leal Baldwin, a US Army sergeant, writes sonnets. His sights are set on serving his country honorably and returning home in one piece. But the enemy is not always Japanese … Dooley wants Leo’s job, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it … Leo finds himself fighting for his reputation and freedom.
Lieutenant Tadashi Abukara prefers haiku. He has vowed to serve his emperor honorably, but finds himself fighting a losing battle. Through combat, starvation, and the threat of cannibalism, Tadashi’s only thought is of survival and return to his beloved wife and son. As Leo and Tadashi discover the humanity of the other side and the questionable moral acts committed by their own, they begin to ask themselves why they are here at all. When they at last meet in the jungles of Luzon, only one will survive, but their poetry will live forever.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/47dpEa
An Excerpt from War Sonnets:CLOSE COMBAT
We met upon a narrow jungle trace.
He aimed his gun at me, I aimed at him.
There in the silence of the jungle dim
One shot rang out;
CHAPTER 54ANTIPOLO, LUZON—AUGUST 1945“Filipowski, Grayson, Russo, you’re with me.” Leo nodded to all three of them as he outlined the duties for the day. There had been a report of a Japanese encampment in a gully several miles from the garrison. The entire platoon was going out. They’d establish a base camp and spread out in small groups to recon the area.
As the men readied themselves for patrol, Leo prepared himself for another unsuccessful day. Of course, they had to investigate, but he was certain that once again they’d be chasing the wind.
The encampment was where intel had reported. It was no surprise that it was now abandoned. Leo hoped that meant the Japs had moved on and out of his territory.
“Back to camp.” Leo waved his hand in a forward motion. “Let’s find out what other dead ends they’ve got for us to follow.”
As they headed back to the outpost, Leo took the point. He knew this trail by heart, knew they’d just come down it and find it empty. He relaxed his arms, dropped his rifle to his side, and let his thoughts wander.
It had been nearly three years since he’d boarded the bus to Fort Niagara. Until then, his life on the farm had been the only world he knew. He understood the rules, the routines, the way life was supposed to be. He saw clearly now that hard work and success didn’t always get you what you want. As much as he had once believed that a college degree and maybe even a career in writing was his future, he was now convinced that there was no point in chasing that dream.
Leo sighed and pushed away the pressure of regret. When this war was over—if he survived it—he would go home where he belonged, take up the plow, and accept his fate.
CHAPTER 55ANTIPOLO, LUZON—AUGUST 1945Tadashi stumbled along the northern trail, dragging his wounded leg. He was drenched in sweat and weak from his long day of traveling. He hadn’t waited for nightfall, instead starting out as soon as he made his decision. He had many miles to cross before he would find his comrades in the north—there was no time to stop for sleep.
When he came to a small stream, he paused, knelt beside it, and filled his canteen. He lifted it to his lips and guzzled. The cool, sweet water soothed his parched throat and satisfied his empty stomach. He filled the canteen again and sipped its contents this time, feeling the liquid run down his throat and into his belly.
The third time he filled the canteen, he capped it tightly and slung it across his shoulder. With effort, he stood and scanned the trail in both directions. He wanted so badly to stop, to rest his aching leg.
But he couldn’t. He had to get north. Had to get home. Had to hold his wife and son in his arms.
He pictured his family. His faded memory produced only shadows, but he filled in the rest with his imagination. Sachiko in the fine silk kimono he would buy for her, her long dark hair arranged on top of her head and held with ornate combs. Next to her stood Ichiro, nearly four years old now. In his imagination, Ichiro resembled his mother—the porcelain skin, the deep, dark eyes. He wore the jademagatama that had belonged to Tadashi’s venerated uncle.
Tadashi clutched the magatama and nodded. Yes. His son would have the keepsake when Tadashi came home. He vowed to keep these images in his mind as he traveled north. They would be his beacon.
He started out again. This time, his steps were firm and determined.
It was late in the day when he finally gave in to exhaustion. His wound was bleeding, his leg so weak it collapsed every few steps. Ahead of him, the trail became steep and rocky as it wound up and into the mountains. He could not go on until he regained the strength to climb.
Tadashi unwrapped his senninbari,the thousand-stitch good luck belt, from his waist. Before now, he’d stubbornly refused to remove it, unwilling to risk negating its luck. But blood flowed freely from his leg now, and he needed something to bind it with.
The minute he stopped walking, he heard them: American soldiers, too far away to see, but their voices carried on the breeze. He stepped off the trail and crouched in the tall kunai grass.
His mind raced. I want to live to see my family, he reminded himself. I will not surrender, will not confront them unless I have to. He knew his chances of survival were slim, but surrender was worse than death.
The Americans came closer, their voices louder now, as if they were unconcerned about attack. Tadashi kept his body still, held his breath, and hoped they would pass by without noticing him. The soldiers tramped through the kunai grass, its rough leaves swishing against their uniforms.
They were close. Too close and there was nowhere to hide.
Tadashi had to decide—life or death. Honor or disgrace.
Author Bio:
Susannah Willey is a baby boomer, mother of four, grandmother of three, and a recovering nerd. To facilitate her healing, she writes novels. In past lives, she has been an office assistant, stay-at-home-mom, Special Education Teaching Assistant, School Technology Coordinator, and Emergency Medical Technician. She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Instructional Computing from S.U.N.Y. Empire State College, and a Master’s Degree in Instructional Design from Boise State University.
Susannah grew up in the New York boondocks and currently lives in Central New York with her companion, Charlie, their dogs, Magenta and Georgie, and Jelly Bean the cat.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.utterloonacy.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writerSusannah
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/susannahwilley
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/bbittel71/
Threads: https://www.threads.net/@susannahwilley
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Susannah-Willey/author/B0C349ZF1V
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/32210037.Susannah_Willey
Alliance of Independent Authors: https://www.allianceindependentauthors.org/members/susannah-willey/author-profile
Historical Fiction Company: https://www.thehistoricalfictioncompany.com/authors/susannah-willey
