Mary Anne Yarde's Blog: The Coffee Pot Book Club , page 117

#BookReview — Auschwitz Syndrome: a Holocaust novel based on a true story (Women and the Holocaust Book 3) by Ellie Midwood #HistoricalFiction #WW2

Auschwitz Syndrome:a Holocaust novel based on a true story (Women and the Holocaust Book 3)By Ellie Midwood

Germany, 1947.

A strange case scheduled for the Denazification Court lands on the desk of an American psychiatrist currently serving in Germany, Dr. Hoffman.

A former Auschwitz guard, Franz Dahler, is set to appear in court, and he has requested to bring the most unexpected witness to testify in his defense - one of his former inmates and current wife, Helena.

As soon as one of the newly emerging Nazi hunters and former Auschwitz inmate, Andrej Novák, recognizes the officer’s name, he demands a full investigation of Dahler’s crimes, claiming that the former SS man was not only abusing Helena in the camp but is also using her as a ploy to escape prosecution.

Silent, subdued, and seemingly dependent on her husband’s every word, Helena appears to be a classic victim of abuse, and possibly more of an aid to the prosecution instead of the defense.

As she begins giving her testimony, Dr. Hoffman finds himself more and more confused at the picture that gradually emerges before his eyes; a perpetrator is claimed to be the savior and the accuser, the criminal.

The better Dr. Hoffman gets to know each participant, the more he begins to question himself; whether he’s facing a most unimaginable love story, or a new and still-nameless psychological disorder affecting the very manner in which Helena sees the events of the past.

Partially based on a true story, this deeply psychological, haunting novel will take you back in time to the heart of Auschwitz and post-war Germany, and will keep you guessing the true motive of each side




"I so wish to wake up and realize that I only dreamed it all. The whole... But not you. I would have died if I woke up and didn't have you."
It was impossible. Forbidden. Austrian SS-Unterscharführer Franz Dahler has no right to even think of Helena Kleinová let alone fall in love with her. For his beloved is a Jewish Slovakian prisoner, and they are in Auschwitz which so happens to be the largest of the Nazi concentration camps and extermination centres. And yet... Dahler can not help himself.

How dare he mention love in this place. How dare he. Helena Kleinová would *rather be dead than be involved with an SS man. There was only hatred in her heart for Dahler, or so she had thought. But in a place such as Auschwitz, where there is no sanctuary, no way out, some unexpected tenderness can, over time, change one's opinion. Love, it seems can be surprising as much as it is unwanted. It can be for the enemy. What love cannot be is contained and nor can it be controlled.
However, if anyone ever found out about their love, then the consequences... The consequences, like some tragic play, would end in death for them both.
But time marches carelessly on. The war is over. The Nuremberg Trials are over. American psychiatrist, Dr Hoffman, has been asked to attend a rather unusual case scheduled for the Denazification Court. Franz Dahler has been summoned to appear in court and Nazi hunter, Andrej Novák, wants a full investigation, for he and Dahler, know each other, for Novák was also at Auschwitz. Dahler is guilty of horrendous crimes against humanity, Novák is so sure of that.
But, to everyones surprise, Dahler requests to bring a witness to testify in his defence. This witness is a woman. This witness was, like Novák, at Auschwitz. This witness is his wife — Helena Dahler.
Auschwitz Syndrome: a Holocaust novel based on a true story (Women and the Holocaust Book 3) by Ellie Midwood is the deeply haunting novel that tells the intimate yet harrowing story of Helena Kleinová. Helena was spared from the gas chambers because she was pulled from the crowd of women assembled and forced to sing for Franz Dahler's birthday. It could have been any of the women who were waiting in line to be led to their death, but it wasn't. It had been her. Auschwitz Syndrome is very much Helena's story. And what a story it is.
Through Helena's eyes, we witness the horror, the fear, the struggle to survive, but also her unforgettable first love, who just so happened to be her sworn enemy. Words cannot express how deeply moving Helena's story is. Auschwitz Syndrome demands every emotion conceivable from the reader. I felt Helena's fear, her anguish, her total despair. But also, I experienced her conflicted emotions when it came to Dahler. She hates everything about him. His kind have murdered her people, and yet she is drawn to him in an unexplainable way until he becomes the very centre of her world. She could survive anything but losing him. This book had me in tears on more than one occasion not just because of the horrors that is Auschwitz, but because of the emotional vulnerability of Helena.
Midwood demonstrates through Helena, the grave emotional consequences of being a survivor. Helena is a broken young woman and one who will never completely recover from her ordeal. I was thoroughly moved by how Dahler takes care of her while they are in court. He is the most loving of men. Dahler will do absolutely anything for his Helena. Dahler is an anti-hero in one sense. He is who he is. He has used a whip on the inmates, he has done things that he is ashamed of, but he is no murderer. Dahler is as disturbed by what he witnesses as Helena is, but he was as trapped. He could not speak out. He could not do anything other than small acts of defiance — letting the women who were under his charge eat what food they find in the clothes they were sorting. He is in an impossible situation. He would prefer fighting at the front to this. However, when he falls in love with Helena, and he realises how dependent she becomes on him, Dahler is even more entangled in Auschwitz. He cannot leave this terrible place because if he does, who will protect her? I thought his portrayal was masterful. He really changes his outlook. Dahler allows himself the dangerous luxury of thinking, of seeing things through eyes that are no longer influenced by Nazi doctrine. He takes great personal risk to keep Helena safe, and I cannot help but admire him for that. I think Midwood has done Franz Wunsch justice in this portrayal. He was only 20 years old when he came to Auschwitz. It must have been truly horrendous to witness and be forced to partake in something so inhuman, and so devoid of compassion. There are no words to describe Auschwitz adequately or what it was like to have been an inmate there or, for that matter, a guard — for sometimes history forgets that not all Nazis were monsters.
Auschwitz and its renowned five smoking chimneys is not the place where one would expect to discover a tender and unforgettable romance, least of all between a SS guard and a Jewish inmate. But... Helena Kleinová (Helena Citrónová) and Kommandoführer Franz Dahler (Franz Wunsch) did find love in amongst the despair and the death of the most notorious Nazi extermination camps. Midwood has taken considerable care to stick to the historical facts of this remarkable and wholly unforgettable love story. Drawing on personal testimonials from Auschwitz, Midwood has penned a story that is as rich in historical accuracy as it is in emotional intensity. Auschwitz Syndrome, like Thomas Keneally's Schindlers Ark, does not gloss over the horrific realities of what went on in this camp. With regards to the court case, Midwood has for the sake of the story used a little poetic license and brought it forward in time. I can understand why she did this, and I do believe she made the right choice. If Midwood had stuck with the history of this case, then I fear the book might have become a little disjointed.
Midwood is a writer that I admire very much for her ability to bring her characters to life, to make them breathe, and grow, and develop. But this... This book, these characters, this story is without a doubt Midwood’s best work yet. Midwood has set the bar very high. This is what historical fiction is all about. You cannot get better than this. 
Auschwitz Syndrome — a play on words, perhaps, or maybe not. Maybe in the darkest of hours, in the least likely of places, love could indeed be found between a young Jewish woman and an SS guard. If ever a book deserved to be adapted for the big screen then it is this one. I, for one, would pay to see it.
I Highly Recommend.
Review by Mary Anne Yarde.The Coffee Pot Book Club.
*Helena Citrónová.

Pick up your copy ofAuschwitz SyndromeAmazon UK • Amazon US

Ellie Midwood
Ellie Midwood is an award-winning, best-selling historical fiction writer. She's a health-obsessed yoga enthusiast, a neat freak, an adventurer, Nazi Germany history expert, polyglot, philosopher, a proud Jew, and a doggie mama.
Ellie lives in New York with her fiancé and their Chihuahua named Shark Bait.

Awards:
Readers' Favorite - winner in the Historical fiction category (2016) - "The Girl from Berlin: Standartenführer's Wife"
Readers' Favorite - winner in the Historical fiction category (2016) - "The Austrian"(honorable mention)
New Apple - 2016 Award for Excellence in Independent Publishing - "The Austrian"(official selection)
Readers' Favorite - winner in the Historical fiction category (2017) - "Emilia"
Readers' Favorite - winner in the Historical fiction category (2018) - "A Motherland's Daughter, A Fatherland's Son"
Connect with Ellie: 
Website • Amazon • Goodreads  • BookBub • Facebook.

#BookReview — Whispers in the Canyon by Gifford MacShane #HistoricalRomance @AuthorGMacShan

Whispers in the CanyonBy Gifford MacShane

When Jesse Travers' father dies, he leaves her with a bankrupt ranch and a deep well of distrust.

Shunned by the village for her outlaw brother's deeds, Jesse is not sorry to hear he's been killed while robbing a bank. Strangely enough, it's the man who shot him who brings her the news. Even more strange is this latecomer's willingness to help her put her ranch back on solid footing. Lacking any other options and loving her canyon home, Jesse overcomes her trepidation and accepts his help.

Irish immigrant Adam Donovan inherited the gift of empathy from his Celtic forebears, and it's not long before he ferrets out Jesse's secret: she's been deeply traumatized by abuse.
As they work together to improve her ranch, Jesse begins to trust Adam and feels the first stirrings of love―an experience she's never known before. Then, as if to tell her she is unworthy of happiness, her past rises up with a vengeance and she is left with a terrible choice: retreat to a life of solitude and shame, or reveal her tragic secret in the minuscule hope of saving her relationship with Adam Donovan.


"I didn't want to kill him..."
But Russell Travers had already shot one man while he attempted to rob The White's Station Bank, how many more would he have shot if Adam Donovan had not stopped him? Nevertheless, it does not take anything away from the fact that Adam killed a man, and now he has to break the news to Russell's ailing father and wayward sister.
The dilapidated state of the Travers' ranch comes as a surprise to Adam, as does the scrap of the girl who threatens him with a dirty Whitworth rifle. Adam had been led to believe that Jesse was a violent woman, but the reality in front of him, even if she did hold onto that rifle, negated the rumours. Jesse was not what he had expected, and that rifle looked so old and abused that he doubted it could even fire. No, Jesse was not what others said of her.
Jesse had cried when Adam told her that her brother was dead. But they were not tears of grief. They were tears of relief. For years, Jesse had suffered at the hands of her brother. At last, she was free of him, but his death hastened that of her ailing father, and Jesse finds herself all alone in a cold and unforgiving world, with a ranch that was falling down around her.
Adam cannot stand by and do nothing in the face of Jesse's dire needs. His family rally around Jesse and help her to not only rebuild the ranch but make it profitable. And the more time Adam spends with Jesse, the more his heart tells him that this is the woman he was destined to be with. 
Jesse had learnt long ago how futile hope was. She fears that as soon as Adam discovers what had befallen her by the hand of her brother, then he would leave, and she would be all alone again, and that she could not survive...
Whispers in the Canyon by Gifford MacShane is the emotionally evocative story of a young woman who learns how to trust and how to love after years of insufferable abuse at the hands of her brother.
Set during the 19th Century in Arizona, Whisper in the Canyon appals, impresses and makes a reader swoon at the romance in equal measures. It has everything one could want from a historical romance and then some.
Adam is instantly drawn to Jesse. He admires her bravery, but he also sees past the gossip and the rumours. He is a man who is confident enough to come to his own conclusions, and he has been taught to listen to his heart. I thought Adam was a wonderful hero. His patience and understanding were precisely what Jesse needed. Adam becomes Jesse's constant in a confusing and terrifying world. I thought Adam was really rather wonderful.
Jesse is as broken as any soul can be, and yet her strength of character, her determination to rebuild her life, makes her one of the strongest heroines that I have ever encountered. The stigma that Jesse may have come across is tempered by the protective shield that the Donovan household wrap around her. Slowly, but inevitably, Jesse learns to trust her feelings, and to trust Adam. Adam is nothing like her brother, and often Jesse finds the difference staggering and somewhat confusing, as anyone would coming out of a very unhealthy and abusive relationship. Jesse and Adam's story is a sweet and slow romance, with Adam ever mindful of what she had suffered. It was an enthralling love story that made this book wholly unforgettable and next to impossible to put down. Kudos, Ms MacShane.
Another character that deserves a mention is Katie. While Adam shows Jesse what real love is, his grandmother Katie helps to heal the scars that Adam cannot. I adored Katie, she is this wonderfully knowledgable lady who has a tremendously large heart. She takes Jesse under her wing, and along with Adam and the rest of the Donovans', helps Jesse to heal. I thought Katie's portrayal was marvellous.
The historical detailing of this story has to be commended. MacShane has taken considerable care to research the history of this era, and it shows through in her writing. MacShane has captured the very essence of 19th Century Arizona. Brilliantly written and fabulously executed.
Whispers in the Canyon by Gifford MacShane is one of the most compelling and moving historical western romance novels that I have ever read.
I Highly Recommend.
Review by Mary Anne Yarde.The Coffee Pot Book Club.
Pick up your copy ofWhispers in the CanyonAmazon UK • Amazon US


Gifford MacShane

Gifford MacShane has always had a passion for all kinds of folk music, an interest in Celtic mysticism, and a love for stories about the Old West, so it's no surprise that she's blended all of these avocations into her debut novel about a family of Irish immigrants who settled in the Arizona Territory in the late 1800s. Her self-professed obsession with all things grammar has molded their stories into a lyrical masterpiece, celebrating the flaws and strengths of a diverse cast of characters.

Giff is an #OwnVoices writer who currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband Richard, the Pied Piper of stray cats. An avid gardener, she cultivates pollinator plants and grows tomatoes (not enough) and zucchini (too much). 
Connect with Gifford: Website • Twitter • Amazon Author Page.

Find out what inspired Historical Romance author ,Anna Campbell, to write her fabulous book — The Highlander’s Defiant Captive #ScottishRomance #Giveaway @AnnaCampbelloz

The Inspiration BehindThe Highlander’s Defiant CaptiveBy Anna Campbell


Hi Mary-Anne! Thanks so much for having me as your guest today on Myths, Legends, Books & Coffee Pots. I love visiting your blog!
I’m here today to talk about my latest release, The Highlander’s Defiant Captive, which came out on 27th September. It’s the fourth book in my bestselling Lairds Most Likely series, which started last year with The Laird’s Willful Lass.
This one was a bit of a surprise baby! Sometimes that happens when you’re writing. A story pops up out of the ether and insists you tell it. And what is a writer to do but follow the command?
In my original plan (original plans often go west, as you’ll know if you read last month’s post here on the joys of writing series), the book that was meant to follow The Highlander’s Lost Lady, Book 3 in the series, was The Highlander’s English Bride. THEB will now be released next year and what I’ve written instead is a story that’s a bit off-piste.
All my published stories have been set in the Regency period, basically the first quarter of the 19th century. The Highlander’s Defiant Captive reaches way back into the late 17thcentury when the Scottish Highlands were a wild and dangerous place.

The idea for the story came from a “getting to know you” conversation in Willful Lass when my hero Fergus Mackinnon is showing the heroine Marina Lucchetti around Achnasheen Castle, his home. In the picture gallery, he points out a portrait of a beautiful red-headed woman called Bonny Mhairi. He then tells Marina the family legend about a long ago Laird of Achnasheen kidnapping Mhairi from the enemy clan.
That was as far as this particular tale was meant to go. Until I started to wonder about Bonny Mhairi, snatched as part of an ongoing feud between the Mackinnons and the Drummonds. What sort of man could persuade a stalwart lassie to forsake a lifetime of clan prejudice and fall in love with him?
I’ve had enormous fun with Callum and Mhairi. From the first, I had a vivid picture of what they looked like and how they interacted. He’s big and brawny with a sly sense of humor – think Jason Momoa – whereas she’s a classic smart-mouthed historical romance heroine. I kept picturing gorgeous Maureen O’Hara who was strong enough to stand up to any man. One flash of those spectacular green eyes and the hero was toast.
That’s pretty much what happens to Callum when he steals Mhairi away from her father for political purposes and immediately finds himself under his captive’s spell. Mhairi, however, is far from enchanted, which makes sense given the kidnapping thing, and he has a battle on his hands to win her.

As you can probably tell, this is a swashbuckling tale of two strong characters clashing their way through to a happily ever after. Are you a fan of swashbucklers? I love them. They’ve got such verve and spirit and humour. A couple of my favourites are The Sea Hawk,the Tyrone Power version of The Mark of Zorro, and The Scarlet Pimpernel. Either Leslie Howard or Anthony Andrews, I’m not fussy with that one!

The Highlander’s Defiant CaptiveBy Anna Campbell

Peace in the glens means war in the bedchamber!
Scotland. 1699. In a time of heroes, the greatest hero of all is Callum Mackinnon, Laird of Achnasheen. Brave, reckless, canny, and handsome enough to turn any lassie weak at the knees, Callum is a legend in the wild corner of the Highlands where he rules. Now the young laird is determined to choose a new path for his clan and end the violent feud with the Drummonds, a conflict that has painted the glens red with blood for centuries. This means taking Bonny Mhairi Drummond, the Rose of Bruard, as his wife. When negotiations with her pig-headed father break down, Callum seizes matters into his own hands and kidnaps the fairest maiden in Scotland, swearing to make her his own.
Bonny Mhairi is the adored only child of Clan Drummond’s doughty chieftain and she’s inherited all her father’s courage and stubbornness. Not to mention his undying hatred for anyone called Mackinnon. When the Mackinnon chieftain steals her away from her home and vows to woo her into accepting him as her husband, she swears that she’ll never consent to be his bride. But trapped inside her foe’s castle, Mhairi finds it hard to cling to old certainties. She detests her arrogant jailer, even as he sparks a fierce, forbidden hunger in her soul.
Loving the enemy…
As Callum and Mhairi wage their passionate war of hearts, danger, treachery and desire circle closer and closer. When her father’s army masses at the gates of Achnasheen, will Mhairi prove herself a Drummond now and forever? Or will new allegiances trump ancient hatred, as the desperate laird battles to win the lass he loves more than his life?
Giveaway
Do you have a favourite swashbuckling movie from the Golden Age? Anna is giving away a download copy of The Highlander’s Defiant Captive to help you buckle your swash today.


All you need to do is leave a comment at the bottom of this post
Giveaway Rules
• Leave your answer in the comments at the bottom of this post.
• Giveaway ends at 11:59pm BST on November 1st
You must be 18 or older to enter.
• Giveaway is only open Internationally.
•Only one entry per household.
• All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion.
•Winners will be announced in the comments.
• Winner has 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen.

Pick up your copy ofThe Highlander’s Defiant CaptiveAmazon UK • Amazon US • Amazon AU • iBooks• Kobo
Anna Campbell
ANNA CAMPBELL has written 10 award-winning historical romances for Grand Central Publishing and Avon HarperCollins and her work is published in 22 languages. She has also written 23 bestselling independently published romances. Anna has won numerous awards for her Regency-set stories including Romantic Times Reviewers Choice, the Booksellers Best, the Golden Quill (three times), the Heart of Excellence (twice), the Write Touch, the Aspen Gold (twice) and the Australian Romance Readers Association’s favorite historical romance (five times). Anna is currently engaged in writing the Lairds Most Likely series which starts with The Laird’s Willful Lass (2018). When she’s not travelling the world seeking inspiration for her stories, she lives on the beautiful east coast of Australia.
Connect with Anna: Website • Facebook • Twitter • BookBub • Goodreads.   

Have you heard? Award Winning #HistoricalFiction author,Steve Physioc, is giving away a paperback copy of The Walls of Lucca and Above the Walls #Giveaway @StevePhysioc @hfvbt

The Walls of Lucca
By Steve Physioc

Winner of the 2019 Reader Views Historical Fiction Award
Winner of the 2019 Tyler R. Tichelaar Award for Best Historical Fiction
When Franco, a weary Italian soldier who’s seen some of the worst of World War I, stumbles onto the Martellino vineyard, he’s looking for work — not love. But he finds that and much more with Isabella, the feisty young woman who works there.Franco pours himself into the vineyard, trying to create a wine that will save it from financial ruin and rescue him from his dark memories of war. But it’s not easy when Mussolini’s evil shadow continues to loom over all of Italy. It’s even harder when Susanna, the vineyard’s matriarch, invites that shadow to the vineyard with her involvement in Fascist politics — and one very sinister political operative.Influenced by the teachings of A Course In Miracles, The Walls of Lucca is historical fiction that shows readers the power of love and forgiveness in the face of evil. Compelling, colorful characters populate an authentic, inspiring story of friendship, faith, love and loss in a tumultuous time in European history.
Praise for The Walls of Lucca
“An absorbing, well-researched saga.”Kirkus Reviews“The Walls of Lucca is a tender, suspenseful and touching story sure to please fans of romance, political stories, and historical novels.”  BlueInk Review“Author Steve Physioc has really managed to find the perfect balance of romance and real life.”  Readers’ Favorite

Excerpt

There was a full moon reflecting off the walls that seemed to welcome them inside as Franco drove through the Porta Santa Anna, proudly pointing out churches and towers and piazzas to his old friend. He parked along Lucca’s main shopping street, the Via Fillungo, and headed to the heart of town. The foot traffic was rather heavy with the locals enjoying fine meals and wine. As they passed by one of Lucca’s most famous restaurants, Buca di Sant’Antonio, Franco glanced inside, and his eyes went wide. There in the middle of the restaurant was Isabella, dining with the young man she had teased him about. Paolo Reggiani. A dull pain in Franco’s chest began to tighten as he watched Paolo dip his bread into olive oil and offer it to Isabella’s waiting mouth. As she took the bite, she spotted Franco and waved. Franco jerked his head away and tried to act as if he hadn’t seen her. He couldn’t think straight. He wanted to run, but his feet moved as if stuck in cement. Isabella, though, had seen him and ran to the door. 
“If it isn’t the great winemaker, Franco Carollo! Come join us!”
Antonio stopped dead in his tracks and stared. “Who is that vision of loveliness?” “That”—Franco’s shoulders slumped forward—“would be Isabella.”
Antonio grabbed his jealous friend and hauled him toward the restaurant. “I’m liking this town of yours more and more, brother!” 
Antonio was the first through the door and gave Isabella a hug that lifted her off the ground. “Hey, baby! I feel like I know you! Franco’s been telling me all night long about his bee-yoo-tee-full EE-sa-bella!” 
Franco turned red, but Antonio was on a roll. “I’m Antonio! Franco and I served together in the army! I saved his skinny ass more times than I can remember!” He held up his left stump for the two of them to see. “Franco came back with more of himself than I did, but we had a coincidental rendezvous in Viareggio, and now I’m going to work with him at the Martellino vineyard!” 
“Delightful!” Isabella clapped her hands. “Perhaps you can get Franco to cut his work from one hundred hours a week to eighty so he can have a fifteen-minute dinner with me!” 
Antonio reached across the table to shake the hand of an annoyed Paolo. “You, sir, must be Franco’s competition! Nice firm handshake—good hair—I understand you can cook—yes—you’ll be a difficult man to beat!” 
Franco wanted to crawl into a hole, but Isabella grabbed his hand and pulled him down to sit next to her. 
“What are you guys eating?” Antonio peeled back the napkin over Paolo’s bread basket and smiled. “It’s my favorite! Sourdough and olive oil!” He tore off a piece of bread and waved it in front of their faces. “You know, there’s an art to dipping. The bourgeoisie like to dip very quickly to get just a hint of the taste.” He barely touched the bread to the oil and tossed it into his mouth with a frown. “In Rome, they do it with a twist of the hand so the flavor spreads along the bottom of the bread. That’s all in the wrist.” He wiggled the bread around and offered it to Paolo, who reluctantly took it. “But I’m from Sicily! We don’t dip! We dunk!” He ripped off a big piece of bread, poured more oil on the plate, and swirled the bread around, covering almost the entire piece with oil before stuffing it in his mouth. “Mama mia, now that’s what I’m talking about! That’s the way we enjoy olive oil at the San Stefano house in Sicily!” Isabella’s laughter brought tears, while Franco and Paolo were a little stiff to Antonio’s humor. 
“Tell me, Bella,” Antonio beamed. “Did Franco tell you he’s going to put me in charge of the olive grove? “No!”
“Yes! Now, I’ve never farmed a day in my life, but I guarantee you by this time next year they’ll be talking about Antonio San Stefano’s oil in this very restaurant!” Antonio grabbed Paolo’s elbow and lifted him out of his chair. “My new friend with the perfect hair, it appears we’re out of bread. What do you say you and I go pull some hot stuff out of the oven?” Antonio winked at Franco as he pulled Isabella’s date across the room to the kitchen. 
Franco turned a sharp shade of red as he turned back to Isabella. “I’m—I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “It wasn’t right for us to barge in on your date.” 
Isabella smiled sweetly and brushed a lock of Franco’s hair away from his face. “Don’t ever say that, Franco. You’re always welcome at my table. It’s been difficult to get you away from work, so I’m thankful for such a happy moment.” 
Franco could still feel the touch of her fingers as they left his face. “Antonio’s a good man,” he nodded, recovering himself slightly. “He saved my life in the war and may have saved it again tonight when we had trouble with some men in Viareggio.” 
“I like his energy. I think you made a good decision.”
“Giovanni wants me to plant five more hectares—” 
“No talk of work.” Isabella cut him off. “That’s all you do. With the schedule you keep and my being ill, you never told me about your visit home!” 
Franco told her the entire story, from his father’s anger to their time of forgiveness to the wonderful healing his family had experienced before he left. He told her of the train ride home, when he had learned of the war’s end outside Florence, and how he had wanted nothing more than to get back to Lucca and share the joy with her. 
She stared at him for a long moment, and then her mouth curled into a teasing grin. “You came to the convent to see me?” 
“Yes—uh,” he stuttered, once again a bit embarrassed. “Of course.” 
“Why?” 
Franco squirmed uncomfortably, avoiding her eyes. “Well—I—I missed you.” Isabella touched his chin and raised his head to meet her gaze. “And I missed you too.” 
“Comin’ through! Hot bread! Watch yer nose and toes!” Antonio broke Franco and Isabella’s sensitive moment by barreling barreling through the restaurant with hot sourdough in his right hand and a white napkin over his left stump. 
A resentful Paolo Reggiani followed behind him with the olive oil. Antonio made sure everyone at the surrounding tables could hear him. “So how’s Paolo’s competition doing over here!” 
Isabella laughed as she took the hot bread from him and placed it on the table. The four of them ate and talked and laughed the rest of the evening—Franco, of course, now feeling a little more comfortable and a little less jealous about interrupting Isabella’s dinner with Paolo Reggiani.

Pick up your copy ofThe Walls of LuccaAMAZON • BARNES AND NOBLE • INDIEBOUND


Above the Walls
By Steve Physioc

For eight years, the Fascist politician Alfredo Obizzi has kept quiet about his affair with Susanna Martellino, the matriarch of the Martellino vineyard. Now in 1938 Italy, Obizzi uses his growing political power to seek revenge on his past enemies, and Susanna and the vineyard’s spiritual sage, Isabella, are at the top of his list. Will faith and forgiveness be enough to lead the vineyard and its inhabitants through the bloodshed and heartbreak of World War II and Obizzi’s vengeance?Meanwhile, the vineyard’s next generation, DeAngelo and Lily, have been best friends since they were born. But now — is it more? The star-crossed lovers must push through war, distance and outside forces to find out.
Praise for Above the Walls
“Once again, Physioc brings wartime Italy to vibrant life…Convincing historical fiction with a spiritual slant.”Kirkus Reviews“It was a delight to step back into the Martellino vineyard and to author Steve Physioc’s unique blend of romantic drama and harrowingly austere pre-war conditions.”Readers Favorite“To write I am astounded by Above the Walls is an understatement; this captivating book captured me and held me prisoner until the very end.”Red Headed Book Lover blog
 Excerpt
DeAngelo’s heart filled with joy as he drove by the walls and the ancient gate of San Donato. He remembered being up on that same wall with Lily when he was ten and she was six. They challenged each other to see who could throw a rock the farthest from the ramparts. He backed off and allowed her to win, and Lily bragged to every person they saw on their journey home. The last time he saw her, she was fifteen, a scrawny beanpole of a girl, with hair that looked like a kitchen mop. He called her Lily with an I because her shape reminded him of the letter I. Lily didn’t care. She would just giggle every time he’d call her that name and then pull his hair in church. The memory of it made him laugh. Yes, he couldn’t wait to get home. As he drove across the Serchio River Bridge, he saw family friends headed his way and stuck his head out of the window and waved excitedly. “Bonjourno!”  
The momentary loss of focus drifted his sporty Alfa Romeo slightly off the road, and he jerked the steering wheel to the left to stay on course home.  Pick up your copy of Above the Walls AMAZON • INDIEBOUND

Giveaway
During the Blog Tour, we are giving away a paperback copy of The Walls of Lucca and Above the Walls! Enter HERE!Giveaway Rules
• Giveaway ends at 11:59 pm EST on October 25th. You must be 18 or older to enter.
• Paperback giveaway is open to the US only.
• Only one entry per household.
• All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspicion of fraud will be decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion.
• The winner has 48 hours to claim prize or a new winner is chosen.
Steve Physioc
As an Emmy-winning radio and TV broadcaster for football, baseball and basketball, Steve Physioc has been telling stories for 40 years. After a trip to Italy with his wife, Stace, he was inspired to tell a different kind of story — his novels, The Walls of Lucca and Above the Walls. He and Stace live in Kansas City and love to visit and spend time with their children, Ryan and Kevin, and three grandchildren.
Connect with Steve:
WEBSITE • FACEBOOK • TWITTER • PINTEREST • INSTAGRAM • GOODREADS • BOOKBUB

Check out #HistoricalRomance author, Barbara Monajem's, fabulous book — The Smuggler’s Escape. #RegencyRomance #Giveaway @BarbaraMonajem

The Smuggler’s EscapeBy Barbara Monajem

After escaping the guillotine, Noelle de Vallon takes refuge with her aunt in England. Determined to make her own way, she joins the local smugglers, but when their plans are uncovered, Richard, Lord Boltwood steps out of the shadows to save her. Too bad he’s the last man on earth she ever wanted to see again.
Years ago, Richard Boltwood’s plan to marry Noelle was foiled when his ruthless father shipped him to the Continent to work in espionage. But with the old man at death’s door, Richard returns to England with one final mission: to catch a spy. And Noelle is the prime suspect.
Noelle needs Richard’s help, but how can she ever trust the man who abandoned her? And how can Richard catch the real culprit while protecting the woman who stole his heart and won’t forgive him for breaking hers?
Giveaway
Barbara Monajem is giving away one Kindle copies of her fabulous book
Love and the Shameless Lady


All you need to do is answer this question:
If you lived in a smuggling village in the late 1700s, 
which role would you prefer?
(For example, you could be a sailor smuggler, land smuggler, investor, lookout, decoy, innocent citizen looking the other way, revenue agent, or some other role I haven't thought of.)
Giveaway Rules
• Leave your answer in the comments at the bottom of this post.
• Giveaway ends at 11:59pm BST on October 30th .
You must be 18 or older to enter.
• Giveaway is only open Internationally.
•Only one entry per household.
• All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion.
•Winners will be announced in the comments.
Pick up your copy of
The Smuggler’s Escape
Amazon UK• Amazon US • Amazon CA • Amazon AU


A Smugglers life…
It’s a dark night – no moon – the best sort of night for a smuggler.Yes, that’s what you are, but you don’t think of it as a crime. The government tariffs on French brandy (and other goods, such as tea, lace, tobacco and other spirits) are unfairly high, so almost everyone prefers to buy from the smugglers at a far better price. You’re an ordinary, mostly law-abiding citizen, but like everyone else in your English coastal village, your income from smuggling makes all the difference between poverty and a degree of comfort.

Sometimes smuggling turns violent, such as in the large gangs down the coast who will stop at nothing, even murder, to get the smuggled goods to their destination. But you’re not a violent sort. Yours is a small band funded by local investors, and you do your best to avoid clashes with the revenue men. Although you’re always a bit nervous when headed out for a smuggling run—because the penalty, if you are captured, is transportation at best or hanging at worst—you gird your loins and creep into the darkness to play your part. The smuggling vessel awaits in the cove. You may do one of many jobs. Perhaps you’ll row out to take tubs of brandy from the boat, or perhaps you’ll load the ponies on the shore. Maybe you’ll lead the string of ponies along sunken roads in the pitch darkness, taking the brandy to its destination—or to a hiding place along the way.
Why a hiding place? Because the revenue men are out tonight, hoping to catch you, while you do your best to evade them. There are many, many places to cache the brandy, because you never know when or where you’ll have to change plans. Your leader posts lookouts everywhere along the route, with secret signals to warn you if revenue men are nearby. Decoys—sometimes women—do their best to lead the revenuers away from the contraband, and other citizens, even the vicar, pretend they never saw you pass by. You press on, alert for the quack of a duck, the call of an owl, the flash of a lantern. Maybe you’ll have to cache the brandy in a cave by the sea. Or maybe you’ll take a detour on land and hide the brandy in a stable, a shed, a dovecote, or a table tomb in the churchyard, to be retrieved some other night.
But if you’re lucky, you’ll make it through and deliver the brandy safely, either to a distribution point from which it will be taken to the London market, or to local customers such as a wealthy landowner or an inn. Afterwards, you and your mates will head to the tavern for a celebratory tankard of ale, before going home for a deep sleep of satisfaction and relief. You foiled the revenuers once again! 


Barbara Monajem
Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. She published a middle-grade fantasy when her children were young, then moved on to paranormal mysteries and Regency romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). Regency mysteries are next on the agenda.
Barbara loves to cook, especially soups. She used to have two items on her bucket list: to make asparagus pudding (because it was too weird to resist) and to succeed at knitting socks. She managed the first (it was dreadful) but doubts she’ll ever accomplish the second. This is not a bid for immortality but merely the dismal truth. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays.

Connect with Barbara: Website • Facebook • Twitter • BookBub • Goodreads.

Fun writing workshop with the children of Marksbury C of E Primary School #amwriting #myths and #Legends

 




Marksbury C of E Primary 
School

Myths & Legends 
Writing Workshop 2019


A word from Mary Anne
A couple of weeks ago I spent the morning with the year five and year six pupils at Marksbury C of E Primary School where we talked about my favourite things — Myths, Legends and of course, writing! We discussed the difference between Myths, Legends and Folklore. We also spoke about Avenger’s Endgame, and the ever-important question — is Loki really dead? Umm??
The children then split up into groups and composed their own mythological stories.  These stories blew me away. They are so, so, good that I had to share them with you today.
We had so much fun writing these stories and who knows, some of these wonderfully talented children may well be the bestselling authors of the future — remember, you saw them here first!!
Enjoy!
Feel free to leave a comment at the end of the post. We would love to hear your thoughts.


 Fight of the Stones
By Maisie, Millie, Hamish, Xander, Felix, Ella, Cassie

Things have changed.  Since the day Hades was overthrown, Trigon has created chaos throughout the lands.
Thanatos glanced up. In the sky, huge formations of pegasi gracefully glided, swiftly dipping and diving.  His brother, Perseus, nervously watched the raging river.  Ever since the Chaos Stones had been taken, the river had been acting strangely.
Trigon’s voice echoed around his huge palace.  He bellowed, “We must go to war!”  His ugly face lit up as he thought of a plan.  Out of his magnificent cloak, he pulled out the chaos stone of magic.  Pure heat and power radiated from the stone.  Then there was silence.
Thanatos blinked.  Was what he saw real? Pegasi after pegasi after pegasi were falling down towards the bottom of the kingdom.  “Trigon!” growled Perseus, his hooves itching to be in battle.  “We must bring him down!”
Thousands of feet marched towards the River Styx, destroying everything in their path.  Lurking in the river unseen lay the guardian of the underworld.  With its glinting scales and unhealed scars, the treacherous and devilish creature prowled through the river, waiting to devour anything that stood in its path.  Thanatos and Perseus determinedly approached the river.  Ripples and bubbles disturbed the surface and an odd spike poked up.  As the creature’s head broke the surface, it let out a terrifying roar.  Terror surged through the hearts of the brothers.  Stumbling quickly backwards, the brothers looked around for a place to hide and come up with a challenging plan.
Whispering to each other, Thanatos and Perseus carefully hatched their cunning plan.  This time they approached the river nervously.  Would their plan work?  Taking a final deep breath, they glanced at each other, frightened at what was to come.  Water splashed everywhere as the monster reared its ugly head.  Running wildly along the river bank, Perseus screamed insults at the underwater beast.  Making the most of this distraction, Thanatos, using the fire power from his hooves, boiled the water.
The temperature of the water gradually grew as did the monster’s awareness.  Eventually its scorched body twisted as it blackened further and further.  Finally it screeched in agony as it realised its fate.  “All we have to do is cross the river,” exclaimed Perseus, his body filling with joy.  The soot-blackened scales cracked as they carefully made their way across the beast’s body.  The scent of burnt flesh filled their nostrils as they struggled to breathe.
Reaching the opposite side of the river, the brothers heaved a sigh of relief. This was short lived, as suddenly they saw a frantic movement in the bushes nearby.  A large army leapt out of the bushes, bloodlust in their eyes.  Next a cacophony of noise erupted around them; swords were swinging and arrows were flying.  Thanatos gulped with fear as he realised they were outnumbered.  At that moment, the sky went black.  Where would this take them next?


Forest versus City
By Josh, Olivia, Rose, Fabian, Ruben, Louis


The year 3000 was a destructive year on Earth.  The city of Emmerdale was like every other city.  The toxic, dark grey smoke was hanging over the vast area of buildings and roads.  Emmerdale was expanding tremendously and the population had grown rapidly.
Gregory was a young, talented carpenter.  He had moved to Emmerdale a long time ago from a place where wolves and bears hunted the English woods.  Now he made furniture for the big businesses of the city.
On the outskirts of the city lay the forest of Greenland.  Emerald leaves shone in the sunlight.  Flowing through its centre was a clear stream which the animals drank from.  The stream formed a small pool of crystal blue water; next to this, situated at the top of the tallest tree in the forest was a tree house.  Scarlet – known as Scar – lived here and she had made it her life’s mission to protect this special place and all the wildlife who lived there.
Back in the city, Gregory had been asked to make enormous desks using the ancient wood found in the Forest of Greenland.  He was excited about this new project because he knew it would lead to a promotion and he would be rich!
Two weeks later, back in the forest, Scar heard a distant rumbling.  Grabbing her hunting equipment, she stealthily dashed to the edge of the clearing.  What she saw filled her with horror! She grew pale and tears flooded her eyes.   There in front of her were six enormous trucks, leaking oil which seeped into the ground and stream.  Poisonous fumes were sent through the air and into the roots of the trees.  As they began to unload their chainsaws, Scar realised what was about to happen …
She was so filled with anger that she jumped out of a bush and shouted, “Stop and leave my forest alone, otherwise I will put an end to this.”
Gregory stepped forwards and laughed out loud – he had no intention of stopping his terrible plan.  He did not know that Scar had a secret weapon!
An ear-splitting squeal pierced the air.  Gregory and his friends clutched their ears in pain, dropping their saws.  As the sound decreased, the trees began to shake and rustle.  A small squirrel appeared Scar’s feet.  Gradually, more animals emerged from the depths of the forest.
At first, Gregor and his friends laughed at the small creatures wondering how they were going to stop them.  That was until … something different emerged.  Packs of sharp-eared wolves came from the bushes with their tongues hanging out and sharp teeth bared.  Large, hungry-looking bears also appeared, forming a circle around the edge of the forest.  Finally, wild cats leapt from their lairs and into the opening.
The sight of the animals reminded Gregor of something - he couldn’t think what.  Why did this feel so familiar? Suddenly, he heard a whispering.  He glanced around at his friends but their mouths were hanging open in bewilderment – they were speechless.  The whispering grew louder and gradually more voices started to chatter.  And then, one voice rose above the others.
“Gregor, do you remember the fun we used to have when I was a cub?”
Gregor looked around in astonishment – the largest bear was growling and he could understand what it was saying! Memories flooded back into his mind.  It had been twenty years since he had left the woods.  The noise and the pollution of the city had destroyed his power to talk to the animals.  As their voices had disappeared, so had his memories.
Now these memories had returned.  There, standing in front of him was his younger sister, Scarlet.  She too had the power to communicate with the animals.  Gregor instructed his crew to return to the city and never come back.  Then he walked towards Scar, gave her a big hug and she led him into the forest.  He had returned home!


The Brutal Battle of Troy
By Oliver, Cecelia, Sam L, Sam S, Toby, Cheyenne, Amelia

The wind was stinging against the sails and the waves were clattering against the sturdy panels of the creaky Greek ship.  Agamemnon marched along the bow of the ship screaming orders at soldiers and slaves.  Achilles stood by his side in a fixated silence.

“Land ahoy!” shouted a soldier.

THUMP! The boat hit land.

As the soldiers departed from the boat, a slight rumble could be heard in the distance.  As a unit, they clambered over the sand dunes, curiosity at an all-time high.  When they peered over the top of the dune, they spied a cloud of dust; it dissipated only to reveal the helmets of a thousand Trojan soldiers.   Suddenly the sky darkened and hundreds of arrows rained down on the soldiers.  War had been declared!

This would be the battle of the ages.  Swords were slashing and dicing, spears were stabbing, and shields were clanging.  Agamemnon looked from a distance, disappointed by his men.  He turned towards Achilles and he bellowed, “What is going on? They are not fighting hard enough!”  Achilles did not respond.  He was trying to come up with a plan to defeat the Trojan horde once and for all.  Agamemnon called to his men to retreat back to the ships.  Achilles had an idea so he went to the craftsman.

The next morning, a group of Trojan lookouts returned to the beach.  All they could see was miles of emptiness and one enormous horse standing on the shore.  A lookout returned, gasping for breath and said to the king, “Sire, you need to see this!” as he handed over a spy glass.

“Bring it to me now!” ordered the king.

As the platoon returned with the horse, an advisor cautioned, “We should burn it.”

“Nonsense,” replied the king.  “It is clearly a gift, an apology from the Greeks for challenging us!”

All of the citizens crowded around in awe of the magnificent statue.Later that night, when all of the Trojans had retired to bed after the victory feast, out of nowhere trap door sprung from the belly of the horse; down came ropes, followed by dozens of Greek soldiers.  They ran to the gate, which towered over fifty feet tall!  They removed the wooden lock, opening the gate that had resisted their invasion for days; this was the start of the end for Troy.

The masses of Greek soldiers flooded through into Troy, demolishing everything in their path.  Flames tore through the streets and fires burned so brightly it illuminated the dark night sky.

Up in the king’s chambers, the advisor muttered to himself, “We should have burnt it!”

The king yelled to his advisor to fetch him his sword exclaiming, “Blood shall be spilled tonight!”

Agamemnon’s cackle could be heard over the crackle of fire and the clashing of weapons.

“Hold the palace gates!” screamed a soldier, falling back in terror.  However, the Greeks were too strong and they charged through the weak defences, swords raised.  The Trojan king stood in front of Achilles, ready to finish the battle.  Out of the ranks of the Greek soldiers stepped Agememnon who whispered, “Kill him!” sinisterly to Achilles.

Quick as lightning, Achilles spun around and stabbed Agamemnon through the heart.  Achilles then turned to face the Trojan king.

“I join you,” he exclaimed.  “This is the end of the war.”

In a final twist, a poisoned arrow flew out of the blue and implanted itself deeply into the heel of Achilles.  The young prince of Troy stood over him laughing, “This is the end of Greece today!”


The Legend of Norse
By Xanthe, Evie, Poppy, Harry, Alfred, George
Clouds hung over the barren fields, obscuring the fading sunlight.  A lonely tree stood next to a crumbling moss-covered wall, isolated from the cluster of vegetation on the distant horizon.  The wind whistled in despair, somehow aware of the impending doom of the kingdom.  A solitary raven, sensing the danger, called out to its friends who had disappeared into the darkness.

At the far edge of the fields, close to the forest, Norse gathered his companions, drawing them into a ring.

“Friends, unfortunately I gather you here today to share some unpleasant news.  Our old enemy, Vanos, has returned to claim the kingdom of Marksbury,” lamented Norse as he paced the circle, sharpening his battle axe.

Norse went on to explain the plan to defeat Vanos. The power of fire was Vanos’ gift; his only weakness was his connection to the hydra named Kabanas.  Kabanas resided in a swamp located beyond the distant hill.  The journey there would be treacherous and would require great bravery and strength.  Sitting in the middle of the monster’s forehead was a powerful lightening shard – the only weapon which could defeat Vanos!

“Who will embark on this dangerous adventure with me?” asked Norse. 

“On returning, you will be honoured by the kingdom and all who reside in it.”

Ecuador and Aquador stepped forward into the flickering firelight and stood by Norse’s side.  Later that day, they set off to meet the deadly Kabanas.Their journey took them through the deadly fierce forest, through the hidden tunnel which ran underneath the ancient tor, and finally across the forbidden lands of Farmborough.  The smell of the swamp hit them before they saw it.  Wrapping their cloaks around their faces, they ventured on, into the depths of the swamp, the stench growing stronger with every step.  Then they saw it!

A huge scaly monster towered in the distance, its sharp pointed tail slicing through the air.  Eight snake heads popped out from the murky water, forking tongues vibrating with a hissing sound that could be heard from the edge of the swamp.  The hydra’s sharp teeth shone as venom slowly dripped from each point.  Kabanas slowly slithered through the water, scaring off all the surrounding animals.  Norse’s eyes fixed onto the sparkling yellow lightning bolt embedded in the centre of the horrendous creature’s forehead.  This was what he had been searching for!

Norse had been told by his comrades that whenever one head was cut off, two more would grow back instantly in its place.  But he knew that if he succeeded in killing Kabanas, Vanos would be weakened, making his victory easier.

Norse called to Ecuador and Aquador, “I will hold back the water. When Kabanas dies, grab the crystal out of his head.  Hurry as I can only hold back the water for so long.”

Using his powers, Norse dragged the water out of the swamp until there was no water left.  Kabanas writhed in pain as he started to drown in the air.  He let out a huge shriek of pain and then, at that moment, he froze.  Ecuador and Aquador quickly rushed into the empty swamp, ripping the lightning bolt from the head of the deadly beast.  Norse could hold back the water no longer; it gushed back into the swamp, covering the now dead monster.  Aquador and Ecuador lay panting on the edge of the swamp having narrowly escaped the situation.
After a day’s journey home, they finally arrived in Marksbury.  Waiting in the centre of the barren field was Vanos.  His face was pale, he had grey bags under his eyes and his arms hung limply by his side.  His power had clearly been depleted when Kabanas died. Norse just had one more thing to do.  Using his remaining strength, Norse turned Vanos into water.  As the water rushed towards him, Norse plunged the lightning shard into the water.  Sparks of electricity shot up into the air.  Aquador and Ecuador watched in horror as Norse, along with his enemy Vanos, were filled with an enormous electric shock.  Norse’s whole body grew tense, then fell to the ground.  He had saved the people of his village from a terrible fate by sacrificing himself.
  Battle of the Enchanted 

By Kiki, Olive, Florence, Sam H, David, Tristan, Scarlet, Rosie




The snow fell down in little heaps, adorning the once green ground with an icy cover.  The ominous pastel sky glowed with a hint of mystery.  The circle of the giant enchanted stones stood proud in the dusting of snow, revealing hoof prints leading towards a gaping hole within the towering mountains.
Chiron, the brave leader of the centaurs, gazed up at the frozen swords dangling from the mouth of the cave.  Reflected in the icicles was the white hair of a warrior, courageous and bold.  Stroking his frosted beard, he headed outside to see what all the commotion was about.  Centaurs galloped towards him, panicked and terrified, their hoof beats ringing in Chiron’s ears.  Icicles shattered behind him as a result of the pounding.  A splinter of ice pierced his flank, causing him to stumble as he bolted out through the mouth of the cave.
A giant thud met his ears.  Elfred, a trusted friend, rode towards Chiron, his face spattered with blood, his eyes wide with terror. 
“Sir,” stuttered Elfred, “they’re coming!”
Another thud rumbled beneath their hooves as the centaur warriors began to fire their arrows.  On the horizon, a giant outline, silhouetted like a mountain, rose up and plundered towards them.
Massive icy figures, sitting astride their dinosaur steeds, thundered towards them yelling battle cries.  Others marched through the snow, crushing the enormous sacred stones as though they were fragile ice shards.
At Chiron’s command, he ordered the mammoth army to assemble, forming a semi-circle around the cave entrance.  Using the armoured mammoths as a shield, the centaurs fired thousands of arrows which cascaded down upon the giants.
In return, Pterodactyls soared and swooped like vultures to a carcass, picking up centaurs with their beaks. 
Suddenly, a flurry of wings darkened the sky above and followed in pursuit of the pterodactyls.  Breathing fire, the ferocious dragonflies and ladybirds swarmed the enemy, defending the last remaining stones of the stone circle with their lives.  Melting into lakes, the giants slowly liquefied, drowning the dinosaurs beneath them. 
In revenge, pterodactyls pecked the mammoths’ eyes, blinding them and causing the herd to scatter in chaos.  Now defenceless, the centaurs plucked their last arrows, desperately firing them into the sky.  Wounded and exhausted, Chiron, hopes fading away, stared at the devastation in front of him.  A decision had to be made: surrender or risk losing all of his people?
Despite his best efforts, surrender was inevitable.  Chiron hung his head in defeat and shame.  The war was over.  The pterodactyls and giants were victorious.


Check out all the fabulous covers the 
children designed.












I think all the children deserve

 The Coffee Pot Book Club Book 
Award 



and 
The Cover Pot Book Cover of the 
Month Award!





A big congratulation to all the children.
Such fabulous stories!!

Check out Fiona Tarr's fabulous New Release — Relic Seeker (The Priestess Chronicles Book 2) #Mythological #Fiction @FionaTarr

Relic Seeker

(The Priestess Chronicles Book 2)

By Fiona Tarr

A young time-travelling, magic wielding Priestess and her gifted friends must retrieve an ancient Goth relic before it is used to change history.
This isn’t the Priestess Ariela’s first trip through time, but now she has friends along for the journey. When she arrives, she is alone, dressed as a servant, yet surrounded by opulence. Her guide and mentor, the Angel Raziel hasn’t given her a clue about her quest and she quickly finds herself serving a deadly enemy from her past.
Ariela realises that keeping her magical powers secret isn’t going to be easy. She is being hunted by a powerful magic wielder who is determined to destroy her and change history forever.  In the midst of a violent and intense battle to protect the ancient relic Brísingamen, once worn by the goddess Freya, Ariela calls upon the strengths and powers of her friends and a group of strangers.
As Ariela gathers her allies, she realises her powerful adversary isn’t the only threat. She has been betrayed by someone she thought she could trust.


Giveaway
Fiona Tar   is giving away two ebook copies of her fabulous book
Call of the Druids: The Priestess Chronicles Book 1

All you need to do is answer this question:
If you could travel back to any time, when would it be and why?
Leave your answer in the comments at the bottom of this post.
Giveaway Rules
• Leave your answer in the comments at the bottom of this post.• Giveaway ends at 11:59pm BST on October 29th.You must be 18 or older to enter.• Giveaway is only open Internationally.•Only one entry per household.• All giveaway entrants agree to be honest and not cheat the systems; any suspect of fraud is decided upon by blog/site owner and the sponsor, and entrants may be disqualified at our discretion.•Winners will be announced in the comments.• Winner has 48 hours to claim prize or new winner is chosen.

Pick up your copy of

Relic Seeker

Amazon • Kobo • Barnes and Nobel • Apple


Fiona Tarr
I enjoy listening to and discussing different perspectives on life, love, faith and hope and love writing fantasy which is fast paced and thought provoking.

I am a small business owner, wife, mum, advocate, mentor and entrepreneur. When I am not writing, I am either kitesurfing, stand up paddle surfing, travelling or volunteering in some capacity. I love cheese, chocolate and living a creative life.

I am currently working on two fantasy series side by side. The Eternal Realm is a mythological religious fantasy series with a more adult feel, while The Priestess Chronicles series is fantasy with a young adult feel.

It turns out writing is in the blood. My Great Uncle was Australian author George Johnston (My Brother Jack) and although I don’t claim to have his renowned literary style, I do write a fast paced, contemporary fantasy novel.
Connect with Fiona: Website • Facebook • Twitter.

Have you heard? Tim Walker's fabulous book Arthur Dux Bellorum (A Light in the Dark Ages Book 4) is only 0.99 on Kindle for a Limited Time @timwalker1666

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Arthur Dux Bellorum(A Light in the Dark Ages Book 4)By Tim Walker

From the ruins of post-Roman Britain, a warrior arises to unite a troubled land.
Britain in the late Fifth Century is a troubled place – riven with tribal infighting and beset by invaders in search of plunder and settlement. King Uther is dead, and his daughter, Morgana, seizes the crown for her infant son, Mordred. Merlyn’s attempt to present Arthur as the true son and heir of Uther is scorned, and the bewildered teenager finds himself in prison. Here our story begins…

Arthur finds friends in unexpected quarters and together they flee. Travelling through a fractured landscape of tribal conflict and suspicion, they attempt to stay one step ahead of their pursuers, whilst keeping a wary eye on Saxon invaders menacing the shoreline. Arthur’s reputation as a fearsome warrior grows as he learns the harsh lessons needed to survive and acquire the skills of a dux bellorum, a lord of war.

Tim Walker’s Arthur Dux Bellorum is a fresh look at the Arthurian legend, combining myth, history and gripping battle scenes. Although in a series, it can be read as a standalone novel.

Pick up your copy of

Arthur Dux Bellorum(A Light in the Dark Ages Book 4)


Amazon UK • Amazon US


Tim Walker
Tim Walker is an independent author based in Windsor, UK. His background is in marketing, journalism, editing and publications management. He began writing an historical series,A Light in the Dark Ages (set in Fifth Century Britain), in 2015, starting with Abandoned, set at the time the Romans left Britain. This was extensively revised and re-launched as a second edition in 2018.
Book two, Ambrosius: Last of the Romans, was published in 2017 and the third installment, Uther’s Destiny, was published in March 2018 (winner of One Stop Fiction book of the month award, April 2018). The adventure continues from March 2019 in the fourth book, Arthur, Dux Bellorum.
His creative writing journey began in July 2015 with the publication of a book of short stories, Thames Valley Tales. In September 2017 he published a second collection of short stories – Postcards from London. These stories combine his love of history with his experiences of living in London and various Thames Valley towns.In 2016 he published his first novel, a dystopian political thriller, Devil Gate Dawn,following exposure through the Amazon Scout programme. In 2017 he published his first children’s book, The Adventures of Charly Holmes, co-written with his 12-year-old daughter, Cathy, followed In 2018 by a second adventure, Charly & The Superheroes.Connect with Tim: Website • Facebook • Twitter • Amazon Author Page.

Check out #HistoricalFiction author, David Fitz-Gerald's, fabulous book — Wanders Far @AuthorDAVIDFG @hfvbt

Wanders FarBy David Fitz-Gerald

Wanders Far lived in dangerous times and was faced with one difficult challenge after another. He was a skinny, quiet boy who was raised on the banks of a tributary of New York State’s Mohawk River, hundreds of years before colonists arrived. One lifetime was not enough for Wanders Far’s old soul.From a very young age, his wanderlust compelled him down one path after another. No village could contain him.He was happy living a simple life in the physical world during challenging times. The spirit world had other plans.A wise, enigmatic shaman mentored Wanders Far and helped him cultivate the supernatural visions that haunted him. His guide could only help him so far.He set out to become a runner, carrying important messages across the lands of his people and their enemies. He ended up fulfilling a much greater destiny than he ever imagined. “This engrossing, well-written novel tells the story of a pivotal moment in Iroquois history through a well-traveled protagonist.”
 Kirkus Reviews


Excerpt
Bear Fat was glad that Big Canoe asked a gifted spiritual leader to help with Wanders Far’s rite of passage. After days of hiking, they were happy to finally reach the Moose River and put their canoes in the familiar water. Combining rivers, ponds, lakes, and portages along herd paths and game trails, they spent the next five days following the long-established route traveled by their friends, enemies, and ancestors. Wanders Far paddled the small canoe by himself. Big Canoe set the pace from the stern of the larger boat, a slow, steady, constant, rhythmic pace and Follows Stars adjusted his cadence at the bow. Bear Fat thought about the future, relaxed, and daydreamed, riding in the middle of the canoe. For such a hard-working woman, riding in the canoe while others worked was a rare luxury. Periodically she switched places with the seer, who whittled figurines and wooden bowls whenever he rode in the middle. They didn’t talk much along the way. It was hard to talk in the canoe anyhow. Bear Fat liked to be able to see the face of the person she was talking to, rather than the back of a head. At the end of the waterway, there was a fifteen-mile trek that led to their destination. The canoes were left hidden in the brush near the lake, and they set out on foot to their summer home.About a week after they arrived, Follows Stars moved out of the camp at Copperas Pond, and he took Wanders Far with him. As he left, he told Big Canoe and Bear Fat that they would be near the top of the smaller mountain, just to the west of the giant mountain. Follows Stars needed time alone with Wanders Far, as enjoyable as it was to spend time at Copperas Pond.Follows Stars found a perfect place for his encampment near the apex of the little mountain. It afforded wonderful views to the east and the west, and also of the great mountain just above. They built a tiny, squat hut, not even big enough to stand up in, but long enough to fit 2, six-foot long bunks made of saplings. When that was done, they set up a fire pit a short distance from the opening to the hut, and then built a fire in the pit. It was a long day, and they accomplished a lot. At dark, they went to bed, and found the hut comfortable.The next morning, Follows Stars sat across the fire from Wanders Far. Change was underway. They sat silently, looking into each other’s eyes. They both knew it. Follows Stars began, “I have lots of questions for you, Wanders Far.”The boy replied, “Yes, Grandfather, I know.” Follows Stars was not a blood relative, but grandfather signified deference and respect. Wanders Far sat still and silent, patiently waiting for what came next.Follows Stars nodded ever so slightly. Following a long pause, he slowly formed his first question. “Wanders Far, are you prepared to become a man and leave your boyhood behind you?”“Yes, Grandfather, I am ready,” Wanders Far replied matter-of-factly.“Do you know the path you will follow?”“Yes, Grandfather, I know the path I will follow. I will remain Wanders Far. I would follow my passion for traveling between our people’s villages, carrying important messages. I believe that is the path the Great Spirit chose for me.”“Is that the only path you will follow, Wanders Far? Does the Great Spirit have other plans for you as well?”“No, Grandfather, it is not the only path I will follow. The Great Spirit also has other plans for me, I understand that. I only know a little bit about that path.”Follows Stars let those words hang in the air between them for several moments. Then he asked, “Does the Great Spirit speak to you, Son?”Wanders Far thought before answering slowly, “The Great Spirit does not speak to me in words. Sometimes I feel his spirit in my heart, and sometimes, I feel his power pass through me, through the air.”Follows Stars recalled, “Just like when we were at the Great Roaring Waterfalls? His spirit passed through you there, didn’t it?”“Yes, Grandfather,” Wanders Far confirmed.“You told me I had a glorious spirit,” Follows Stars reminded. “I told you I was just about to say the same thing to you. Do you know I felt the power pass through me also that day?”“Yes, I believe I did know that,” Wanders Far confirmed.Follows Stars asked, “Why do you think we both felt the Spirit pass through us?”“It was meant to bring us together, Grandfather.”“Yes,” Follows Stars agreed, “I think so too. Why do you think the Great Spirit has crossed our paths?”“I am meant to follow you. You are meant to lead me, or guide me, or teach me. Maybe there is more.”Follows Stars nodded affirmation, then switched directions. “Do you have visions, Wanders Far? Do you see scenes in your head that you can’t fully explain or understand?”“Yes, Grandfather. I have visions. Sometimes I think I understand them, other times, I think I am meant to contemplate. I think I am meant to understand other visions later.”“How do the visions make you feel, Wanders Far?”“Perhaps I feel honored to have these visions. I understand it might lead to great responsibility, or sacrifice. I am not afraid. I will follow the path I am destined to follow, Grandfather.”“Do you see the future? Do you know what is going to happen before it happens, Son?”“Sometimes I see the future, but not very often. Sometimes I visualize the future and it happens just like I picture it. Sometimes I just know what will happen, without a vision of it. However, a lot of things happen that I have no vision of.”Follows Stars closed his eyes and pondered his next question. Was it too soon to ask? He decided it was time, and said, “Have you walked the earth before, Wanders Far?”The boy nodded, and answered, “Yes, Grandfather, I believe I have. I believe I have walked the earth many times. I believe some of my visions are memories from when I have walked the earth before.”“Are your memories pleasant, happy memories, or are they gruesome, horrible, miserable memories?”“Both,” Wanders Far answered. A tear sprung from his eye and rolled down his stoic face. “Mostly I experience the memories as a vision, without emotions attached. Some of the visions are glorious, and some are horrific.” He continued with a whisper that trailed off, “Sometimes I feel an emotion with the vision, but not very often.”“You just had a vision from a past life, accompanied by an emotion of sadness, didn’t you, Wanders Far,” the seer suggested.“Yes, Grandfather, I had a vision of death, of a man I loved deeply. Maybe he was my father. He wore a dark brown robe, had no hair on his head, except for a little above his ears. He had blue eyes, and very pale skin. Many of my visions have these pale skinned people. Anyway, the spirit of this man reminded me of your spirit, Grandfather.”Follows Stars nodded. “Yes, I understand. I think it was me. I believe I have guided you in previous lives. I also believe one day you will guide me. Our paths cross often, Son. Is it your destiny to be a seer, Wanders Far?”Wanders Far sat silent for a long time. Follows Stars waited for the answer to his question. It took over ten minutes before the boy voiced, “I cannot see whether it is my destiny to be a seer as well, but I see that I am a runner.”“Is it your destiny to be a healer?”Wanders Far answered similarly.“Is it your destiny to be a leader?”Wanders Far concluded, “I will follow the path I was meant to follow. I know I am a runner. I may have opportunities to serve as a seer, a healer, or a leader, but I cannot clearly see those paths now.”Follows Stars asked softly, “Tell me about your dreams of flying.”Wanders Far closed his eyes and told about his experience with the foul tempered eagle two years earlier. His voice grew louder. His words came faster. He expressed great joy at soaring above the earth, gliding gently over the lake, and the sight of land in the distance, and then the heart-pounding excitement of the eagle’s swift pursuit of the rabbit. Then Wanders Far talked about the spirit of the eagle.Follows Stars was quiet for a minute, then he said, “When you speak of flying, far from the ground and far from the land, you sound happy and free. You say you will accept the destiny chosen for you, but it sounds like you would rather not be burdened.”Wanders Far hung his head. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to admit that Follows Stars was right. Follows Stars continued, “Soon you will have to choose. It will be tempting to turn your back on Spirit. I don’t know how you will choose.”Abruptly, Wanders Far interrupted. It hurt him that his guide did not trust him, yet he also felt uncertainty. How could he deny it?Follows Stars repeated, “Soon you will have to choose. Your choice will have great consequences. The Great Spirit has beckoned. A dark spirit also haunts you. It knows your weakness. You have crossed its path before. It was following you on the wings of the eagle. It never expected your spirit to join it in flight. It wasn’t ready for you then. It is ready for you now. You will face this spirit in other forms. I would like to warn you further, but this is all I know to tell you.”They sat quietly together for over an hour. Then Follows Stars asked, “Is your family aware of the things you have told me today, Son?”“No,” Wanders Far answered. “I haven’t told anyone about my visions, but my mother looks at me strangely. Sometimes lately, I can read her thoughts. She understands I have visions, but she can’t convert that understanding into words or questions. I think she knows I can read the thoughts of other people also. Not everybody—I don’t pick the people whose thoughts I can read. They just come to me. Some people whose thoughts I can read, I stay far away from. I mostly seem to be able to read people’s thoughts at a close distance. And my sister… I think Squash can see into my soul sometimes.”“Can you read my thoughts, Wanders Far?” Follows Stars asked.“No, I can read your spirit, but I can’t read your thoughts, Grandfather.”Follows Stars questioned, “Do you have the power to control people or animals with your presence?”Wanders Far thought long before answering. He seemed to recall times as an infant when his spirit flew with tiny birds. Whatever he wished them to do, they did, swimming about the sky performing entertaining acrobatics for his amusement. It was hard to know whether that was a memory, or a childish fantasy. Otherwise, Wanders Far told Follows Stars that his ability seemed to be limited to sensing, feeling, observing, and suggesting. It hadn’t occurred to him that his spirit could potentially control the action of others.Follows Stars told Wanders Far that it probably was not possible, and if it were possible such power should be used very carefully. He ended their talk by repeating his warning about the dark spirit. “It knows your weakness.”Though it was still morning, both men were exhausted from the conversation. “We have much work to do, Wanders Far, but I must rest first.” Follows Stars returned to the hut and lay down.Wanders Far stood up to see him off. Then he spread his arms wide, tilted his head back, and stretched his fingers wide apart from each other, palms facing up. The mountain was right before him. The grass and trees were a bright, emerald green. The sky was baby blue. There were no clouds to be seen, and warm, comforting sunshine soaked through his skin. He was glad to be standing, and to feel his body awakening to the sensations of a new morning. It was time to stretch his legs.An idea came to him. Why not climb the mountain? All the way to the top. Though he couldn’t think of any reason to do it, he couldn’t think of any reason not to either. It wasn’t far from where they were, and moments after the impulse came to him, Wanders Far was on his way. For a while the going was difficult, due to the dense growth of forest and the steep terrain. Eventually Wanders Far found a game trail that seemed to be going in the right direction. The tall pines gave way to shorter, twisted trees. Then he came around a corner and caught a glimpse of a deer in a small clearing. Unlike any he had seen before, the deer was pure white, not the buckskin color of most deer. He was a magnificent looking specimen, maybe 2-years-old, a good size, probably just reaching his peak weight and strength. Wanders Far froze in his tracks and quietly observed for over an hour. The stag didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Wanders Far thought of the time when he and his grandmother froze in their tracks to watch a doe, five years earlier on the path to the waterfall at the foot of the mountain. The stag lifted his head from the grass he had been grazing on and turned to look in Wanders Far’s direction. The deer had pink antlers and blue eyes. He was standing above Wanders Far on the trail and the white coat contrasted brilliantly against the powder-blue sky behind him. Though it was only early spring, his antlers were already impressive, and Wanders Far wondered what they would look like by the end of the summer. The deer’s chest muscles were extraordinarily prominent for a deer, most likely from following the steep trail up and down the side of the mountain several times every day. Then a jackrabbit caught sight or wind of Wanders Far and bounded off, creating a disturbance that set the white deer off. The great white stag crashed through the densely wooded trees on the opposite side of the clearing and Wanders Far could hear him for a couple of minutes, as the deer made his way back to a game trail. “It was a pleasure to meet you, friend,” Wanders Far muttered. A short distance farther along, Wanders Far left the last of the trees behind him. He picked his way up across the bare, rocky top of the mountain, sometimes scrambling on all-fours as he climbed to the topmost point. Then he stood on the top, crossed his arms across his chest, and slowly soaked it in.He couldn’t believe he had never made that climb before, after coming to visit the mountain every year of his life. Slowly he turned to enjoy a slightly different view in each direction. Again, he thought of his grandmother and the day they paddled around the figure-eight-shaped lake, with its two large islands. He held up his hand in front of his face and covered the lake with his left thumb, amazed at how small it looked from the top of the mountain. A couple of small, fluffy clouds floated beneath him, and Wanders Far was amazed to think he was looking at the top of a cloud. The cool spring air was colder still on the top of the mountain, but it was late morning, and the bright and brilliant sun warmed his bare skin in spite of the cool air. Wanders Far found a boulder and made himself comfortable. There was no reason to hurry back down the mountain.Two hours later, Follows Stars joined Wanders Far on top of the mountain. Wanders Far watched as the seer surveyed the spectacular scene at his feet. It made Wanders Far happy to see the joy on the old man’s face. He sat down on the large boulder next to Wanders Far, and they sat in silence for over an hour.Then Follows Stars said, “Just because you see a little, doesn’t mean you know it all, Wanders Far. In all my years, sometimes I think I have seen it all, but I haven’t ever seen anything so spectacular as this! You have a very special gift, Son, and you must be very careful about sharing your gift with others. Sometimes your gift will be a treasured thing. Other times it will feel like a curse. You see a little, you think you know the rest, only you don’t always. You will have to learn how to interpret your own visions, and always be careful not to draw too distant a conclusion. Although I have told you this, Wanders Far, you will make mistakes. Maybe some mistakes can be avoided. Will you remember this advice?”Wanders Far nodded and told the seer that he would endeavor to remember.Follows Stars gave an example. “I see some very sad times ahead for our people. A great sickness will come, and more than half of our people will die. Only I don’t know if it will come this year, or a hundred years, or even a thousand years from now. What should I tell our people?”Wanders Far turned to face the old man, a look of concern on his face. “I don’t know. If the people knew, maybe they could do something to avoid the sickness. Maybe they could prepare. Or maybe they would panic. Maybe they would waste their lives worrying about something that might never happen. They might feel hopeless.” He turned away looking back out over the expansive view below. Then he hung his head and concluded, “You should not share that vision yet.”After another long silence, Follows Stars asked, “Can you tell when a man’s heart is true? When he is lying to you? Can you tell good from evil? Are our people good or evil?”Wanders Far’s eyebrows lowered and his chin hit his chest. Uncharacteristically he snapped, “Of course our people are good. Why would that be a question?” They had a long discussion about their enemies, the necessity to defend their people from their enemies, the way their people attacked their enemies in retaliation and in provocation, the way they treated captives, and the way they treated casualties. Did their warriors’ terrifyingly brutal acts minimize casualties by deterring the enemies’ attacks on their people’s villages? Why raid enemy villages and steal their property rather than work to secure the same resources with hard work? If you could kill one person and save many people by doing so, would it be a good thing to do? Follows Stars determined from the conversation that Wanders Far had an adult’s understanding of how the world worked, the culture of their people, the political reality of life in their warrior society, and the danger of a world full of enemies.A short break allowed for a change of direction. They sat cross-legged facing toward the east. Beyond the mountains there was a huge lake, not wide but very long, hundreds of miles long. Follows Stars had to squint to be sure it was a distant lake and not cloud cover. After a long look into the distance, Wanders Far closed his eyes and said, “That lake is to become important. People will fight to the death over that lake. Our people will meet a powerful new enemy there someday. We must be stronger before then. A new leader will unite us. I will carry his messages. His time has come. It is the will of the Great Spirit. Change is in the wind.” Wanders Far opened his eyes and concluded, “Our people will know hard times, but good times too. We can help.”Wanders Far turned to face the old seer instead of the distant lake. “I want to tell you about something that happened today, Grandfather.” He told Follows Stars about the great white stag. The old man listened intently, both to the facts and details of the encounter, and for the impression the encounter made upon the boy. He asked, “What does it mean?” “It is significant. We shall see what it means.” Follows Stars turned a little farther until they were sitting cross-legged, facing each other, knees touching. He reached forward for Wanders Far’s hands, putting them together, palm to palm, and engulfed the boy’s hands within his own. “Close your eyes, Son. Let us be silent.” For twenty minutes, two powerful old souls wandered freely together between and within the conscious and subconscious hearts and minds of the old man and the boy.Follows Stars opened his eyes. In a deep voice, he said slowly, “It is time, Wanders Far. Are you ready?”“Yes, Grandfather, I am ready.” They made their way down from the summit of the mountain. Wanders Far gathered wood for the old man’s fire. Follows Stars brought the morning fire back from embers and prepared a light meal. It would be the last meal for the boy before his long fast. At dusk they ate in silence. After dinner, Follows Stars told Wanders Far what would happen next. “This is a time for you to be silent. Absolutely quiet. I will give you limited instructions. Focus inward. Be aware of what you think, how you feel, what you ‘see’ and what you experience. We will sit together here for several hours. Then you will sleep. At dawn you will climb back to the summit, alone. You must go in silence. You must not utter a sound. Even your feet on the ground must travel the path as quietly as possible. You will take a blanket, and a pouch of water. You will spend three days and three nights at the summit. On the morning of the fourth day, you will return here to my fire. We will join hands together again. Then we will share a meal, and after that we will talk.” The old man was quiet for a long time, just sitting quietly by the fire. Then he began to hum. Humming gave way to a chant. Periodically he tossed various aromatics into the fire. Some were subtle, some were extraordinarily pungent. Some smelled good and some smelled awful. Some popped, crackled, and made little explosions. Some caused profuse billowing smoke and some unnaturally changed the color of the flames. The old man’s chants became louderand deeper, rhythmic, and intense. He moved around the fire in circles, dancing around, turning and twisting his old body, swinging his arms around below the levels of his knees, bending over at the waist, almost as if he were a wild animal on all fours. Hours later when it was over, Follows Stars rubbed Wanders Far’s back, chest, face, and hair with a gloppy salve made from dried sage, mint leaves, and oil, and led him to his bunk in the hut.At dawn, Follows Stars stirred cold black charcoal from the previous night’s fire into bear oil to form a thick black paste. He dipped his left hand in the mixture, then he pressed his hand over Wander’s Far’s right eye. Follows Star’s black thumbprint stood out on the middle of Wanders Far’s forehead, his fingers made parallel lines between his forehead and his right ear, and the palm of his handprint covered Wanders Far’s eye-socket. He stood back for a moment, like an artist surveying his handiwork. He nodded his head and grunted, pleased with himself.
Then Follows Stars handed Wanders Far his blanket, and a pouch of water, and pointed toward the summit of the mountain. He watched as the boy walked up the path, tiptoeing in silence. When he had disappeared from sight, Follows Stars returned to his bunk, still exhausted from the night before, and suffering from a powerful ache at the small of his back.

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After a chaotic day as a business person, Dave enjoys getting lost in the settings he imagines and spending time with the characters he creates. Writing historical fiction is like making paintings of the past. He loves to weave fact and fiction together, stirring in action, adventure, romance, and a heavy dose of the supernatural with the hope of transporting the reader to another time and place. He is an Adirondack 46-er, which means he has hiked all of the highest peaks in New York State, so it should not be surprising when Dave attempts to glorify hikers as swashbuckling superheroes in his writing.Wanders Far—An Unlikely Hero’s Journey is the first in a series of books in the Adirondack Spirit Series.
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#BookReview — The Muse of Fire by Carol M. Cram #Shakespearean #HistoricalFiction @carolcram

The Muse of FireBy Carol M. Cram

Abandoned at birth, the grandly christened Edward Plantagenet rises from London’s Foundling Hospital to take charge back stage at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, only to be blind-sided when he rescues Grace—a young woman escaping an abusive father.

Grace finds an outlet for her passions as a Shakespearean actress, becoming ensnared by intrigues and setbacks that mar the pathway to stardom she craves.

Set against the tumultuous backdrop of the Old Price Riots of 1809, Grace and Ned find common purpose in a quest that threatens to tear both their worlds apart.



Grace’s mother used to say that London was the centre of the world—sanctuary for the very best and worst of humanity.How wrong she had been.
When Grace flees into the night, she has no thought as to where she would go, only that she could not stay where she was. Since her mother’s death, Grace’s father had become a stranger — the *invisible spirit of wine has seduced him and, like that devil, he hits out with his fists only to later deny it. The streets of London seemed like a better place than staying at home. But London during the night was different than London during the day. For when the inconsistent moon takes flight, the worst of humanity skulks out of the shadows.
It was by chance that Ned stumbled upon Grace. He may talk rough and live in poverty-stricken surroundings, but he is honest. And, above everything else, kind. Ned will not leave Grace, broken and bleeding as she is, to face a cold and dangerous night on London’s streets.
Under Ned’s watchful care, Grace recovers from her ordeal. To her delight, Grace discovers that she and Ned share a common passion — the theatre. And while Grace has only ever dreamt of being an actress, Ned works at the illustrious Theatre Royal, in Covent Garden. Grace would give up everything to walk the boards and perform in a play by her favourite playwright — William Shakespeare. Perhaps destiny was at work, or perhaps, at last, Grace was the master of her fate...
From a desperate escape into the night to the end of the Old Price Riots of 1809, The Muse of Fire by Carol M. Cram is the unforgettable story of a young woman who takes her destiny into her own hands and becomes an actress.
Cram takes us behind the scenes of the Theatre Royal, and what goes on is far more sensational and entertaining than any play —even one of Master Shakespeare’s! The Muse of Fire is a nuanced portrait of life and theatre in the Georgian era. It has everything Shakespearian enthusiasts could want — there is the absurdity of a Shakespeare comedy, but also the poignancy of his tragedies. This book does not gloss over the poverty of the thespians, nor does it take anything away from what it must have been like for those who lived during this time.
With a careful eye on the opulence of the era, and at the other end of the scale, the poverty, Cram has written a fabulous backdrop for her characters, and she has breathed life back into the Theatre Royal. I adored the characterisation of both Grace and Ned. Grace is all alone in the world since her mother died, and it isn’t until Ned stumbles upon her that she realises that all this time she has been living half a life, and although she has only been to the theatre once, her mother had installed a love of Shakespeare in her, and now that Grace has trodden the boards, there is a fire within her that refuses to be quenched. Grace really came into her own through the course of this book. She is a likeable heroine, but also a courageous one who is determined to live her life how she wants to live it. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her journey unfold. However, it was Ned that closed the deal on this book for me.
Ned grew up at the Foundling Hospital in London, but inauspicious beginnings did not hamper his success, and he is now the stage manager at the Theatre Royal. Ned loves the theatre, he loves his job, and he is secretly in love with Olympia, a young and talented actress. Ned cares for Grace as he does with everyone. He is a wonderful protagonist and one I enjoyed reading about very much.
Although Grace and Ned are fictional characters, there are a host of historical figures in this book. I thought Cram’s portrayal of Mr John Philip Kemble was sublime. Kemble is larger-than-life in this story. He certainly is a force to be reckoned with. Likewise, I thought Cram’s depiction of the Old Price Riots of 1809 captured the very essence of this time. Wonderfully written and masterfully portrayed.
Cram is certainly a vivacious storyteller and her fast-paced narrative made this book not only utterly irresistible but next to impossible to put down. When I thought I knew where Cram was heading with the story, there would be a sudden plot-twist, and the story headed in another direction. This is a book that will keep you guessing. I absolutely loved it! 
I Highly Recommend.
Review by Mary Anne Yarde.The Coffee Pot Book Club.
*“O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.” Shakespeare, William — Othello Act 2, sc. 3 (first performed 1604, published 1622).

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Carol M. Cram
Carol M. Cram is an award-wining author of historical fiction including The Towers of Tuscany (Lake Union Publishing 2014), A Woman of Note (Lake Union Publishing, 2015) and The Muse of Fire (Kindle Press and New Arcadia Publishing, 2018). Both The Towers of Tuscany and A Woman of Note were designated Editor's Choice by the Historical Novel Society. The Towers of Tuscany received the Chaucer Award for Best Historical Fiction pre-1750 and both A Woman of Note and The Muse of Fire were named Best in Category for the Goethe Award for Best Historical Fiction post-1750. The Muse of Fire also received a Bronze for Best Historical Fiction from the Independent Publishers' Awards.
Connect with Carol: Website • Blog • Art in Fiction • Twitter.