Mary Anne Yarde's Blog: The Coffee Pot Book Club , page 48

Have a sneak-peek between the covers of Linda Bennett Pennell fabulous book — Miami Days, Havana Nights #HistoricalFiction @LindaPennell

Publication Date: 18th July 2018Publisher: Soul Mate PublishingPage Length: 302 PagesGenre: Historical Fiction

Sometimes our biggest debts have nothing to do with money.

 1926. When seventeen-year-old Sam Ackerman witnesses a mob hit, he is hustled out of New York under the protection of Moshe Toblinsky, A.K.A., the mob’s bookkeeper. Arriving in Miami with no money, no friends, and no place to hide, Sam’s only choice is to do as the gangster demands. Forced into bootlegging, Sam’s misery is compounded when he falls in love. Amazingly, the beautiful, devout Rebecca wants only him, but he cannot give her the life she deserves. When Prohibition ends, Sam begs the mobster to set him free. The price? A debt, as Toblinsky puts it, of friendship. A debt that will one day come due.

Present Day. History of American Crime professor Liz Reams has it all - early success, a tantalizing lead on new info about Moshe Toblinsky, and a wonderful man to love. Life is perfect. So what’s keeping her from accepting her guy’s marriage proposals? Confronting a long-standing personal debt sets her on a journey of self-discovery. While she delves ever deeper into Sam’s and Toblinsky’s relationship, her understanding of her own relationships increases as well, but the revelations come at a price. The emotional and physical dangers of her dual journeys may prove too big to handle. 

Chapter 1May 18, 1926105 South StreetNew York City
Knocking - sharp, loud, rapid - echoed through the empty speakeasy. Sam froze, the notes of a tune stuck in the roof of his mouth. He glanced at the entrance and leaned the handle of his push broom against his shoulder. Puffs of dust settled on the floor boards around his feet while he remained motionless. 
It was late, too late, to be admitting customers, even for the city’s illegal watering holes and gambling joints. Although a thick crossbar and several stout locks protected the heavy iron door, an uneasy feeling crawled down Sam’s spine. Growing tension over control of the Fulton Fish Market, in fact the entire South Street area, was making a lot of people jumpy, including him. 
Several seconds passed without noise from the other side of the door. Sam let out his breath and laughed at himself. Working at the fish market in the afternoon then staying up half the night at the speakeasy didn’t leave much time for sleep. It kept him on edge. All the rumors and threats floating around these days weren’t helping either. Inclining his ear and hearing nothing, he relaxed and gave his broom a shove. 
Bam, bam, bam.
Sam’s heart jumped into his throat.
“Open up, Monza. I know you’re in there.” The shout, colored by an Irish lilt, came from the second floor landing accompanied by renewed pounding. “I come to talk with ya. We need to settle this business. I got a proposition for ya.”
Sam’s breathing kicked up a notch as he looked over his shoulder toward the office. The boss didn’t like to be disturbed when he was meeting with his guys. The pounding from outside in the hall returned in earnest, but the office door remained fixed. 
“You gonna open this damned door or do I break it down?” The door knob rattled and jerked. 
Behind Sam, the office door clicked open an inch. He watched in the mirror over the bar as the muzzle of a .38 Special emerged from the opening, its nickel plated barrel glittering in the overhead lights. One of the gangsters stepped into the room, met Sam’s eye in the mirror, and jerked his head, then the room went dark. Sam dropped his broom and backed into an alcove next to the bar. The office door opened wider. Several shadows scurried across the floor. Metal locks and bolts snapped and clanked, then the entrance door swung inward.
“Hey, you guys forget to pay the bill? What’s with the dark?”
Sam couldn’t see the newcomer’s face, but given the guy’s size, backlit by the stairwell’s single bulb, and his accent, it must be William Mack, the labor organizer. Trying to push in on Tops Monza’s action at the market was a stupid move. The Irish were losing this war. Heck, they couldn’t even win a battle. The big Mick must have had enough. Sam shook his head. The goy had chutzpah coming here. You had to give him that.
Shoe soles scuffled on bare floorboards. The door slammed.
“Hey, what’re you guys doing? I come here in peace.” The Irishman’s voice boomed into the room followed by shoes dragging across the floor. “Monza, you chicken shit. Come out here and meet me like a man.” 
The room filled with light again followed by groans and the sound of body blows coming from the area in front of the bar. Sam squinted against the glare and stepped from his alcove, his heart thumping in rhythm with the punches being administered to Mack. Two guys held the Irishman’s arms while he strained and pulled to get free. Another of Tops’s men, a former heavy weight boxer, jabbed and pummeled Mack’s head and mid-section. When his knees buckled, the boxer stepped back, making room for Tops, who strolled over to the bar from the office doorway.
Tops bent down so that he was eye level with Mack. “So, you gonna insult me and make demands now that we done kicked your sorry Irish asses? Ain’t nobody gonna set terms for Joseph Monza. Fulton is mine and it’s gonna stay mine.” Tops grabbed Mack’s shirtfront. “You got that, you dumb Mick son-of-a-bitch?”
From the slits of his swollen eyelids, Mack looked up sideways at Tops. He spat out a glob of blood. “People know I’m here. You ain’t gonna get away with this. You’re gonna pay.”
“And whose gonna make me? You?” The sound of Tops’s laughter rolled around the empty room. 
Tops snatched the pistol from his henchman and took aim, firing once into Mack’s chest. Sam jumped at the pistol’s report. A soft groan floated from Mack as blood bubbled on his lips. Though Sam wanted desperately to look away, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the oozing red stream dribbling down the Irishman’s chin. Sam’s mouth went dry as though filled with cotton gauze. 
Grabbing a fistful of the Irishman’s hair, Tops pulled back so that Mack had to look him full in the face. Setting the muzzle against Mack’s forehead, Tops grinned and counted to five, then pulled the trigger. Blood and brains splattered over the bar and floor. Tops let go and Mack’s lifeless form toppled over. 
Sam’s stomach heaved. He gagged on the bile rising from his stomach and covered his mouth with a shaky hand. 
“Get him out of here, boys.” Tops turned, his upper lip curled in a sneer. His gaze lit on Sam. “Let the busboy help. That’s about what the Mick was worth. Hey kid. Yeah you, Sammy. Come over here and grab the legs. It’ll be good for you. Toughen you up.”
Sam’s heart dropped to his soles as he shuffled across the floor toward his boss. Handling dead fish was one thing, but the thought of touching a dead person with a gaping hole in his forehead left Sam trembling. He stopped beside the Irishman’s body, fighting to keep his churning stomach from emptying at Sock’s feet. Although he had worked for the mobster since he was fifteen, nothing had prepared him for what he had seen tonight. Of course he’d heard the stories, but Sam had pushed those stories aside as mere rumors. In addition to Tops paying better than other jobs, Sam admired the boss. Tops was the smartest and strongest man Sam knew, but this was outright murder. The seventh Aseret ha-Dibrot in the Torah stated “you shall not murder.”

Amazon UK • Amazon US

I have been in love with the past for as long as I can remember. Anything with a history, whether shabby or majestic, recent or ancient, instantly draws me in. I suppose it comes from being part of a large extended family that spanned several generations. Long summer afternoons on my grandmother's porch or winter evenings gathered around her fireplace were filled with stories both entertaining and poignant. Of course being set in the American South, those stories were also peopled by some very interesting characters, some of whom have found their way into my work.
As for my venture in writing, it has allowed me to reinvent myself. We humans are truly multifaceted creatures, but we tend to sort and categorize each other into neat, easily understood packages that rarely reveal the whole person. Perhaps you, too, want to step out of the box in which you find yourself. I encourage you to look at the possibilities and imagine. Be filled with childlike wonder in your mental wanderings. Envision what might be, not simply what is. Let us never forget, all good fiction begins when someone says to herself or himself, "Let's pretend." 
I reside in the Houston area with one sweet husband and one adorable, 105 pound German Shorthaired Pointer who is quite certain he’s a little boy.
"History is filled with the sound of silken slippers going downstairs and wooden shoes coming up." Voltaire  
BOOKS: 
Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel,  Miami Days, Havana Nights, Confederado do Norte, Casablanca: Appointment at Dawn,  All That Glitters, When War Came Home.
Connect with Linda:Website • Twitter • Facebook • Pinterest • Newsletter Sign Up.




 

Have a sneak-peak between the covers of Craig R. Hipkins fabulous book – Clement: Boy Knight of Normandy #HistoricalFiction #ChristmasReads #YoungAdult @CraigHipkins

 

Publication Date: September 19, 2020Publisher: Hipkins TwinsPage Length: 274Genre: Historical Fiction/ YA
Clement is no ordinary thirteen year old boy. He lives in a castle in 12th century Normandy. After helping Adalbert on his quest to find a long lost treasure, Clement and his friend Dagena return for another adventure. This time, Clement must overcome the evil ambitions of his wicked uncle, Sven the Terrible! Prepare yourself for some medieval action and excitement that you will not soon forget. This is the first book in a planned trilogy. Clement and Dagena first appeared in the novel Adalbert.


Clement instinctively pushed Dagena behind him as he pulled out his dagger. Olaf followed suit and the two boys started to back up as the giant slowly moved forward. 
“Stand back, sir! I warn you or thou will feel the taste of my blade!” Clement exclaimed boldly. 
The giant stopped, much to the surprise of the youths, who looked at one another with wonderment. 
“Who art thou that trespass in the abode of Jacques?” the big man asked with a surprisingly nimble tongue.
“Your abode?” Clement questioned. “I do believe that this cave and the land surrounding it belongs to the Count of la Haye! You, sir, are the one who is trespassing.”
The giant’s mouth curled into a snarl. “Well, boy! When I see this Count of la Haye, I shall crush him under my boot as if he were a vile insect! And when I am done, roast him on a spit and feed him to my dogs!”
Clement’s eyes narrowed and he boldly took a step forward. “Well, if you must know…I…” Dagena quickly grabbed him from behind and covered his mouth with her hand before he could finish the sentence. 
“Uh…Clement. That would not be a wise thing to do,” she said, whispering in his ear. “What is it about being roasted on a spit that you don’t understand?”
The giant had a canvas bag slung over his shoulder that he gently dropped to the ground in front of him. He then crossed his arms and looked at the trio menacingly. 
“I am hungry!” he roared. The sound of his powerful voice echoing through the cave. “Oh no, Clement! I knew this was a bad idea. He’s planning to eat us!” Olaf screamed waving his dagger at the giant, whose expression changed from one of menacing danger to one of curious introspection. 
“Eat you?” The giant let out a violent laugh and pointed to Olaf, who was looking at him fearfully. “Eat you, the boy says! Why would I do that?”  
The two boys looked at one another and then glanced behind them at Dagena, who had a perplexed look on her face.



Amazon US • Amazon UK • Hipkins Twins

Goblins, Fairies, House-Spirits & the Imagination
"Plucked from the Fairy Circle"
A man saves his friend from the grip of a fairy ring : Wikipedia

The world is full of legends, myths and folk tales that become imbedded in a country’s cultural history. In the days of old, people were at a loss as to explain certain aspects of the natural world that they did not understand. They explained these mysteries using the only means in which they had been endowed. They accomplished this through reason and experience. Often, they would come up with erroneous conclusions based on their limited scientific ability. Naturally, they would turn to the spirit world where such mysteries must (according to them) come from. Each culture has its own legends that often times transcend the bounds of reason. These legends do not have to fit in with the corporeal world of mere mortals. They belong to another realm where something greater than mankind dwells. A place where the fragile human is reduced to being a subject of interest, or a plaything for these superior beings. These beings might take the shape of omnipotent Gods like Zeus, or Odin. They might appear as great warriors such as the Irish hero Cuchulainn, or the Sumerian King, Gilgamesh. However, they may appear in a more innocuous form, at least at first, before beguiling the unwary human. Some of these beings’ issue forth as goblins, fairies or house spirits.
When I was a small child living in the backwoods of rural New England my brother and I would often form exploratory parties and venture off into the woods to see what we could find. I can still recall the feeling that I would get when I noticed or heard something that I did not yet understand. One time, during the autumn, when the leaves had fallen from the trees in thick, brown, red, orange and yellow piles, I heard a sound close by that I had not previously heard in my short life. It was a creaking sound, as if something heavy was being moved. I immediately scanned the forest looking for a giant, or ogre who might suddenly appear above the treetops wielding a large club. I then thought that I heard heavy footsteps crushing the brittle leaves. Even after I finally determined that the creaking sound was coming from a dead tree swaying in the cool autumn breeze I still made leaps and bounds over fallen logs, and boulders as fast as my little legs would carry me back to the safety of our house. My brother, of course, reaching the safety of the backdoor yards ahead of me. I bring this up only to show that the human mind can imagine and invent many things. It can create something out of little or nothing. This is how legends start.

House spirits have been a part of folklore for centuries. The English house spirit is commonly referred to as a Brownie. In Russia it is called a Domovoy, and the Germans call it a Kobold. Typically, these spirits are guardians of a house, barn, or stable. They are generally benevolent spirits that merely guard the residence and protect it from evildoers. Traditionally, the resident of the house gives these spirits an offering of some kind. Usually this is in the form of a block of cheese, some bread, a bowl of milk, or some other edible. There are, however, other fairies that are not so nice, and in fact are associated with mischief of some kind, and sometimes downright terror. There is the Irish Banshee that howls or cries outside of a bedroom window at night. This is usually taken as an omen that the occupant of that room will soon die. Probably one of the most terrifying fairy legends has circulated among the English countryside for centuries. It is a water spirit that haunts the creeks, marshes and brooks of old England and goes by the name of Jenny Greenteeth. This wretched monster is an old ugly hag, usually green and slimy looking with long hair and sharp teeth. It crawls out of the water grabbing unsuspecting children and carries them into the watery depths to an early grave. This legend probably arose from an innate fear that parents had of their children drowning.
"Watch out for Old Jenny, or she'll pull ye down into a watery grave!"
  Goblins have a long history, especially in Europe. There is Redcap who lurks in the ruins of old houses and castles and preys on the unwary traveler who might cross his path. His cap is supposed to be dyed red in human blood. Probably the most famous of goblins is the English, Puck. Puck resides in the forest, and often makes mischief by raiding farmers barns, toppling things from shelves, and opening stable gates. He makes an appearance in William Shakespeares play A Midsummer-Night's Dream.
Puck: Fairy, thou speak'st aright;           I am that merry wanderer of the night.           I jest to Oberon, and make him smile           When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,           Neighing in likeness of a filly foal:           And sometimes lurk in a gossip's bowl,           In very likeness of a roasted crab;           And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob           And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale.     Another well-known goblin, or fairy like creature comes from either a German, or Dutch legend called Rumpelstiltskin. A certain miller brags to his king one day that his daughter can weave straw, or hair into gold. The king imprisons the girl and threatens to cut off her head if the room she is in is not filled with gold by the next morning. The girl, of course, does not know the secret of alchemy, however she is saved by the sudden appearance of Rumpelstiltskin. He emerges from the shadows and agrees to fill the room with gold if the miller's daughter gives him her ring. She readily agrees, and the next morning the room is filled with gold, much to the satisfaction of the greedy king. The king then demands that she fill the room with gold again or lose her head in the morning. If she succeeds, he will marry her. Once again, Rumpelstiltskin comes to the rescue. This time, however, he demands that she is to give up her first-born son to him as payment. She agrees, and the next morning the king returns to see more gold and keeps his promise by marrying the girl. Sometime later, the girl has her first-born son, and Rumpelstiltskin returns for his payment. She refuses him outright, but he swears revenge. He tells her that she can keep the boy if she can find out what his name is within three days. She sends a spy to the goblin's cottage where he is seen dancing around in his parlor repeating a chant.
                                Today I'll brew, and tomorrow I'll bake.                                And the child away I will take.                                For little knows the queen.                                Rumpelstiltskin is the name!
Rumpelstiltskin returns to the queen and demands his due, but she shocks him by divulging his name. He becomes so mad that he stomps his feet on the ground causing a great crack in the earth where he falls in never to return.
     Rumpelstiltskin was one of my favorite stories from my childhood. It brought out the imagination, and I would often believe that I would meet up with a goblin-like character on one of my forays into the woods where the Nipmucks had trod centuries before. Perhaps I would even enter a fairy circle and join them in a dance, never to return to the world I knew. Of course, the circle that I encountered was nothing more than a whirlwind, turning the crisp autumn leaves into a funnel in which I soon entered...It was the whirlwind of youth, a time when you could enjoy the freedom of imagination.




Craig R. Hipkins grew up in Hubbardston Massachusetts. He is the author of medieval and gothic fiction. His novel Adalbert is the sequel to Astrolabe written by his late twin brother Jay S. Hipkins (1968-2018)
He is an avid long-distance runner and enjoys astronomy in his spare time.

Connect with Craig:

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Welcome to Day #8 of the blog tour for Fire and Ash Gifts of the Gods, Book 3 By Thomas J Berry #FireandAsh #HistoricalFiction #AncientGreek #CoffeePotBookClub @TBerryAuthor @Beatric09625662

 

Fire and Ash
Gifts of the Gods, Book 3
By Thomas J Berry


NOVEMBER 30TH – DECEMBER 11TH 2020AMAZON UK • AMAZON US • AMAZON CA • AMAZON AU • BOOKLOCKER
Publication Date: 10th October 2020Publisher: BookLocker Genre: Historical Fiction Page Length: 450 PagesFive men and women in Ancient Greece are set on a dangerous journey of self-discovery during the bitter conflict of the Peloponnesian War. While mighty Athens struggles to rebuild after a devastating campaign abroad, the feared warriors of Sparta prepare to deliver the final blow in a decades long war. No one is safe anymore as the conflict shifts across the Aegean to the shores of wealthy Persia. Old colonies, once loyal to Athens, are eager to rebel and the Great King is willing to pay anything to regain his control over them. These coastal plains set the stage for massive battles and heartbreaking defeats. This time there will be only one true victor. The news coming out of Sicily ripples across the cities of Ancient Greece like a thunderbolt and it is left to the poor and desperate to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. One young mother is suddenly faced with a horrible tragedy and struggles against all odds to make a new life for her family. An eager boy looking for adventure enlists in the new Athenian ranks but finds life on campaign a lot more than he bargained for. A Spartan officer in the twilight of his years struggles to adapt to a young man's army and an exiled Athenian strives to earn his way back into the graces of his beloved city. The harem girls in a Persian court meet a handsome foreigner and one risks everything for a chance at love. As the conflict between Athens and Sparta builds to a final showdown, five men and women struggle to come to terms with their changing world. What will they find in the ashes when peace finally comes?

Head on over to Candlelight Reading to find a book review for this fabulous book!

Click HERE!

Check out this fabulous #BookReview by The Historical Fiction Blog of By Love Divided (The Lydiard Chronicles, Book 2) by Elizabeth St.John #histfic @ElizStJohn

 

By Love Divided(The Lydiard Chronicles Book 2)By Elizabeth St.John


December 7th – December 18th 2020
Amazon  • Books2Read

Book Title: By Love DividedSeries: The Lydiard Chronicles, Book 2Author: Elizabeth St.JohnPublished: October 2017Publisher: Falcon HistoricalPage Length: 381Genre: Historical Fiction

London, 1630.
Widowed and destitute, Lucy St.John is fighting for survival and makes a terrible choice to secure a future for her children. Worse still, her daughter Luce rejects the royal court and a wealthy arranged marriage, and falls in love with a charismatic soldier. As England tumbles toward bloody civil war, Luce’s beloved brother Allen chooses to fight for the king as a cavalier. Allen and Luce are swept up in the chaos of war as they defend their opposing causes and protect those they love.
Will war unite or divide them? And will they find love and a home to return to—if they survive the horror of civil war. In the dawn of England’s great rebellion, love is the final battleground.
A true story based on surviving memoirs, court papers, and letters of Elizabeth St.John's family, By Love Divided tells of the war-time experiences of Lucy St.John, the Lady of the Tower. This powerfully emotional novel tells of England's great divide and the heart-wrenching choices one family faces.
Today, we are stopping over on The Historical Fiction Blog for a fabulous 5 Star Review! Here is a snippet:

“The English civil war must have been a terrible ordeal to live through, and this novel shines a spotlight on the human toll…” The Historical Fiction Blog.

You can read the rest of the review HERE!
Pick up your copy for only 0.99 on #Kindle for a Limited Time!
Amazon  • Books2Read

Welcome to Day #4 of the blog tour for Discovery (The Orphan Train Saga, Book 1) by Sherry A. Burton #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour @SherryABurton @MaddieS39950549

 

DISCOVERY THE ORPHAN TRAIN SAGA, BOOK 1 BY SHERRY A. BURTON

NOVEMBER 18TH – JANUARY 20TH 2021
AMAZON UK • AMAZON US • BARNES & NOBLE

Book Title: Discovery

Series: The Orphan Train Saga, Book 1

Author: Sherry A. Burton

Publication Date: December 25, 2018

Publisher: Dorry Press

Print Length: 229 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

While most use their summer breaks for pleasure, third grade teacher Cindy Moore is using her summer vacation to tie up some loose ends concerning her grandmother’s estate. When Cindy enters the storage unit that holds her grandmother’s belongings, she is merely looking for items she can sell to recoup some of the rental fees she’s spent paying for the unit.

Instead, what she finds are secrets her grandmother has taken to the grave with her. The more Cindy uncovers, the more she wants to know. Why was her grandmother abandoned by her own mother? Why hadn’t she told Cindy she’d lived in an orphanage? And how come her grandmother never mentioned she’d made history as one of the children who rode the Orphan Trains?

Join Cindy as she uncovers her grandmother’s hidden past and discovers the life that stole her grandmother’s love.
Head on over to Oh Look, Another Book for a sneak-peek between the covers of this fabulous book!
Click HERE!

Welcome to Day #7 of the blog tour for - Three Monkeys (DCI Jack Callum Mysteries Book 1) by Len Maynard #HistoricalFiction #Crime @len_maynard @CaigJamie

 

Three Monkeys

(DCI JACK CALLUM MYSTERIES BOOK 1)BY LEN MAYNARD
OCTOBER 28TH – DECEMBER 30TH  2020AMAZON UK • AMAZON US

Publication Date: 22nd July 2020

Publisher: Sharpe Books

Page Length: 270 Pages

Genre: Historical Crime

1958.

A girl’s body is found in Hertfordshire.

Her eyes and mouth have been sewn shut. Candle wax has been poured into her ears to seal them.

DCI Jack Callum, policeman and dedicated family man, who cut his teeth walking the beat on the violent streets of London, before moving his family away from the city, to a safer, more restful life in the country, leads the investigation into this gruesome crime that shatters the peace of the sleepy English town.

Images of three monkeys are sent to the police to taunt them: see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Something more sinister than a mere isolated murder seems to be going on as more victims come to light.

Who is doing this and why?

At the insistence of the first victim’s father, a local dignitary, officers from Scotland Yard are brought in to bring about a speedy conclusion to the case, side-lining Jack’s own investigation.

In a nail-biting climax, one of Jack’s daughters is snatched. Before she can become the next victim, Jack has to go against the orders of his superiors that have constantly hampered his investigation, and risk his own career in an attempted rescue at the killer’s own home.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Len Maynard was born in North London in 1953.

In 1978, a book of short ghost stories, written in collaboration with Michael Sims, was published by London publisher William Kimber. For the following forty years the pair wrote ten more collections of ghost stories before moving into novels in 2006, completing over thirty more books, including the successful Department 18 series of supernatural/crime crossover novels as well as several standalone novels and novellas in the supernatural and crime genres. Always a keen reader of crime novels, and with a passion for the social history of the twentieth century it was fairly inevitable that, when he decided to branch out and write under his own name, some kind of combination of these two interests would occur.  The six DCI Jack Callum Mysteries were the result of several years of total immersion in the world he created for Jack Callum, his family, his friends (and enemies) and his work colleagues. He has also written a trilogy of adventure thrillers set in the Bahamas (also available from Sharpe Books) He is currently at work on the seventh book in the DCI Jack Callum series.

Today we are over on The Whispering Bookworm for an exclusive author interview!

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Welcome to Day #9 of the virtual blog tour for The Brittle Sea by Tom Kane #HistoricalFiction #TheBrittleSea #Titanic @TigerBites @ADarnGoodRead

 

The Brittle SeaBy Tom Kane
OCTOBER 14TH – DECEMBER 16TH 2020AMAZON (KINDLE) • AMAZON (PAPERBACK) 

Publication Date: 19th June 2020

Publisher: TigerBites

Print Length: 295 pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

The Titanic disaster is the catalyst that sparks a bloody feud between two families in early 20th century America.

Magda Asparov is travelling from her home in the Ukraine to be the chosen bride of American businessman Matthew Turner III. But the ill-fated voyage of the unsinkable ship has far reaching consequences for her and her savior.

Magda has lost her memory and a new personality, Maggie, has taken hold. The Captain of her rescue ship, Richard Blackmore, has fallen for Maggie.

A mental illness, betrayal, murder, and corruption destroy Blackmore's life until all that remains is for him to seek revenge.

Today we are over on A Darn Good Read for a sneak-peek between the covers of this fabulous book!

Click HERE!

Welcome to Day #3 of the blog tour for The Wolf Banner (Sons of the Wolf, Book 2) By Paula Lofting #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #CoffeePotBookClub @Paulalofting @LinneaTanner

 

December 7th – December 18th 2020
Amazon UK • Amazon US

Publication Date: August 26th 2020 / Second Edition: Publisher: Longship PublishingGenre: Historical Fiction
WAR AND BLOODFEUD
"Best battle description ever!"
1056...England lurches towards war as the rebellious Lord Alfgar plots against the indolent King Edward. Sussex thegn, Wulfhere, must defy both his lord, Harold Godwinson, and his bitter enemy, Helghi, to protect his beloved daughter.
As the shadow of war stretches across the land, a more personal battle rages at home, and when it follows him into battle, he knows he must keep his wits about him more than ever, and COURAGE AND FEAR MUST BECOME HIS ARMOUR…

Today we are over on Linnea Tanner's Official Blog for a book review!
Click HERE!

Have a sneak-peek between the covers of Charlie Tyler's fabulous book — The Cry Of The Lake #Thriller #MustRead @CharlieTyler17

 

Publication Date: 9th June 2020
Publisher: Darkstroke
Page Length: 261
Genre: Psychological Thriller
A gruesome discovery unravels a dark trail of murder and madness.
A six-year-old girl sneaks out of bed to capture a mermaid but instead discovers a dead body.  Terrified and unable to make sense of what she sees, she locks the vision deep inside her mind.
Ten years later, Lily is introduced to the charismatic Flo and they become best friends.  But Lily is guilt-ridden – she is hiding a terrible secret which has the power to destroy both their lives.
When Flo’s father is accused of killing a schoolgirl, the horrors of Lily’s past come bubbling to the surface.  Lily knows that, whatever the consequences, she has to make things right.  She must go back to the events of her childhood and face what happened at the boat house all those years ago.
Can Lily and Flo discover what is hiding in the murky waters of the lake before the killer strikes again?


I thought The Tree of Promises was a dangerous choice for hiding Amelie’s belongings. On a late summer’s evening the tree would be swarming with young lovers/potential witnesses. But Grace explained she needed to put the bag somewhere it would be found and somewhere that would suggest love had played a cruel part in Amelie’s death. The tree was the perfect choice. We arrived at the empty clearing when the fat wood pigeons were flapping and chuntering into their roosting positions; sending dozens of white, fluffy feathers tumbling down to the woodland floor. Barney and I stood on sentry-duty, blocking the path which led from the main bridleway to the tree. I could hear Grace scuffling around the base, overturning moss and clumps of dark leaves, rearranging the woodland debris around the bag. 
She was taking too long.
I hooked Barney’s lead around the peeling trunk of a silver birch and crept back to the clearing. I could smell damp earth and bruised nettles. Patches of white light shivered on the ground, lighting up a ring of sickly-yellow toadstools and within the pockets of sunshine buzzed clusters of tiny, winged insects. 
Grace was standing, gazing up at the underside of the branches, clutching a garland of tiny sapphire flowers. She appeared to be lost in thought. I was about to step forward, to discover more about this extra detail she was leaving, but something stopped me. Her manner was strange; her ribcage heaved in and out and her lips moved but she made no sound. She bent her head, her auburn hair falling like a curtain over her face and kissed the garland before she looped it on one of the branches. Then she took a step back, her eyes downcast, while a solitary tear ran down her cheek. This was not part of leaving a clue for the police. This was personal and yet, in my entire life, I had never known my sister to have been in love with another person; she simply wasn’t capable of such an emotion. I retreated then crunched around in the undergrowth so that, when I re-emerged, she had turned back into a creature hewn from granite. 



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Charlie signed with Darkstroke in May 2020 and The Cry of the Lake is her debut novel.
Charlie is very much a morning person and likes nothing more than committing a fictional murder before her first coffee of the day.  She studied Theology at Worcester College, Oxford and now lives in a Leicestershire village with her husband, three (almost grown-up) teenagers, golden retriever and tortoise.
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Tonya Mitchell is giving away a bookmark & a signed edition of her fabulous book — A Feigned Madness #Giveaway #HistoricalFiction #Bookstagram @tremmitchell

 

Publication Date: 6th October 2020
Publisher: Cennan Books of Cynren Press
Page length: 377 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction

The insane asylum on Blackwell’s Island is a human rat trap. It is easy to get in, but once there it is impossible to get out. —Nellie Bly

Elizabeth Cochrane has a secret. 

She isn’t the madwoman with amnesia the doctors and inmates at Blackwell’s Asylum think she is.

In truth, she’s working undercover for the New York World. When the managing editor refuses to hire her because she’s a woman, Elizabeth strikes a deal: in exchange for a job, she’ll impersonate a lunatic to expose a local asylum’s abuses.

When she arrives at the asylum, Elizabeth realizes she must make a decision—is she there merely to bear witness, or to intervene on behalf of the abused inmates? Can she interfere without blowing her cover? As the superintendent of the asylum grows increasingly suspicious, Elizabeth knows her scheme—and her dream of becoming a journalist in New York—is in jeopardy.

A Feigned Madness is a meticulously researched, fictionalized account of the woman who would come to be known as daredevil reporter Nellie Bly. At a time of cutthroat journalism, when newspapers battled for readers at any cost, Bly emerged as one of the first to break through the gender barrier—a woman who would, through her daring exploits, forge a trail for women fighting for their place in the world.

If you would like to be in with a chance to win a signed copy of Tonya Mitchell's fabulous book A feigned Madness as well as a bookmark then you need to head over to #Bookstagram and follow the instructions on the Instagram post.
Enter HERE!
Not on Instagram - you can still enter! just drop the answer to this question in the comments section at the bottom of this post:
What is your favourite historical period to read about?
Good Luck!

*Open to US residents only.
*The winner must be willing to provide their email address.
*Giveaway closes on January 4th 2021




Nurse Grupe cleared her throat, a challenge in her eyes as they locked with mine. “I said naked.” 
Never in my life had I been naked in front of strangers; it was unthinkable I was expected to be now. Forty inmates looked down at the floor, too frightened to meet the nurse’s eyes. All but me were stripped bare. We stood in four rows of ten before a small tub, motionless, dispirited, and so chilled to the bone it might have been deep winter and not September. Crouched on a low stool beside the tub was an old, shriveled crone with a rag in her hands, a dingy towel slung on a chair next to her. Low evening light, filtering through the barred windows, threw diagonal slats across tile that had once been white but was now gray and bore the scars of perpetual use. Yet in that miserable gray-white room where there were only the singular tub, the rows of sinks and toilets, and the ubiquitous tile, I thought those marks signaled something else. If one were to move one’s fingers across those nicks and cracks and fissures like braille, they would tell the story of women who had borne witness to more than just bathing; they’d endured the crushing weight of hopelessness. 
A muscle twitched in Nurse Grupe’s jaw; her pointy chin jutted in contempt. “For da last time, remove your clothes, else I vill strip you myself.” 
Slowly, and shivering as I did so, I slipped out of my chemise and stockings and let them fall to the floor. I had already unbound my hair and so it covered my breasts, but that didn’t stop Grupe. Her eyes traveled down my body and back up again, her self-satisfied smile an indication of all that was Blackwell’s. Fewer than twenty-four hours inside the asylum, and I’d already learned an important rule: suffering was something to be brought forth and stoked continually, fed with the fi re of a hundred insults, fueled with a thousand opportunities to humiliate. 
“New arrivals go first,” Grupe said, “and as you’re a stubborn little bitch, you’re first among dem.” 
I stepped to the tub. The old crone’s lips parted in glee, revealing a row of rotten, tobacco-stained teeth. The two other nurses were poised at the ready on either side of the tub. 
“Well, ain’t ye a prize piece for one o’ the doctors,” the crone cackled. Her smile slid from her face, and she jerked her head toward the tub. “Well, in wit ye. We ain’t got all day.” 
The tub was as pitted and gray as the tile. Inside, along the bottom, a sinewy rust stain led to the drain, its hole plugged with the sawed-off end of a broomstick. It’s only a bath. I stepped into shin-high water so icy it took my breath away. 
I brought my arms up to my abdomen in a futile attempt to keep warm, but the nurses were having none of it. They forced my arms to my sides and pressed me into a seated position. Icy water bit at my buttocks, thighs, and shins, my skin already turning pink. Behind me, the old nurse smacked the filthy rag against my back. The smell of the soap—a mixture of lye, ash, and animal fat—was far worse. I resisted the urge to gag as the two other nurses dropped wooden buckets in, filled them, and lifted them over me. 
Freezing water rained down my head and face, shocking me into convulsive tremors the nurses rewarded with snickers. Bucket after bucket was upended over me, the water filling my mouth and eyes until there was only the blur of uniforms and the frenzied sloshing of the nurses’ efforts. My limbs throbbed. The cold was thickening my blood to sludge. 
Suddenly, the dousing stopped. My head was yanked back as the crone began to soap my hair. 
“Must you p-pull so?” I said, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. “It won’t be any cl-cleaner for it.” Already the surface of the water was coated with a thin layer of grease. 
Nurse Grupe leaned down to me, a glint in her eyes as she watched me shiver. “Dose who complain have der heads shaved. Vould you like dat?” 
“No.” 
Nurse Grupe straightened, stepped back, and nodded to the crone. 
She pulled me backward by my hair and pushed me down into the water so quickly that I barely knew what had happened. I flailed, legs kicking, fingers clawing at the sudden hands at my neck, my lungs burning as I lay submerged. My hair writhed around me like dark seaweed. Muffled laughter as precious air escaped my nose and mouth. Blurry faces white and rippling as they held me down. 
They were going to drown me.
And no one would save me. No one. 



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Tonya Mitchell received her BA in journalism from Indiana University. Her fiction has appeared in, among other publications, Glimmer and Other Stories and Poems, for which she won the Cinnamon Press award in fiction. She is a self-professed Anglophile and is obsessed with all things relating to the Victorian period. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society North America and resides in Cincinnati, OH with her husband and three wildly energetic sons.
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