Tracy Cooper-Posey's Blog, page 22
November 11, 2021
LEST WE FORGET — Time Travel Romance that Remembers
Three years ago was the 100th anniversary of Armistice Day, the end of World War I. I’d done a lot of research around that period (and even more since then, for the Adelaide Becket series), and still find the fact of The Great War staggering in modern history terms. It was a cataclysmic event that involved the whole globe.
With all the research I was doing at the time, and the 100th anniversary coming up, I decided to write a short story (which ended up being novelette length). I released Time and Remembrance on the 100th anniversary.
As it is Remembrance Day today, and I have a lot of new people on the list (hi!), I’m mentioning the story once more.
Time and Remembrance is part of my paranormal time travel series, Kiss Across Time, but in fact, you could read this story as a standalone. There’s no sex, no steam. There is a romantic aspect to the story (one of the established relationships is threatened), and a character is introduced that later goes on to feature in another book in the series (Kiss Across Chaos), but with a story like this, I didn’t want to uplift it with romantic resolutions.
It’s a side story in the series, so even if you don’t like vampires, menages, and frank sex scenes, you could still read it, especially if you like time travel stories and historical settings.
7.1 Time and Remembrance
A special story marking a moment in history…lest we forget.
On the one hundredth anniversary of Armistice Day, Jesse Hall, United States Marine and unsung hero, finds herself among a group of time-traveling vampires. She has been directed there by a century-old letter from her great-grandfather, instructing her to introduce herself with the phrase: “I’m not wearing a red shirt.”
So begins a dash through time to save a man in the very last minutes of the Great War, which in turn will save eight million other lives…
This book is part of the paranormal time travel Kiss Across Time series:
1.0: Kiss Across Time
2.0: Kiss Across Swords
2.5: Time Kissed Moments*
3.0: Kiss Across Chains
3.5: Kiss Across Time Box One
4.0: Kiss Across Deserts
5.0: Kiss Across Kingdoms
5.1: Time And Tyra Again*
6.0: Kiss Across Seas
6.5: Kiss Across Time Box Two
7.0: Kiss Across Worlds
7.1: Time And Remembrance*
8.0: Kiss Across Tomorrow
8.1: More Time Kissed Moments*
9.0: Kiss Across Blades
10.0: Kiss Across Chaos
11.0: Kiss Across the Universe
11.1: Even More Time Kissed Moments*
12.0: Kiss Across Forever
[*Time Kissed Moments are short stories, novellas and collections featuring the characters and situations featured in the Kiss Across Time series.]
The series has ongoing storylines and characters. Reading the books in order is recommended.
(And here’s a 10% off coupon, too! B82MXFZS — valid only at SRP and for one week only.)
Buy from your favorite retailer!
I’d say “enjoy” as I usually do, but the occasion the story marks really can’t be enjoyed. It can just be remembered. Grimly.
And let us not ever have another world war. Two were more than enough.
November 4, 2021
Signaling My Intent
For most of 2022, it looks as though I’ve been taking it easy as far as the writing and releasing of romances is concerned. In fact, I was still actually writing my fingers down to the knuckles, but it was for a different pen name–a series I’d committed to that I couldn’t get out of. But that series is done now.
Today’s boxed set release is a signal that things are getting back to normal around here.
I’m currently writing the next book in one of my on-going series — I gave my Patreon readers a sneak peak the other day. This book was in response to a lot of emails and messages from you folk, too. See, sometimes I do actually listen!
All my still-to-be-written series will be tackled over the coming months, too.
Today is the release of the second series boxed set from the Once and Future Hearts series.
I’m not sure how she does it, but Tracy continues to make each story more exciting than the last! I can’t stop reading these, even when I should be sleeping! – Reader Review
The next three books of the series that will “keep you hooked until the end”, featuring the myths, legends and magic of the beloved King Arthur stories, surrounding heart-rending romances of the men and women who lived and loved in these perilous times.
War Duke of Britain
He is not the enemy she came to fight.
Idris the Slayer is the champion of the northern kings. Undefeated in battle, the dark, lone warrior who rides to war with a black wolf at his side spreads fear before him, even among those counted his allies. When Rhiannon of Galleva rides to her first battle with Emrys and Cai, she expects to fight the Saxon hoards pouring into Britain. She is not braced to defend herself against Idris’ incursion into her heart.
High King of Britain
All she wants is to fight for Arthur and Britain.
Lady Mair is a daughter of Corneus—the house of perfect warriors—and wants only to serve Arthur, War Duke of Britain, as her brothers Lucan and Bedivere do. Yet King Alun of Brocéliande wants to make her his queen, which would mean leaving Britain and Arthur’s court. Alun’s younger brother and Mair’s best friend, Rawn, sees things as Mair does—nothing is more important than being the best warriors they can be. But Rawn is hiding secrets of his own, that run counter to Mair’s desperate wish to be free to fight for Britain.
Battle of Mount Badon
Their every encounter gives off sparks of contempt and misunderstanding. Bedivere is one of King Arthur’s companions, his marshall and war duke of his army. Handsome, remote, traditional and honor-bound, all he wants is to be a perfect warrior and serve Arthur. Only, Arthur’s people face another dark winter of deprivation and defeat at the hands of the ruthless Saxons. How can Bedivere find victory for Arthur when there is no hope? Cara of Brynaich is half-Saxon, the younger daughter of a reviled family. Her facial scars keep her apart from everyone. Her heart holds only hatred for the Saxons who betrayed her mother, murdered her father and brought her and her kin to such misery. She has no time for honor and tradition. Hope is for blind fools.
Included in this boxed set:
4.0 War Duke of Britain
5.0 High King of Britain
6.0 Battle of Mount Badon
This novel is part of the ancient historical romance series, Once and Future Hearts, set in Britain during the time of King Arthur.
1.0 Born of No Man
2.0 Dragon Kin
3.0 Pendragon Rises
3.5 Once and Future Hearts Box One
4.0 War Duke of Britain
5.0 High King of Britain
6.0 Battle of Mount Badon
6.5 Once and Future Hearts Box Two
7.0 Abduction of Guenivere
8.0 Downfall of Cornwall
9.0 Vengeance of Arthur
10.0 Grace of Lancelot
11.0 The Grail and Glory
12.0 Camlann
A Historical Fantasy Romance/Ancient Historical Romance series
Once and Future Hearts Box Two is now available on all retail sites everywhere.
Buy from your favorite retailer!
Enjoy!
October 30, 2021
20% Off Everything in the Store, 4 Days Only
The end of the month seems to come around more quickly, every single month.
Today is the start of our SRP 4 day only, 20% off everything sale. There are no exceptions. Pre-orders, boxed sets, books already discounted can all be included.
You can shop as often as you want during the four days, and you can pass the coupon code on to other readers if you think they’ll enjoy our stories.
The coupon expires at midnight MDT on November 2nd.
Here’s the coupon code: TTK62W2E
The coupon is not valid anywhere but on the Stories Rule Press site. To start shopping, click here. You can sort and filter the books to narrow down to your preferences.
Enjoy your browsing!
Tracy
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A Christmas anthology. Yes, it’s that time of year already!
I’m very proud to announce the release of Christmas Romance Digest 2021: Home for the Holidays. This is a lovely collection of short stories, all holiday themed, which includes the very first Christmas-themed romance I’ve ever written. I came close once. Solstice Surrender is sort-of Christmas-y, and absolutely holiday themed if you’re a pagan, but I digress.
This is also my first official foray as the editor of an anthology, too. I’m already doing more of them, including a science fiction anthology and a thriller anthology. This time next year, I’ll do another Christmas themed romance anthology, too.
But for now, let’s enjoy this one.
Heart-rending, happy-ending romances to enhance your holidays!
Family get-together’s for the holiday season can sooth our emotions or savage our souls. No one knows us better than the family and friends we choose share such times with.
In each of these seven delightful short romances, our heroes and heroines find going home for this season even more of a heart-wrench, for true love challenges their deepest held beliefs.
Going home for the holidays has never felt so wonderful.
This is the first annual edition of the Christmas Romance Digest, edited by national award-winning, best-selling romance author Tracy Cooper-Posey, featuring some of Romanceland’s most beloved authors.
“A Christmas Carole”—Roxy Boroughs
“Just In Time For Christmas”—Lea Storry
“Because Of The Christmas Stroll”—Debbie Mumford
“The Invitation”—Jasmine Luck
“The Ghosts of Christmas Present”—Karen McCullough
“The Reunion”—Annie Reed
“Burying His Ghost of Christmas Past”—Tracy Cooper-Posey
Get your copy now!
Contemporary Short Romance Anthology
Buy from your favorite retailer!
Enjoy!
October 21, 2021
First Chapter from Once & Future Hearts Box Two
As we’re two weeks out from the release date of the second boxed set in the Once & Future Hearts series, today, as usual, I’m providing the entire, unedited first chapter from the first book in the series, War Duke of Britain. Patreon members will also be able to read the first two interstitials.
Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM
ONCE & FUTURE HEARTS BOX TWO
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2021
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Chapter One
On the far eastern borders of the Kingdom of Guannes, Lesser Britain. 475 C.E. (Ten years ago.)
Arawn’s family, all five of them mounted, paused at the crest of the long, sloping hill down into the valley. Around them and behind them, Arawn’s army assembled itself. It was a magnificent sight, for Arawn had eight thousand men under his command.
The impressive numbers of armed warriors who answered to Arawn, King of Brocéliande, paled to insignificance compared to the troops and fighting men who sprawled upon the immense valley.
“The stars save us,” Ilsa murmured. “There must be fifteen thousand people down there.” She glanced at her husband. In twenty-five years of marriage, Ilsa had barely changed from the energetic, intelligent woman Arawn first met within the Perilous Forest, covered in mud from head to foot. The mud was gone and some would say her youth was gone, yet the life and joy had not faded from her eyes. Neither had her extraordinary love for him, for which Arawn was humbly grateful.
“Twenty thousand at least,” Arawn told her. “I can see Uther’s banner from here. If Uther is here, then half his British contingent will also be here.”
“I can see King Ban, and Bors of Guannes, and Hoel’s people,” Alun said. He controlled his big warhorse with unconscious ease. At seventeen, he was still becoming the great battle commander Arawn suspected he would be. Alun jerked his chin toward the valley. “Who’s is the white banner with the red cross?”
“Bedrawd’s,” Arawn Uther murmured. Arawn Uther was only twelve and not yet ready for battle. When the general calls for arms and aid reached Brocéliande, he had insisted he come along. Arawn was happy for him to see a real battle. It would be a sobering experience for the boy. “Is it true Bedrawd is the perfect soldier?” Arawn Uther added.
“He is a man. He has faults, just like any other man,” Ilsa replied.
“Faults get a man killed on the battlefield,” Arawn reminded her.
“And a woman.”
Arawn didn’t respond. Despite years of Ilsa fighting in the Queen’s Cohort, he was still not used to it. He could never relax after a battle until he knew she was safe.
“Shall we go down?” Ilsa asked. “By now, they have seen us.”
“Do we have to?” Elen asked. She was the only one in the family mounted on a gelding. She had refused to learn how to command a warhorse. At fifteen, she had reached the extent of her growth and could manage the gelding without trouble. In the early morning light, with the sun before them, Elen’s red hair burned fiery bright. It was her only bright note. War was not to her taste.
“War waits for no one,” Arawn said. “Remember why we are here. Claudas has taken Bors and Lionel. And Lancelot, too. We must get them back.” Arawn picked up his reins again. “Claudas has spent decades harassing us from the east. Now, finally, he has overstepped his bounds. Now there will be a reckoning.”
There were no more arguments from his children. They followed him and Ilsa down the gentle slope, their heads turning as they merged into the assembled armies.
There were so many people here, even Arawn could not identify all the banners and shields. The general call had gone out and all Lesser and Greater Britain answered.
He saw Pellinore, King of Listenoise, with two of his many sons. The jovial king had ties to Brittany through his wife and queen, Alis, a daughter of Uther’s greatest battle commander, Cadfael.
Mabon and his Queen Maela were here, with their grown son, Bevan. Bevan had married Lowri, who was Alis’s sister. If Mabon and Listenoise were here, it was likely Cadfael’s other offspring were also here. Most likely his widow, Lynette, too.
Thanks to Maela and her Queen’s Cohort, the practice of including all the adult members of a family in a battle had become more common. The women fought in the auxiliary while the men fought together on the main battlefield.
It gave rise to armies like this one, with thousands of people who had much to lose and an even stronger determination to win, because their loved ones were here, too.
Arawn led his family and his men deeper into the valley, searching out the command tent. The sun had barely risen yet the battle would soon be joined. He must get his orders from Uther before then.
Around them, everyone prepared for battle. Elen straightened in her saddle and pointed to the far right. “There is the surgery tent.” She nudged her gelding in that direction. Elen had been trained by Nimue, Lady of the Lake, and was a competent surgeon.
It was impossible to ride all the way to the command tent. There were too many people thronging about the tent, trying to receive their orders.
Arawn dismounted and handed his reins to Alun. Ilsa straightened in her saddle, scouting about with her gaze. “There is Maela.” She smiled at Arawn, then wheeled her horse and weaved between clumps of men, heading for where the Queen’s Cohort assembled.
Arawn ducked and weaved his way to the big white tent and slipped through the opening.
Not unexpectedly, there were a dozen or more men in the tent, most of them murmuring to each other and watching the big chair at the end. Arawn knew nearly everyone. Tristan the Elder, who was actually young, but not the youngest Tristan in their family, stood beside the high chair. Tristan was King of Kernow, and Uther’s war duke in times of war. It meant he spent more time as war duke than he did as king. Tristan had become war duke when Cadfael died. No one disputed the appointment, for Tristan was a prodigious soldier despite his youth.
He coordinated the placement of the field, handing out positions and orders, while conferring with Uther. A sense of urgency filled the tent. The rising sun hurried their arrangements.
Uther rose to his feet and greeted Arawn with a hard embrace. “You made it. Thank you.”
“As if we would not answer the call.” Arawn patted Uther’s shoulder and hid his reaction to the King’s appearance.
Uther looked old. The fiery red of his hair, which was a family trait Ilsa and Elen shared, had faded. His cheeks were gaunt. The thick red beard he had worn for many years was thin and as faded as his hair.
They had all grown older. Arawn had not noticed it until greeting friends he had not seen for many years, as he was doing today. Arawn was considered to be an old man. He didn’t feel like one, yet he could remember the youngest of his soldiers being born. His reflection in the water, or the copper mirror Ilsa possessed, always caught him by surprise.
Mabon pushed his way through the kings and leaders and took Arawn’s arm in friendship. His thick black hair was liberally shot with gray. The lines around his eyes were deep. His grip was firm, though. It lacked none of the strength Arawn remembered.
Mark of Kernow, Tristan’s brother, rested his hands on their shoulders, explained the layout of the field and where they were to assemble themselves. “If you can, identify Claudas’s son, Dorin. It is he who masterminded this scheme to steal the boys. Uther wants him alive. Good luck,” he added in his gravelly voice.
Then he turned to face Ban and Bors with instructions for the placement of their men. Both kings looked haggard, for it was their sons who had been taken. They were handsome men, yet neither appeared so now. Hoel of Brittany stood just behind them and bent his head to catch what Mark was saying.
The tent emptied as everyone received their orders. Arawn had his. He lingered for a moment to nod acknowledgement at the kings and lords who had traveled from Britain to help Bors and Ban subdue Claudas one final time.
Pellinore, Bedrawd, Bevan. Leodegrance, from the Summer Country. Brandegoris, the half-brother of Tristan, and a capable fighter, as all that family was. Cador of Cornwall was there, too.
Arawn pulled Cador to one side. “The golden-haired man in the corner, there. Who is that?”
The man he referred to was the only stranger in the tent. He was young, possibly not any older than Alun. He had strong good looks and thick brows from under which his eyes twinkled. He waited patiently. His armor and weapons were of a strange style.
Cador glanced at him. “Accolon of Gaul. He is the second son of the king whose land lies beside Claudas’s. His father is holding Claudas back on his own land. He sent Accolon and his men to help us confront Claudas.”
“Generous of him to send his second son,” Arawn said, his tone dry.
Cador raised his brow. “From what I’ve heard, the second son out fights every man in his kingdom. His father sent his best so he can attack Claudas on two fronts.”
“That does make a difference,” Arawn said. “If I wasn’t so incensed about what Claudas has done, I might even feel sorry for the man.” He pulled on his gauntlets. “Let’s get this over and done. I would like to see Claudas’s head on a pike by the end of the day.”
“May it be so,” Cador breathed, as they ducked under the tent flaps and went to find their men.
Even from a mile away, it was impossible to mistake the sound of battle. When the two great armies came together, the ground trembled. The clash and cry, even from a distance, made both women look over their shoulders. They could see nothing from here, for they were in a gully high above the valley where the armies met. They had crept along the trail for more than an hour.
They bent low over their horses’ necks, keeping their heads down. There was just the two of them and from a distance, they looked vulnerable. It was better to not be seen, to save themselves the effort of fighting off attackers who thought they would be easy pickings.
As the gully deepened, Nimue sat up. She glanced back over her shoulder. Vivian followed her, sitting up and pulling her hood over her dark hair, to hide her hair and face and to disguise that she was armed. Her sword was strapped to her waist and the cloak hid it.
Nothing would hide Vivian’s slenderness and graceful movements, though. If a man saw her moving, he would know he looked upon a woman, whether he saw her face or not.
Nimue shoved aside the thought and turned her mind to the task at hand. They had been making their way along the high sides of the valley since before the dawn, when there had been barely enough light to see. One of Bors’ local men described to them the narrow trail which would lead them around the valley and the battle, to the edges of Claudas’s camp. They could come upon the camp from the rear. With careful maneuvering, they would find their way through the camp and locate the boys.
Nimue’s heart went out to the sons Claudas had taken. Bors the younger was only fifteen. He was not quite a man and he was the oldest of the three. Lionel was thirteen and Lancelot only seven. Even if Nimue did not know what lay in their future, she would still feel pity for the fear they must be feeling.
The gully widened enough to allow the passage of two horses at once. Nimue waved Vivian forward. Vivian’s stallion rubbed shoulders with hers in a companionable way, for they were stablemates.
“If you feel the need to speak, now is the time to do so,” Nimue told Vivian. “We will descend to the valley shortly. Claudas’s camp will be deserted. We will be heard if we make too much noise.”
Vivian did not speak at once. She appeared to be deep in thought.
Nimue let her think. She had learned to appreciate the way Vivian’s mind worked.
“I have been running through my mind all the banners I saw as we passed through the host,” Vivian said. “Uther sent out a general call. I know he has never done that before. My understanding of a general call is that everyone who owes any allegiance to Uther is expected to respond.” She glanced at Nimue. “That is correct, isn’t it?”
Nimue nodded. Vivian was a quick student. Even though she had come to politics and power play only since arriving at Brocéliande, she had a natural talent for it.
Vivian’s frown deepened. “I am quite sure…that is, I am certain I did not see some banners I expected to be among those on the field.”
“You are speaking of the northern lords,” Nimue said. “I noticed their absence, too.” She nudged her horse with her knees, to encourage him to move down the sloping path. It was stony. Pebbles rattled under his feet, making him shy from the descent.
Nimue picked up the reins for greater control. “You will hear the truth soon enough,” she added. “Urien of Rheged wed Uther’s daughter Morgan just yesterday.”
Vivian’s frown did not smooth away. “The girl was betrothed to him for years. Only now does he wed her?”
“It is curious timing, isn’t it?” Nimue sighed. “She has just turned sixteen. She is marriageable but still young. The wedding might’ve been delayed for a year or two, and no one would have been slighted by the delay. Yet, suddenly, Urien must wed her, and at once.”
“And King Lot, his cousin, would have to attend the wedding as a witness, at the very least. Caradoc, too.” Vivian hesitated. “Ector of Galleva is missing. He is one banner I would have counted upon. I’ve heard it said he is fiercely loyal to Uther.”
“Yes, Ector’s absence is a puzzle,” Nimue admitted. She rested her hand on Vivian’s bridle. “Silence, now. We grow close.”
They descended into the valley where the enemy laid.
The enemy laid beside her.
Morgan held herself rigid on the lumpy mattress, her heart racing. It had not slowed throughout the night, as she nursed her bruises and aches, and worked to restore her equanimity.
She knew no spell which would work against this type of evil. It was the basest sort, born in the root of a man’s heart and impossible to remove without removing the man himself.
Morgan rolled her head to her left, moving slowly so she would not disturb her husband. Dawn filtered through the narrow windows and with it came the frigid air of morning. It was much colder in Rheged than she had been led to believe.
The dawn light let her see Urien’s face. Even in sleep, the sour amusement with which he greeted everything, including her, had not departed. His thick blond hair, shaved at the temple, and his jutting beard did not enhance his looks. If anything, they made him appear more ferocious. It was likely he cultivated that appearance deliberately.
He had not arranged new clothes for the wedding. He arrived at the altar barely by the appointed hour. The nuns who delivered Morgan to him fluttered and shuffled backward as Urien stalked up the aisle of the church.
Urien tossed his sword and belt onto a bench, causing the wedding guests to shriek and shuffle sideways to accommodate them. He flung his braid back over his shoulder and nodded at the priest to continue.
He didn’t look at Morgan. It was as if he willed the priest to hurry and get it finished.
When the priest announced they were joined, Urien gripped Morgan’s chin with his big hand, pulled her toward him and kissed her, grinding his lips into hers. His tongue pushed deep into her mouth, making Morgan moan—and not in pleasure.
The nuns had lectured Morgan on her duties as a wife and the new Queen of Rheged. Morgan accepted the kiss and wiped her lips when he released her.
Still he did not meet her eyes.
She might have been eating alone at the wedding feast, for Urien did not speak to her. No other man at the table would dare converse with her when Urien sat in stony silence, drinking heavily.
The only man who did to speak a single word to her was Lot, her sister’s husband and king. He was Urien’s cousin and held his face in the same way Urien did, in the way which said he was laughing at the world.
Lot raised his brow at Morgan. “Welcome to the family,” he told her. “I wish you well of it.”
He was the first and last person to speak to her that night. Even Morgause, her sister, did not dare raise her veil or look at her directly. Besides, her sister spent most of her time trying to control her brood of four redheaded boys, for her nurse was useless at the task.
The bedchamber to which Morgan was led to prepare for her wedding night was cold enough to make her breath fog the air. She was stripped, and the covers thrown back for her to climb up into the big bed. She laid shivering beneath the furs, waiting for Urien and bracing herself.
Morgan had not anticipated Urien’s resentment of her association with the High King. He stalked in and stood over her, peering down at her with bleary eyes. They were blue, but the red made them seem almost black. “You’re not even a proper daughter of his,” he growled.
Morgan’s heart jumped. “Uther has no daughters. I am his stepdaughter.”
“Through you, he expects to tug and make me perform to order.”
She opened her mouth to speak, while trying to think of what she might say which would placate him. Nothing came to her. She was so surprised by Urien’s dismissal of her royal rank as not good enough, her thoughts were scrambled.
She had taken too long to speak. Urien’s resentment boiled over. He struck her with a growl of fury.
Two more blows left her stunned enough for him to take his pleasure without resistance. She tasted blood as he used her, grunting with the effort it took to overcome the prodigious amount of wine he’d drunk. He seemed to feel it was her fault, too. It earned her another blow.
When he was done, he rolled to one side and began to snore.
Morgan pulled the furs up around her, rolled over onto one side and tried to piece back together her confidence. She watched the dawn light brighten the narrow aperture of the window, still considering.
The thought which returned over and over, was to wonder where her mother was. Or Uther. Surely the High King would want to see his political pawn safely married? Yet it was her mother’s absence which hurt the most. Did her mother care so little for her she could not travel to Rheged to see her daughter married?
Was her mother sitting in the palace in Venta Belgarum, warm and dry? Why had no one from the south been here? No one but the nuns had accompanied her to Rheged. It left Morgan alone here, for Morgause would return with Lot to Lothian today.
Even as she wondered, deep in her heart Morgan knew this was the way it should be. It had always been this way. Everyone knew what she was and shunned her because of it. She had the Sight and was a witch, the nuns assured her. She was an evil thing, alive only because her royal parentage prevented anyone from executing her as they should.
Morgan embraced the explanation. It told her why her mother had allowed her to be taken to the nunnery when she was five. Of course her mother wanted her gone. She was a bad creature.
It explained why Uther had never once spoken to her directly, since that first day in the courtyard at Tintagel. He had cast her aside in favor of the unborn son her mother carried. The son no one had seen for twenty years earned more of the High King’s favor than did Morgan.
She had spent the last ten years learning more about her nature. She had accessed secrets which the nuns were not aware of. She bribed with coins, jewelry and sometimes her body, to uncover pockets of knowledge which would have terrified the nuns.
Urien had been so drunk, he had not noticed her less than virginal state. The fool.
Until this night, none of it had touched Morgan on a personal level. She had not accepted what she was. Now, though, she understood and welcomed it.
When Urien woke and reached for her, then used her with a cold indifference, Morgan was braced. As he strained over her, she formed her plans.
I’m not sure how she does it, but Tracy continues to make each story more exciting than the last! I can’t stop reading these, even when I should be sleeping! – Reader Review
The next three books of the series that will “keep you hooked until the end”, featuring the myths, legends and magic of the beloved King Arthur stories, surrounding heart-rending romances of the men and women who lived and loved in these perilous times.
War Duke of Britain
He is not the enemy she came to fight.
Idris the Slayer is the champion of the northern kings. Undefeated in battle, the dark, lone warrior who rides to war with a black wolf at his side spreads fear before him, even among those counted his allies. When Rhiannon of Galleva rides to her first battle with Emrys and Cai, she expects to fight the Saxon hoards pouring into Britain. She is not braced to defend herself against Idris’ incursion into her heart.
High King of Britain
All she wants is to fight for Arthur and Britain.
Lady Mair is a daughter of Corneus—the house of perfect warriors—and wants only to serve Arthur, War Duke of Britain, as her brothers Lucan and Bedivere do. Yet King Alun of Brocéliande wants to make her his queen, which would mean leaving Britain and Arthur’s court. Alun’s younger brother and Mair’s best friend, Rawn, sees things as Mair does—nothing is more important than being the best warriors they can be. But Rawn is hiding secrets of his own, that run counter to Mair’s desperate wish to be free to fight for Britain.
Battle of Mount Badon
Their every encounter gives off sparks of contempt and misunderstanding.
Bedivere is one of King Arthur’s companions, his marshall and war duke of his army. Handsome, remote, traditional and honor-bound, all he wants is to be a perfect warrior and serve Arthur. Only, Arthur’s people face another dark winter of deprivation and defeat at the hands of the ruthless Saxons. How can Bedivere find victory for Arthur when there is no hope? Cara of Brynaich is half-Saxon, the younger daughter of a reviled family. Her facial scars keep her apart from everyone. Her heart holds only hatred for the Saxons who betrayed her mother, murdered her father and brought her and her kin to such misery. She has no time for honor and tradition. Hope is for blind fools.
The series:
1.0 Born of No Man
2.0 Dragon Kin
3.0 Pendragon Rises
Included in this boxed set:
4.0 War Duke of Britain
5.0 High King of Britain
6.0 Battle of Mount Badon
The remainder of the series:
7.0 Abduction of Guenivere
8.0 Downfall of Cornwall
9.0 Vengeance of Arthur
10.0 Grace of Lancelot
11.0 The Grail and Glory
12.0 Camlann
Readers have described Tracy Cooper-Posey as “a superb story teller” and her ancient historical romances as “written art”. Get the second boxed set today!
And remember that if you pre-order your copy directly from me, you get the set next week, a week earlier than all other retail stores.
Buy from me @ SRP!Buy from your favorite retailer!Enjoy!
October 7, 2021
How you can patronize me without insulting me. :)
I’ve had a lot of readers ask for a subscription model that lets them read all my new releases, and other readers who wanted the same for print editions. Plus a whole slew of other wishes. Including a wish to know exactly what I’m about to release in the near future.
You got it.
I’ve started a Patreon page, where you can get all of the above, and more, including exclusive content.
There’s eight different tiers with increasing benefits at each level, all the way up to signed print editions for every release.
I’m a member of a couple of other authors’ Patreon accounts, and I like the sense of community that the subscriptions impart. For that reason, most of the tiers on my page include access to an exclusive Discord channel just for readers.
As I like hanging out on Discord a whole lot more than Facebook, I will be removing the Readers’ Hangout on Facebook, and moving solely to Discord. If you’re a member of the (very quiet!) Hangouts page on Facebook, you’ll have seen the notice there.
This just the start. As I get the hang of running a Patreon page, I’ll tweak and refine and add more cool benefits. For example, I’m thinking that audio books might feature somewhere in the near future–but I’m not sure how, as I’m still noodling around with audio ideas (more about that one, later), and getting to know Patreon from the author side.
Check out my page. If you’re already a member of other authors’ pages, and like a feature or benefit that they offer, let me know about it (an URL to their page would be useful, too!). I’ll check it out, and see if it’s something I can manage, too.
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Let me know what you think!
September 30, 2021
Christmas Romance Digest 2021 is now out on pre-order!
There are some absolutely lovely stories in this year’s Christmas Romance Digest. I can say that without sounding full of myself because they’re all (but one) written by other authors. I’m the editor for this collection and I was very happy with the stories.
Of course, I have a story of my own in there, too, so I can’t say “this anthology is freaking amazing” — because that would be self-aggrandizing. But I can say “you’ll love the first six stories!”
Heart-rending, happy-ending romances to enhance your holidays!
Family get-togethers for the holiday season can sooth our emotions or savage our souls. No one knows us better than the family and friends we choose share such times with.
In each of these seven delightful short romances, our heroes and heroines find going home for this season even more of a heart-wrench, for true love challenges their deepest held beliefs.
Going home for the holidays has never felt so wonderful.
This is the first annual edition of the Christmas Romance Digest, edited by national award-winning, best-selling romance author Tracy Cooper-Posey, featuring some of Romanceland’s most beloved authors.
“A Christmas Carole”—Roxy Boroughs
“Just In Time For Christmas”—Lea Storry
“Because Of The Christmas Stroll”—Debbie Mumford
“The Invitation”—Jasmine Luck
“The Ghosts of Christmas Present”—Karen McCullough
“The Reunion”—Annie Reed
“Burying His Ghost of Christmas Past”—Tracy Cooper-Posey
Get your copy now!
Contemporary Short Romance Anthology
Christmas Romance Digest 2021: Home for the Holidays is now out on pre-order at all the booksellers except Amazon. Sorry about that, Amazon readers — but the anthology is being released via a distributor whose arrangement with Amazon does not allow pre-orders. The anthology will be available on Amazon on the release day. Also because of the distribution setup and because it is an anthology with multiple authors who are not part of Stories Rule Press, it is not available via SRP.
Buy from your favorite retailer!
Enjoy!
September 29, 2021
20% Off Four Day Sale is Now On
This month’s SRP 20% Off Everything Sale started this morning. If you’re new to the list, here’s a quick outline:
You can get 20% off absolutely everything for sale at Stories Rule Press.
That includes boxed sets, and books already discounted, and all pre-orders (there’s a lot!)The sale lasts for four days
The last two days of this month and the first two days of next month.It finishes at midnight on the 2nd, MDT.Apply the coupon code (below) to your basket as you check out.
The coupon won’t work anywhere but the Stories Rule Press site.And it expires after midnight on October 2nd.But you can use it as many times as you want between now and then.There is no upper or lower limit on what you can buy. All authors (including me) are part of the sale.Here’s the coupon code for this month: ZE2V7ZWF
To start browsing the books on SRP, click here. You can browse by a range of categories, including by author, by genre, by popularity, by price, etc.
Enjoy!
Tracy
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Long Series and Left-Turning Episodes (and the next Adelaide Becket is out!)
Are you wary when you start a new TV series? Braced to maybe be disappointed? And how many episodes do you give a new TV series before booting it to the curb?
A long time ago, Mark and I agreed that we had to give a new TV series at least six episodes before quitting. It takes about that many episodes for the show to get past the crime-of-the-week, or whatever it is the show is about. Adventure-of-the-week, mystery-of-the-week, space-battle-of-the-week.
By around the sixth episode, the show usually finds its feet, and settles into the type of story telling that brands the rest of the series. By then, it’s safe to quit or stick. I say usually, although there are several beloved series I can think of that didn’t really get their shit together until season two (I’m looking at you, Star Trek: The Next Generation).
I’m glad we agreed upon this policy of waiting a few episodes, because we’ve found some excellent TV series that were bland for the first few. Dexter is a case in point. We were talking about giving up on it after two or three, but the policy kept us watching for three more…and the storytelling suddenly jumped into the stratosphere. We stuck for the rest of the series.
TV series that manage to get away from the thing-of-the-week story-telling (another name for it is episodic story-telling–a very traditional form for TV shows) often end up with long-running character arcs, story arcs, sub-story arcs, and convoluted backstories.
They’re also not afraid to experiment. Every now and then you’ll get an episode that is completely different from the norm. It’ll flash back into history, say, and all the regular cast play roles in 1930’s loungewear (Castle), or Prohibilition style (Star Trek, the original series). Or there is an episode that takes place entirely on one set (one room), over a single period of time that matches the episode length. West Wing broadcast the final season’s Presidential Debate live. There’s some dandy out-of-character episodes all throughout TV history. M.A.S.H. was famous for them, later in their run.
One of my favourite out-of-character episodes is from the little-known Due South series. In the first season, there’s a left-turning episode called “You Must Remember This“. The whole series is whacky, I admit, but this eleventh episode the whackiness took a sharp turn and paused for a single beat. The episode features a stake-out, with the characters holed up in a ramshackle room, watching the apartment across the road.
What made the episode so different is that halfway through, deep in the middle of the night, Ray is asleep, while Frazier (the main character, played by the gorgeous Paul Gross) is watching the apartment. Frazier goes into a soliloquy about a long lost love that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This is the first time the series gets, well, serious. It’s the first hint about the love of Frazier’s life, Victoria, and it sets up the jaw-dropping and heart-stopping three-part season finale, “Victoria’s Secret”.
I was locked into the series completely and utterly, after that single skewed episode.
And I kept recalling the episode while writing The Broadcloth Midnight.
If you’re familiar with Due South, and the “You Must Remember This” episode (there are at least three versions on YouTube, if you’re curious), then you’ll recognize my homage when you read The Broadcloth Midnight. It has the same feel, the same we’re-switching-gears-here feeling.
The Broadcloth Midnight was released this morning on all retailers.
Lady Adelaide has had enough…
Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket, cannot sleep. After weeks of brooding about the severe drawbacks of her work for William Melville, spymaster, she travels through London at midnight to find Melville and tell him she will no longer work for him.
Instead, Adele finds herself in the company of Torin Slane, the Irish professor and Fenian, and Daniel Bannister, Baron Leighton, as they monitor the house of a possible German agent.
The company and conversation, and the events they witness in the house they are watching, prove illuminating for Adele and for Melville’s continuing search for a master German spy.
This novelette is the fifth in the Adelaide Becket Edwardian espionage series.
1: The Requisite Courage
2: The Rosewater Debutante
3: The Unaccompanied Widow
4: The Lavender Semaphore
5. The Broadcloth Midnight
…and more to come.
A historical suspense espionage novelette.
Buy From Me @ SRP!
Buy from your favorite retailer!
Stay well!
September 9, 2021
Starter Excerpt from the next Adelaide Becket story.
We’re two weeks out from the release of the next Adelaide Becket story, The Broadcloth Midnight, (or one week, if you’ve pre-ordered directly from me!). So it’s time for a big-ish starting excerpt (as there is no Chapter 1 to give you).
Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM
THE BRAODCLOTH MIDNIGHT
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2021
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Turk’s Row, Chelsea, London. October 21, 1907.
Turk’s Row was an elegant, but short, street lined with larges houses and private gardens behind tall black wrought iron fences, which provoked dusty memories of Adele’s father’s town house in Grosvenor Square. Even the leaves lingering in the gutters and the edges of the footpath were the same, for it had been the end of the season when she had last departed the Mayfair house.
As Adele crossed the road, heading for the house on the eastern side of the frosty garden, she heard the single low toll of a bell, somewhere toward Pimlico. It was midnight and nothing moved on the street but she. Even the leaves were still.
Adele had seen rather too many midnights, lately. Most of them she had greeted while staring at the moonlit, ghostly white ceiling of her tiny bedroom, her hands clasped over her waist, the soft linen of her bed gown beneath her fingers, while her eyes ached but would not close.
Enough was enough. Tonight, she greeted the witching hour in broadcloth and wool, her mind made up.
Adele turned into the narrow alley behind the houses facing the gardens. Even the rear of the houses were neat and tidy, with boxwood hedges delineating each residence’s narrow band of property edging the lane. She moved down to the servants’ entrance at the back of the second house, and reached into her jacket pocket. She put her key to the lock, then paused to glance to either side of her and then directly behind her. She kept her chin down so the brim of the Homburg shaded her face, for the moon was full, tonight, and there were no clouds.
She glanced up at the windows of the houses opposite this one. All the windows were dark. No silhouettes made darker shapes behind the glass, nor did the moonlight illuminate any pale faces.
Satisfied, Adele turned the key, stepped inside and relocked the door. The little entrance contained two sets of stairs, one going up, the other down. Both were narrow, bare wood, worn into mild concaves in the middle from generations of shoes.
Adele climbed upward, not bothering to mask the sound of her boots on the steps. No one lived in the house at the moment—not on the main floors, at least. The family and their staff were in Northumberland for Christmas and would not be returning to London until after Easter, when the proper Season began.
She climbed two floors, then moved along the corridor to a narrow door. On the other side was yet another flight of stairs, even narrower and dark with age and grime. The simple banister rail had turned even darker from the touch of many hands.
At the top was a plain door, which she knocked on. Three swift taps, a pause, then two more.
A squeak of floorboards said her knock had been heard. A key turned, and the door opened. It wavered, half-open, as the floorboards squeaked.
Adele pushed the door fully open, stepped in, then closed and locked the door behind her, before she turned to examine the attic itself. Two windows, both at chest height—for her, at least—and extending nearly to the roof, shed slanted beams of moonlight onto the bare floorboards beneath.
Torin Slane stood to the left of the farthest window, out of the way of the moonlight. He held the precious pair of binocular glasses in his hands, while he watched through the window. There was no other light in the room except for the moonlight, which made his Black Irish skin appear to glow, while the thick black curls of his hair and his even blacker eyes absorbed all the light.
He glanced at Adele as she locked the door. “I was expecting Melville.” His tone was mild.
“And good evening to you, too.” She moved to the other window as she removed her coat. She hung the coat from a nail driven into the wall beside the window. Slane’s coat hung on a second nail.
Adele hung the homburg on the nail over her own coat and rubbed at her forehead, for the hat was slightly too large and the ribbon left an indentation on her skin that itched when she removed the hat.
She smoothed out the broadcloth jacket and straightened her tie, tucking it back into the waistcoat. The trousers were too large about the waist, which made her waist look thicker than normal. That was a good thing in her estimation.
“You look fetching,” Slane said dryly. He raised the glasses to his eyes and studied the garden and the houses opposite this one, sweeping slowly along the length of the open area.
“Melville said we shouldn’t be spotted entering the house more than once or twice.” She tugged at the lapels of her jacket. “No one has seen someone like me enter the house before.”
“Mmm.” Slane’s grunt failed to tell her if he agreed with her, or was upset at her wearing men’s clothing. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
Not that it would matter at bit, after tonight.
She studied the house on the other side of the little copse of willow trees. “Steinhauer is home?”
“Not yet,” Slane said. “He went out in a tuxedo and top hat around seven tonight and hasn’t returned.”
“Melville followed him?”
“Leighton did.”
Daniel had been here earlier tonight. He must be as short on sleep as she.
As Slane was on watch until Melville arrived, Adele moved over to the darker interior of the attic, where the walls were higher and the dust thicker. A folding camp bed was set up beside the wall, and an unlit kerosene lamp hung from another nail over it. It had been her intention to sit upon the bed, but the mounded blankets at one end and dirty pillow at the other, on top of the sagging canvas stretched between the frames, changed her mind.
She moved the book and tin mug sitting on the fruit crate beside the bed, turned the crate on end and settled on it. There was a certain freedom which came with wearing men’s clothing. She didn’t have to worry about her hems sweeping over dust and the Lord knew what else might be lying on this floor which the darkness was hiding.
“Are you still not sleeping?” Slane asked, his back to her.
“As I am here at midnight when I have no need to be, then demonstrably, yes.”
“As your temper has not improved, also demonstrably yes,” Slane replied.
She gripped her knees, squeezing. “I need to speak to Melville. He relieves you at two. Daniel relieves Melville at eight in the morning. I relieve Daniel at two o’clock in the afternoon, then you arrive at eight o’clock and the whole cycle begins again. I never see Melville these days. Waiting here for him is the only way I will cross paths with him.”
“And what has Melville done to earn your wrath?” Slane asked.
She squeezed her knees even harder. It was difficult, now, to remember how charmed she had been by Torin Slane’s exotic approach to life and his keen intellect. She had got to know him a little better. She had been disappointed to find that despite his Irish heritage and his extreme political viewpoint, Slane’s attitudes and values were astonishingly, boorishly similar to most men’s. And he had the same indifferent approach to cleanliness and neatness as Melville. The unusable camp bed was a perfect example.
So was the faint, but distinct odor of a used chamber pot, possibly in the very dark corner to her left. She had no intention of investigating to confirm that. She was only thankful that the lid seemed to be well seated upon the pot, preventing more than a whiff of the contents from escaping.
“I have been standing here for over two hours,” Slane said. “If you intend to wait there, you might at least relieve my boredom with some lively conversation.”
“I thought my temper was too chancy for your tastes?”
“I’d rather argue than listen to steaming silence.”
Lady Adelaide has had enough…
Lady Adelaide Azalea Margaret de Morville, Mrs. Hugh Becket, cannot sleep. After weeks of brooding about the severe drawbacks of her work for William Melville, spymaster, she travels through London at midnight to find Melville and tell him she will no longer work for him.
Instead, Adele finds herself in the company of Torin Slane, the Irish professor and Fenian, and Daniel Bannister, Baron Leighton, as they monitor the house of a possible German agent.
The company and conversation, and the events they witness in the house they are watching, prove illuminating for Adele and for Melville’s continuing search for a master German spy. This novelette is the fifth in the Adelaide Becket Edwardian espionage series.
1: The Requisite Courage
2: The Rosewater Debutante
3: The Unaccompanied Widow
4: The Lavender Semaphore
5. The Broadcloth Midnight
…and more to come.
A historical suspense espionage novelette.
And don’t forget–if you order direct from me on the SRP site, you get your copy of the book a week early. That is, next Thursday!
Cheers,
