Beth Trissel's Blog, page 29

‘Tis the Time For Christmas Romances

Hauntingly beautiful Christmas Romance

I’ve written two Christmas romances, hauntingly beautiful Somewhere the Bells Ring and my sweetly scintillating historical, A Warrior for Christmas.

The ghost in Somewhere the Bells Ring appears whenever the heroine is drawn into the past in the beautiful old Virginia house inspired by my father’s homeplace in the Shenandoah Valley.

“An intriguing, gripping ghost story with a focus on romance rather than terror.” ~Reviewed by Stephanie E with Fallen Angels Reviews

From Romancing the Book: “Ms. Trissel captivates her reader from the moment you start reading the first page. She has written a compelling love story that spans some fifty plus years and keeps you entertained every step of the way with the story within a story…I fell in love with her characters and look forward to the next delightful story ready with Kleenex box in hand. A must read for every romance fan.” ~Reviewed by Robin

Historical romance A Warrior for Christmas features a deaf heroine and a Shawnee captive turned warrior, recently returned to upper class colonial American society. A vastly different life from the one he knew in the frontier. The romance between this unlikely couple is one of the best I’ve written.  This novella is also available in audio.

“A Warrior for Christmas took me by complete surprise. I expected the usual tale of a former Indian captive transcending his past to live the life of a gentleman, but Beth Trissel’s exquisite writing skill made me love this story…No reader of historical romance will want to miss A Warrior for Christmas, even if it isn’t Christmas.” ~Two Lips Reviews (Five Lips and A Recommended Read Rating)

These two novella length romances published by The Wild Rose Press are available from all online booksellers.

Visit my Amazon Author Page, My books at Barnes & Noble

Filed under: Christmas, Uncategorized Tagged: Christmas, Colonial America, deaf heroine, ghostly, haunting, historical, Paranormal, romances, Shawnee warrior, sweet

Christmas Memory from the Shenandoah Valley by Beth Trissel

When I was new and the world was young, at that wonderful age of six,  my younger brother, John, and I celebrated our first Christmas in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia at the Churchman family home place where my Dad was born and raised.  Called Chapel Hill (all these old Southern homes have names) the gracious Georgian style house has been in the family since 1816.  In those early days, John and I had only just grasped the concept of Santa Claus because our family had spent the previous three years in Taiwan where my parents taught English and only returned to the states that previous summer.

Everything about an American Christmas was new and wondrous to us, especially the amazingly generous fat guy in the red suit who was just waiting to give us presents.  But it seemed that he required snow, the cold white stuff we had not yet witnessed, for sleigh travel with his flying deer.  A bit eccentric perhaps, but I was an imaginative child and willing to indulge him.  It wasn’t lost on us, though, that this weather phenomenon didn’t fall from a clear blue sky.

Our parents hadn’t made much of Christmas in Taiwan.  We were tiny tots and toys  scarce, the few there were being some that other missionary families shared with us from those their children had outgrown.  There were no toy stores in Taiwan then like there were here.  Chewing gum was a major treat.  We caught our breath at the delights we saw in the American shops.

Barbie dolls had just been introduced and I longed for one with hair to comb, an endless perfect wardrobe, and furniture of her own. John had his eye on a racing car set.  We’d seen picture books with Santa in them and there was always snow.  What to do, what to do?  Nothing but wait and hope.

The journey to Virginia began in the mountains of Tennessee, jolting along in our old Ford on Route 11 to Augusta County in the Shenandoah Valley.  Our grandmother, whom we all called Mommom, Aunt Moggie, Uncle RW and our five cousins awaited us on the family farm.

Dad spent what seemed like days in preparation for the trip, packing and repacking the car.  Finally we got underway.  I’m amazed as an adult to find that the trip normally takes about six hours, or less, because I have vivid memories of this ride going on all day and far into the night, playing ‘I Spy with My little Eye,’ and singing carols until we were hoarse and my parents must’ve been nearly half mad.

Mom taught us a song on the way about Santa, ‘You’d Better Watch Out,’ a worrisome ditty.  I wasn’t an exceptionally naughty child, but knew there were the occasionally times when I had been what, in some person’s minds, might be construed as bad. What if Santa, this wonderful provider, had seen me at less than my best?  What if I got switches?

My father told us about his Uncle Gus who’d received switches.  Horrors of horrors.  Deep down I felt it was no more than I deserved if my every move had been carefully noted. I hoped Santa was a forbearing fellow, but doubts lurked, a new worry on top of the snow thing.

Eventually we arrived in the Valley and the paved highway turned into bumpy dirt roads as we wound deeper into the country with its unique smells.  My father pointed out the lights of Chapel Hill glowing in the distance, then unbelievably we were driving up the long lane and the yard filled with family to warmly welcome the weary travelers.

The first night we went straight to bed.  I slept upstairs in the yellow room––every room has a name––with my two cousins, Margaret and Elizabeth Page.  In the morning, John and I got our wish.  We awoke to heavily falling snow, a magical world.  We went sledding down the lane, made a giant snow bunny with my father and had the time of our lives, clambering back into the kitchen ravenous and soaking wet.  We peeled off layers of pants––no snow pants back then––and took our wet clothes and mittens to hang them by the stove in Mommom’s room, before downing bowls of homemade soup.

The day before Christmas finally came and the old brick house filled with tantalizing smells.  The kitchen door opened periodically, the sleigh bells on it announcing the arrival of yet more friends bringing yet more gifts.  Friends, neighbors and family all exchanged gifts, even if it was only a plate of cookies exchanged for yours.

Presents were stashed in every corner of the front room, covering the old piano and stacked beneath, wrapped in paper and ribbons which I found almost too beautiful to bear. I knew there were some for me among them, that I was not in total reliance on Santa.  Even so, I longed to be kindly remembered by him.

As any child can attest, Christmas Eve is the longest day of the year and one in which we made extreme nuisances of ourselves, asking endless questions and climbing over and under the furniture to see which gifts were ours.  At last we gathered together in the front room in the presence of the magnificent pine decorated shortly before our arrival.  My uncle cut it from a nearby woods and I loved its fresh smell, also new to me.  A stern glance from him quieted us down and my grandmother read the Christmas story from The Book of Matthew.

The ancient story evoked a new-found sense of awe at the holiness of this night as I gazed at the little wooden crèche and the figures carved by my father.  I felt the love in the room and understood that it had something to do with this sacred child whose birth we were celebrating.

All right, Jesus loved me, so did God, but what about Santa? After all, he was the one to fill the stocking I’d hung carefully in between my cousin’s on the mantle under the portrait of our great-great grandmother.  All of our stockings had been knitted for us by an elderly relative and had a scene of Santa on one side and a reindeer on the other with little bells that jingled when I lifted it.  A reminder of his imminent arrival.

After the stockings were hung and The Night before Christmas read, we heard sleigh bells ringing far off in the meadow.  Good heavens, Santa was that close.  We tumbled over each other in our haste to get to bed lest the old guy should discover us still up and promptly leave.  Touchy fellow, peculiar ways, but ours was not to question why.  We scampered under the covers and did not dare to peep until dawn.

After that, it was every child for him or herself.  We launched out of bed, vying to be the first one to wish each other “Christmas Gift!” then paced about in acute impatience while the adults had a leisurely breakfast.  Who could eat at a time like this?  And dressed with slow, careful deliberation.  I was wearing the same clothes I’d donned two days ago.  As for bathing, only under duress.

We practically gave up all hope of ever seeing inside the front room and paced outside the closed double doors where no child could enter until everyone had gathered.  Mommom, her blue eyes twinkling, reported that Santa had come and relieved our troubled minds.  Uncle RW told us he’d seen reindeer hoof prints in the snow on the roof of the house.  Imagine that.  We never once questioned what he’d been doing on the roof.  Not that this would make the slightest difference if we eked out our days waiting in the hall.

Then, glory hallelujah, the family assembled and lined up according to age, as required by the law of our clan.  The all-important doors opened.  Great was our wonder.  There was the tree lit, the stash of presents sorted into individual piles, and the stockings filled.  Mine bulged with promise.  Praise be!  The old fellow was extremely tolerant.  I’d truly feared to see those switches.

It’s ages later now and Mommom has gone on before us.  Lining up outside those omnipotent doors with my brother, cousins, parents, aunt, uncle and her at the end is a distant cherished memory.  Christmas is a place I return to in my thoughts whenever I need the sense of joy and reassurance it brings.  And I remember that time so long ago when my brother and I despaired of snow.

This account is included in A Very Virginia Christmas collection by Wilford Kale

*Pics of Chapel Hill, the old Virginia Family homeplace in the Shenandoah Valley

*The dog under the tree is Mia, a friend who has passed on, taken by daughter Elise. Images of vintage family Christmas cards by our mom, Pat Churchman.

*Pic of Beth Trissel and younger brother John Churchman from our Taiwan days taken by our mother.

Image of Old Order Mennonite horse and sleigh passing our farm in the valley taken by my husband, Dennis, last winter

Filed under: 1960's nostalgia, Christianity, Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, christmas memoir, Christmas memory, Christmas Traditions, creative non-fiction, holiday, Holidays, Religion and Spirituality, rural, Santa Claus Tagged: 1960's nostalgia, A Very Virginia Christmas, Beth Trissel, Christmas memory, John Churchman, The Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, Virginia family homeplace, Wilford Kale

Release Day and Deeper Look At Young Adult Fantasy Romance The Hunter’s Moon

A great deal of musing and research went into my new YA fantasy romance series, Secret Warrior. Book 1, The Hunter’s Moon, is out now. I’ve signed a 3 book contract with the Wild Rose Press. This does not rule out more titles. Each story is novella length and will be available in eBook format only. They release faster this way.

The concept behind the series evolved for years before I wrote a word. Although the setting is present day, I’ve drawn on my knowledge of colonial America, Native Americans, particularly the Shawnee, the mountain people, herbal lore. and my imagination. Since this is fantasy, not everything in The Hunter’s Moon, or future titles, can be traced back to any particular people, but much can. The mythos behind the werewolves in Secret Warrior is uniquely mine. Historically, the Shawnee do not believe in werewolves, but they and other Native Americans admire ‘Brother Wolf’.’ Their reverence for nature, respect for their elders, inherent spirituality, and regard for courage and loyalty are all significant. Some aspects of the story are inspired by their values. Others are not. The dragon like thunder bird comes from Native American lore, and supposed sightings.

Jim Great Elk Waters, Shawnee Elder and Pipecarrier, assisted with the language. He also helped with several of my historicals. For a more accurate portrayal of the Shawnee, read my award-winning adult historical romance novels, Red Bird’s Song, available in kindle and print, and Through the Fire.

‘The Lizard Lady’ mentioned in The Hunter’s Moon and fully featured in Book 2, Curse of the Moon (release date TBD) is a fascinating character I learned about through late Shenandoah Valley historian and author John Heatwole. Mr. Heatwole interviewed mountain and valley people, compiling their accounts into a book, Shenandoah Voices. He also hosted a radio program. One of my favorite accounts is ‘The Lizard Lady’, a creepy shifter woman  from back in the gap who basks in the moonlight as an enormous lizard. In Secret Warrior, she’s a witch with two daughters. Other mountain people lore emerges in the series as well.

When the first settlers came to the Shenandoah Valley in the early/mid 1700’s, my Scots-Irish ancestors among them, Shawnee were living near the present day town of Winchester. They also hunted in the valley, a thoroughfare for Native Americans going north or south, but were soon evicted and war broke out. In Secret Warrior, a small band remain in the mountains as guardians of the forest. I’ve placed them in the ridges surrounding Fort Valley, a little known valley hidden between the Massanutten Mountains, just east of the Blue Ridge. A nugget I gleaned about George Washington ordering Revolutionary War hero Daniel Morgan to build the first road into Fort Valley and the plan to use it as a hideout if the Continental Army lost to the British at Yorktown, formed the basis for the series. And then there are the hala’a’kwa lin’nuwech’kie, Star People.

‘Nuff said, or I’ll give too much away. I hope you’ll enjoy The Hunter’s Moon and the Secret Warrior Series.

***The Hunter’s Moon is available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and from other online booksellers. Although the series is written for teens 14 and up, (younger for prolific readers), the stories are entertaining for any age.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Action-Adventure, coming of age, fantasy, Native American, romance, shapeshifter, Shawnee, Thunderbird, Virginia Mountains, Young adult

Touched by an Angel

I’m ever on the lookout for angels, pretty much anywhere. They can appear in the most unexpected guises and places, so you never know when you may encounter one. Angels may resemble ordinary people.  May be anyone. Possibly even us, if we deeply touch someone’s life in a good way. But back to the ‘real’ heavenly beings. There are innumerable accounts that range from the famous Biblical angels, like the heavenly host who appeared to the shepherds abiding in the field keeping watch over their flocks by night, proclaiming Christ’s birth, to those who appear to everyday people. These stories fill volumes of books.

Have you ever met an angel, even briefly? I know a few folk who have. For one grieving widow, that brief illumination transformed her life from dark despair to hope. Being touched by an angel can do that. Another story is from a college student who fell to the pavement–hard–after she was struck by a car. She recalls an older woman’s kind face and a hand reaching out. Onlookers were amazed when this girl sprang to her feet, as if aided, and asked for the old woman who helped her up. No one else saw her. An angel, we’re thinking.

Another incident comes from a friend remembering a childhood visitation when she awoke from a feverish sleep to find an angel seated at the edge of her bed. She describes the face as human-like but says the features were more angular than ours and silvery. The rest of its body was luminous and seemed neither male nor female, but she remembers the eyes, green, and the reassuring feeling of being watched over. You may think this divine visitation was the figment of a child’s fevered mind, or you may believe that she saw an angel. I believe. Once when I was asleep I heard a beloved voice call my name, a voice as familiar as my mother’s or husband’s and yet it was neither of them. I think this was an angel and someday I will see and instantly recognize this being as though meeting with an old friend, and understand that they have always been with me.

In these troubled times, seeking for angels is a good thing. Let me know if you meet one. Maybe you already have.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: accounts, angels, Christmas, Touched by an angel

Vintage Christmas Cards From Old Family Trunk

My mom took pics of the old cards she found in a family trunk. I love these nostalgic cards and the memories they evoke. Not that I lived back then, but the names are familiar and I’ve heard stories about these family members and friends who have gone before me. Some I even remember in their later years.

The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other. ~Burton Hillis

He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree. ~Roy L. Smith

I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. ~Charles Dickens

For the spirit of Christmas fulfils the greatest hunger of mankind. ~Loring A. Schuler

This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone. ~Taylor Caldwell

It is the Christmas time:

And up and down ‘twixt heaven and earth,

In glorious grief and solemn mirth,

The shining angels climb.

~Dinah Maria Mulock

The perfect Christmas tree? All Christmas trees are perfect! ~Charles N. B

As long as we know in our hearts what Christmas ought to be, Christmas is. ~Eric Sevareid

Christmas is the gentlest, loveliest festival of the revolving year — and yet, for all that, when it speaks, its voice has strong authority. ~W.J. Cameron

Instead of being a time of unusual behavior, Christmas is perhaps the only time in the year when people can obey their natural impulses and express their true sentiments without feeling self-conscious and, perhaps, foolish. Christmas, in short, is about the only chance a man has to be himself. ~Francis C.Farley

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air. ~W.T. Ellis

For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home. ~W.J. Ronald Tucker

Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen. ~Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Christmas, Dickens, early 20th century, images, old Christmas stamp, quotes, Vintage Christmas cards, Virginia

Ghostly Christmas Romance–Somewhere the Bells Ring

My fascination with ghosts might be the reason they appear in many of my stories. They don’t always take the same form, though. Some are sensed and seen only in the character’s mind.  Or in dreams. One’s a violent poltergeist.  Others are old loves…

In Somewhere the Bells Ring, the ghost seems perfectly real. When Bailey is with him, she’s transported from 1968 back to 1918 and the end of WWI in the same old house.

This is my favorite sort of ghost.  Some of the most intriguing stories I’ve come across have ghosts who seem solid, not vaporous, and give the person seeing them a glimpse of the past as though through a window in time.  And who’s to say that isn’t what’s happening?  Maybe a ripple opens up and allows a glimpse of what once was and those who lived in that time and place?

Can they see us in turn?  Maybe so.  And can there be communion with these corporeal spirits from the past?  Possibly.  That’s the premise for this story.

“When I see ghosts they look perfectly real and solid — like a living human being. They are not misty; I can’t see through them; they don’t wear sheets or bloody mummy bandages. They don’t have their heads tucked under their arms. They just look like ordinary people, in living color, and sometimes it is hard to tell who is a ghost.” ~Chris Woodyard

“I have thought that I have seen ghosts on many occasions.” Taylor Caldwell

“With true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.”   ~Francois de La Rochefoucauld

“I fell in love with Ms. Trissel’s characters and look forward to the next delightful story ready with Kleenex box in hand. A must read for every romance fan.”~ Robin at Romancing the Book Reviews for Somewhere the Bells Ring

Somewhere the Bells Ring is a haunting story of timeless love, and of course, it’s true.

Blurb: Caught with pot in her dorm room, Bailey Randolph is exiled to a relative’s ancestral home in Virginia to straighten herself out. Banishment to Maple Hill is dismal, until a ghost appears requesting her help. Bailey is frightened but intrigued. Then her girlhood crush, Eric Burke, arrives and suddenly Maple Hill isn’t so bad.

To Eric, wounded in Vietnam, his military career shattered, this homecoming feels no less like exile. But when he finds Bailey at Maple Hill, her fairy-like beauty gives him reason to hope–until she tells him about the ghost haunting the house. Then he wonders if her one experiment with pot has made her crazy.

As Bailey and Eric draw closer, he agrees to help her find a long-forgotten Christmas gift the ghost wants. But will the magic of Christmas be enough to make Eric believe–in Bailey and the ghost–before the Christmas bells ring?

*An old photograph of the Virginia family home place–the house Somewhere the Bells Ring is based on.

***Somewhere the Bells Ring is available in various eBook formats from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon Kindle, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook and other online booksellers.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Christmas, Christmas romance, Ghost, haunting love story, Historical Romance, paranormal romance, Romancing the Book Review, Vietnam War, Virginia, World War 1

What’s the Difference between Fantasy and ‘Reality’ TV?

Not much, apparently. After recent fraud charges, and the rejected plea deal from the Brown Family, of Alaskan Bush People fame, who’ve been calling into the Juneau hearings from Seattle, I’m feeling disenchanted. I know many of you were already wise to this show, but I enjoyed it and the family. If regarded as fiction, I suppose I still can. This then begs the question, are ANY reality TV shows actually real? I have my doubts.

Given the charade in reality TV, Grimm, a favorite show of mine, is really quite believable. Being a cool form of Wesen (pronounced Ves-sin) could definitely offer advantages. I’ve always wanted super powers. My favorite character in the series is Monroe, a gregarious Blutbad (prounced BLOOT-baad) a werewolf wesen. I’m also fond of his wife, Rosalee, a Fuchsbau (cute kitty looking wesen), with a wonderful Spice Shop. She sells all kinds of herbal potions, some with magical properties, of course. Grimm is filmed in Portland, Oregon. Here’s a link to some of the neat sites featured in the series. This season is off with a bang!

Sleepy Hollow, another fav, is a little weird, but then, it always has been. Fun show, though. Hot guy. The intro/music to the show is awesome. And it’s totally believable. Scout’s honor. Fingers crossed behind my back. As is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Not exactly current, but a classic. I LOVE the show and am working my way through the series. Better late than never.

What are some of your favorite reality TV shows, which frankly, I now suspect can include them all.

Among my favorite Buffy quotes:

“If the apocalypse comes, beep me.” ~Buffy

[On life] “Yes, it’s terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after.” ~Giles  (Giles is my favorite character on the series)

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Alaskan Bush People, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, fantasy verses reality, favorite shows, Grimm, Reality TV, Sleepy Hollow

Inspiration Behind YA Fantasy The Hunter’s Moon (Secret Warrior Series)

Although The Hunter’s Moon (Book 1, Secret Warrior Series) is my first venture into the young adult genre, I’m an award-winning, multi-published author in historical, paranormal, and time travel romance. I was inspired to create this new series partly by my teenage nieces, Lizzy (the story is dedicated to her), Sara, and daughter Elise. We’ve watched many YA movies and TV programs together and had book discussions. They urged me to embark on this journey.

I pondered the concept behind Secret Warrior for years as it gradually took shape in my mind. My love of history, fantasy, and fascination with the mountain people and Native Americans is at the heart of the series. Living in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia surrounded by mountains veiled in mist and mystery lends itself well to creating the characters and setting for YA fantasy romance, The Hunter’s Moon, and the stories that will follow. Some of the characters and creatures are based on lore I’ve learned. Others appeared to me, as characters have a way of doing. A great deal of research and intuition went into writing The Hunter’s Moon. Next in the series is Curse of the Moon (release date TBD). I purposefully kept these stories to novella length so they would come out faster, which means eBook format only. The Wild Rose Press is publishing the Secret Warrior series.

Pre-order links for The Hunter’s Moon are up at Amazon and Barnes & Noble. The official release date for the story is December 14th.

Story Description:

Seventeen year old Morgan Daniel has been in the witness protection program most of her life. But The Panteras have caught up with her and her younger brother. Her car is totaled, she’s hurt, and the street gang is closing in when wolves with glowing eyes appear out of nowhere and chase away the killers.

Then a very cute guy who handles a bow like Robin Hood emerges from the woods and takes them to safety at his fortress-like home.

And that’s just the first sign that Morgan and her brother have entered a hidden world filled with secrets.

Excerpt:

“Should we stay, or go while the smoke lasts?” The cloth muffled her voice.

“You can hardly walk.”

She couldn’t argue that point. Neither could they wait to be found. “The Panteras won’t give up until we’re dead.”

“Maybe they think we are,” he argued under his breath.

“Maybe.”

She suspected Mateo would demand a body, even a charred one. Make that two. She and Jimmy didn’t have much choice, though, other than to crouch in dread while the fire crackled.

“Next birthday, I want an AK-47.” He nudged her. “Look.”

She fixed her blurry gaze on what appeared to be a black wolf emerging from the trees. The creature was larger than she’d thought wolves were, and she’d understood none remained in these mountains. They were all farther north or west. Somewhere else.

Apparently, she was misinformed.

Judging by its size, she guessed this was a male. He stopped before their hideout. Eyes the color of red coals surveyed them before he turned and darted down the trail she’d spotted.

“Holy cow, Batboy. Did you see that?” she whispered.

Jimmy didn’t reply. He prodded her again.

She stared at the big brown and gray wolf that took the black one’s place. Where on earth had he come from?

The beast turned its furry head at her and Jimmy. His eyes shone with a luminous light, like fireflies…

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Action-Adventure, Blue Ridge Mountains, coming of age, fantasy, mystery, romance, Secret Warrior series, teen, The Hunter's Moon, Young adult

Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver–One of the Biggest Book Sales of the Year!

I’m thrilled to announce my brother, John Churchman, and his wife Jennifer’s, children’s book, Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver, has sold to Little Brown and Company in a multi-book deal for an astounding price. The write-up is in Publisher’s Weekly.

The catch your breath response to this heartwarming tale lies in ‘Farmer John’s’ enchanting illustrations, coupled with the country lifestyle he and his family embrace in rural Vermont. Sweet Pea, the star of the show with her irresistible smile, was an injured lamb this past winter when she gained the sympathetic attention of John’s Facebook friends. Folk of all ages eagerly followed her recovery, cheering her on, and relishing John’s wonderful photographs. Word spread and followers urged him to create a children’s book. That’s how this unbelievable journey began. Less than a year ago! Sweet Pea and friends have their own FB page too, which I invite you to savor.

Initially, John and co-author Jen, undertook a Kickstarter campaign to publish the book. After meeting their goal in the first 24 hours, they continually expanded it to greater heights. But that’s nothing in comparison to where they’ve launched now, among the stars.

In A Storybook Life, a film segment on the television show Stuck in Vermont, Farmer John, along with Sweet Pea and friends, were interviewed last February. This charming glimpse into their earthy world is well worth a peek.

(Sweet Pea with her ‘hay hair’ look and that contagious smile)

After John took Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver to a local bookstore, The Flying Pig, the co-owner, Elizabeth Bluemie, was so impressed she wrote up a fabulous piece for Publisher’s Weekly, When a Self-Published Book Is Done Right. Bluemie’s enthusiasm, coupled with John’s utterly unique illustrations, caught the eye of agents. Overnight, or sooner, they were knocking on his door. He and Jen chose Brenda Bowen/Greenburger Associates, who didn’t waste any time in bringing Sweet Pea to the attention of the mightiest publishers in NY and the world. John and Jen soon found themselves speaking with the heads of publishing houses, (unheard of!), each one trying to persuade them that their company was the best pick. Everybody wants Sweet Pea.

So yes, I’m super-psyched to share in this astonishing journey, and look forward to continuing on as readers young and old discover the wonder of Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver. Makes sense to me. As a child, my favorite toy was a cuddly lamb. Our grandmother took John and me to a toy store–a rare treat–and told us we might each choose a toy. Lambey was my choice and I had her for years, through multiple family moves, until she was so disreputable I reluctantly parted with her as a teenager. I’ve found her again in Sweet Pea,

Because the book is already so perfect, Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver is coming soon to a bookstore near you in time for Christmas.

***Follow John Churchman on Facebook.

**** For those of you who’ve wondered what the C in my email addy and other media sites stands for, it’s Churchman!

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: Agent Brenda Bowen, Christmas, Elizabeth Bluemle, Farmer John, illustrated Children's Book, John Churchman, Little Brown and Company, Publishers Weekly, Sweet Pea & Friends The SheepOver., Vermont, When a Self-Published Book Is Done Right

Release Day for Ghostly Historical Romance Novel, Traitor’s Curse!

Deep intuition, visions, and research all inspired this historical novel with a strong paranormal element. Like ghosts. Traitor’s Curse is out in both kindle and print at Amazon, and Nookbook at Barnes & Noble, and various eBook formats wherever electronic books are sold. My publisher, The Wild Rose Press, has Traitor’s Curse in print and eBook, currently half price.

New Excerpt from Traitor’s Curse:

Stuart clasped her shoulders. She was flesh and blood beneath his grip, yet seemed not of this world. “What did he say?”

“To watch for your coming.”

“How could they possibly anticipate my visit?”

“That has not yet been revealed.”

Her answer baffled him, as did she. “Why did you call me master? Are you a servant?”

“No.”

He’d doubted she was in anyone’s employ. Her smooth hands, opulent coverlet, and refined manner, all bespoke gentility. And she smelled of violets, a costly scent.

He gazed deeply into those mesmerizing eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I seek the living among the dead.”

A peculiar reply from the haunting stranger. “Who?”

“You. Stuart Monroe.”

Again, the sensation of ants scattering down the nape of his neck. “How did you know I would come?”

“I was told. In a dream.”

She spoke like one in a dream. The cold mist, the woman—an apparition in the fog—seemed unreal. Yet she was no ghost.

“You can foresee events?” A sense of dread possessed him.

“In glimpses. Your father appeared to me.” Her barely perceptible voice faded entirely, and her eyes fluttered, then closed. She swayed against him, any further explanation muffled by his coat.

Stuart held her fast and kept her from sliding to the cold earth. What did his father have to do with this visitation? Was the woman in his arms some sort of witch?~

 Visit my Amazon Author Page where ALL my books reside

Filed under: ghostly romance novel, Historical Romance Tagged: American historical, curses, ghostly, Ghosts, historical, New release, Paranormal, Romance novel