Annie Douglass Lima's Blog, page 75
April 9, 2014
History is Full of Surprises: a Guest Post by Author Shanna Hatfield
Today I'm excited to host guest blogger Shanna Hatfield, author of the Pendleton Petticoats series. Here she talks about the city in which her stories are set and what it's like to write historical fiction.
Pendleton Petticoats Historic Romance Series Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwordsby Shanna HatfieldWebsite | Facebook | Pinterest | You Tube | Twitter
History is Full of Surprises Writing historical fiction is such fun for me because I learn so much about the places, people, and experiences of the past. More often than not, I’m astounded by how innovative and creative people were “way back when.”
When the idea for a new historical western romance series began bubbling in my head, I decided it should take place in the town of Pendleton, Oregon, at the beginning of the 20th century.
Many people know Pendleton as the home of the world-famous Pendleton Round-Up and the
As I began digging into the town’s past, I discovered, much to my surprise, Pendleton was a happening place to be in the early 1900s.
Modern and progressive for its time, Pendleton was a unique blend of Wild West and culture. They had plenty of crime and wild rowdies, as one would expect in a western town. Pendleton also boasted an opera house and theater, a teashop, a French restaurant, and a wide variety of businesses in the early years of the new century.
On any given day during that time, someone walking down the street could see well dressed ladies and gentlemen, as well as Chinese immigrants, Indians from the nearby reservation, miners, businessmen, ranchers, and farmers.
Mystery and intrigue surrounded the tunnels of the city’s Underground. What began as a way for respectable businesses to easily deliver their goods from the depot, soon turned into a booming mini-city of saloons, card rooms, working girls, Chinese laundries and more. According to local tales, the working girls used the tunnels to enter respectable businesses and do their shopping without being seen around town. Reportedly, a tunnel even ran to the doctor’s office for them to pay their visits undetected.
While the town didn't lack for colorful characters, those portrayed in my Pendleton Petticoats series are purely fictional.
The women in Pendleton Petticoats come from all walks of life but find commonality in drawing strength from their courage and persevering in chasing their dreams. One woman longs to better her future, one to escape her past, and one just wants to find a place to call home. Aundy, Caterina and Ilsa challenge the roles typically assigned to women of this era.
If you enjoy historical fiction, clean romances, or a good western, consider reading Aundy and its sequels, Caterina and the newly released Ilsa.
Thank you for hosting me today. I’m so grateful for this wonderful opportunity to connect with your readers. I love to hear from readers, so feel free to drop me a note via any of my social media links. Email Shanna at shanna@shannahatfield.com
Author Bio: Shanna Hatfield is a hopeless romantic with a bit of sarcasm thrown in for good measure. In addition to blogging, eating too much chocolate, and being smitten with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller, she is a best-selling author of clean romantic fiction written with a healthy dose of humor. She is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, and Romance Writers of America. Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
Excerpt from Aundy: “You are one of the most stubborn, hard-headed women I’ve ever met, Aundy Erickson,” Garrett said, running a hand through his hair, sending the dark locks into a state of complete disarray. His movements made Aundy want to run her fingers through it as well. “Your ability to be self-sufficient would never come into question. If you need help, ask for it. We’re more than happy to give it. You’ve been through so much since you’ve arrived here and handled it all in stride. Growing up in the city, without any rural background, you’re going to need some help. Never hesitate to ask.”
“I know, but I’ve imposed on all of you too much as it is.” Aundy felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. She would not cry. Giving in to her emotions, as jumbled as they were, wouldn’t help prove she could care for herself and Erik’s farm. Her farm.
“You’ve never imposed on us. Ever.” Aundy was so obstinate. He couldn’t recall ever meeting such a stubborn, headstrong woman. She made him want to… Thinking about what he really wanted to do, he refocused his attention on why she went to the Underground. “Regardless of all that, what information were you hoping to find?”
“I wanted to buy something and no one would talk to me about it. Dressed as a man, I didn’t have a bit of trouble making the deal.”
“What did you buy?” Garrett tried to think of anything Aundy would have purchased in the Underground that could possibly be beneficial to the farm.
“I don’t think you’re going to like my answer.” Aundy didn’t want to tell Garrett about her sheep. He’d been quite vocal when she and J.B. were discussing the pros and cons of raising sheep the other day, about how much he disliked the “stinky little boogers,” as he referred to them.
“What did you do?” Garrett asked, pinning her with his silver gaze.
“I made arrangements with a man to buy something he wanted, quite desperately, to sell.”
Garrett’s patience was nearly exhausted. “Which was?”
She hesitated, taking a deep breath before answering. “Sheep.”
He let out a whoosh of air and sat back in his chair. Blinking his eyes twice, he was sure Aundy couldn’t have said what he thought she did.
“Did you say sheep?”
“Yes,” Aundy whispered, staring down at the cloth covering the table.
“Smelly, nasty, bleating little sheep?”
“Well, I don’t know about the smelly, nasty, or bleating part, but yes, I did agree to purchase sheep.”
“Woman! What are you thinking? Did you sign papers, make payment? Is the deal final?”
“Not yet. Mr. O’Connell was under the impression I was helping a new widow. I asked him to call Mrs. Erickson Monday morning to make arrangements for the sale.”
“O’Connell? The whiskey drinking Irishman? Why he’ll…” Garrett yelled, his eyes flashing fire.
Aundy reached across the table and clapped a hand across his mouth. “Shh. You’ll have Dent and the boys in here if you don’t quiet down. Not only should you not be here, especially with me dressed like this, but I’m not quite ready to impart the knowledge to them that we’ll soon be raising sheep.”
“Fred will quit.” Garrett stated a fact Aundy already knew. He’d made it perfectly clear that he had no interest in tending sheep, so it was a gamble she had to make.
“I’ve taken that possibility into consideration.”
“Did you also take into consideration that a lot of the neighbors around here hate sheep? Not just dislike them, but hate them. I know many people in the area raise sheep, but our neighbors are all wheat growers and cattlemen. If you think about it, there isn’t one little lamb to be found from here all the way to Pendleton."
Pendleton Petticoats Historic Romance Series Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Smashwordsby Shanna HatfieldWebsite | Facebook | Pinterest | You Tube | Twitter
History is Full of Surprises Writing historical fiction is such fun for me because I learn so much about the places, people, and experiences of the past. More often than not, I’m astounded by how innovative and creative people were “way back when.”
When the idea for a new historical western romance series began bubbling in my head, I decided it should take place in the town of Pendleton, Oregon, at the beginning of the 20th century.
Many people know Pendleton as the home of the world-famous Pendleton Round-Up and the
As I began digging into the town’s past, I discovered, much to my surprise, Pendleton was a happening place to be in the early 1900s.
Modern and progressive for its time, Pendleton was a unique blend of Wild West and culture. They had plenty of crime and wild rowdies, as one would expect in a western town. Pendleton also boasted an opera house and theater, a teashop, a French restaurant, and a wide variety of businesses in the early years of the new century.
On any given day during that time, someone walking down the street could see well dressed ladies and gentlemen, as well as Chinese immigrants, Indians from the nearby reservation, miners, businessmen, ranchers, and farmers.
Mystery and intrigue surrounded the tunnels of the city’s Underground. What began as a way for respectable businesses to easily deliver their goods from the depot, soon turned into a booming mini-city of saloons, card rooms, working girls, Chinese laundries and more. According to local tales, the working girls used the tunnels to enter respectable businesses and do their shopping without being seen around town. Reportedly, a tunnel even ran to the doctor’s office for them to pay their visits undetected.
While the town didn't lack for colorful characters, those portrayed in my Pendleton Petticoats series are purely fictional.
The women in Pendleton Petticoats come from all walks of life but find commonality in drawing strength from their courage and persevering in chasing their dreams. One woman longs to better her future, one to escape her past, and one just wants to find a place to call home. Aundy, Caterina and Ilsa challenge the roles typically assigned to women of this era.
If you enjoy historical fiction, clean romances, or a good western, consider reading Aundy and its sequels, Caterina and the newly released Ilsa.
Thank you for hosting me today. I’m so grateful for this wonderful opportunity to connect with your readers. I love to hear from readers, so feel free to drop me a note via any of my social media links. Email Shanna at shanna@shannahatfield.com Author Bio: Shanna Hatfield is a hopeless romantic with a bit of sarcasm thrown in for good measure. In addition to blogging, eating too much chocolate, and being smitten with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller, she is a best-selling author of clean romantic fiction written with a healthy dose of humor. She is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, and Romance Writers of America. Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
Excerpt from Aundy: “You are one of the most stubborn, hard-headed women I’ve ever met, Aundy Erickson,” Garrett said, running a hand through his hair, sending the dark locks into a state of complete disarray. His movements made Aundy want to run her fingers through it as well. “Your ability to be self-sufficient would never come into question. If you need help, ask for it. We’re more than happy to give it. You’ve been through so much since you’ve arrived here and handled it all in stride. Growing up in the city, without any rural background, you’re going to need some help. Never hesitate to ask.”
“I know, but I’ve imposed on all of you too much as it is.” Aundy felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. She would not cry. Giving in to her emotions, as jumbled as they were, wouldn’t help prove she could care for herself and Erik’s farm. Her farm.
“You’ve never imposed on us. Ever.” Aundy was so obstinate. He couldn’t recall ever meeting such a stubborn, headstrong woman. She made him want to… Thinking about what he really wanted to do, he refocused his attention on why she went to the Underground. “Regardless of all that, what information were you hoping to find?”
“I wanted to buy something and no one would talk to me about it. Dressed as a man, I didn’t have a bit of trouble making the deal.”
“What did you buy?” Garrett tried to think of anything Aundy would have purchased in the Underground that could possibly be beneficial to the farm.
“I don’t think you’re going to like my answer.” Aundy didn’t want to tell Garrett about her sheep. He’d been quite vocal when she and J.B. were discussing the pros and cons of raising sheep the other day, about how much he disliked the “stinky little boogers,” as he referred to them.
“What did you do?” Garrett asked, pinning her with his silver gaze.
“I made arrangements with a man to buy something he wanted, quite desperately, to sell.”
Garrett’s patience was nearly exhausted. “Which was?”
She hesitated, taking a deep breath before answering. “Sheep.”
He let out a whoosh of air and sat back in his chair. Blinking his eyes twice, he was sure Aundy couldn’t have said what he thought she did.
“Did you say sheep?”
“Yes,” Aundy whispered, staring down at the cloth covering the table.
“Smelly, nasty, bleating little sheep?”
“Well, I don’t know about the smelly, nasty, or bleating part, but yes, I did agree to purchase sheep.”
“Woman! What are you thinking? Did you sign papers, make payment? Is the deal final?”
“Not yet. Mr. O’Connell was under the impression I was helping a new widow. I asked him to call Mrs. Erickson Monday morning to make arrangements for the sale.”
“O’Connell? The whiskey drinking Irishman? Why he’ll…” Garrett yelled, his eyes flashing fire.
Aundy reached across the table and clapped a hand across his mouth. “Shh. You’ll have Dent and the boys in here if you don’t quiet down. Not only should you not be here, especially with me dressed like this, but I’m not quite ready to impart the knowledge to them that we’ll soon be raising sheep.”
“Fred will quit.” Garrett stated a fact Aundy already knew. He’d made it perfectly clear that he had no interest in tending sheep, so it was a gamble she had to make.
“I’ve taken that possibility into consideration.”
“Did you also take into consideration that a lot of the neighbors around here hate sheep? Not just dislike them, but hate them. I know many people in the area raise sheep, but our neighbors are all wheat growers and cattlemen. If you think about it, there isn’t one little lamb to be found from here all the way to Pendleton."
April 8, 2014
CrossReads Book Blast with Lillian Duncan
BETRAYED
By Lillian DuncanAbout the Book Witness Protection Program claims they can keep anyone safe if only they follow the rules so Maria follows the rules--every rule. She's given up everything--her friends, her family, her past, even her name to ensure her daughter has a future. Reborn as Veronica Minor in the sleepy little town of Sunberry, Ohio, she struggles to rebuild their life amid the beauty of her flower shop. A life where her daughter can have a happy normal childhood. A life where her daughter will never know that her father was a monster. When a child disappears, Veronica prays it has nothing to do with her past, but what if she's wrong? Not knowing who to trust, she trusts no one...and that's her first mistake LINK to KINDLE | LINK to PAPERBACK
Lillian DuncanStories of faith mingled… with murder & mayhem.Lillian is a multi-published writer who writes the type of books she loves to read—suspense with a touch of romance. Whether as an educator, a writer, or a speech pathologist, she believes in the power of words to transform lives, especially God’s Word.To learn more about Lillian and her books, visit: www.lillianduncan.net. She also has a devotional blog at: www.PowerUpWithGod.com as well as her personal blog, Tiaras & Tennis Shoes at www.lillian-duncan.comFollow Lillian Duncan Website | Facebook | TwitterEnter to Win a $50 Amazon Gift Card!Enter below to enter a $50 amazon gift card, sponsored by author Lillian Duncan:
Click here for the Rafflecopter giveaway!This book blast is hosted by Crossreads. We would like to send out a special THANK YOU to all of the CrossReads book blast bloggers!
April 5, 2014
Archibald and the Fiery Furnace Paperback Book Giveaway
Meet Archibald. Excerpt:Hundreds of years ago, when Archibald was a kitten, no one thought he would survive. The tiniest of the litter, while his brothers and sisters got loving homes, Archibald was forgotten.Sad and unloved, he sat down, determined to never get back up. That was when God spoke to Archibald for the very first time. He said, in a way only God can speak to someone inside their heart, where no one else can hear, “You’re not alone, Archibald. I am always with you.”Archibald perked up his ears, but couldn’t see where the voice had come from. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?” he asked cautiously.“It would be difficult to understand unless I show you.”“Then show me.”“Very well. Close your eyes.”Archibald closed his eyes where he sat on the hard dirt ground. He first became aware of his own breathing, in and out evenly through his nose and mouth. Then he felt his heart speed up and slow down.God spoke again, “I created you, Archibald. I am within and around you. I preserve your life.”The wind increased. It ruffled Archibald’s black fur and he shivered. He opened his eyes to see the branches of the trees around him swaying. A bird burst into song and flapped its wings loudly, flying away.“And You are in the breeze through the trees and the birds of the air?” Archibald asked, astonishment making his eyes grow wide.“I am.”
Join Archibald on his first adventure, as he discovers God's purpose for his life and meets Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Some say cats have nine lives, but Archibald only had one. However, while he was looking for his forever home, God placed Archibald in different lands and times to see amazing miracles that He did for His people. With lessons intertwined within each story and four devotionals included for you and your child at the back of the books in the series, these stories are sure to become a favorite. Each book also includes a "Find the Hidden Character" fun feature for younger children to look for as they listen. Included devotionals written by Karen Michelle Ricci. See the reviews and buy a Kindle or Paperback copy on Amazon. Win a Paperback Copy of Archibald's First Bible Adventure below, Archibald and the Fiery Furnace by Laura J. Marshall.a Rafflecopter giveaway
April 3, 2014
Bargain Books for Your Weekend!
Check out the books below! They are all 99 cents, some for a limited time only. Please check the dates before buying. Enjoy our bargains, and happy reading! If you download a book and love it, please take a few moments to leave a review.
Street Justice Series
Charlie's Angel book 1
99 cents The whole month of April.
AMAZON
Samantha Fury
The Trampled Rose Series Miracles In Disguise Always 99 cents
AMAZON
Michelle Lynn Brown 
Blessings From Above:
A Deeper Look at the Beatitudes
Always 99 cents
AMAZON
Heather Heart
21 Prayers for Teen Girls: Finding True Beauty Through the Powerof Prayer and God's Word (True Beauty Books)
AMAZON
Always 99 Cents Heather Heart & Shelley Hitz
Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Christian Romantic Comedy novella)Always 99 cents AMAZON Sherry Chamblee
Chasing Norie (Stones Creek) 99 cents until May 1st
AMAZON
Sophie Dawson 
The Elite of the Weak (Revelation Special Ops)99 cents Until After Easter AMAZON Precarious Yates
Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia)
AMAZON 99 cents all the time
Annie Douglass Lima (Author)
Maid For Martin California Love TrilogyAMAZON 99 cents all of AprilSamantha Lovern
FREE FRIDAY ONLY
Trouble At Lake Lorraine (Book 1) (KerryAnne Dawson)AMAZONSherry Chamblee
THANKS FOR DROPPING BY
PLEASE SHARE
April 2, 2014
Eva's Deadline: Win a Free Romance Novel or $50 Amazon Gift Card!
To post this Blitz and add your Social Media to the Rafflecopter, email us at PrismBookTours(at)gmail.com with "Eva's Blitz" in the subject line.
We're kicking off the release of Linda's new Harlequin Heartwarming novel and sharing an excerpt with you below! Once you've checked out the book info and read the excerpt, enter the two fabulous giveaways!
Eva's Deadline
by Linda Hope Lee
Paperback or ebook, 368 pages
April 1, 2014 by Harlequin Heartwarming
Eva Sinclair finally had it all: the Seattle sea-view condo, the fancy blue car and the assistant editorship at the city's hottest magazine. Everything she fought for since the day she walked out on her father and the Willow Beach Herald, his beloved small-town newspaper.
With one call from Mark Townson, her father's protege, it was all gone. Her father. Her career. Her independence. And, quite possibly, her mind. Because fulfilling her father's final wishes meant meeting a one-year deadline as Mark's coeditor at the Herald. That's what they call an impossible deadline. Especially when the sparks begin to fly.
Read an Excerpt now HERE!
Harlequin * Goodreads * Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Kobo
Praise for previous books by Linda Hope Lee:
Linda Hope Lee writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and mysteries. She enjoys traveling especially to small towns in search of story ideas. She's also an artist, specializing in watercolor, pen and ink, and colored pencil. Photography provides inspiration for both her writing and her art. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where many of her stories are set.
Website * Facebook * @LindaHopeLee
Blitz-Wide Giveaways
April 1-15
Giveaway #1:
$50 Amazon Gift Card - International
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Giveaway #2:
ENTER TO WIN EVA'S DEADLINE BY LINDA LEE HOPE!
3 paperback copies - US and Canada
3 ecopies - International
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Are you a blogger and want to receive information about new tours? Go HERE.Are you an author or publisher and would like to have us organize a tour event? Go HERE.
We're kicking off the release of Linda's new Harlequin Heartwarming novel and sharing an excerpt with you below! Once you've checked out the book info and read the excerpt, enter the two fabulous giveaways!
Eva's Deadline
by Linda Hope Lee
Paperback or ebook, 368 pages
April 1, 2014 by Harlequin Heartwarming
Eva Sinclair finally had it all: the Seattle sea-view condo, the fancy blue car and the assistant editorship at the city's hottest magazine. Everything she fought for since the day she walked out on her father and the Willow Beach Herald, his beloved small-town newspaper.
With one call from Mark Townson, her father's protege, it was all gone. Her father. Her career. Her independence. And, quite possibly, her mind. Because fulfilling her father's final wishes meant meeting a one-year deadline as Mark's coeditor at the Herald. That's what they call an impossible deadline. Especially when the sparks begin to fly.
Read an Excerpt now HERE!
Harlequin * Goodreads * Amazon * Barnes & Noble * Kobo
Praise for previous books by Linda Hope Lee:
For Tell Me No Lies: "Well-written . . . fast-paced . . . highly recommended." -Joyce Koehl, Romance Reviews Today
For Dark Memories: "An emotional drama and puzzling suspense . . . churns with guilt, passion, and intrigue." -Romantic Times
For Finding Sara: "A modern Western, packed with secrets, intrigue, and old-fashioned romance."-WRDF
For Loving Rose: "A heartwarming read that will tug at your heartstrings."-sizzlinghotbooks.net
"What a beautiful story!" -sirenbookreviews.blogspot.com
Linda Hope Lee writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and mysteries. She enjoys traveling especially to small towns in search of story ideas. She's also an artist, specializing in watercolor, pen and ink, and colored pencil. Photography provides inspiration for both her writing and her art. She lives in the Pacific Northwest, where many of her stories are set.
Website * Facebook * @LindaHopeLee
Blitz-Wide Giveaways
April 1-15
Giveaway #1:
$50 Amazon Gift Card - International
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Giveaway #2:
ENTER TO WIN EVA'S DEADLINE BY LINDA LEE HOPE!
3 paperback copies - US and Canada
3 ecopies - International
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Are you a blogger and want to receive information about new tours? Go HERE.Are you an author or publisher and would like to have us organize a tour event? Go HERE.
April 1, 2014
The Golden Apple: a Fairy Tale Retold for Adults (Win a Free eBook!)
To post this Blitz and add your Social Media to the Rafflecopter, email us at PrismBookTours(at)gmail.com with "Golden Apple Blitz" in the subject line!
We're celebrating the release of Michelle Diener's second fairy tale retelling:
The Golden Apple
An Adult Fantasy Romance based loosely on the Princess on the Glass Hill
The Golden Apple
by Michelle DienerAdult Fantasy/SciFiMarch 24, 2014
Kayla's world has been turned upside-down...
Her father has made her the prize in a deadly, impossible tournament, and Kayla has retaliated in the only way she knows how; by choosing her champion beforehand. But taking control of the outcome changes the game completely, and when the real reason behind the strange test becomes apparent, Kayla realizes not just her life, but her entire kingdom is at stake.
Rane's honor is torn in two...
In order to save his brother, Rane will do whatever he has to--including deceive and betray a princess. He knew nothing about this tournament would be easy, but when it turns into a deeper, far more sinister game, Rane is forced to see it through to the end, or leave his brother at the mercy of their enemy.
Now their fates are entwined, and they must venture into the deep, dark forest together...
Kayla and Rane are bound to one another by an enchantment and Kayla's actions. But the sorcerer forcing them to do his will may have miscalculated, because no-one comes out of the Great Forest unchanged. No-one.
Amazon * Barnes & Noble * iTunes
The inspiration for The Golden Apple
The Golden Apple is loosely based on the Norwegian fairy tale The Princess on the Glass Hill. The original tale is more about the hero than the heroine, and it is a very straightforward quest story, with the hero becoming more and more accomplished, until at last he succeeds against the odds. But there were a few things in this fairy tale that stood out for me and made me take notice. The first is the very unusual situation of the king holding a contest for his daughter’s hand by putting her on top of a glass hill with a golden apple in her lap. Knights from all over are invited to race a horse up the smooth glass sides of the mountain and the one who can pluck the golden apple from the princess's lap wins her hand and is heir to the kingdom. As usual in fairy tales, there is no explanation as to how the king came by a glass mountain, but I wondered where he got it, and that sparked the starting point of the story. It is really the inciting incident that starts the story off, rather than the focus of the story, as it was in the fairy tale.
Secondly, the crux of the tale, for me, is that the hero cannot win the princess's hand without help from the princess herself. That part of the original tale is one or two lines long, but for me, it's fascinating. The feminine power determining and choosing which masculine power will prevail. This really made me interested, because the princess doesn't just sit there and take whoever it is manages to accomplish the (impossible) task set by her father, but actively chooses who it is she wants to win and helps them. I wanted to write a story about the consequences of her taking that power and using it and The Golden Apple was the result -- far, far more heroine-centric than the original, and I really had fun with it.
- Michelle Diener
LAST CALL FOR REVIEWERS!Are you interested in fantasy romance?
Do you love fairy tale retellings?
Have you read Michelle Diener and enjoyed her work in the past?
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, you can request a review copy of The Golden Apple! The Golden Apple is up for review by invitation only on NetGalley. Reviewers with book review sites can apply for a limited number of pre-approved copies. Book reviewers who post their review on their review site, Amazon, and Goodreads can enter a Rafflecopter draw to win one of ten copies of any Michelle Diener book of their choice, or a $10 Amazon gift card. (Instructions in sign-up form.)
Sign up HERE!
Michelle Diener writes historical fiction. Her Susanna Horenbout & John Parker series, set in the court of Henry VIII, includes In a Treacherous Court, Keeper of the King's Secrets and In Defense of the Queen.
Michelle's other historical novels include Daughter of the Sky, The Emperor's Conspiracy and Banquet of Lies (loosely connected to The Emperor's Conspiracy).
Michelle's first fantasy novel, Mistress of the Wind, is set for a December 23, 2013, release.
Michelle was born in London, grew up in South Africa and currently lives in Australia with her husband and two children.
Goodreads * Amazon * Website * Twitter * Facebook
Blitz-Wide Giveaways:
1 - Enter to WIN one of ten ebooks of The Golden Apple.
- March 30 - April 7.
See Rafflecopter for restrictions.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
2 - For book bloggers: Review The Golden Apple by April 1, 2014 and enter to WIN one of 10 prizes:
- Choose any one of Michelle Diener's books or $10 Gift Card!
- March 24 - April 7
Request an early review copy using the form. Instructions on entering the second giveaway are included!
Are you a blogger and want to receive information about new tours? Go HERE.Are you an author or publisher and would like to have us organize a tour event? Go HERE.
We're celebrating the release of Michelle Diener's second fairy tale retelling:
The Golden Apple
An Adult Fantasy Romance based loosely on the Princess on the Glass Hill
The Golden Apple
by Michelle DienerAdult Fantasy/SciFiMarch 24, 2014
Kayla's world has been turned upside-down...
Her father has made her the prize in a deadly, impossible tournament, and Kayla has retaliated in the only way she knows how; by choosing her champion beforehand. But taking control of the outcome changes the game completely, and when the real reason behind the strange test becomes apparent, Kayla realizes not just her life, but her entire kingdom is at stake.
Rane's honor is torn in two...
In order to save his brother, Rane will do whatever he has to--including deceive and betray a princess. He knew nothing about this tournament would be easy, but when it turns into a deeper, far more sinister game, Rane is forced to see it through to the end, or leave his brother at the mercy of their enemy.
Now their fates are entwined, and they must venture into the deep, dark forest together...
Kayla and Rane are bound to one another by an enchantment and Kayla's actions. But the sorcerer forcing them to do his will may have miscalculated, because no-one comes out of the Great Forest unchanged. No-one.
Amazon * Barnes & Noble * iTunes
The inspiration for The Golden Apple
The Golden Apple is loosely based on the Norwegian fairy tale The Princess on the Glass Hill. The original tale is more about the hero than the heroine, and it is a very straightforward quest story, with the hero becoming more and more accomplished, until at last he succeeds against the odds. But there were a few things in this fairy tale that stood out for me and made me take notice. The first is the very unusual situation of the king holding a contest for his daughter’s hand by putting her on top of a glass hill with a golden apple in her lap. Knights from all over are invited to race a horse up the smooth glass sides of the mountain and the one who can pluck the golden apple from the princess's lap wins her hand and is heir to the kingdom. As usual in fairy tales, there is no explanation as to how the king came by a glass mountain, but I wondered where he got it, and that sparked the starting point of the story. It is really the inciting incident that starts the story off, rather than the focus of the story, as it was in the fairy tale.
Secondly, the crux of the tale, for me, is that the hero cannot win the princess's hand without help from the princess herself. That part of the original tale is one or two lines long, but for me, it's fascinating. The feminine power determining and choosing which masculine power will prevail. This really made me interested, because the princess doesn't just sit there and take whoever it is manages to accomplish the (impossible) task set by her father, but actively chooses who it is she wants to win and helps them. I wanted to write a story about the consequences of her taking that power and using it and The Golden Apple was the result -- far, far more heroine-centric than the original, and I really had fun with it.
- Michelle Diener
LAST CALL FOR REVIEWERS!Are you interested in fantasy romance?
Do you love fairy tale retellings?
Have you read Michelle Diener and enjoyed her work in the past?
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, you can request a review copy of The Golden Apple! The Golden Apple is up for review by invitation only on NetGalley. Reviewers with book review sites can apply for a limited number of pre-approved copies. Book reviewers who post their review on their review site, Amazon, and Goodreads can enter a Rafflecopter draw to win one of ten copies of any Michelle Diener book of their choice, or a $10 Amazon gift card. (Instructions in sign-up form.)
Sign up HERE!
Michelle Diener writes historical fiction. Her Susanna Horenbout & John Parker series, set in the court of Henry VIII, includes In a Treacherous Court, Keeper of the King's Secrets and In Defense of the Queen.Michelle's other historical novels include Daughter of the Sky, The Emperor's Conspiracy and Banquet of Lies (loosely connected to The Emperor's Conspiracy).
Michelle's first fantasy novel, Mistress of the Wind, is set for a December 23, 2013, release.
Michelle was born in London, grew up in South Africa and currently lives in Australia with her husband and two children.
Goodreads * Amazon * Website * Twitter * Facebook
Blitz-Wide Giveaways:
1 - Enter to WIN one of ten ebooks of The Golden Apple.
- March 30 - April 7.
See Rafflecopter for restrictions.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
2 - For book bloggers: Review The Golden Apple by April 1, 2014 and enter to WIN one of 10 prizes:
- Choose any one of Michelle Diener's books or $10 Gift Card!
- March 24 - April 7
Request an early review copy using the form. Instructions on entering the second giveaway are included!
Are you a blogger and want to receive information about new tours? Go HERE.Are you an author or publisher and would like to have us organize a tour event? Go HERE.
March 30, 2014
The Adventures of Sammy the Turtle: Guest Post by Author Pam Funke
Book blurb:
Meet Sammy the turtle. Sammy is a baby turtle who is all alone. Where did he come from? His mother, Luna, was nowhere to be found. Where was she? Who created Sammy and his mother? Sammy goes on an adventure to not only find his mother, but to ultimately find out where he really came from.
About the Author:
Pam Funke is the grand-daughter of a Pastor and was brought up in the church. Her love of reading led her to write for the enjoyment of others. She lives in Hinesville, Georgia with her son and daughter.
Links:
Buy the Book on Amazon: http://myBook.to/WhereDidIComeFrom
Author's Blog: http://sammytheturtlepf.blogspot.com/
Author's Website: http://authorpamfunke.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/4HorsemenSeries
Excerpt:
Each day God looked in on Luna’s children to make sure that they were safe. He had the sun shine on the nest for months to keep the eggs warm. He touched the nest with a gentle breeze every day to show how much He loved them. One day one of the eggs started to crack. God watched as the first of Luna’s children wriggled and pushed her way out of the eggshell. He then started pushing his way out of the dirt into the world beyond. A few minutes later, another egg started to crack and then another one. God smiled as He watched each of Luna’s children press his or her way forth into the world. “One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Wait where’s the eighth one?” God said smiling. He looked back at the nest and saw that the eighth egg had yet to crack. He blew a warm gentle breeze over the nest. “Come on out Sammy. The world needs you,” God said coaxing the last of Luna’s children out of his shell.
Little Sammy stretched out his flippers and heard something crack. He pulled his flippers back and peeked out of his shell. It was dark inside of the eggshell. Sammy closed his eyes and pulled his head back inside of his shell. He was a little afraid until he heard the voice of God encouraging him to come out. Sammy poked his head out again. He used his beak to break the eggshell above his head. A few minutes later, his head poked out of the eggshell and into the warm, soft dirt beyond. Sammy smiled as the heat from the earth warmed his soul. He used his back flippers to push his body out of the eggshell and into the dirt.
Arden: Interview with a Minstrel
With my third novel, Prince of Malorn, hopefully ready to publish by the beginning of May, I'm conducting a series of "interviews" with my characters. This one is the sixth. Enjoy!
http://images.fineartamerica.com/
I meet with Arden the minstrel in the cozy sitting room of his little cottage near the edge of the city of Sazellia. He holds a stringed instrument that looks like a cross between a harp and a small guitar, idly stroking the strings and playing random little tunes while we talk.
“I’m sorry the furniture is a little dusty,” he apologizes as I take a seat. “I’m not actually here very often. I have a room in the palace, and lately it’s been so much more convenient to just stay there almost all the time, what with everything going on.” I assure him that I don’t mind a little dust, and pull out my list of questions.
Tell me about your family. “Well, I grew up with my parents and four sisters. They were all quite a bit older than I and weren’t interested in playing with a little boy, so I spent most of my time reading and making up stories of my own. My father served on the king’s palace guard, and I think he had hoped his only son would follow in his footsteps. But I wasn’t the least interested in learning to fight, and I’ve always hated weapons. I still don’t know how to wield a sword – that is, I know just enough to write vivid battle scenes in my songs and stories, but I have no interest in learning the skill myself. Instead, I learned music from my grandfather. He not only played the malute, he made malutes for a living, and as a boy, I loved to spend time in his workshop. I’ve enjoyed music and stories for as long as I can remember, and the malute seemed the perfect way to bring both together.”
Arden smiles fondly at the instrument on his lap. “Grandfather paid me to help out in his workshop after school, and at first I just ran errands and swept the floor. But gradually he began to teach me how to use his tools – I wasn’t interested in them for their own sake, but I wanted a malute of my own so badly I was willing to do anything to get one. We spent months working on it, a little at a time, and he guided me through every step in the process.” Arden smiles again, remembering. “I learned more patience and attention to detail at that time than ever before or since. Everything had to be perfect. If I made the tiniest mistake that couldn’t be corrected, we threw the piece of wood into the fire and started again. But in the end, my malute was perfect, and it’s lasted me all these years.” He gives the strings a loving thrum.
I understand that you knew the late King Kerman back when he was still a prince. How did you meet him?“I mentioned that my father was a guard. He once saved the king’s life when angry citizens were rioting in protest of a controversial new tax law. Afterward the grateful king told my father to name his reward, and Father asked if his son could be educated in the palace along with the prince. I was thirteen at the time, painfully shy and small for my age. Combine that with my complete lack of skill in mathematics and the sciences, and you can see why school was unpleasant for me in the first place. The thought of switching to a new school was agonizing, let alone a tiny one where the other pupils would all be royalty or the sons and daughters of nobles. But my parents were determined to seize the opportunity and secure the best possible future for me, and I had no choice.”
Arden chuckles. “I can still remember how terrified I was that first day, walking into the palace schoolroom where Prince Kerman and five of his noble-blooded peers sat around a massive oak table. They were all around my age, but every one of them was taller than I, and much more intelligent and good looking, at least in my teenage mind. They had known each other all their lives, and I was the newcomer, the odd one out.”
He pauses, lost in the memory, and his fingers wander over the strings of his malute. The tune he plucks out feels awkward, reluctant, much like the scene he is describing.
“The prince welcomed me courteously,” he goes on, “but at first I knew they were all laughing at me behind my back. I was hopelessly far behind the rest of them in so many areas, I’m surprised the teacher put up with my being there at all. Sometimes he assigned us work to do in twos or threes, and no one ever wanted to be partnered with me because they would usually end up having to explain the concepts to me all over again. It didn’t help that I daydreamed in class – there were just so many more exciting places for my mind to be than in that room. But soon as I found out I was allowed to visit the palace library, and that made it all bearable. I used to go there every afternoon after lessons were over and read books until my father got off of work. I always brought my malute with me, and if no one else was in the room, I would pull it out and play as I read. I never could hear a good story without imagining how it would sound put to music, so I would make up my own little tunes to go with what I was reading. Sometimes I would rewrite a scene in rhyme and turn it into a song.
“One day in class I was assigned to give a speech about the history of Malorn’s Western Wilderness. I dreaded the thought of standing up and speaking in front of my noble-blooded classmates, but at the same time, history was one subject I excelled in. It’s full of so many interesting stories, and the Western Wilderness has seen far more than its share of battles and noble adventure. My classmates had all been making speeches about the different regions of Malorn over the last few days, and most of them had been dreadfully boring. It was a tragedy, considering that most of the events they described were quite exciting, or they could have been if they had been told about properly.
“So, as nervous as I was about taking my turn, I was determined to do the history of the Western Wilderness justice. The class was surprised when I took up my malute, and I’m certain they had never before heard a speech like the one I gave. I had prepared it in a style that was a mixture of a poem, a story, and a chant with musical accompaniment. I’d worked hard for several days on the music, creating a tune that was fast-paced in the exciting parts and slow and sad for the scenes when I described death and desolation. I heard some snickers as I began, but it didn’t take long before the class quieted and I had everyone’s full attention. I knew I was doing it right when I heard them gasp at all the right moments and chuckle once or twice where I put in some humor; and I saw tears in a few people’s eyes in the tragic scenes.
“When I had finished, even the teacher was speechless for a long moment. Then Prince Kerman rose to his feet and began to applaud, and everything changed after that. Nobody laughed behind my back anymore or looked at me as though I didn’t fit in. From that time on, the teacher let me do a good many of my assignments in the form of poetry or songs; I found out years later that the prince took him aside and asked him to. He also requested that I provide part of the musical entertainment at his birthday celebration the next month, and when that went well, my confidence increased immensely. I started getting invited to social events and asked to perform for many of them. The prince loved a good story, and the two of us had a real connection from then on. But more than that, I appreciated his kindness; he was the first person who made me feel that I had actual talent instead of just a hobby that took my attention away from my schoolwork.”
Arden chuckles. “I’m sure that was a much longer answer than you wanted, but it’s hard for me not to turn everything into a story.”
What is your idea of success?A dreamy smile crosses the minstrel’s face. “A perfect poem, every word just right, married to the perfect melody. One where every note, every pause, infuses the words with a depth of meaning they never could have achieved on their own. And a rapt audience, breathless, in tears, on the edge of their seats, their minds so intertwined with the song they scarcely know any other reality, the malute strings binding them to the world the instrument and I have created.”
Have you ever been in love? How did that work out? Arden doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are distant and his fingers dance softly over the strings of his malute. “It was a long time ago,” he replies finally. “Prince Kerman had begun to show special interest in one of our classmates, Aleris, and romance was developing between several of the others as well. I suppose something was in the air that spring; I fell head over heels in love with a girl who lived in my parents’ neighborhood. Jiana and I had known each other for years, but suddenly everything was different. I composed dozens of romantic poems for her, mostly on the back of my parchment during mathematics lessons, much to the entertainment of my classmates when the teacher confiscated them and read them aloud. She and I were married the day after I finished school.”
The music he is playing grows dreamier. “We moved into this cottage with the help of money I been earning performing at city and palace events. We were young, and life was perfect. Just perfect. Neither of us had ever imagined it was possible to be so blissfully happy. Looking back, that was by far the most wonderful period of my life, but it didn’t last.”
His fingers move more slowly, and the tune he is playing grows so sad that I find myself blinking back tears. “Jiana died of a fever less than a year after our wedding. I was devastated; I felt as though my world had ended. I spent most of my days in the graveyard, weeping and composing sad songs. Prince Kerman, who was married by that time too, was concerned about me. He and Aleris regularly sent servants with food and drink and implored me to come in out of the cold as winter tightened its grip on the land and on my broken heart. But nothing could pierce the darkness my soul had fallen into.
“Finally, after months of lonely grief, spring spread its warmth across the land. As I huddled in my cloak beside my beloved’s grave, I found the topic of my melodies turning more and more to the new life I saw emerging around me: thirsty flower petals unfolding to sample the dew at dawn, a hard-working robin building its nest in the sunshine, crickets chirping messages to their friends in the falling dusk. And slowly, my heart began to heal. At last one day when Kerman came in person and begged me to move into a room in the palace, I accepted. He convinced me to start playing for special events again, and gradually I found that I could go on with my life. But my heart has never forgotten my first love, my only love.”
What do you do for a living now?“Words and melodies are still my livelihood as well as the outpouring of my soul. From time to time I perform for events around the city, but I spend most of my time in the palace now. I’ve always written songs for banquets and special events, but shortly after Kerman’s father died and he became king, he and I discovered that my music can have a more practical purpose. I would sometimes join him in unofficial meetings or for informal conversations with people, sitting at the hearth or in a corner of the room and trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible. While the others talked, I would play little tunes that I made up on the spot, much as I’m doing now. But I would tailor my music to the conversation and try to use it to make people do or think certain things. It’s difficult to explain how it works, and to be honest, I don’t fully understand it myself, but let me give you an example. Once a serving girl approached the king and queen to reveal a traitorous conversation that she had overheard between two members of the palace staff. The poor girl was trying to do the right thing, but she was so timid before their majesties that she could hardly speak a word at first. I remembered what that was like, and I played a soothing melody that I knew would have calmed my own quaking heart had I been in her shoes. Sure enough, her confidence grew, and in a few moments she was able to stop trembling and speak clearly about what she had learned.
“Another time, Kerman told me that he feared a certain messenger had lied to him, but he had no way to prove it. We sent for the man, and the king questioned him again while I played. This time I made the tune a tense one, such as I would have used to make the audience nervous at the point in a ballad where a character was about to land himself in trouble or fall into a trap. Sure enough, the messenger began to stammer and shoot glances around him as though afraid of some danger. As the king’s questions grew more pointed, I poured more emotion into the music, until my own heart was pounding and the very air in the room seemed to throb with tension.”
As Arden speaks, his fingers move more quickly over the strings, and I can feel the tension he is describing growing around us. My own breath starts to come more quickly and a sense of anxiety builds in me as he goes on.
“Well, the man started to stumble over his words and contradict himself, and then finally he broke off, dropped to his knees, and blurted out the truth. As he confessed his lies and begged, in tears, for the king’s mercy and forgiveness, I realized for the first time that music could be a far more powerful tool than any sword.” The tense tune fades into a slow and peaceful melody, and my pulse returns to normal as the anxiety fades.
If you could go back in time and change anything, would you? If so, what?Arden nods soberly, and his music turns more serious. “In hindsight, I believe the royal family and I were naïve. I was never privy to many government matters, except for the kinds of conversations I mentioned when I was asked to play in the background, but I knew that some in the government opposed King Kerman’s decisions. An influential High Councilor named Rampus had begun growing in popularity and causing increasing frustration to the king. When Kerman took ill one day, we all thought he had simply eaten something that disagreed with him. The entire city was shocked when he passed away that same night. Queen Aleris was certain he had been poisoned and that Rampus had something to do with it, but nothing was ever proven. Kerman and Aleris had two children by then: Kalendria was eight and Korram was thirteen. Since the prince was still too young to rule, the High Council voted to make Rampus regent of Malorn until Korram came of age. I can’t see how anyone could have changed what happened, but if I could go back in time, I would do all I could to find a way.”
How have your job and your relationship with the royal family changed since King Kerman’s death?“The widowed queen continued to provide me with a salary, and I continued to provide the palace and the royal family with music,” Arden explains. “I became almost like family to her and her children after Kerman’s death. While Queen Aleris struggled with her own grief and concern for the kingdom, young Kalendria took to sobbing for hours on end while Korram would fly into furious rages. I tried to set my own grief aside as much as I could to help them through theirs, and my music was able to bring some peace to their troubled hearts. But as the years have passed, the family has grown more worried. Rampus’s power has been growing, and we fear he has no intention of giving it up in a few months when Korram turns eighteen.”
The malute sounds worried too, anxious notes spilling out around us. “The trouble is,” Arden continues, “Rampus has his fingers in the military, as well as in every major business and industry in Malorn; and most of the nobility see him as a worthy and capable leader. Our options have grown more limited as the regent has grown more powerful, so we hide our suspicions and pretend to think we are all on the same side, hoping he will see no need to remove anyone else from his way. In our long, anxious meetings, my malute and I have counseled the royal family as much as we could.”
“I hear you have become a trusted advisor,” I say.
“Perhaps, but I often feel inadequate when it comes to knowing the best course of action,” Arden confesses. “When in doubt, however, I simply imagine what I would have my characters do if this were a story. Sometimes that ends up being impractically daring, but often it turns out to be the right move. That’s how I came up with the idea of Korram’s recruiting his own personal army to protect him from Rampus’s schemes; hence the prince’s current mission in the Impassable Mountains. Korram has always loved adventure stories, and he jumped at the idea.” Arden sighs. “Still, I worry that it will turn out to be one of those unrealistic quests that sound wonderful in a ballad but cannot succeed in real life. I suppose only time will tell.”
Click here to find out about Prince of Malorn, the third book in the Annals of Alasia, and read more interviews with the characters in it.
Click here to read my interviews with characters from my book In the Enemy's Service.
http://images.fineartamerica.com/I meet with Arden the minstrel in the cozy sitting room of his little cottage near the edge of the city of Sazellia. He holds a stringed instrument that looks like a cross between a harp and a small guitar, idly stroking the strings and playing random little tunes while we talk.
“I’m sorry the furniture is a little dusty,” he apologizes as I take a seat. “I’m not actually here very often. I have a room in the palace, and lately it’s been so much more convenient to just stay there almost all the time, what with everything going on.” I assure him that I don’t mind a little dust, and pull out my list of questions.
Tell me about your family. “Well, I grew up with my parents and four sisters. They were all quite a bit older than I and weren’t interested in playing with a little boy, so I spent most of my time reading and making up stories of my own. My father served on the king’s palace guard, and I think he had hoped his only son would follow in his footsteps. But I wasn’t the least interested in learning to fight, and I’ve always hated weapons. I still don’t know how to wield a sword – that is, I know just enough to write vivid battle scenes in my songs and stories, but I have no interest in learning the skill myself. Instead, I learned music from my grandfather. He not only played the malute, he made malutes for a living, and as a boy, I loved to spend time in his workshop. I’ve enjoyed music and stories for as long as I can remember, and the malute seemed the perfect way to bring both together.”
Arden smiles fondly at the instrument on his lap. “Grandfather paid me to help out in his workshop after school, and at first I just ran errands and swept the floor. But gradually he began to teach me how to use his tools – I wasn’t interested in them for their own sake, but I wanted a malute of my own so badly I was willing to do anything to get one. We spent months working on it, a little at a time, and he guided me through every step in the process.” Arden smiles again, remembering. “I learned more patience and attention to detail at that time than ever before or since. Everything had to be perfect. If I made the tiniest mistake that couldn’t be corrected, we threw the piece of wood into the fire and started again. But in the end, my malute was perfect, and it’s lasted me all these years.” He gives the strings a loving thrum.
I understand that you knew the late King Kerman back when he was still a prince. How did you meet him?“I mentioned that my father was a guard. He once saved the king’s life when angry citizens were rioting in protest of a controversial new tax law. Afterward the grateful king told my father to name his reward, and Father asked if his son could be educated in the palace along with the prince. I was thirteen at the time, painfully shy and small for my age. Combine that with my complete lack of skill in mathematics and the sciences, and you can see why school was unpleasant for me in the first place. The thought of switching to a new school was agonizing, let alone a tiny one where the other pupils would all be royalty or the sons and daughters of nobles. But my parents were determined to seize the opportunity and secure the best possible future for me, and I had no choice.”
Arden chuckles. “I can still remember how terrified I was that first day, walking into the palace schoolroom where Prince Kerman and five of his noble-blooded peers sat around a massive oak table. They were all around my age, but every one of them was taller than I, and much more intelligent and good looking, at least in my teenage mind. They had known each other all their lives, and I was the newcomer, the odd one out.”
He pauses, lost in the memory, and his fingers wander over the strings of his malute. The tune he plucks out feels awkward, reluctant, much like the scene he is describing.
“The prince welcomed me courteously,” he goes on, “but at first I knew they were all laughing at me behind my back. I was hopelessly far behind the rest of them in so many areas, I’m surprised the teacher put up with my being there at all. Sometimes he assigned us work to do in twos or threes, and no one ever wanted to be partnered with me because they would usually end up having to explain the concepts to me all over again. It didn’t help that I daydreamed in class – there were just so many more exciting places for my mind to be than in that room. But soon as I found out I was allowed to visit the palace library, and that made it all bearable. I used to go there every afternoon after lessons were over and read books until my father got off of work. I always brought my malute with me, and if no one else was in the room, I would pull it out and play as I read. I never could hear a good story without imagining how it would sound put to music, so I would make up my own little tunes to go with what I was reading. Sometimes I would rewrite a scene in rhyme and turn it into a song.
“One day in class I was assigned to give a speech about the history of Malorn’s Western Wilderness. I dreaded the thought of standing up and speaking in front of my noble-blooded classmates, but at the same time, history was one subject I excelled in. It’s full of so many interesting stories, and the Western Wilderness has seen far more than its share of battles and noble adventure. My classmates had all been making speeches about the different regions of Malorn over the last few days, and most of them had been dreadfully boring. It was a tragedy, considering that most of the events they described were quite exciting, or they could have been if they had been told about properly.
“So, as nervous as I was about taking my turn, I was determined to do the history of the Western Wilderness justice. The class was surprised when I took up my malute, and I’m certain they had never before heard a speech like the one I gave. I had prepared it in a style that was a mixture of a poem, a story, and a chant with musical accompaniment. I’d worked hard for several days on the music, creating a tune that was fast-paced in the exciting parts and slow and sad for the scenes when I described death and desolation. I heard some snickers as I began, but it didn’t take long before the class quieted and I had everyone’s full attention. I knew I was doing it right when I heard them gasp at all the right moments and chuckle once or twice where I put in some humor; and I saw tears in a few people’s eyes in the tragic scenes.
“When I had finished, even the teacher was speechless for a long moment. Then Prince Kerman rose to his feet and began to applaud, and everything changed after that. Nobody laughed behind my back anymore or looked at me as though I didn’t fit in. From that time on, the teacher let me do a good many of my assignments in the form of poetry or songs; I found out years later that the prince took him aside and asked him to. He also requested that I provide part of the musical entertainment at his birthday celebration the next month, and when that went well, my confidence increased immensely. I started getting invited to social events and asked to perform for many of them. The prince loved a good story, and the two of us had a real connection from then on. But more than that, I appreciated his kindness; he was the first person who made me feel that I had actual talent instead of just a hobby that took my attention away from my schoolwork.”
Arden chuckles. “I’m sure that was a much longer answer than you wanted, but it’s hard for me not to turn everything into a story.”
What is your idea of success?A dreamy smile crosses the minstrel’s face. “A perfect poem, every word just right, married to the perfect melody. One where every note, every pause, infuses the words with a depth of meaning they never could have achieved on their own. And a rapt audience, breathless, in tears, on the edge of their seats, their minds so intertwined with the song they scarcely know any other reality, the malute strings binding them to the world the instrument and I have created.”
Have you ever been in love? How did that work out? Arden doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are distant and his fingers dance softly over the strings of his malute. “It was a long time ago,” he replies finally. “Prince Kerman had begun to show special interest in one of our classmates, Aleris, and romance was developing between several of the others as well. I suppose something was in the air that spring; I fell head over heels in love with a girl who lived in my parents’ neighborhood. Jiana and I had known each other for years, but suddenly everything was different. I composed dozens of romantic poems for her, mostly on the back of my parchment during mathematics lessons, much to the entertainment of my classmates when the teacher confiscated them and read them aloud. She and I were married the day after I finished school.”
The music he is playing grows dreamier. “We moved into this cottage with the help of money I been earning performing at city and palace events. We were young, and life was perfect. Just perfect. Neither of us had ever imagined it was possible to be so blissfully happy. Looking back, that was by far the most wonderful period of my life, but it didn’t last.”
His fingers move more slowly, and the tune he is playing grows so sad that I find myself blinking back tears. “Jiana died of a fever less than a year after our wedding. I was devastated; I felt as though my world had ended. I spent most of my days in the graveyard, weeping and composing sad songs. Prince Kerman, who was married by that time too, was concerned about me. He and Aleris regularly sent servants with food and drink and implored me to come in out of the cold as winter tightened its grip on the land and on my broken heart. But nothing could pierce the darkness my soul had fallen into.
“Finally, after months of lonely grief, spring spread its warmth across the land. As I huddled in my cloak beside my beloved’s grave, I found the topic of my melodies turning more and more to the new life I saw emerging around me: thirsty flower petals unfolding to sample the dew at dawn, a hard-working robin building its nest in the sunshine, crickets chirping messages to their friends in the falling dusk. And slowly, my heart began to heal. At last one day when Kerman came in person and begged me to move into a room in the palace, I accepted. He convinced me to start playing for special events again, and gradually I found that I could go on with my life. But my heart has never forgotten my first love, my only love.”
What do you do for a living now?“Words and melodies are still my livelihood as well as the outpouring of my soul. From time to time I perform for events around the city, but I spend most of my time in the palace now. I’ve always written songs for banquets and special events, but shortly after Kerman’s father died and he became king, he and I discovered that my music can have a more practical purpose. I would sometimes join him in unofficial meetings or for informal conversations with people, sitting at the hearth or in a corner of the room and trying to make myself as unobtrusive as possible. While the others talked, I would play little tunes that I made up on the spot, much as I’m doing now. But I would tailor my music to the conversation and try to use it to make people do or think certain things. It’s difficult to explain how it works, and to be honest, I don’t fully understand it myself, but let me give you an example. Once a serving girl approached the king and queen to reveal a traitorous conversation that she had overheard between two members of the palace staff. The poor girl was trying to do the right thing, but she was so timid before their majesties that she could hardly speak a word at first. I remembered what that was like, and I played a soothing melody that I knew would have calmed my own quaking heart had I been in her shoes. Sure enough, her confidence grew, and in a few moments she was able to stop trembling and speak clearly about what she had learned.
“Another time, Kerman told me that he feared a certain messenger had lied to him, but he had no way to prove it. We sent for the man, and the king questioned him again while I played. This time I made the tune a tense one, such as I would have used to make the audience nervous at the point in a ballad where a character was about to land himself in trouble or fall into a trap. Sure enough, the messenger began to stammer and shoot glances around him as though afraid of some danger. As the king’s questions grew more pointed, I poured more emotion into the music, until my own heart was pounding and the very air in the room seemed to throb with tension.”
As Arden speaks, his fingers move more quickly over the strings, and I can feel the tension he is describing growing around us. My own breath starts to come more quickly and a sense of anxiety builds in me as he goes on.
“Well, the man started to stumble over his words and contradict himself, and then finally he broke off, dropped to his knees, and blurted out the truth. As he confessed his lies and begged, in tears, for the king’s mercy and forgiveness, I realized for the first time that music could be a far more powerful tool than any sword.” The tense tune fades into a slow and peaceful melody, and my pulse returns to normal as the anxiety fades.
If you could go back in time and change anything, would you? If so, what?Arden nods soberly, and his music turns more serious. “In hindsight, I believe the royal family and I were naïve. I was never privy to many government matters, except for the kinds of conversations I mentioned when I was asked to play in the background, but I knew that some in the government opposed King Kerman’s decisions. An influential High Councilor named Rampus had begun growing in popularity and causing increasing frustration to the king. When Kerman took ill one day, we all thought he had simply eaten something that disagreed with him. The entire city was shocked when he passed away that same night. Queen Aleris was certain he had been poisoned and that Rampus had something to do with it, but nothing was ever proven. Kerman and Aleris had two children by then: Kalendria was eight and Korram was thirteen. Since the prince was still too young to rule, the High Council voted to make Rampus regent of Malorn until Korram came of age. I can’t see how anyone could have changed what happened, but if I could go back in time, I would do all I could to find a way.”
How have your job and your relationship with the royal family changed since King Kerman’s death?“The widowed queen continued to provide me with a salary, and I continued to provide the palace and the royal family with music,” Arden explains. “I became almost like family to her and her children after Kerman’s death. While Queen Aleris struggled with her own grief and concern for the kingdom, young Kalendria took to sobbing for hours on end while Korram would fly into furious rages. I tried to set my own grief aside as much as I could to help them through theirs, and my music was able to bring some peace to their troubled hearts. But as the years have passed, the family has grown more worried. Rampus’s power has been growing, and we fear he has no intention of giving it up in a few months when Korram turns eighteen.”
The malute sounds worried too, anxious notes spilling out around us. “The trouble is,” Arden continues, “Rampus has his fingers in the military, as well as in every major business and industry in Malorn; and most of the nobility see him as a worthy and capable leader. Our options have grown more limited as the regent has grown more powerful, so we hide our suspicions and pretend to think we are all on the same side, hoping he will see no need to remove anyone else from his way. In our long, anxious meetings, my malute and I have counseled the royal family as much as we could.”
“I hear you have become a trusted advisor,” I say.
“Perhaps, but I often feel inadequate when it comes to knowing the best course of action,” Arden confesses. “When in doubt, however, I simply imagine what I would have my characters do if this were a story. Sometimes that ends up being impractically daring, but often it turns out to be the right move. That’s how I came up with the idea of Korram’s recruiting his own personal army to protect him from Rampus’s schemes; hence the prince’s current mission in the Impassable Mountains. Korram has always loved adventure stories, and he jumped at the idea.” Arden sighs. “Still, I worry that it will turn out to be one of those unrealistic quests that sound wonderful in a ballad but cannot succeed in real life. I suppose only time will tell.”
Click here to find out about Prince of Malorn, the third book in the Annals of Alasia, and read more interviews with the characters in it.
Click here to read my interviews with characters from my book In the Enemy's Service.
March 26, 2014
The Sign of the Dolphin
Are you interested in:
Early Celtic Christianity
Early manuscripts of the New Testament
Archaeology and art
Travel
Romance
Historical fiction
Mystery
Adventure?
It all comes together, and more, in the historical novel THE SIGN OF THE DOLPHIN, the second book in the series that started with THE SCRIBES: A NOVEL ABOUT THE EARLY CHURCH.
Set in the year 184 A.D., this book contains a collection of 72 letters which tell the story of a journey through Gaul and Britain. Along the way you will meet fascinating characters like Irenaeus of Lyon and Diognetus and Ulpius Marcellus. You will wrestle with the question of the two versions of the Acts of the Apostles. You will discover the glories of art in Britain under Roman rule, and you will join Marcus the scribe as he seeks to manage an unruly team, deal with an independent young woman, and share the good news with people on the Roman frontier.
This book will be available the week between Palm Sunday and Easter!
34Not the official cover. Official cover to be revealed soon! Excerpt:
The Villa of Lucius Marcus to Justin, greetings in the Lord.
Alina is a fascinating but puzzling woman. I came upon her this morning in the garden, where she was singing her Celtic hymns. When she had finished, we talked about our mission to the house of Nepos. And then I changed the subject. “Callistus has told me that you shared with him the news about the library and its treasures. I thought I had asked you not to tell anyone.”
“Libraries must not be kept a secret,” she retorted, “and in any case, as we both know, it is not your library but the king’s library, and we should have no more right to it than Callistus or anyone else. Furthermore, ownership works differently in the world of the Celts than it does among the Romans.”
I was taken aback by her response. It seemed to me that it only could have been rehearsed in advance. I replied, “At least as far as wives are concerned, for Caesar tells us that wives are shared among groups of ten or twelve men, especially between fathers, brothers and sons.”
“That’s the view of the conqueror,” Alina retorted. “They write the histories, but can they really be trusted to understand the conquered? That’s the way it is with Caesar and all the rest of the victors. They come to conquer and not to listen and learn. And they cover over our culture with their own.”
“Alina,” I responded, “I can’t solve the problem of the war of the cultures, and nor can you. We preach a gospel that affirms and judges all cultures. But I did ask you to keep a secret, and I expected that you would keep it, and you didn’t.”
“Well, I am sorry,” she said, and then began playing her kithara again, and singing the song she has been teaching us with the refrain: Love covers a multitude of sins.
As you can imagine, I am both fascinated and frustrated by Alina. I can hardly deny my growing affection for her. We seem to be at one moment of the same mind and in the next to be worlds apart. I don’t know what to make of her growing friendship with Callistus, who seems to be able to charm and delight the women without effort.
Meanwhile, I cannot allow myself to be distracted from the great work of the mission to Britain. I left Alina in the garden, and walked back to the house. Since the place seemed especially deserted, I decided to explore some of the rooms I had not seen. It seems that the tessellated pavements and painted walls are generally of a high quality, though some have been damaged or poorly repaired. Other richly decorated rooms have been relegated to storage areas or workshops. The wear and neglect have taken their toll. The whole place feels like its greatest days are past, and it is slowly sinking into the earth, which eventually swallows up all. Thank God that what is sown in corruption is raised in incorruption, and that death is swallowed up in victory.
In one of the rooms I came upon a man who was repairing a mosaic pavement. I watched him as he carefully removed the broken tesserae, and put new pieces in their place. He spent much time digging away at the damage until all the broken pieces were removed. Beneath it I saw another, earlier floor of black and white pattern. So I see that when fashion and taste change, new floors are simply laid over old ones. And what a remarkable design this new floor was, a Roman myth laid over Celtic patterns. The central roundel enclosed a head of Medusa, simply laid out in black, red and yellow, with a great mat of hair, interwoven with writhing yellow-eyed snakes. The Medusa herself was surrounded by eight octagonal panels, each enclosing a different kind of flower. I could detect the poor quality of the workmanship from the fact that one of the flowers is badly misshapen. It is true that in the myth Perseus killed Medusa, but this Medusa, this Gorgon, seemed so alive that she still had power to kill men or to turn them into stone. The border of this pavement, which also had a great profusion of design, consisted of circles and squares with tails enclosed. The whole was full of life and business, the work of a Celtic artist attempting Roman design, and laying it over an old floor of elegant patterns of the Celtic type.
I could not get out of my mind Alina’s words about cultural conquest. I stood and watched the craftsman, who did not seem to be aware that he was on show. His skill in repairing seemed an improvement on the original. Here was clearly a master at the art of laying and repairing floors. I commented that I thought the floor was remarkable, but the craftsman gave no reply and kept on working in total concentration, the way we like to do when we are copying the scriptures.
I stood and watched him work for a few more minutes, and then I walked away thinking about what I had seen and heard. One culture is always conquering another. But how should we who preach the good news of Christ respond to culture? Should we seek to destroy the old culture and cover it over with the new? Or does the preaching of the gospel salvage all it can in culture? Did not Christ come to transform the world rather than to destroy it? And did not St. Paul urge the Philippians to think on all that was true and honorable and just and pure, and lovely, and of good report? Did he not affirm anything virtuous or worthy of praise, like the skill of this workman or the haunting Celtic melodies that Alina sings? And I am sure that in village after village as we move through this land, we will need to be sensitive about what should be removed, and what should be recruited and redeemed in this culture.
Pray for us as we pray for you, and greet all the brothers and sisters in Christ in Rome.
NOTES:34. The Villa of Lucius: For Caesar on the Celts see Barry Cunliff, The Ancient Celts, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997, 109. Marcus cites 1 Cor 15:42, 54. For the Medusa Mosaic see Cunliffe, Fishbourne Roman Palace, 113.
March 25, 2014
CrossReads Book Blast: The Swaddling Clothes, Amber Schamel
The Swaddling ClothesBy Amber Schamel
About the BookThrough the ages, many stories have been told about Mary, Joseph and the birth of the Messiah. Stories of shepherds and sheep, kings, angels, and stables. But there is one story that has never been told. One story that has remained hidden in the fabric of time. The story of The Swaddling Clothes. Mentioned not once, but several times in the Scriptural text, what is the significance of these special cloths? And how did they make their way into a stable in Bethlehem? From the author that brought you the Days of Messiah series comes a whole new adventure critics are calling "intriguing...thought provoking... a fresh twist on an age old story." "I get tired of Bible stories sometimes, but The Swaddling Clothes brings the story to life." "Heartwarming... truly inspired. A story you will want to read again and again. Rich details and a suspenseful plot will keep you reading while giving you a glimpse of God's wonderful power and His amazing love."
LINK to KINDLE | LINK to PAPERBACK
Amber Schamel is a multi-published author of Christian Historical Fiction. Her passion for history and culture has led her to travel extensively throughout the United States, Europe, and the Holy Land. Amber is actively involved in her church and enjoys volunteer work and music ministry. Raised in a family of twelve children and homeschooled throughout her education, she currently resides in the beautiful state of Colorado where she also serves as bookkeeper and marketing director for their family businesses. Find Amber on her blog, or on all the main social media sites.
Follow Amber Schamel
Website | Facebook | TwitterEnter to Win a $50 Amazon Gift Card!Enter below to enter a $50 Amazon gift card, sponsored by author Amber Schamel! a Rafflecopter giveaway This book blast is hosted by Crossreads. We would like to send out a special THANK YOU to all of the CrossReads book blast bloggers!
