Allison Bruning's Blog, page 57

Ohio Valley Hope

The cruise ship gently lowers over the lush rolling foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. You sip your coffee, relaxing at the table on the deck as you think about the events that transpired yesterday. A ghost. You had spoken to an actual ghost! While you had to admit the trip yesterday was quite interesting, despite the constant companionship of the US military, you were concerned about your own life back home. Would someone recognize that your double wasn't you? 
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be landing shortly. Please gather your belongings and meet Tasha on deck. Thank you," Dalton's voice ordered over the loudspeaker.  Dalton had been on edge since everyone had returned to the ship last night. You wondered what could have caused his attitude change? You place the thought aside, lower your empty coffee and grab your daypack. Thank heavens the ship had returned to the United States. You never thought you would ....
You paused as you peer over the side of the deck. This wasn't the terrain of 2012 United States. You smile to yourself. Once again the cruise ship had gone back in time. Where and when were you?

[image error]


“Dad, those people that Bussy invited to call on us are comin’ up the lane.  You’d best get your good shirt on for they look to me like awful fancy folks!  It’s a good thing we sent Bobby to town with the buckboard and horses instead of the Model T, for all of ‘em wouldn’t of fit in that little car.”    “Why, come on in, Folks.  It surely is good to have you come to our farm.  I’m Lena Gaffin, Bussy’s mother.  We didn’t know how you were goin’ to get here in 1941 from 2012, but Bussy told us he could do it with that time travelin’ business he learned in that book.  Him bein’ sickly, if he isn’t playin’ the mandolin, he’s listenin’ to the radio or readin’ a book, and he’s always doin’ some experiment or other that he’s learned in them.  You were probably expectin’ Bussy to pick you up at the train depot, but he’s ailin’ bad again.  Bussy got the measles a few years back and he’s had an awful misery in his chest and head ever since.  All I can do is put mustard plasters on his chest and pray it draws that misery out…”“Mom.  These folks don’t want to…”“Bus, now you get back in that bed like I told you!”“Gee whillikers, Mom.  I just want to say hello!” “Well, alright.  Come on over here with the other kids for a minute.  Folks, this here redheaded feller is Bussy…now scoot on back to bed ‘til I call you for dinner, Bus.  This here is my husband, Elmer, and that redheaded girl over there is our oldest girl, Roma.  That white-haired boy hang doggin’ all over Roma is Lee Greene.  Quit your moonin’ over Itty Bitty Boy, Roma and get back in the kitchen and tend to them skillets.  We don’t want them chickens fried so tough these here folks would break their teeth on ‘em.”“Mom!  Lee isn’t Itty Bitty Boy!  You shouldn’t talk about him like that!”“Don’t you sass me, Girl!  Now get out to the kitchen and mind the skillets!  I slaughtered three big hens for our dinner, Folks.  And we’ll have corn on the cob and mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans.  It all comes fresh from my garden…don’t expect you get fresh on that big old boat, do you?  I baked a batch of light bread this mornin’ and some apple pies and peach cobblers.  Lee, you could make yourself useful if you’d go and get some more wood for the cook stove.  That white-haired girl fidgeting over there like a cat in heat is Reva.  Settle down, Re honey.  I told you that you can sing for everyone later if we have time.  These here folks need to get back to their trip on that big old boat.  We can’t expect ‘em to spend all of their time on our farm.  These two are our twins, Dick and Bette.  Dick, he’s our only dark-haired child, and he’s an ornery one.  You ladies best watch out for he’s likely to try to steal a kiss or two from you.  Bette, she’s our shy one even with that mess of red hair on her head.  That little feller over there with the red hair that’s the picture of his daddy is Dale.  And this is our baby, Dean.  As you can see, he’s another redhead and we named him Delano Dean for Mr. Roosevelt even though the president doesn’t have red hair…don’t expect that matters none.”“I‘m not a baby no more, Mommy.  I’m five years old and I pway the mandowin, too, and don’t nobody better call me Dewano.”“Deany, you and the kids best be runnin’ on outside and play.  Dinner will be ready in a little while.  And Folks, you already met our oldest, Bobby.  He’s home on a pass from the Army.  Don’t you think he looks handsome in his uniform?  We expect Bobby’ll be comin’ home for good in a year at the most.  Mr. Roosevelt promised us mothers he wouldn’t send our boys into no war over in Europe.  It’s awful though what that no account Adolf Hitler is doin’ to those poor people over there, isn’t it?”“I suppose the folks are awful weary from their whirlwind tour and would like to wash up before dinner, Mother.  My wife gets so excited when she gets company and she forgets her manners sometimes.  Just come on over here to the cistern pump in our winter kitchen and wash up, Folks.  That’s natural rainwater in our cistern.  There’s mountain-fed spring water in the bucket there.  Just go ahead and take a drink if you’re of a mind to.  There’s cups there on the counter.”“Now eat your fill, Folks.  There’s plenty more where this comes from.  That town rabble rouser, Oscar Rover wasn’t hangin’ around at the depot was he, Bobby?  It’s just disgraceful the way him and his brother, Luther puts a blight on our little town…always drinkin’ that old rot gut moonshine and causin’ a ruckus, and they’re not the only ones.  A body can’t feel safe in town no more.  What did you think of our little town of Peebles, Ohio, Folks?  I always tell everybody that if you blink when you’re passin’ through, you’ll miss it.”“Oscar’s in jail, Mom.  Remember, he’s comin’ up for trial next week.  I’ll be back at Ft. Thomas then and miss the trial…darn it!”“Bobby, you know better than to talk at the table thataway.  I’m afraid our boy’s learnin’ some disrespectful language at that Army training camp.  Soon as we get done with dinner, we’ll go to Serpent Mound, Folks.  I’ll drive me and Dad in the Model T and Bobby’ll get you all there in the buckboard.  I know…I know, Bus.  You want to tell the folks about Serpent Mound.  Go ahead, but you know you can’t go with us with that fever you’re carryin’.  And hurry up and finish your dinner and get back to bed, Son.  You haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive anyhow.”“Well, Folks, it’s really called the Great Serpent Mound because it’s the biggest and best effigy mound in the whole wide world and it was built by Indians about a thousand years ago.  When you go out on our front porch, look out over our valley.  That valley is really a star-wound that was caused by a meteor strike over a hundred million years ago.  The hills way over on the other side are the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.  The star-wound is about five miles in diameter, and it’s one of the biggest ones in the whole United States, maybe the world.  Our farm is built right on the rim of that star-wound.  When you get to the mound, Bobby will show you our farm way up here from way down there.  You can see the house the best because it’s white.  And those smart Indians built the serpent effigy right in the middle of that star-wound.”“Tell ‘em about how the serpent points to special stars in the sky, Bus.”“You can go on and tell ‘em, Daley.  My chest and head are hurtin’ real bad again.  I think I’ll just go on back to bed.  Thanks for comin’, Folks.  It’s been real nice gettin’ to know you.  I surely do wish I could see what it’s like in 2012.”
To be eligible to win a signed paperback copy of GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS, please enter a comment below addressed to Linda Lee Greene.  Please include your contact information so that the winner can be notified.       
[image error] This tour is based on characters from GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS, the latest novel by best-selling author, Linda Lee Greene.  Reaching across the years and striking a chord with people of today who are witnessing similar circumstances, GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS is inspired by a dramatic true story of two Southern Ohio families during the Great Depression and World War II who also struggled for their fair share of the American Dream of hope, freedom and opportunity.  Through dozens of authentic personal letters written by the characters and included in the book, readers are given an insider’s view of the hearts and minds and day to day experiences of a singular group of people called upon to be counted among the ranks of the greatest generation in history.  Although spanning the years of 1936 to 1941, the letters could have been written by modern-day families and friends of troops and diplomatic personnel who, like their forebears, are risking their lives in hotspots around the world to protect their way of life and their country.  
Linda Lee Greene was born on the rim of the famous star-wound in Peebles, Adams County, Ohio known worldwide as the Great Serpent Mount Crater.  Mother of a son and a daughter, and grandmother of two grandsons, Greene resides in Columbus, Ohio.  An award-winning artist, an exhibition of some of her artwork can be viewed at www.gallery-llgreene.com.In the year of 2000, Greene wrote the original draft of the murder mystery/historical novel, “Jesus Gandhi Oma Mae Adams,” a manuscript that evolved into a co-authorship with Debra Shiveley Welch, and upon its release an Amazon best-seller.  Greene has written two additional books in the Oma Mae Adams series, a murder mystery titled, “My ‘Aumakua” [In Hawaiian, “A Spirit Guide”], and a story of an expat-American who finds new meaning in life, as well as love, while on a spiritual odyssey in Australia, titled Garden of the Spirits of the Pots .  Both books are in queue with her publisher and scheduled for future release. [image error] Greene’s current novel, GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS has inspired two other books on which she is currently working, one of them a non-fiction sequel to the novel titled, “I Received Your Letter …,” as well as Bussy Gaffin and His Champion Roosters , a book for young readers.  Other than the book for young readers, excerpts of Greene’s current and future books can be found at www.booksbylindaleegreene-llgreene.com.  Contact Information:Link to Jesus Gandhi Oma Mae Adams> http://www.amazon.com/Linda-Lee-Green...Link to GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS > http://amzn.to/PUOXl9Facebook Author Page:  https://www.facebook.com/#!/LindaLeeGreeneAuthorTwitter:  @LLGreeneAuthorBlog:  http://Ingoodcompanyohio.blogspot.comAmazon Author Page:  https://www.amazon.com/author/lindaleegreeneEmail:  lindaleegreene.author.artist@gmail.comAlso find Linda Lee Greene on Goodreads and LinkedIn  

Back To Reality?

A misty fog creeps over off of the water and onto the deck of the cruise ship. You cling tight to the railing as the ship's horn blast with an ear deafening blow, announcing the entire world your vessel is nearby. You clutch your coat around you. A light breeze slides the fog around you.

The horn paused and Tasha's voice comes over the loud speaker, "Good evening, everyone. I hope you enjoyed your sleep. They may be a slight discomfort as we return to our world such as headaches, nausea and disorientation. Do not be alarmed. It will go away as your body adjust. The date is November 1st, 2012. We have been gone for a month and a half. I'm sorry for the inconvenience. I had no idea the exp...uhm....trip! would take so long. Please note Dalton and I will make certain you are still able to visit every destination on your tour schedule. You just might not be able to return to your normal lives until February." The crowd grumbles and complains.  You were only suppose to be on this tour for three months not half a year! What have you gotten yourself into? You can't even recall what had happened to you during the time you were gone. And what did Tasha mean when she almost said experiment? You didn't now the ROTC even conducted experiments. Was she even in the ROTC at all? Your clutch the railing as your head spins. In the distance, you see the fog slowly clearing as the cruise ship approaches the horizon. Something mysterious beckons you towards the castle ruins in the distance. You swear you see someone on the shoreline dressed in white. You blink your eyes, look again and see the person has disappeared.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dalton's voice booms with authority over the loud speaker. The other passengers begin to slowly settle down. "Tasha and I are not going to permit anyone to cause a riot on this boat. We assure you we will return you to your normal lives. We have placed copies of yourselves wherever you live so no one knows you are missing. You will be able to return to your normal lives after the tour is over. Now please, Tasha and I want you to enjoy this trip and we need your cooperation, especially in this location. These are dangerous waters. Once we dock we will all meet on dock and we will be traveling with special forces. They are not a threat to you but travel with us in order to protect you. You have fifteen minutes before we dock."

Dalton's voice ends abruptly. Special forces? What on earth did you get yourself into and what was waiting for you on the mysterious land?


Castle Driveway by Capt'  Gorgeous @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/ben_salt...


“Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will…and leave something of the happiness you bring.” –Dracula, Bram Stoker (1897)
Bram Stoker never came here, but he describes our homeland well in his novel. The Carpathians are beautiful in an otherworldly way. I often sit and watch the way the mists swirl around the jagged mountain peaks; the colors of the sunset shift and the mist grows darker as night falls. It soothes and haunts my soul by turns.
Vlad and I fell in love in 1448, when he returned from Turkey to claim his father’s throne in Tirgoviste. We didn’t stay there long. War and political intrigue made him a nomad prince, and we traveled to Sibiu, Brasov, and back to Tirgoviste. When we returned to Tirgoviste in 1456, a brilliant comet lit up the sky for several days. Its image was printed on our coins to commemorate his return as Prince of Wallachia. I hoped we’d stay there, but war came to us again, and we had to move on. People often think the grand Castle Bran outside Brasov belonged to Vlad. We stayed there sometimes, but it wasn’t one of his castles. He eventually established one in Bucharest, which later became the capital of Romania. It was a lovely home, and is still nestled in the busy streets of the city. The castle that I know best, however, is high above the Arges River, deep in the wilderness of the Carpathians—Poenari Fortress.
The commanding view from Poenari overlooks the most beautiful aspects of the Carpathians. The dense forests, the sharp mountain peaks, and the silver ribbon of a river flowing through. It’s quite cold in the fortress perched atop the ridge of the steep mountain, even in summer. The hearths burned day and night. We drank plum brandy and would sometimes sit outside late at night, admiring the magnificent sight of the full moon over the river, the stars so abundant and bright that they were visible all the way down behind the treetops. For me, the poignancy of the fortress will never fade. Of course, you may realize by now that this tour is being led by a ghost. Poenari has long since fallen to ruin, yet for me, it will always be my home. The people in a nearby village renamed the Arges after me; now they call it Riul Doamnei, the river of the princess. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier; I am Ecaterina Floari. I was so happy to see guests I forget myself. It’s rare to see anyone here at the top of the mountain.
There have been many stories told about us over the centuries. Some are true, some are just myths. I invite you to read the history of my life with Vlad as I tell it, in The Veiled Mirror: The Story of Prince Vlad Dracula’s Lost Love. I thank you for joining me and hope you enjoy the rest of your journey. 

Christine Frost graduated from UMass in 1994, and a master’s degree in literature and creative writing from Harvard Extension School in 2008. Having worked as a beer and mead brewer and an international sales assistant for a record label, she eventually found her career in the world of words, becoming an editor, writer of historical fiction, and teaching assistant for college-level literature courses. She’s happily ensconced in a place overcrowded with books in Boston with her husband, and is preparing for the release of her second novel, Dark Lady of Doona. 
Author blog: http://www.herravendomain.com The Veiled Mirror: The Story of Prince Vlad Dracula’s Lost Love
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/7942
Paperback and Kindle edition on Amazon.com

It's #NaNoWriMo Time.

[image error] The #dailyarsenal for NaNoWriMo over lunch breaks
 by mpclemens at http://www.flickr.com/photos/mpclemen..., sweet November. Fall has come and writers everywhere anticipate their favorite holiday. Thanksgiving? No silly, NaNoWriMo. NaNo huh? National Novel Writing Month. Thirty days of emotional writing rollercoaster ride.

 
Did I forget the mention the goal was to write 50,000 words by November 30?


The National Novel Writing Month is an international event where thousands of writers gather in front of their computer screen, spending countless of hours trying to write the first draft of their novel. Since it's conception by Chris Baty and twenty-one of his friends in 1999, the movement has grown to include thousands of participants worldwide. NaNoWriMo is in its fourteenth year and is still going strong. Many of the novels written in NaNoWriMo have been published by well known and respected publishing houses as well as small presses. There is a large list of published NaNo novels on the NaNoWriMo website that you can find here.


So how does NaNoWriMo work?
It's simple. Here are the rules.
1) You can plan for your writing adventure by creating outlines and character sketches.
2) You cannot start writing before midnight November 1st. No cheating.
3) In order to win the competition you must have written and uploaded your 50,000 words by 11:59pm of November 30th.
4) No editing. Just keep writing. You can polish your masterpiece after NaNo.
5) HAVE FUN!!!

Sounds simple enough, right?  Are you ready to take the plunge?

By: hjconti @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/hjconti/...

Here are some tips and tricks to survive NaNo.

Attend Your Region's Kick-Off Party. 
This social gathering is great for any writer who is participating in NaNo because you get to meet other writers in your area trying to do the same thing you are - write. The friends you make at party will be there every step of the way to encourage you. Remember this is supposed to be a fun thing to do. So have fun with your other writers.

Attend Your Region's Write-Ins
A write in is an event in NaNo where you bring your laptop, paper, pen and headphones to the predetermined location. You gather with your fellow writers, socialize and write. You can find these events in your region after you have joined a region on the NaNoWriMo website. Sometimes regions will host a virtual and physical write-in at the same time. This way all participants in the region can participate without having to leave their location if they cannot get to the write-in location.

Connect With Other NaNo Writers
If your region doesn't have a kick-off party or write ins you can still gain friendship and support from other writers via Facebook. There are several NaNo groups online. You can also participate via the forums on the NaNoWriMo website.


By: NaNoWriMo sticker by pottered4dwzei Plan A Time To Write And Stick To It
Writing a novel takes dedication and commitment. Set a block of time in your daily schedule for writing and commit to it. It doesn't have to be done all at once. Just an hour or two a day. I set aside a couple of hours when I get up in the morning to do my NaNo writing. Once you commit to a time tell everyone you know not to disturb you during this time period. You're a novelist at work. No distractions - no social media sites, tv, phone calls, text, you get the picture.

Plan Ahead!
Write your outline and character sketches before you start writing.

Use A NaNoWri Calendar
These are wonderful! In order to meet your goal of 50,000 words you need to write at least 1,667 words a day. NaNoWriMo calendars are easy to find just by conducting a Google Search. I downloaded one and have it set as my wallpaper. Everyday on the calendar it lists the total or words your novel should have by the end of that day. Sometimes the calendars include motivational messages and dares.

NaNoWriMo also charts your progress as you progress through the month. Make certain to upload your word count at the end of each day and keep track of your progress on paper as well.

When Your Stuck Use A Dare And/Or A Sprint
A dare is any idea someone else has submitted for you to include in your novel. These can be regional, national or international dares. Some are so outlandishly funny you want to include them in your book.

A sprint is when you and/or other people write consecutively for 10, 15, 20 or 30 minutes. At the end of the allotted time you count your words and announce your total to your friends who had participated with you.

HAVE FUN!!!!

There's Just Something About That Man.

[image error] Down the barrel of John Wilkes Booth derringer that killed Abraham Lincoln
By dctim1@ http://www.flickr.com/photos/23165290... teaches us John Wilkes Booth died at Garret's Barn. But did he? Nate Orlowek doesn't think so. Catch his theory in my new book, Reflections, and be ready to be amazed at the untold stories around the mysterious death of John Wilkes Booth

BLOG TOUR ON HOLD

Hey everyone. The Cruisin with Allison Blog Tour is on hold until mid October. My husband and I are moving to Louisville. In the meantime feel free to check out the other posts on my blog site. If you have any questions please leave them in the comment box below. 
Thank you,
Allison

Time To Travel To Tea Tree Falls

[image error] Your clothes stick to your skin as sweat pours off your face. The large roots of the trees finger out into swamp arching in all different directions as if the tree was clawing the moist dirt under the water trying to stay afloat. Strange sounds echo all around you. The ship slowly glides up the river deeper into the swamp infested lands. "Look ma," a child yells, pointing at something in the water. A crocodile stares back at you. You gulp thinking of all those shows you watched on the discovery channel. It may be small but you know it could kill you in a heart beat.
"Attention passengers!" You heart jumps at the sound of Tasha's voice over the speaker. The crocodile seems to grin back at you then disappears under the water. "We will be arriving to our destination shortly. Please be certain to wear loose clothing and bring the water bottles we gave you this morning. You will need to stay hydrated. It's a hot day today and we don't want any of you becoming dehydrated. Thank you."
You peer into the Cruisin' With Allison backpack, pull out your sunscreen and generously place it all over your exposed skin. Your two full water bottles sit nestled in the pouches on both sides of your backpack. You put the sunscreen away, pull out the baseball cap with your favorite team logo on it, pace it on then throw the sunscreen in the bag. You sip your bag up and place it on. Wherever you are. You're ready for another adventure.

[image error] By Jeff Gunn @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeffgunn...

My friends call me Jess or Jessie, and I’m back in the Northern Territory after many years away. My feelings about this place are mixed, and if you read my story you’ll find out why. But let me show you around so you can make your own mind up.Tea Tree Falls is a jumble of buildings scattered around the railway line. The locals joke that you can see the train coming a day before it arrives and that isn’t so much of an exaggeration. A wavering apparition, splintered by dust and heat, hangs in the distance for an age, calling a warning long before anyone needs to be warned, eventually chugging up to the battered shack that passes for the station. Within sight of the Stuart Highway but beyond the noise of the thundering roadtrains, Tea Tree  Falls skirts the edge of the savannah that stretches south and east. There’s a general store, a tiny police station, no bigger than a workman’s hut, and an old barn that serves as a cinema on Sunday nights. The hotel, where I used to work, is still the only pub in town, though the wooden façade is weathered and peeling now, the name-board faded. Inside the bar, it’s quiet and still. Ceiling fans stir the torpid air. Half a dozen men, in creased shorts and sweaty singlets, prop up the long bar. Silent and lugubrious, they pull at their beers, their floppy bush hats pushed to the backs of their heads, their boots large at the end of their bare legs. The barmaid shuffles in my direction. I remember feeling that same lethargy myself, when I pulled pints here, eighteen years ago. The heat, the humidity, the sleepy atmosphere, all contribute to a drowsy hypnotic state. Let’s order a beer and watch as the ice-cold liquid rises up the glass. Thirst is a constant, out here; beer slips down like water.Oh these silent afternoons. Days when the heat is so intense no one can be bothered to speak. And yet it isn’t just the heat. There’s something else too. Some inertia hanging over the whole place, making anything other than daydreaming impossible. I worked through many afternoons like this. Afternoons when it seemed like a spell had been cast over the town, the inhabitants bewitched, as if they waited, like characters in a fairy tale, to be woken from their trance by the kiss of a prince.I remember one day when we were all awoken abruptly—the day Billy Doyle rode into the bar on a chestnut mare. Billy was a big red-haired man. He waved his hat and stood up in his stirrups, almost touching the tobacco-stained ceiling, in danger of being decapitated by the juddering fan. At once, the bar was in uproar, the air filled with laughter and ribald comments.Billy Doyle worked for Jamie Mulvahy out at the MacIntyre. Jamie himself slipped into the bar a few paces behind his rowdy roustabout. ‘Sorry ’bout all this,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t stop the ol’ so and so.’ ‘Not to worry.’ I said. ‘It’s livened us all up, anyway.’ Billy was having trouble getting the horse moving through the bar. ‘Come on ya useless lump o’ horsemeat!’ he yelled. ‘Move yer arse, will yer!’ The horse reared and whinnied. ‘Pour us a couple o’ beers,’ Jamie said. ‘Back in a tick.’ And he went to assist, leading the spooked horse firmly around the bar, across the verandah and out into the dusty central courtyard. The noise level increased then as the men started to remind each other of previous outrages Billy Doyle had perpetrated. Like the time he brought the baby crocodile in. The croc had hidden behind the jukebox. ‘Took a half hour o’ Slim Dusty records to get the poor little b*****d out!’ one of the regulars said. Oh Billy was a right drongo—they were all agreed on that—but he provided bonza entertainment. The rest of that afternoon sped past in a flood of stories and jokes. By the time I went off duty, my jaw ached from laughing, and my arm from pulling pints. I poured myself a beer and took it outside to catch the last rose-pink glow of the evening. Leaning back in my chair, I drank most of it down in one swallow.That was when Jamie came over. ‘Looks like that one didn’t touch the sides.’ he said. ‘Can I get you another?’ And of course I said yes.
[image error] Do you want a free book? Comment below today and you will automatically win a free copy of The Land Beyond Goodbye. This offer is only available until the end of September 2012. 
THE LAND BEYOND GOODBYEby Barbara Scott Emmett

Amazon USA: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0057X66OE/
Amazon UK:   http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0057X66OE/
Smashwords:   http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/70428
How my time in the Northern Territory turned into THE LAND BEYOND GOODBYE:http://barbarascottemmett.blogspot.co.uk/2011/09/snakes-crocodiles-and-marriage.html

About The Author: [image error] Barbara Scott Emmett has been writing for a number of years and has had prizewinning short stories published in various anthologies and magazines. She’s also had articles, poems and a novel (THE MAN WITH THE HORN) published conventionally but is now embracing the ebook market. DON'T LOOK DOWN, a thriller set in Germany, THE LAND BEYOND GOODBYE, a novel set in Australia, and DROWNING - Four Short Stories, are available as ebooks at Amazon and Smashwords for Kindle and many other ereaders.
Website: https://www.facebook.com/barbarascottemmett.writerFacebook: http://www.emmettweb.co.uk/bse/index.htmlTwitter: @BSE_Writer

One Lovely Blog Award

[image error] I've been blessed to receive the One Lovely Blog award by Linda Bowers Bolton.  I want to thank Linda for nominating me for this award. Linda's blog can be viewed at lindabolton.blogspot.com

The One Lovely Blog Award was created in 2008 by Sara Faghani. There are several different types of badges for this award. I have some of them in this blog. Since I love to write about history I chose the one the left hand side of my blog. My blog is in the middle of a blog cruise where I feature authors from around the world. The cruise will end on December 2nd then my blog will go back to its normal routine. I love to blog about history, cultures from around the world and the untold stories. I haven't been blogging for a long time and I am truly blessed to have received my second blog award.

Here are the rules:

1) Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog.

2) Place the One Lovely Blog Award badge on your blog.

3)  Tell seven things about yourself.

4) Nominate fifteen other blogs for the award. List them with links to their blogs.

[image error]

Seven Things About Allison Bruning1) My favorite flower is the Rose. 
2) I am a Trekkie. Yes. I admit it. I use to be a die hard Trekkie in my youth. I can tell you Starfleet history. I've met Nichelle Nichols and Marina Sirtis before. I would eat, sleep and dream Star Trek. 
3) I would rather sleep in a tent than a hotel room any day while on vacation. 
4) I have been conducting genealogical research on my family since I was nine years old. (27 yrs. and counting). If I wanted to I could teach on genealogy or do it for others as a business. 
5) I was on the dance team at Sul Ross State University and served as co-captain on their flag corp.
6) I sang competitively in my high school choir.
7) Most of my stories are inspired from actual events that happened in my family's history.  

[image error] I hereby nominate........

1) Aurora Martinez delarosasreviews.blogspot.com
2) Anjie  Harrte http://authoranjieharrte.blogspot.com
3) Ellie Mack http://quotidiandose.wordpress.com/
4) Krystol Diggs http://krystoldiggspublishing.blogspot.com
5) Stacey Beach https://beacheswriter.wordpress.com
6) Ashley Woodruff http://slingindaink.blogspot.com
7) Starla Brunson http://www.livingwithimaginaryfriends.com
8)Madison Johns http://mysterywritermadisonjohns.blogspot.com 
9) Vickie Johnston http://vickiejohnstone.blogspot.co.uk
10) Jane Carroll http://www.janecarrollblog.blogspot.com
11) Lynne Cantwell http://hearth-myth.blogspot.com
12) Tara Chevrestt http://wwwbookbabe.blogspot.com
13)Rasana Atreya http://rasanaatreya.wordpress.com
14) Coral Russell http://alchemyscrawl.com
15) Jennifer Don http://awakeningpassion.blogspot.com

Swan Song

The smell of saltwater fills the air as the ship docks in a wharf close to a small village. The boat suddenly jerks as the crew lay down the anchor. You have no idea where on earth you are but wherever it is it certainly is beautiful. "Ladies and Gentlemen, if you would all make your way to the left side of the boat we can begin our tour. Thank you,"Dalton says in the loudspeaker. You place your jacket on and head to the other side of the boat awaiting anxiously for your next adventure.


[image error] Ngawi, Wairarapa, New Zealand, 25th. Jan. 2011By Phillip C @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/flissphi...


The door opened to reveal a larger-than-life-size swan perched on a wharf before a bustling village. The swan had tiny human hands sticking out from its wingtips, and wore an intricately-knitted vest around its shoulders. It opened its beak and a tenor voice said, “Hi, everyone. Welcome to Swansdown. I’m Kyl Swan.” It – he – swept one wing in an arc behind him. “My brothers and sister and I founded the business.”
Others on the tour gasped, and someone said, “Surely you don’t mean that. You would be more than two centuries old!”
The swan nodded. “Quite a bit more, actually. We’re in our eight hundred ninetieth year as swans. Our stepmother cursed us when we were children. Let’s move on. Watch your step up the ramp.” He took flight and landed before a stock pen as we followed him up the rise on foot.
“Ah, you’re in luck,” he said. “It’s shearing season, and the work has just begun.” We watched for a few minutes as several young men caught, sheared, and released a bleating sheep.
“From here,” Kyl Swan told us over the racket, “the wool is washed, then carded and dyed. When we first began, my sister Neeve did all of that by hand. But more than two hundred years ago, we began offering positions to poor women from the mainland. It has worked out well for both parties. The women receive jobs and a healthy environment for raising their children. In exchange, we have been able to grow our business to the point where Swansdown knits are known everywhere for their warmth and high quality.”
He turned as a curious-looking woman approached. She was fully human except for her head and neck, which were that of a swan. She, too, wore a beautifully knitted garment – a dress – featuring colorful Swansdown designs. “Here’s Neevie now,” Kyl told us. “She will take you on the next portion of the tour.” He gestured grandly with a wing, his hand upturned toward the swan woman.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome,” Neeve Swan said in a sweet soprano voice as she gave Kyl a hug. “We’ll take a quick look at the carding operation before moving on to the spinning room. I won’t subject you to the dyeing – it’s quite a bit smellier than the sheep pen.” She spoke gravely, but some in the group laughed.
We followed Neeve past a building with a large window, where a huge drum covered with wire teeth rotated, combing the wool fibers into what Neeve called roving. The wool then passed along a conveyor belt to a neighboring building from which, even at a distance, a strong chemical smell emanated. Another conveyor belt took the dyed roving to a third building, where Neeve halted the group in front of another large window. We could see several women inside, hard at work at spinning wheels. At the far end, a woman sat before a huge loom, weaving cloth from some of the spun yarn. “Do you export the cloth?” someone asked.
Neeve shook her swan head. “Not really. We weave very little cloth, and most of it is used here on the island. Now over there” – she waved toward a fourth building – “is where the real magic
happens. That’s where our knitters turn the wool into sweaters, vests, hats, scarves, and socks – everything Swansdown is famous for.” She began walking toward the building as she said over her shoulder, “Watching someone else knit is about as interesting as watching grass grow, so we won’t stay long. Ah, Ken, join us. Ladies and gentlemen, my brother Kennet.” She waved to a short man who waddled toward the group. He, too, had the head and neck of a swan, and his lower torso, legs, and feet had been transformed as well.
“Pleased to meet you,” Kennet said in a rich baritone. He patted Neeve’s shoulder and turned to our group. “Right, then, this way to the knitting shed. Then onto the carriages and to your lodgings. Our brother Corwin will meet you there after lunch for a tour of the amphitheater. Tomorrow, you’ll be at your leisure. I might suggest an expedition to the caves on the other side of the island. Yes?” he said, as a hand rose.
“Is it true what your brother said?” the owner of that hand asked. “You’re all really eight hundred ninety years old?”
The Swans exchanged looks. “It is,” Neeve confirmed. “And the curse has another ten years to run.”
“What happens then?” the questioner persisted.
“We don’t know,” Kennet said. “Enjoy your stay on Swansdown, and don’t forget to pick up your free pair of mittens on your way home.”

[image error]
***
Where to buy SwanSong: Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/SwanSong-ebook/dp/B005JKRN60
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/82966
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/swansong-lynne-cantwell/1105160552?ean=2940011471193&format=nook-book
***
Lynne Cantwell grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan. She worked as a broadcast journalist for many years; she has written for CNN, the late lamented Mutual/NBC Radio News, and a bunch of radio and TV news outlets you have probably never heard of, including a defunct wire service called Zapnews. Lynne’s vast overeducation includes a journalism degree from Indiana University, a master’s degree in fiction writing from Johns Hopkins University, and a paralegal certificate. She currently lives near Washington, DC. Visit her blog: http://hearth-myth.blogspot.com.



Comment today and be entered for a chance to win a copy of Lynn's book on September 16!

Something Strange in Small Town USA

The mid morning sun shine brightly upon the small town of Wilding Springs, Pennsylvania. It's so quiet here you feel as if you had stepped into Mayberry. Small town USA. So quiet and quaint you can't imagine anything unusual happening around here but Tasha and Dalton had said you would be surprise what can happen in a small town.
You sit on the bench with your shopping bags and peer into your wonderful homemade goodies. If its one thing you love about this tour is all the wonderful souvenirs you've picked up along the way. You hear the sound of children laughing before you, place your bag down and watch as a group of children play. Your fellow passengers weave in and out of the small town's stores. You bet the population has doubled since you and your friends arrived to town a few hours ago. This must be the most commotion the town has seen in a long time.
You smile, lean back and think about the trip you had last night. After dinner on the farm, you and and your friends headed back to Charleston, South Carolina where you all boarded the ship. Somewhere between the trip from Charleston to the entrance of Chesapeake Bay you had fallen asleep. When you arose the ship was making its way inland towards the Maryland - Pennsylvania line. You had wondered just how far up river this ship could take you and just where exactly were you going? Just as you had finished your thought the ship docked. Tasha had informed everyone they would be traveling via bus to Wilding Springs, Pennsylvania. Like most small towns on the East Coast, you had never heard of it.
You rise from your bench as you watch Dalton and Tasha gather everyone into a large group. You decide to join them. A few moments later your group is silent. There is a young woman standing beside Dalton. Tasha turns to their guest and introduces her. "Everyone this is Sydlynn Hayle and she is going to show you around."

[image error] Photo of Northampton, Mass.
Taken by 6SN7 @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/47800690...

Um… Hi. Mom was supposed to be here to give you the official coven tour, but she had a cookie baking… incident. So I guess you’re stuck with me.I’m Syd, her daughter, nice to meet you all. Welcome to our coven’s newest home, Wilding Springs. We haven’t been here long, there’s a shocker right? Because, you know, covens move a lot. Weird stuff happens, stuff involving the neighbors and quick moves in the middle of the night to a whole new state so no one gets arrested.Yours doesn’t? Twenty years in one town, really? We have to leave, like, all the time.Oh. Kay. Moving right along then…So, we’re starting in the center of town. Picturesque here, isn’t it? Kind of like what you’d expect from a historic novel or something. Look at the perfect prettiness of the trees, the leaves still green. How there are lovely flower boxes on every doorstep. The weather here is still perfect, warm during the day, cooler at night. Wilding Springs seems like a typical small town, doesn’t it? I have to admit, I find it so perfect it’s a little creepy. Oh, you noticed, too? This place is so clean it sparkles. Look at the old brick buildings filling the historic downtown, trimmed in pristine white. The cobbled stones all the way down main street, perfectly maintained even though they’ve been here for a hundred years or something. See these cute shops stuffed with trinkets from local artists, homemade baked goods and touristy bits lining the picture quality little town square. You’d like to stop and shop? Maybe later. We on a schedule.Meanwhile, as you can tell, there’s not a mall to be seen, the closest one a twenty-minute ride on the interstate. Any outward appearance of modern life hides gently behind history and tasteful cheer. It reminds me so much of a movie set I keep looking around for the camera crew. Okay, right here, near town hall. You feel that? Makes me shiver every time. This is the first town we’ve lived in that has an air of the supernatural all its own. I know my mom checked it before our last move, but I can’t help get the feeling we live in the land of make-believe.Wave to the nice residents. Even they are too much, their lives too charming, their homes gingerbread cutouts of cuteness, scrolling detail at eave and doorway. See how each neat, tidy lawn is freshly mowed, the people friendly to a fault?Yeah. Keep waving.That’s the local teen hangout, Johnny’s, great place for burgers and shakes if you’re hungry later, as long as you don’t mind a 50’s diner.Wilding Springs High is next, not much to look at. You’ve seen one big, square, brick school you’ve seen them all. What? Blushing? Why would I be blushing? I’m not staring at the gorgeous blonde football king Brad Peters—Moving along now. Before he sees me with you.Okay, sorry this took so long. Here we are in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, there’s a lot of weeds. Watch your step over the ward lines, don’t want to accidentally trigger the family protections, do you? I’d like to stay here for a while if you don’t mind. Perfect. This is our coven site, not much to look at I know, just a big empty clearing surrounded by trees. We try to keep our ritual sites outside every town to avoid suspicion. At least it’s a nice day. It really sucks here when it’s raining.Happy now? Great. Let’s head back to my house to see Mom. Cookies? She promised you cookies? Um… yeah. You do know Mom’s a bit cookie challenged, right? No? I’m doing the tour and she’s not because she’s probably still in battle with the batch of chocolate chips demanding world domination.Cookies. We’ll see about that. [image error]  This tour is based characters from the Hayle Coven Novels, book one, Family Magic. Find out more at  http://bit.ly/FamilyMagic
Enter a comment below to Patti and be entered automatically for a chance to win books 1 and 2 of her Hayle Coven novels! The winner will be announced tomorrow at noon. 

[image error] About the Author: Patti Larsen is an award-winning middle grade and young adult author with a passion for the paranormal. Her YA thriller series, The Hunted, is available now. Book one of that series, RUN, is a recent recipient of the 2012 PEI Book Awards for Fiction. Eight books of her very popular Hayle Coven Novels, beginning with Family Magic, are also out now. Her YA steampunk series, Blood and Gold, can be found on Amazon, along with her YA paranormal novel, Best Friends Forever, and The Diamond City Trilogy. Her middle grade novel, The Ghost Boy of MacKenzie House (Acorn Press), is available now. She is a full time writer and a part time teacher of her Get Your Book Done program. Patti lives on the East Coast of Canada with her very patient husband and four massive cats.




You can find her:
On her website www.pattilarsen.comOn Facebook www.facebook.com/pattilarsenauthorOn Twitter www.twitter.com/#!/PattiLarsenOn Amazon.com and Goodreads

A South Carolinian Treat

[image error] The sun tries to peer out of the clouds as the hay wagon you are riding upon slowly makes it way down the gravel road. The fresh scent of rain enters  your nose. Who could have imagined you would be taking a hayride in the middle of upstate South Carolina? You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. The sound of laughter comes from behind you. You turn and pay closer attention to the conversation. "How long has your family owned a cattle ranch, Dalton," a heavy set man asks cradling his camera. "Since 1800. That was forty-five years before Texas became a state. Back then Texas was part of Spain. My father's family was one of the first Spanish colonists to the area. He wants me to take over the business when he retires. I just love it ranching. I'm glad we're visiting a farm today. I've never been on one before just ranches.""Dalton," you ask. He turns towards you. "How long are we going to stay on the farm. You said this morning due to the rain our visit was delayed. It's almost 2pm now." "We can't stay long. We have a schedule to maintain and Tasha is all about staying on schedule.""Thank you." Dalton nods then rejoins the conversation with your friends. You glance at the two wagons that are traveling behind you then peer up at the cloudy sky. You hope the rain decides to stay away. Hmm, you wonder. If the ship can dry dock, travel through time and transport you somewhere why can't it control the weather too? You turn back to Dalton. "Did you make the rain stop," you ask.Dalton chuckles. "No. What makes you think that?""Your ship can do many things. I thought perhaps it could do that too.""Unfortunately, that is something the ship has no control over.""Ah, so it does have a flaw."Dalton leans towards you and whispers. "We don't like to mention those."You smile as he leans back. This trip is getting more interesting each day. You wonder what other flaws there might be. 

[image error]

"Welcome to the farmhouse. Glad to see you're the back door kind of folks. My name's Cynda Avery. I'll be showin' you around, since Daniel's at work. Three generations of De Marcos have lived here, but it was Daniel's mama Cammie who had the place painted yellow. I love the color, it reminds me of sunshine.""Things weren't too sunny in my life when I first saw this old two-story clapboard house.  My grandmother was in debt to a loan shark 'cause she was old and upset and made a bad decision 'bout borrowin' money from him. That man—his name's Kingsley Dazza—told me if I wanted to stop him from throwin' her into the street and takin' her house, I'd need to talk Daniel into sellin' some of his land. Because Dazza's an evil bastard, he recommended I try doin' that on my back, if you know what I'm sayin'.  Then he put a dog collar and leash on me, drove me out here, and tied me to the hitch on Daniel's truck.""When Daniel picked me up and carried me into this house, I couldn't stop lookin' around, even if those handprints he put on my butt were still stingin'. The high ceilings, the china plates set on a rack on the wall, the glassed in porch off the kitchen filled with plants, all told me this man didn't need the money for sellin' no land."I didn't have no other options to save my grams' house, though, so we made a deal. I'd give him what any man wants from a woman if he'd give me an hour a day to try'n talk him into sellin' King that land he wanted. I knew I'd have to figure out what he needed more'n money, but to be honest, I wasn't expectin' the kind of kinky stuff Daniel's into. Lord, the man can think up some wild ways to—I guess I prolb'ly don't know y'all well enough to get into that.""I love the stuff in this house, the old furniture that's been in his family for generations. It all looks to me like somethin' you'd see in a museum or on a movie set, like this huge oak hall tree.  While most folks would hang their coats and hats on the big brass hooks, the men in this family like to tie the occasional misbehavin' woman to it. It's even bolted to the wall for that reason, and I know from personal experience it won't topple over when you get tied to it. Come into Daniel's office and take a look at his big old walnut roll top desk. All those pigeon holes are holdin' paperwork for the family farm. Eight hundred acres can make for a lot of notes and records, but the desk held onto a secret for over twenty-seven years till I came along and accidentally knocked the side panel off.""After y'all look around upstairs at all the bedrooms, the nursery, and even the attic if you're like me and love to nose around in people's old trinkets, I'll take you up the mountain so you can see the orchards and the old migrant camp. De Marco Farms used to be the biggest commercial peach orchard in South Carolina, but after his mama disappeared, Daniel's daddy opened up the garage where the three brothers work now. I'll just go check on his English Setter, Daisy, and her new pup Jacques while y'all make yourselves at home." 
[image error] By Karen Blaha (Flickr: Peach orchard in bloom)
[CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/b...)], via Wikimedia Commons 
"Ready to go see the orchards? The varieties at the top of the mountain are late-bloomin, so there's some peaches you can taste, right off the tree. You'll want to try this variety Daniel's grandpa invented called the Dark Beauty peach. See how the flesh inside is all dark red almost right out to the skin? I'm real partial to it, it tastes like a cross between a pomegranate and a peach, but Lord Almighty, does the fuzz on it make you itch. That fuzz brought tears to my eyes, but that might be because Daniel rubbed it on me in places I can't mention in polite society. There's an old quarry pond where y'all can go swimmin' to cool off if you want, or wash the fuzz off your hands."
"After you all eat your fill, we'll double back so you can see the old camp that used to house migrant workers. Unlike the other peach farmers 'round here, Daniel's grandfather built them nice cabins to stay in. Maybe that's why the man don't seem to mind bein' seen out in public with a black woman like me on his arm. See, this state can still be kinda backwards 'bout interracial datin'. The Klu Klux Klan still has a couple of active klaverns here, too. Maybe when you came into town, you drove past the old courthouse? I got arrested at a Klan rally held on the front lawn there, but instead of kickin' me out after I got released, Daniel took care of my legal problems the same way he takes care of the rest of the problems in his family or his business."
"I hate y'all have to go so soon. I was hopin' we could go back to the house and grab a tall glass of sweet tea and talk while we wait for Daniel to come home, but Tasha says you have another destination to set sail for, so it was sure nice meetin' y'all. Come back any time."



ABOUT THE AUTHOR - EDEN CONNER [image error] Most of my stories are set where I live, in South Carolina, so expect the handsome stranger to come equipped with a slow southern drawl.

I'm addicted to hazelnut creamer, I like the music of Motown and when not writing about characters behaving badly, I take a stab at the occasional needlepoint canvas.

I use my B.A. in Psychology to write contemporary erotic romances filled with characters you can love, making decisions you can respect. EdenConnor's blog


Wildly Inappropriate is available for pre-order at SilverPublishing, and will be available soon on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance.