Susanne Matthews's Blog, page 10
November 21, 2019
Come Home for Christmas Revised and Improved!
Photo by Hert Niks on Pexels.com
Good morning! As I’ve grown as a writer, I’ve often examined my older works and thought, I could make this better if I wanted to. This Christmas, I chose to do just that to one of my early books, Come Home for Christmas. The seeds were all there, but the story needed fleshing out. There were too many things that were mentioned, but never fully explained. So, I decided to do just that.
Here’s the blurb:
This past year has been a miserable one for Krista Jacobs, and what’s going to make it even worse is having to spend Christmas at Seven Oaks, the Alberta ranch that was her home until her uncle tossed her out on her ear before her nineteenth birthday. But Uncle Charles is gone and has left her something in his will—something she can only have if she [image error]spends Christmas at the ranch with Ethan Terrance, her step-cousin, and the man she’d hoped to marry ten years ago.
When Charles Terrance died, the last thing Ethan expected to discover was that not only had his dad sabotaged his relationship with Krista, he’d cheated her out of the inheritance that should’ve been hers ten years ago. Since Ethan’s never been able to forget the woman he loved, he’ll do whatever he has to in order to make things right—including having his lawyer send her a request she can’t ignore. Krista has to come home for Christmas.
So what did I change? Well, to start, I gave you a peek at what had made Krista’s year a truly miserable one by letting you get to know her ex, Russian-born hockey player, Theo.
Then, I explained what had motivated her Uncle Charles to treat her so badly ten years ago.
After that, I fleshed out the scope of Charles Terrance’s crime.
Finally, I added a little touch of suspense when Theo shows up to take Krista home.
All in all, the revised story gives the readers more of what they were looking for, a Christmas miracle.
So, why not check it out for yourself? Come Home for Christmas is available at all Amazon online stores and is free to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Universal link:
Christmas Romance
November 18, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From the Word FUDGE
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Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog where authors share scenes from their current works in progress with you. I continue to share from my historical/romance/suspense, The Price of Courage, The Canadiana Series, Book Two. This week’s word is FUDGE.
Last week, Izzy and Guy set off on a trek to Quebec City to inform the governor about a new threat to New France and its colonists. Let’s join them on their first rest stop.
Enjoy!
“Luc will have a look around while Felix makes a fire and unpacks the meal Maman packed for us.”
Izzy frowned. “Make a fire? Here? With the snow coming down? That’s impossible.”
“Difficult? Perhaps. Impossible? No. Do you see that pine tree over on the right? We’ll be making our temporary camp there. Wait here while I help untie the items we’ll need.”
Guy went around to the back of the sleigh and helped Felix free the large pack filled with the items they would need. While he did, Luc strapped on snowshoes and headed into the bush to scout around the area they’d chosen as their campsite.
Despite the snow, they’d made good time. This area was familiar and had been used many times for this purpose. Donning snowshoes themselves, Felix picked up the pack and headed toward the sheltering tree while Guy returned to Sophie.
“Do you have some of those for me?” she asked.
“I do, but it would take too long now to show you how to use them.”
“Then how am I going to get from here to there in this deep snow?”
“Like this.” He scooped her up into his arms and chuckled. “There is a lot more of you, my love, today than yesterday.”
Carrying his precious bundle, he crossed the snow to the tree. By the time he got there, Felix had finished scooping out his fireplace and had the tinder on fire, feeding small branches into the flames. He set Izzy down on the hide Felix had spread.
“I’ll get some firewood for you,” he said. “Hand me the pot, and I’ll get snow to melt for tea.” He turned to his wife, her eyes glued on the small fire. “I’ll be right back. While I’m out, I’ll find you a privy.”
She nodded.
By the time her returned with the firewood, Luc was back with a brace of rabbits dangling from his belt.
“I see you stopped to hunt. Well done. We’ll offer the meat to our hosts tonight.”
“Maman sent along a batch of sucre à la crème to share with them as well,” Izzy offered. “She added walnuts to the fudge. Are you sure we won’t be imposing on the Emonds? The poor woman must have more than enough to do with six children to look after without needing to entertain us.”
Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.
Bonus for you this morning. Here’s a recipe for the typical French- Canadian fudge. Adding nuts is optional.
November 15, 2019
His Christmas Family Now Available for Pre-Order!
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Since losing his wife, children, and parents six years ago to a drunk driver, Lee Ostler stopped celebrating the holidays, especially Christmas. But he isn’t a modern day Scrooge by any means. Because his parents would’ve wanted it, he does his duty by his employees at Ostler Construction, the Payton Falls community, and his sister and her family, but that’s it.
When Sonia has to leave the country for a few weeks before Christmas, she begs him to watch the twins for her. Even if it means, parades, pageants, and fairs, how can he refuse? But things get complicated when the twins accidentally injure one of his employees, who turns out to be the shy girl he admired years ago in high school.
Life has dealt Laurie Wilson a lot of blows, but this year, the widowed mother of four has hit rock bottom. How will she give her children a magical Christmas when the cupboard’s bare, her wallet’s empty, she can’t work, and may well lose the roof over their heads? She needs a miracle, and if he happens to be her boss and the former high school quarterback she was too terrified to even speak to back then, how can she say no?
Can Christmas magic bring two broken souls together?
I look forward to the Hallmark Christmas movies each year. They always leave you with that feel good feeling that seems to personify the Christmas spirit. With that in mind, I decided to step outside my usual suspense box and write a sweet Christmas romance that had all of the qualities I loved.
If you love Hallmark-style Christmas movies, you’ll enjoy His Christmas Family, a heartwarming story of two lonely people, one broken on the outside, the other broken on the inside who find one another when they need it most. Universal link: http://bookShow.me/B081D4CZ76
Enjoy the free preview!
November 11, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From a Picture
[image error]Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales.
[image error]Yesterday was Remembrance Day, a day we honor our soldiers who fought to keep Canada safe. Both my mother and father are veterans. Although neither served overseas, they served here at home. That tradition continues with my grandchildren. My father was proud of them for following in his footsteps.
Cadets gives them an opportunity to learn the value of service and teaches other life skills they’ll need some day.
This is picture prompt week. The posts are limited to 300 words.[image error]
“And whom would you cuddled had I decided not to come? she teased.
Guy laughed. “No one. Had you decided to stay in the settlement, I would’ve sat back here and argued with Henri or taken my turn driving—something I may do anyway—although holding you will make the trek far more pleasant. Now, my love, are you ready to begin your grand adventure?”
“Being with you has been one adventure after another,” she said. “How many women with my past can claim to have done even a fraction of what I have, what we have? This is only another chapter in our lives, something to share some day with our son or daughter.”
Guy bent his head and captured her lips, filling her with the heat of his love. He ended the kiss, his lips moving mere inches from hers.
“I love you, Isabelle de Caan, now Izzy Poirier,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you from the moment we met. Even dressed as a boy, I recognized those gorgeous emerald eyes of yours and knew I was lost. I would’ve taken on the king’s army to protect you then; I’ll do no less now. You are my wife, my life. I thank God every day for sending you to me.”
Izzy swallowed the emotion threatening to choke her and leaned in closer to kiss him quickly. “I love you.” She took his free hand and touched it to her rounded stomach hidden under all the clothes she wore. “We love you.”
With the coming of morning, the landscape changed. Twice, they’d had to stop to move a snow-laden branch out of the way for them to pass. Cuddled in Guy’s arms, Izzy was safe and warm and anxious for the real adventure to begin.
That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
November 9, 2019
November Books of the Month: Christmas in the Air
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Christmas is in the air and November’s books of the month have been reduced to 99 cents USD to put you in the holiday mood. Meet Georgia and Eleni, twins with a difference–one fair, one dark, but both looking for love.
These books are concurrent. Holiday Magic tells Georgia’s story, while The Perfect Choice tells Eleni’s. If you’ve heard the expression, there are two sides to every story, this is the proof since in these books, you get to view some events through the eyes of both girls.
Holiday Magic:
Seeing is believing, or is it?
Georgia Baxter loved everything about Christmas until she walked in on her fiancé in bed with another woman. Wounded and heart sore, she canceled her Christmas Eve fantasy wedding and fled to New York City, leaving everything and everyone, including her twin sister, Eleni, behind.
Three years later, still hurting but knowing it’s time to move on, she agrees to come home to help her sister, despite the fact she’ll be doing so at a time of year she now associates only with pain and betrayal. Discovering she’ll have to work closely with the man who shattered her dreams only makes things harder, especially when her body craves his touch.
Mark Anderson has no memory of his bachelor party other than waking up naked in the wrong woman’s bed. He clings to the hope someday he can convince Georgia to give him a second chance, but until she’s ready to listen, it won’t happen. Discovering she’s coming home to manage Holiday Magic for three months may be his lucky break.
Is there enough magic left in Christmas to help them overcome the past?
The Perfect Choice
All’s fair in love and war…or is it?
Eleni Baxter has always been the impulsive twin requiring rescue from one scheme or another. Avoiding relationships because of trust issues, Eleni throws herself into her wedding and party fantasy firm, Holiday Magic. When her designs for a Halloween decorating scheme win her a shot at being the exclusive special events coordinator for the Ocean Front Casino Resort, she jumps at it, without reading the fine print. As always, twin sister Georgia comes to the rescue.
Reclusive millionaire casino owner Garth Joseph Smits Simmons has shunned publicity and gold-diggers for as long as he can remember, hiding behind a series of disguises to protect his identity. When beautiful, talented special events coordinator Eleni Baxter walks into his life, he’s determined to find a way to make her fall in love with him without revealing his true identity. Designing a contract to hire her and keep her in close proximity for three months seems like a stroke of genius, but having a double life becomes more complicated than ever.
With the holiday season in full swing, Joe decides it’s time to come clean, but will the magic of the holiday season be enough for Eleni to forgive him his deception, or will he lose it all on one throw of the dice?
Available from all Amazon retailers and free to read on KU!
Let the celebration begin!
November 4, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From the Word Howl
[image error]Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the blog where select authors share their work in progress with you. Each week, we write to a word or picture prompt. Word prompt scenes are limited to 400 words! This week the prompt is HOWL.
Enjoy!
Felix cracked the whip high above the horses’ backs, the sound resonating in the cold air, and the animals slowly moved out of the yard and down the lane heading to the northeastern gates of the palisade surrounding the city.
As Izzy’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the shapes of houses. Here and there, candlelight flickering through a bedroom window indicated someone was up with a sick child or an infant feeding. Life went on, no matter the dangers. When the passed Aux Trois Écus, she saw the faint glow of light coming from the inn’s kitchen. Marie was up, starting the soups and stews she would serve this day. Aline and Henri had probably chosen to do the same while Sophie would’ve returned to her bed.
Within minutes, the sleigh stopped at the closed gate. Guy got down from the sleigh and went inside to speak to the guards on duty. A few moments later, he returned. Izzy watched as two men in militia uniforms came out and opened the gate.
“Go through,” Guy called up to Felix. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”
The driver did as instructed and stopped just outside the gates.
Izzy shuddered. She wasn’t cold, but without Guy at her side, the enormity of what she was about to do swamped her. In the distance a wolf howled, the sound somehow louder and more poignant than it was from her bed. The snow Guy had predicted drifted down to her, fat snowflakes that danced on the wind and settled on the heavy, lined moose hide that covered her.
“Lift your feet,” Guy said, startling her. Caught between ice tongs, he held a large steaming stone. The corporal beside him had the same. “This will keep your feet warm for the day. Corporal Bernier used to do the same for long trips in France.”
Izzy raised her feet as the men settled the hot stones in the bottom of the sleigh. As instructed, she placed her booted feet upon them, instantly feeling the heat filling her.
Guy handed the tongs to the young militia man and smiled.
“Thank you for your suggestion. Even with the snow, we’ll be warm and comfortable now.”
He climbed into the sleigh, dragged the hide up over them, leaving only their heads above it, and put his arm around her, pulling her in close to his body.
That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
October 28, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From the Word BLACK
[image error]Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the blog where select authors share their work in progress with you. Each week, we write to a word or picture prompt. Word prompt scenes are limited to 400 words! This week the prompt is BLACK.
Enjoy!
Dressed in the voyageur trappings Guy had given her, Izzy bid a tearful goodbye to Sophie and Aline.
“Are you sure you have to go?” her mother-in -law asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Think of the baby.” The woman wrung her hands.
“Maman, a wife’s place is at her husband’s side. In these perilous times, we must present a confident, united front to our allies as well as to our enemies.” She pulled the woman to her and kissed her on both cheeks. “Henri will keep you and the inn safe, while Guy, Luc, and Felix Rouet will do the same for me. Now, go back inside before you catch cold. We’ll be back in eight weeks, nine at the latest.”
Henry put one arm around his wife and another around Sophie.
“Go with God,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “I would wish to be with you, but this makes more sense. I’ll keep an eye on them and the settlement. By the time you get back, spring will be right around the corner.” He pulled the women inside and closed the door to the house.
Izzy walked down from the wooden veranda and trudged through the snow to the waiting sleigh. Felix, one of the men who’d been in Guy’s unit and who now worked the land, a bachelor hoping to find a wife among the first boatload of girls from France, sat in the driver’s seat, with the Huron scout, Luc, by his side. Guy waited next to the sleigh with a small wooden bench to help her up. Oil lanterns on the veranda and in the hands of the men who would stay behind provided the only light. Not a moon nor any stars relieved the black sky.
“Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?” Guy asked, the wind blowing the mist of his words away. “We’ll have snow today, but we can’t delay. We’ll go as far as Richard Emond’s estate today. They’re expecting us by late afternoon. At least your first night will be a comfortable one.”
“Being by your side is all the comfort I need.”
She cupped his cheek and kissed him before stepping onto the stool and pulling herself up into the sleight.
“Sit behind the driver,” Guy said. “It will provide some protection from the driving snow.” He climbed in beside her and pulled the heavy robe over them. “On y va.”
That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
October 21, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From the Word PROMPT
Hello. Today is Election Day in Canada. By the time you read this, we may have a new Prime Minister, or the old one could get re-elected. The fun part is, no matter who wins, we will all suck it up, continue to be friends with one another–regardless of which way we voted, and settle into seeing how the new government can disappoint us. That’s what democracy and majority rule means to us. I win, you lose, let’s move on!
[image error]Welcome to another week of Tuesday Tales. Life is slowly returning to normal, and while I will always miss my father, I’m coping with it, working on the stories I know he would’ve loved. This week we have a word prompt again, and that word is prompt. How’s that for appropriate? Oh, and for those who wondered, Izzy woill be dressed something like this.
I continue with The Price of Courage. Enjoy.
[image error]Guy chuckled. “And they don’t have to. Besides, you could never grow the beard. Most of the time, we’ll be among friends where you’ll be free to be yourself and can wear the simple gowns you’ve packed for Quebec. On the road, the more you remain in character, the better. If we encounter trouble, Luc intends to pass you off as my half-Huron woman.”
“I don’t speak Huron. Surely you don’t expect me to stay silent.” She straightened her back, feeling the spots of anger burn her cheeks.
He shook his head. “If you’re questioned, I’ll feed you your answers or prompt you to speak, but you’ll have to temper your tongue, wife. Not all men are as patient and understanding as I am.”
Izzy, now far too warm dressed as she was, stamped her foot. “I will have my say. I’ll not be any man’s doormat.”
Guy pulled her into his arms.
“I could no longer keep you from speaking your mind than I could hold back the mighty Saint Lawrence River in springtime. I’m asking you to exercise caution. Many of the Huron have learned French from the missionaries, and if we do meet up with a band of trappers, they’ll accept you as my woman. Many of them have taken native wives. You’ll be armed with your musket and knife. While I should be with you, don’t hesitate to use them if you have to.” He released her. “Maman and Sophie have prepared a special feast for tonight. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Izzy nodded. “You’re sure they’ll be safe here?”
Guy smiled. “They will be, my little enchantress. Four of my most trusted men have arrived and three will stay inside the inn. The other comes with us instead of Henri. It was the only way to ensure Maman wouldn’t take in guests while we are gone. Three of my engagés from the estate have moved into the loft with Marcel, Jean, and Bernard. Unlike the men I’ve stationed at the barracks, they will remain here to protect the house. We’ll be gone six to eight weeks. By the time we return, things should’ve settled enough to send them back to the seigneurie to start tapping the maple trees, but for now, they will protect my family and the colony.”
She smiled. “Then, let me get out of these trappings for now and become your lady for one more night.”
That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
October 17, 2019
Keeping a Promise: The Tigress, The Punishers: Book One
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
My father had a wonderful imagination, one that took me on jungle adventures as a child, climbing mountains, escaping quicksand and crocodile infested ponds, as well as slaying dragons, dinosaurs, vampires, you name it.
Before the fall that eventually led to his untimely death, he and I had discussed my latest book. Since the paranormal/fantasy genre has been taking the reading world by storm, I decided I should try my hand at one of those. Dad’s advice? Do it.
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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
So, we began plotting a book, tossing out ideas, trying to figure out how to connect them and make them work. Before I begin any book, I brainstorm and research. I wanted my main character to be a shapeshifter, but I needed her to be a little different from the run-of-the-mill creatures out there. While looking into the mythology of such creatures, I found what I wanted. Rakshasa, are the shapeshifter vampires in some of the Eastern religions. Considered evil creatures, just as werewolves and vampires used to be, I chose this creature to be not evil, but a defender of the righteous and a punisher of those who pursue evil. Aware of the fascination with Norse mythology and the likes of Thor and Loki, I sought my source of evil there, as well as a hero befitting my heroine. Thus was born The Tigress, The Punishers: Book One.
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Melinda De Ross outdid herself on this cover and Dad would’ve loved it.
Here is the book blurb:
Paranormal Detective Ellie Taggart, a rakshasa capable of assuming the shape of a tigress, has always worked alone, searching for those responsible for her mother’s murder. When an investigation results in the death of a close friend and vampire, she’s forced to partner with handsome and mysterious peredhil, Steve Cassidy.
Like her, the half-human, half-elf uses his special talents to fight evil wherever it exists. Rogue vampires, shapeshifters, zombies, practitioners of black magic, poltergeists, ghosts—none of them can beat him. That is until someone or something no longer plays by the rules. There’s a new villain in New Orleans, one who threatens both the humans and non-humans who make the city home.
Is the enemy Draug, the wizard who murdered Ellie’s mother centuries ago? Is it someone from Steve’s shrouded past intent on revenge? Or are they facing a new enemy with an agenda all his or her own? As the tigress and her partner search for answers, trying to prevent the bodies from piling up, they have to manage conflicting emotions and desires that threaten to overwhelm them. Can two such different creatures of the light join forces to defeat the darkness, or will the powers of evil triumph?
The Tigress will be available October 30, 2019. You can pre-order your copy today from all Amazon outlets. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Z5F4VNZ.
Here is a taste to whet your appetites!
Prologue
My name is Ellie Taggart, at least it is now. Over the last thousand or so years, I’ve had many names—too many to count, too many to remember—but this will be the last one I’ll need. Times have changed. Evil doesn’t hide in dark corners. It lives in the light. This world we live in is filled with more monsters than humans realize, more than one being can deal with in a lifetime, even if that lifetime does span centuries.
I’m tired. I would like to fall in love, have children, grow old, and spend the last of my days quietly sipping tea on a porch swing, surrounded by purring cats, not battling the forces of evil. But that’s not going to happen. It can’t. I’m the last of my line—maybe even the last of my kind—and that’s how it has to be.
If you saw me on the street, you might not notice me, but if you did, you would see a thirty-something woman with the golden skin and deep brown hair of her Asian ancestors. If you really looked at me, you might note my pert nose, wide mouth, pouty lips, and unusual almond-shaped eyes. What you wouldn’t see is who I am—what I am.
I was born deep in the jungles of the Indian Subcontinent, at the base of the Himalayan Mountains, during a time when few kept track of dates the way they do today. My father was a Royal Bengal tiger, the largest and most majestic of his kind, while my mother was a rare and unusual rakshasa. Don’t recognize the word? Not too surprising. So many people have forsaken the religion of their ancestors to swear allegiance to greed and corruption, the very thing that gives evil its power.
Even those who know what a rakshasa is don’t believe we exist anymore, and other than me, they’re correct. We are the shapeshifters found in Hindu, Buddhist, and countless other mythologies. We’re also known as “Maneaters”—not that I’ve ever indulged. Give me chicken or fish any day.
People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand and shapeshifters of any kind certainly fall into that category. In truth, in human form, my mother was petite, delicate, and so very beautiful, with black hair, bronze skin, and almond-shaped amber eyes—my eyes now, orbs I hide behind tinted lenses.
Sadly, like witches with warts and hooked noses, rakshasa were depicted as huge, ugly creatures with fangs and long, sharp, claw-like fingernails. They were considered cruel, growling beasts with insatiable appetites for human flesh. I’ve seen them portrayed with flaming red eyes and hair, drinking blood with their palms or from a human skull, a lot like the less than fair representations of vampires. Most of those I know these days aren’t a bit like that. They sip wine in crystal goblets and get their blood online from specialty stores.
Can I fly? No, but my mother could. She could assume the shape of any creature, even the fearsome yeti, but for lack of a better term, I’m a half-breed, with sorely limited skills. While I have superhuman strength, I can’t vanish, but I’ve learned to be an expert at camouflage. I have some telepathic ability, which makes it easy to make people forget what they saw, or imagine they witnessed something else. Afterall, who really believes in the creatures of the night? It’s the stuff of television programs, movies, and books. But the legends are real—too real.
Am I immortal? No, I’m not a god or a demi-god, but my lifespan is impressive, and like my mother who died at Draug’s hand, killing me takes a lot of work.
I lived deep in the jungle until my father passed on, and then mother moved us up the mountain to a safer place. There she taught be to survive and guided me through my first changes. Unlike the shapeshifters controlled by the moon’s power, I can shift whenever I need to, and while in that form, heal and recover from whatever damages have been inflicted on me.
When I reached my maturity, many years older than I appear, she told me that if anything were to happen to her, I needed to seek the Chou-Lan Monastery in the hidden valley. There the monks would tutor me and teach me how to use my powers.
Life was pleasant, uneventful, until that fateful day when Draug and his revenant found us. Unlearned in the art of battle, unable to defend myself, I did as Mother requested, I shifted into my tigress form, ran, and hid.
The sounds of clashing swords and tearing flesh were horrific. Four against one. In the heat of the battle, no one thinks clearly, but in the end, it was my mother’s headless body that lay upon the field. Draug’s angry cries at the loss of his prize, killed by his own hand, split the silence. That night, I vowed to avenge her, but it was centuries before I understood the real reason for his agonized screams, and that while she’d died, she’d won the battle.
When the monsters had gone, I crept from my hiding place. There was nothing left for me there. Mourning, the pain so deep it made it hard for me to retain any shape, I searched for Mother’s head, but it was gone. Claimed as a trophy? Proof that he’d killed her? To this day, I don’t know. With grief ripping me apart, I built a pyre and cremated what was left of her the way she had my father. The mountains were no longer safe for me.
Leaving our sanctuary, I made my way into the valley and searched until I found the monks she’d spoken of. Shifting into human form, I told my story. Decade after decade, century after century, I lived hidden among the holy men where I studied, practiced the arts I would need to survive, and learned of the responsibilities I carried as one of the punishers, beings with a sacred duty to fight for those unable to defend themselves. When the time came, I said farewell to the last of those who’d become family to me and headed into the world to fulfil my destiny as the protectress of the innocent, the scourge of evil.
Since then, I’ve roamed the earth and watched century after century as the powers of darkness have grown, turning the innocent into monsters almost as evil and corrupt as they are. Not all of the non-humans and undead dwelling amongst humanity are evil, just as not every human is good, but in the last century, those who foster hate and greed, jealousy and envy, and the rest of the deadly sins, have grown more powerful, more daring.
When my enemies crossed the line, I found them and dealt with them. I’ve wiped the minds of witches, wizards, and warlock who dared practice the dark art and turned their empty shells over to their authorities while I’ve dealt with the undead myself, battling those who posed a danger to humans, consigning their unholy remains to oblivion. With each battle, I’ve learned and grown stronger, for power comes from knowledge. But I still have much to learn before I can face Draug.
I serve the light, going where darkness dwells, watching it insinuate itself more completely into modern society each year. It needs to be stopped—but I’m just one.
Draug doesn’t know I exist, but I know him. I remember the sight and smell of him, and one day, we’ll meet on the field of battle. It’ll be a fight to the death, one I’ll fight in my true form—my father’s form. But until then, protecting humanity from those who would use and abuse them for evil purposes is my mission. Who am I, you ask? I’m the Tigress.
October 14, 2019
Tuesday Tales: From a Picture
Today is Thanksgiving Day in Canada, and while I have much to be thankful for, my family and I struggle with the passing of my father. Like a long journey, the best way to get on with it is to move ahead, one step at a time. And so my journey without my father begins, but as a good friend said, he’s a part of us and will be with us forever. As I strive to find my new normal, I turn to my writing for solace.
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Welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. It’s picture prompt time, and here’s the picture I chose.
[image error] We continue with The Price of Courage. Last week, Guy reluctantly allowed Izzy to travel to Quebec with him. Enjoy.
Was Guy being melodramatic? Probably not. Izzy unbuttoned her dress and removed it, dropping her petticoats to the floor. Standing only in her stockings and chemise, she frowned. Surely she shouldn’t be this big when she had half her pregnancy to go?
Heaving a heavy sigh, but refusing to let herself be daunted, she stared at the clothing. “What goes on first?”
Guy chuckled. “I usually start with my smalls and then my stockings, but what say we just worry about the trousers and the shirt and coat for now?”
Isabelle nodded and stepped into the large pants, holding them up around her waist.
“I’ll get a cord to hold them in place.” He hurried out of the room and came back seconds later, a twisted rope in his hands. He tied the cord around the top of the pants securing them and then lacing the flap closed.
Within minutes, Izzy’s face was barely visible above the outfit she wore—pants, two wool shirts, a wool fur-lined coat, and a ceinture flèchées, holding it all together. Atop her head, Guy added a bonnet made from the skin of a raccoon and lined with wool. He handed her the mittens she’d last seen in her deceased husband Pierre’s trunk. “These should fit easily over your knitted ones and keep your hands both warm and dry.”
“These were in Pierre’s trunk. I’d meant to give them to your mother.”
“And you can when you get back. Now, how do you feel?”
“Like that turkey Jean caught out in the field and brought home to fatten up for the holidays. By the time he killed the poor bird, his legs could barely support his weight! It’s a wonder I can breathe, but seriously Guy, no one will believe I’m a coureur de bois.”
That’s it. See you next week. Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on Tuesday Tales.
