Susanne Matthews's Blog, page 5

Happy Mother’s Day! Last Week to Pre-order Twist for Fate for only 99 cents!

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Happy Mother’s Day. It’s different this year with no family gatherings, no hugs and kisses to share, but that’s okay. Staying away is another way to say I love you these days.  I’ll see my own mother through a galls window and speak to her over a speaker phone, and while that is hard, all I can do is pray she stays safe.

So, with another week of Coronavirus isolation behind us, we need to look forward to better times, knowing they’ll be a long time in coming. For that reason, it’s easier to look back–way back to 1734! This is the last week to purchase Twist of Fate, on pre-order now, for only 99 cents. After that, the price quadruples!

[image error]Can a cursed treasure unite two lonely outcasts?

Overton Stafford, shunned by his family because of a birthmark on his face, made a life for himself as Second Mate on The Golden Fleece. In a battle with pirates, Overton loses his left arm, ending his career. Knowing he will be a wealthy man makes the pain easier to bear, especially when he discovers he can repay a moral debt and help an old friend. When he meets Anna, Overton realizes he wants more from her than a financial partnership.

Anneliese Van Stubel lost her sight at nine as a result of Smallpox. Now eighteen, a ward of the crown because of the Danish Age of Majority law, she lives in limbo, uncertain what will happen to her. When Overton approaches her with the proposition to help her rebuild the plantation, she’s excited with the idea of returning to her home. But her joy fades when her caregiver makes it plain that he has a different future in mind for her, one that will profit him.

Set in a time when brutality against women and slaves was the norm, Overton seeks to change things as he falls in love with the girl who has lost so much.

Today, I thought I would share the Prologue with you to tease you.

PROLOGUE

 

Aardse Paradijs , Van Stubel Plantation,

St. Jan Island, Danish West Indies.

November 23rd, 1733

 

Tossing and turning in bed, Anneliese Van Stubel tried to settle for the night, but her jumbled thoughts wouldn’t let her. Mama, Papa, Joost, and Gerrit had gone to dinner with the Larsens in Coral Bay, where Papa hoped to strike a deal that would benefit not only her but the entire family—her hand in marriage for her share of the plantation and better prices at Larsen’s rum processing plant on St. Thomas. She’d dreamed of being a wife, a mother, but would her dowry be enough to seal the bargain?

This past growing season, with its drought and infestation of insects, followed by a vicious hurricane, had been a bad one for many of the estates. Thanks to Papa’s progressive thinking, Aardse Paradijs had done better than most, but would that be enough to convince Larsen’s youngest son to tie himself to a burden like her?

She wasn’t deaf. She’d heard them talking, the conversations that ended abruptly when she entered a room, only to resume once she’d left. Her family loved her, but … Why would any able-bodied man want to tie himself to someone like her? Someone who couldn’t even see to her own personal needs? A woman who lived in a world full of unseen hazards where one misstep could be fatal? How could such a woman be trusted to see to the care and welfare of her own children?

The soothing, familiar scent of Liana, Plumeria, and Bougainvillea drifted in through the bedroom window. Vaguely, like a memory just out of reach, Anna tried to recall the vivid pink and stately white blossoms of her early years before Smallpox had stolen her vision. So many memories lost and more vanishing each day. Mama implored her not to complain … to be grateful the Lord had spared her, but there were times when Anna didn’t feel grateful, when she felt angry, cheated of the life that should’ve been hers.

With danger dogging her every step, she spent her solitary days either in her room or in the gardens on the other side of the house where she could sit on the swing Papa had hung for her and sway in the shade. From there, when the winds were favorable, she could smell the salty sea air and listen to the birds chattering in the trees. Raymonde, her pet African Green Vervet Monkey, a gift from her father last year, loved to sit by her side, her tail wrapped around the solid ropes. The tiny ape would yammer with the birds, almost as if she could understand what they were saying.

Papa described her as having a black face surrounded by a white fringe of hair, the rest of her body coat a yellowish gray. She was small, less than a foot long—not counting her agile tail—and weighed no more than two pounds. Her mother had been taken from Africa and had given birth to the animal aboard ship, dying shortly after her arrival in port. With her trained hands, Anna had examined every inch of the small creature, amazed at how similar in form the primate’s body was to her own—minus the tail, of course.

She sighed and turned onto her side, kicking off the sheets. The night was warm, not as stifling as it had been during the summer months, but warm enough to be uncomfortable. Anna inhaled deeply, searching for the scent of the sea. Would there be a late fall storm? Another vicious hurricane like the one that had hit the island in September and had forced them into the cellar?

Nothing frightened her more than those hated storms with their booming thunder, vivid lightning that left fearsome images in her gray world, and howling winds. But even more than that, she hated being confined for hours in the tiny room underground where there was scarcely enough air for all of them to breathe. Papa said her fears were unwarranted, but he wasn’t the one forced to deal with a blackness so complete that she felt she’d been buried alive. Tonight, the air was heavy as if Mother Nature waited for something to happen—something terrible. She shuddered.

The scent of beeswax blended with the floral aromas drifting into the room, momentarily distracting her. Asia, her nursemaid, really more of a companion these days, had mentioned that the maids had waxed the furniture today, bringing it up to the high luster her mother expected.

As a child, Anna had been fascinated by the process of placing the wax sheets on the wood and pressing them into the surface with hot irons. She’d watched as the material liquefied and was absorbed. Then, another maid would come with rags and buff it until she could see her own dark face reflected in the sheen. Now, instead of watching and admiring their handiwork, Anna stayed out of the way, lest she blunder onto an iron and burn herself.

Trying to settle under the mosquito netting, she listened to the familiar night sounds, identifying the song of the Pearly-eyed Thrasher as it serenaded the full moon. She frowned. Were those drums in the distance? Papa had mentioned that under the governor’s new rules, the slaves were forbidden to use their traditional musical instruments or participate in pagan ceremonies. Asia had confided that many of the slaves on the island secretly continued to practice Obeah, the African religion they’d brought with them. Not even the grim-faced missionaries with their changes of name and forced conversions to Christianity were able to prevent it.

Grabbing the neck of her nightdress, she sat up suddenly. Was that a scream? Had one of the island’s numerous bats found its way into the slave pens? Those were the only mammals indigenous to the island. All the others had been brought there by either the Dutch or the Danes when they’d settled St. Jan.

She jumped at another unfamiliar sound. Was that a cannon shot? Why would the fort be firing the cannons at this time of night? Was St. Jan under attack? From whom? Not even the fiercest pirate would dare such a thing.

Shifting in the bed, she turned her head, seeking the comfort of the small oil lamp on her dresser. Eight years ago, a Smallpox epidemic had swept the island, killing hundreds, leaving her alive but sightless. Gone were the vibrant shades of her youth replaced by a grayness that refused to solidify into any recognizable shape. But the nights were worse. Only the small light kept the blackness at bay and made the hours tolerable.

The door opened.

“Anna,” Asia whispered loudly. Suddenly the light went out, plunging the room into darkness.

“My lamp,” she cried, only to have the servant’s hand cover her mouth.

“Quiet, child. Listen to me.” Asia’s voice was stern. “I have to get you away from the house before they come here. They’ve all gone crazy.”

Anna pulled the woman’s hand away, her frightened breath coming in gasps.

“You’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice halting. “Who’s gone crazy?”

“The Akwamu, the new slaves the magistrate sold your father. I told you about them. They were the ones who conquered my people and sold us to the slavers. They’re revolting all over the island,” the woman answered. “They’ve taken the fort in Coral Bay. Lucius barely managed to escape. He says they’re killing all the whites—the bosses and owners, even some of the indentured servants, and any slave who refuses to follow them.”

Anna gasped, her heart leaping into her throat to choke her.

“Those lucky enough to escape to their boats hope to make it to Cruz Bay or St. Thomas,” Asia continued, pulling back the sheets.

“Mama and Papa would never leave me here alone. They must be on their way back to get me.”

Asia grabbed her by the shoulders. “Listen to me, child. Lucius says Coral Bay and all of the plantations surrounding it are ablaze. He doesn’t know if your parents made it to the boats. He only knows we have to get you away and hidden before the rebels arrive. Those of us who’ve been with the master for years know he’s a kind man, unlike some of the Mesterknegte who treat the slaves entrusted to them worse than they do the oxen who toil in the fields. We’ll do what we can to defend the plantation. Get up. There’s no time to dress. I’ll sneak you out the backdoor and lead you to the old abandoned homestead near the sea. You and I are the only ones who ever go there. You should be safe.”

“Raymonde. Where’s Raymonde? I can’t go without her.”

“I’ll get her, but we must hurry. Put on your slippers.”

Within seconds, the warm hairy body, no doubt as frightened as she was, nestled into her, the ape’s tiny arms gripping her around the neck.

Her own heart thumping so loudly that it echoed in her ears, Anna allowed Asia to lead her from the house, out through the open-air kitchen, and past the carriage house. The path through the fruit trees was pitch black, and her fear increased, tremors racking her body. Was that smoke? Surely she shouldn’t be able to smell smoke from fields burning six miles away?

With Asia begging her to move faster, she tried, but every now and then stumbled as a sharp stone cut the sole of her slippers. Soon, she could smell the sea and the blackness became dark gray.

“This way. We’ll go down into the old cellar. You’ll be safest there. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can. I promise.”

The woman’s words filled Anna with horror.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged, tears running down her cheeks.

What lurked in the blackness among the stones? While there might not be any snakes on the island, there were plenty of other creatures to worry about: tarantulas, wolf spiders, and scorpions among them. While their bites might not be fatal, they were incredibly painful—and then there were the iguanas. Papa maintained they were harmless, but her memories dragged up fire breathing dragons who grew exponentially in size.

“I know you’re frightened, child,” Asia said, wrapping her arm around her as she led her down the stone steps. “You’ll be safe here. I promise I’ll be back for you as soon as I can. Here.” She draped her woven shawl over Anna’s shoulders. “This will keep you warm. Whatever you do, don’t leave here until either Lucius or I come for you.”

Too petrified to even speak, Anna nodded and cuddled Raymonde closer, taking strength from the warmth of Asia’s body evident in the shawl and the little ape’s trust in her. She shivered, fighting to find what little courage she possessed.

“If Asia says we’ll be safe here, Raymonde, I have to believe her.” Her low voice echoed in the small chamber. “Papa will come for us. He’ll send the soldiers to end this, and everything will be fine.” But Papa had long bemoaned the fact that six soldiers were hardly enough to maintain the peace and keep more than one thousand slaves in check.

Settling against the stones, she waited for Asia’s return, mumbling every prayer her mother had ever taught her. A loud noise startled her. Raymonde screeched in her arms, the small ape’s heart beating rapidly. Anna loosened her grip to shift her into her other arm, but the small monkey shrieked, clawed at her, and demanded her freedom.

“No, Raymonde,” she cried, but the ape was gone.

Inhaling sharply, she coughed, recognizing the unmistakable odor of burning grass and sugarcane. Anna pulled the shawl up to cover her face, but the smoke grew denser until she could no longer breathe. Panic filled her. Asia had said to stay here, but if she did, she would surely suffocate and die.

Her body shaken by bouts of coughing, Anna clawed around the small cellar, looking for the entrance. When she found it, she scrambled to escape. Ripping her hands open on sharp rocks, she crawled out of her would-be grave. Sugarcane fields burning all around her turned the night into an inferno, the flames lighting up the darkness, creating eerie monstrous shapes in her gray world. Her only hope of escape was to find the path leading down to the beach and the sea, but with the heavy smoke, she couldn’t even smell the briny water. Which way should she go?

Stumbling blindly, heading away from the crackle of the flames, she ran. Fire was everywhere. Here and there it licked at her legs, bit into her arms, caressed her face. Suddenly, the earth beneath her feet vanished, and she tumbled headlong down the hillside, her body smashing against the rocks, scraping against Christmas bushes. The poisonous sap burned and would soon add its vicious rash to her litany of woes.

In pain, she continued her tumble. The sea! She smelled the sea. Would this be her fate? To drown in the aqua blue waters she’d loved? Her head struck yet another rock, this times sending stars flashing through her mind until there was nothing but blackness.

So how does my blind heroine meet her hero? Order your copy today. All will be revealed on May 16th!

Insecure Writers’ Support Group Monthly Blog Post for May.

[image error]Well, here we are at the start of May and the world’s in a bigger mess than it was last month and the month before.  Unfortunately, there isn’t much hope for this month either. All we can do is pray someone finds an effective cure and a vaccine before we get it–and sadly the chances are we will get sick from COVID 19. No one is immune and while we may be staying in place and being careful, too many others aren’t. It’s just a matter of time.

This month’s blog question:

May 6 question – Do you have any rituals that you use when you need help getting into the ZONE? Care to share?

When I can’t focus on what I have to do, I waste time on Facebook. That’s right, I check my news feed, read a few longer posts, click on some You Tube videos until I’m so disgusted with what’s happening in the world, that I’m forced to escape into my mind and write. The world inside my head is a kinder one than the world I live in right now. Inside my head, I can escape from the reality of the Pandemic. Read enough truth and scientific fact, then look at the idiocy disputing it. You’ll want to escape into my head, too. Right now, I’m living 13 years in the past. Never realized what a great year 2007 was!

If you’d like to read how others get into the zone, check this out! https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

Tuesday Tales: From the Word FISH

[image error]Welcome to the first May post for Tuesday Tales. Here’s another scene from The Blue Dragon.

Phil rolled his eyes. “You would’ve been fine. Eldest child could do no wrong. That was the same day I picked up a bad case of poison oak. Come to think of it, you picked that fishing spot.” He winced at the memory.

Harry guffawed and slapped his knee. “Hey, you were almost six, smart enough to recognize poison oak when you saw it and choose not to take a leak in the middle of it.”

The words brought back the agony of those days, something Phil preferred not to recall.

“Not my smartest move. What about the place?”

“There are still ten acres that go with the house. There’s a wood lot and apparently the pond and stream are still hers. That’s where we went for those picnics you remember; in fact, we were on her land that day fishing.”

Phil drank more of his coffee and let the words sink in. He recalled how beautiful the area was with its small knolls and trees. Fish used to bite like crazy in that stream, but man, the water had always been cold. Maybe, even as coldblooded as they were, they’d been desperate for a way out.

“Which is why I stopped by,” Harry continued. Dad and I are interested in the nine acres we need for that housing development I told you about. He wants to use your designs. We could buy it all, and if you think the house suits your plans, I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Damn it, Harry. It’s not that simple.” Phil ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. “Remember when Ryan told you the place was packed? He wasn’t exaggerating. It’ll take weeks to go through all of Esther’s things. I’ve offered to help her do it.”

“So? She can still go through them after the land is ours. We wouldn’t need her out of the house right away. Hell, she could take her time, stay there rent-free for all I care, as long as the deed was done, and it was ours. Think about it. If we offer to purchase as is, it wouldn’t cost her a cent and she’d have the cold hard cash in hand, so to speak, and could be on her merry way as soon as she finished with Esther’s things.”

“But that’s the other problem, Harry. I don’t want her to go,” he admitted.

That’s it. Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

 

It’s May! Forever and Always FREE May 2-6, 2020

[image error]Well, the longest April on record is over, but very few things are changing in my neck of the woods.  Usually, May brings with it flowers and nesting birds. It’s a time of renewal, yard work, and planning summer vacations, but not this year.

While green stuff is poking its nose out of the ground, the birds nested and are now madly feeding hungry mouths, I don’t have that sense of renewal. Nothing is really going to change. Yard work is slowly getting done, but I lack the enthusiasm of the past when I went to garden centers and selected my flowers, I’m grateful that nurseries will be opening soon, but only for curb service, which means someone else will do the picking for me. But on the plus side, there will be some color in the yard this summer since that’s the only place I’ll be going since stay in place and social distancing continue here as elsewhere.

So to celebrate May, I’m giving away Forever and Always  from May 2 to May 6, 2020. For Star Wars fans, consider this my May the Fourth be with You and Beware the Sith of May gift. For the party people unable to party, Happy Cinco de Mayo, and finally for all the mothers out there, human and fur babies included, Happy Mother’s Day. I hope my book will make whatever you are going through these days less dismal!

Book Blurb

The dance is everything, or is it?

Brandi Alexandra Jameson’s entire life has been dedicated to ballet. When an accident she believes was caused by a crazed stalker fan leaves her close friend and dance partner dead and herself barely able to walk, she’s lost, adrift without a future.

Jarrett Sullivan has spent most of his life in love with the petite red-headed brunette he met when he was in first grade, acting as her protector throughout school, but just as he was ready to make his move, she left Victoria for the National Ballet in Toronto. He’s followed her career, and now that she’s back home, he jumps at the chance to get to know her the way he always wanted to.

Brandi remembers Jarrett, the boy she idolized, and when the man wants to have a relationship with her, she’s thrilled. But that joy turns to horror when she learns the truth about a poster, and believes he’s just another fan and that it’s Alexandra, the dancer, he wants, not Brandi, the broken woman. Fleeing her family and Victoria, she runs to the only friend she has hoping to heal her broken heart.

Discovering Brandi may have misunderstood the situation, Jarrett is frantic to find her and straighten out the mess, but will she be willing to listen and give him a second chance?

 

Enjoy the book, stay safe and positive If you enjoy the book, feel free to leave a review. I love hearing how my readers enjoy my work.

One last thing before I go this morning, here’s your chance to have a book dedicated to you!

Dear Santa Contest – 21 Winners / Grand Prize $50 Amazon 
The Authors’ Billboard’s 2020 Christmas Box Collection, Dear Santa, is going to be filled with stories about characters who all have special wishes for Christmas. On your entry, please send us a special wish you’ve made in the past. We will choose the same number of winners as the number of authors in the set (20) and we will pair you together. The author you’re paired with will dedicate her new Christmas story to you… or whoever you choose. She will also send you a free e-copy of whichever Christmas collection you wish from our website page. All entries will have their name entered for a $50 Amazon Gift certificate prize. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SVNWK9C

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The Golden Legacy Book 1, Twist of Fate

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This morning, I would like to introduce you to my newest novel. There is something unique about writing the first book in a series, but it also carries a huge responsibility, especially when the books coming after yours are written by other authors. That’s the case with The Golden Legacy series. My book, Twist of Fate, which is available now for pre-order, goes live on May 16, 2020. I chose to write a historical romance set immediately after the events critical to the series. Others will write contemporary novels. Some may chose to write  suspense novels and paranormal isn’t off the table either. So what, other than similar covers, will bind the series? This.

The Golden Fleece

In the early 1700s, a pirate brigantine attacked a merchant ship, The Golden Fleece, in the Caribbean. Although smaller, the merchant ship bested the pirate craft that contained a treasure trove of gold and jewels. A dying pirate claimed the Incas had cursed anyone who misused the treasure, hence the reason the merchant crew was victorious. The treasure would also bless anyone who used it for good. The greedy merchant captain, James Carlson, was killed during the battle, but his eighteen-year-old daughter, Sarah, survived in her cabin. Mindful of the curse and to thank God for their salvation, she asked the crew members to split the treasure equally, but to make a binding pledge that they would keep only twenty percent for their own use, and give ten percent to help others. With the rest, each was to buy something of great value that could be passed down to their descendants, with the curse passing onto anyone who broke the line and used it selfishly. If used selfishly, the treasure would be lost, but reappear in some form after skipping a generation. Every three weeks a new book will tell you what happens to other Golden Legacy descendants.

Having an avid love for history, I decided to set my book in 1734 and introduce Overton Stafford as my crew member in Twist of Fate.  So what’s my book about? Here’s the blurb.

Can a cursed treasure unite two lonely outcasts?

Overton Stafford, shunned by his family because of a birthmark on his face, made a life for himself as Second Mate on The Golden Fleece. In a battle with pirates, Overton loses his left arm, ending his career. Knowing he will be a wealthy man makes the pain easier to bear, especially when he discovers he can repay a moral debt and help an old friend. When he meets Anna, Overton realizes he wants more from her than a financial partnership.

Anneliese Van Stubel lost her sight at nine as a result of Smallpox. Now eighteen, a ward of the crown because of the Danish Age of Majority law, she lives in limbo, uncertain what will happen to her. When Overton approaches her with the proposition to help her rebuild the plantation, she’s excited with the idea of returning to her home. But her joy fades when her caregiver makes it plain that he has a different future in mind for her, one that will profit him.

Set in a time when brutality against women and slaves was the norm, Overton seeks to change things as he falls in love with the girl who has lost so much.

[image error]Obviously, a book written during those turbulent times required a lot of research.  Since I’d taken a cruise in 2019, one that stopped at several islands in the Eastern section of the Caribbean, I opted to use that as a starting place.  I set my story on St Jan, as the island was called when it was part of the Danish West Indies.  By 1733, there were 109 plantations on the island, 21 of which are producing sugar.  Less than two hundred years later, they were all closed. Today, all that’s left of those plantations are ruins, like the image of the windmill on the once prosperous Annaberg Plantation south of Leinster Bay.

For my story, I created a plantation called, Earthly Paradise. It should come as no surprise to anyone that sugar plantations used slave labor. While we may consider that fact to be abhorrent, the reality was that, while  some plantat[image error]ion owners may have tried to treat their slaves humanely, many did not. I chose to set my story in 1734, the year following the slave revolt on St. Jan.

 

In this day and age, it has become popular to sanitize history by removing the evidence of the injustices of the past, a practice that is not only futile but dangerous, with the chance of having us repeating the same mistakes significantly higher.

[image error]Our ancestors weren’t perfect. Just because we abhor a practice doesn’t mean we should pretend it didn’t exist. Slavery was a fact and dates back more than 11,000 years ago when humanity discovered the process of agriculture. There is evidence of it in the Bible. After all, Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery.

Genesis 37:28 And there passed by Midianites, merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmaelites for twenty shekels of silver. And they brought Joseph into Egypt.

The Arab slave trade lasted for more than a millennium, with Saudi Arabia’s slave population estimated at 300,000 as recently as 1960.

Slavery in the Americas is a touchy subject, one I will not presume to judge. The Spanish began it in 1501, followed by the Danes and British. Over the course of time, rebellions and wars were fought over it.

One such rebellion was the Akwamu Slave Revolt on St. Jan in November of 1733. More information about the revolt and its aftermath can be found at a number of sites online including https://blackartblog.blackartdepot.com/black-history/akwamu-slave-revolt-1733.html

I have tried to relay the information fairly as it applied to the conditions on St. Jan, a Danish island in the West Indies, today St. John, USVI, at the time of my story. History acknowledges one thing. That revolt was the first step toward the eventual abolition of slavery. In 1999, the Legislature of the US Virgin Islands declared November 23, Freedom Fighters Day in honor of the Akwamu who rebelled and fought for their freedom.

Sometimes, remembering the past and acknowledging it is important. It allows us to move forward, a lesson we’ve learned the hard way with the COVID 19 pandemic.

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As well as selecting a difficult period in time, I chose to have my main characters deal with what were insurmountable problems back in the day.

Let’s start with my hero. People were superstitious and cruel. Poverty was prevalent, and children as well as adults were commodities. Overton, a family name I’ve chosen to use, was born with a large birthmark on his face, which made him not only an outcast but a very lonely man with no hope for love and family in his future. Eventually, he found himself at sea where the mark didn’t matter, especially after he had a tattoo placed over it, but he is still far from a handsome hero.

To add to his woes, in the battle with the pirate ship, Overton loses the  lower half of his left arm–from the elbow down. Discouraged, he must leave the sea, but with his share of the treasure, he hopes to be able to find a place for himself on St. Jan, an island where a friend has a plantation. When he learns of the rebellion and the fact that his friend is dead, he vows to do whatever he can to protect his friend’s blind daughter, the heiress to her father’s plantation, heavily damaged in the rebellion.

I have heard so many people complain about helpless heroines when they apply today’s standards and women’s positions in the world to the past. I wanted to find a way to create a character who wouldn’t be able to stand up for herself. One who would be forced to accept the help of others. Research showed me that among the horrors of the Smallpox epidemic that had struck the island roughly nine years before my story, was the fact that survivors didn’t always get off  without lasting damage. Blindness was one of those painful side effects of the disease.

You can never make a second first impression. People judge others on their appearances. We all do it. Weight, hair color, skin color,  tattoos, piercings, wardrobe… Those are just a few of the things we notice. Rarely do we initially judge people on the sound of their voice and  their behavior toward others. Creating a blind character isn’t the easiest thing to do, but it gave me the chance to explore what it might be like to not be hampered by that judgemental first sight.

It’s hard relying on sounds, smell, taste, and touch to describe things. But more than that, I had to imagine what it would’ve been like back then to be blind. The dangers all around, everything from open flames in the kitchen to feral animals.  Underdeveloped land would’ve posed its own dangers. There were no people to teach the blind to read braille, no assistive devices. The blind wouldn’t have survived for long, especially a woman who would be incapable of doing any of the things society demanded of her.  And so, I created Anneliese. For her, life is a burden, one that becomes a curse when she loses her family during the insurrection. As an orphan,  she inherits her family’s plantation, but because of her age, she becomes a ward of the king, incapable of making any decisions for herself. Her temporary caregivers are a government agent, Mr. Svenson and his wife. A religious zealot, Mr. Svenson is not what he seems and he has plans of his own for Anneliese and her fortune.

So, there you have it. These are the threads I used to create Twist of Fate.

The book is now available for pre-order for the introductory price of 99 cents.  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087QJWMSM

http://bookShow.me/B087QJWMSM

I hope you’ll enjoy my tale of a one-armed sailor and his blind lady.

Tuesday Tales: From the word DANCE

[image error]Welcome to this week’s edition of Tuesday Tales, the on-going blog where a small group of authors share their works in progress with you. Each week, we write to a word or picture prompt. This week’s prompt is the word DANCE. I’ve had to adjust it a bit to fit my post.

As you know, I’m working on a modern historical novel titled, The Blue Dragon. Today’s scene comes from the prologue, and explains how my heroine got injured.

Canadian armed forces personnel served in Afghanistan until 2012. Many of them were there in support positions, working in battlefield hospitals,tending to all of the soldiers of all nations who joined the fight against tyranny.  Many lives were lost, the bodies traveling along the 401, a stretch of road which was renamed the Highway of Heroes. Others were wounded and came home to try and pick up the pieces of their lives. All of them are heroes in my book.

Here is today’s scene.

“Son of a bitch! Hang on. We aren’t too far from the hangar. Our guys will return fire any second. It’ll—”

The ground exploded in front of the ambulance, sending rocks, dirt, and chunks of cement into the windshield, raining glass down on the occupants of the front seat, blood replacing what had once been clean shaven faces as the shock wave violently shook the vehicle. A second blast from the back tossed the heavy metal Humvee into the air like a toy. Acting on a surge of adrenaline, Sam stretched as far as she could without unfastening her lap belt, scrambling to shield her patient.

“Keisha, look after his legs,” she cried, grabbing the steel bar that secured the stretcher to the ambulance floor and crimping her fingers tightly around it. Using her body, she covered Newman’s head and injured hands while cabinet doors opened spilling medical supplies everywhere.

As if in slow-motion, the ambulance hit the ground hard and then tilted to the right, before tumbling over and over again, like some demented gymnast, shoved by an invisible power, unable to stop. Gripping the bar tightly, Sam forced herself to turn her head slightly to see if Keisha was covering the lower torso, but the ambulance doors and Keisha were gone.

As the vehicle rolled, metal and glass broke free. Pain filled her as God alone knew what slammed into her back, dancing along her spine before settling on her upper legs. She refused to move, refused to let go. She was a nurse and her patient was her priority.

With each flip, like a Slinky going down a flight of stairs, the ambulance bounced, its roof groaning as the side walls compressed, gravity exerting and releasing its hold on the steel vehicle.

When had the seatbelt opened? Where was her seat? Heedless of the pain, Sam clung to the rail for dear life, doing what she could to protect her patient and herself. She was prone across the stretcher, when one of the ambulance walls gave way, the roof crashing suddenly onto her lower torso and legs. The pain blinded her, but she gripped the steel bar, knowing that if she let go, both of them would die.

Roof caved in, the vehicle came to a stop. Pinned between Newman, who amazingly was still breathing, and the metal, she relaxed her grip and let blackness claim her.

That’s it. Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

Tuesday Tales: From the Word SQUARE

[image error]As we begin another week in self-isolation, I count my blessings. I’m not sick, nor is anyone close to me.

I miss my family and look forward to the time when we’re all be together again. The up-side of this enforced quarantine is that I have plenty of time to write.

This week’s Tuesday Tale scene is brought to you by the word prompt SQUARE. I continue with The Blue Dragon from the upcoming Fortune’s Favor Box Set.

Enjoy!

 

 

The silver blue 1965 Ford Mustang convertible looked new. The cream vinyl top was up, and there wasn’t a mark on it. Even the hubcaps shone brightly enough to see the floor reflected in them.

Sam gaped. “Holy shit! It’s gorgeous. Did she ever drive it? It looks like it just came off the showroom floor.”

“She did, and she was still driving it when I left for Toronto twenty years ago. The woman loved this car, but man she wasn’t afraid to give it its head. Dad used to joke that she collected speeding tickets the way others collected coins.”

“Now, that doesn’t surprise me. The woman’s a born collector—you saw the plates in the hallway and dining room—and just look around here. Let me guess. It’s a standard?”

“V-8 engine and four on the floor.” He frowned. “You can drive one, right?”

Grinning, she nodded. “I had to learn to in the army. There aren’t too many automatic jeeps. It looks like Aunt Esther left me something I’m definitely going to keep, but it isn’t exactly the kind of car I can drive every day.”

“She didn’t either. That’s why it’s in such great shape. I also remember her driving this silver Chrysler monster that probably guzzled gas the way the guys did beer at frat parties back at school.” He unlocked the car door and waited until she could see the interior. “Do you see that?” He pointed to a large square with a slot in it just under the radio.

“What is it?”

“That’s a record player. It plays forty-fives. She probably left some in the glove box. You always knew when she was driving by—she blasted Beach Boys’ tunes as loud as they could go. Personally, I loved them, but no one could quite understand their appeal. I mean she was on the high side of fifty by then. If you decide down the line that it isn’t practical, given its condition, you can probably get twenty-five or thirty thousand for it, maybe more, but promise me that if you do decide to sell it, you’ll give me first dibs.”

He shoved the key in the ignition and turned it.

The car engine came to life.

“She may not be practical, but I have no intention of selling this baby—not unless I have to. Now, shut the engine, lock her up and let’s go back inside.

Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.

FIRE ANGEL: FREE APRIL 18 to 20, 2020

[image error]Welcome to Saturday! As a child did you have underwear with the days of the week printed on them? Did you rebel and wear the wrong day? Are you having trouble keeping track of the days of the week now? Don’t you wish you could still get that underwear? You are not alone!

At the moment, ON HIS WATCH, Book 1 of the Vengeance Is Mine Series, is part of an Authors’ Billboard Box Set called Unforgettable Temptation, Attraction and \Surrender. 

[image error]

 

Next month, a new box set entitled Unforgettable Surrender will feature IN PLAIN SIGHT, Book 3 of the Vengeance Is Mine Series.

So what happened to Book 2? Well, FIRE ANGEL, Book 2 of the Vengeance Is Mine Series is FREE from April 18 to April 20, 2020!  Who doesn’t like FREE? All the books in the series are stand alone romantic thrillers united by the theme, vengeance.

[image error]Everything happens for a reason.

Criminal profiler Jake McKenzie returned from Afghanistan minus a leg, determined never to let anyone get close enough to hurt him again. When his old friend asks him to help with a serial arsonist case, he jumps at the chance to prove his worth, but as the bodies pile up, he realizes he needs help. He convinces the chief to bring in a fire investigator, stunned to discover that the woman is none other than the girl who vanished from his life twenty years ago.

Alexis Michaels fled Paradise and an abusive uncle only to almost die in a fire that left her scarred not only on the outside, but on the inside, leaving her with psychic abilities. With that gift, she’s climbed to the top of her profession. Her abilities may be the only thing that can find and stop the Fire Angel, a pyromaniac turned revenge arsonist serial killer who’s slowly turning a peaceful town into Hell on Earth. The problem is, to do the job, she has to return to the one place where she swore she would never set foot again.

Faced with confusing emotions and a killer who’s made it clear he wants her to stay out of his business, Alexis must deal with the past before she can move on. But things may get too hot even for her as the Fire Angel moves toward the final act in his revenge drama.

Grab your copy today!

Friday Reads: New Release from Iris Blobel: Tell It to my Heart

It’s always a pleasure to offer you information on other authors, especially those I enjoy and today is no exception.

Welcome to ALINTA BAY 
I’m happy to share with you the second book in Iris Blobel’s series, which is set at the Great Ocean Road in Australia.If you love small town romance, be sure to get your copy today!

About Book Two

TELL IT TO MY HEART

Confronted with the choice to care for his friend’s family on the other side of the world or to return to Alinta Bay to be with his own newfound family, how will Noah choose?

Following the death of his grandmother, Noah Fielding returns to Alinta Bay and the first thing — or person — he finds is the next-door neighbour in his nan’s bathroom — naked no less. Still jetlagged, he doesn’t hit it off with Molly at first. Yet, over the next few weeks, as his past uncovers itself bit by bit, she becomes is anchor, his friend, and his lover.

Molly Reid had the world at her feet, happily married with a young son … until a tragic car accident took everything away from her. With her heart broken, she moves to Alinta Bay to escape the memories of the past. Her peaceful existence, however, is interrupted after a heavy storm floods her house and she temporarily moves into her recently deceased neighbour’s house next door.

When Noah’s friend and partner goes missing during a routine flight, Noah returns to Alaska to help, but will he come back for Molly?

Add TELL IT TO MY HEART to your Goodreads TBR !

Get your copy of TELL IT TO MY HEART today!
Amazon

Book One in the Series

DEFYING RULES

Sometimes one has to break rules in order to find happiness…

Widower Logan Hendrix is puzzled by the recent series of small crimes against his son’s new teacher. It’s a mystery to him, and he offers her his help. There’s an instant attraction, and Logan wants to take their parent/teacher relationship to a more personal level.

It doesn’t take Addison Ryker long to fall in love with Alinta Bay, the small town she’s moved to for her new teaching position at the local primary school. Her newfound haven is threatened, however, when her house is broken into and she is relying on the unbelievably stubborn but very sexy Logan for help. Although captivated by him, Addison worries her career could be compromised, because there are rules about dating a parent.

Add DEFYING RULES to your Goodreads TBR !

Get your copy of DEFYING RULES today!
Amazon

Where to find Iris:
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQ68rL
Website http://www.irisblobel.com/
Blog http://www.irisblobel.com/blog
Twitter https://twitter.com/_iris_b
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/IrisBlobel
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4067254.Iris_Blobel
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Iris-Blobel/e/B00FNFP3LI/

Best of luck Iris! I look forward to reading this soon.

Tuesday Tales: From a Picture

[image error]Good morning, and welcome to this week’s Tuesday Tales. I’m late getting it posted since for some reason yesterday, my computer couldn’t connect to the Internet. You can’t imagine how thrilled I was to see the network pop up today. Maybe too much traffic over the holiday weekend, but I certainly missed it.

[image error]Today’s scene was inspired by a picture  and is limited to 300 words. I’m continuing with The Blue Dragon.

Sam raised the bottle of beer to her lips and drained it. How many had she had? Three? Four? Did it matter? She wasn’t going anywhere. Her back was a little stiff, but she wasn’t in pain, and considering all the unwanted exercise she’d had today, that was something of a miracle.

In her hand, she held the sketches Phil had made. He’d asked her what she wanted in a perfect kitchen, and as she’d imagined it, he’d drawn it. Pod lights under the upper cabinets would shed light on the white counter top right where it was needed, providing lots of usable work-space. If she closed her eyes, she could see it, right down to the fresh flowers and jars of dry pasta she would have on it. It was beautiful and would inspire her to create delicious breakfasts for her guests.

“I still can’t get over how easy it was to come up with this,” she said, picking up the next sketch. “It’s perfect in every way.”

“It’s always easy when the client knows exactly what she wants and her wishes line up with my ideas. Come over here.” He stood looking out the window. “The rain has turned to snow.”

Grinning, she set down the sketch and limped over to him. The snow fell in fat flakes quickly adhering to the ice covered branches.

“It’s so pretty,” she said. “It looks magical, but I’ll bet driving is bad.”

“Yeah, and the power’s still out.” He chuckled. “You may have to share my cold pizza in the morning.”

“Not when you brought me croissants and muffins.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I know it’s imposing, but I’m glad you’re going to stay the night,” she admitted. “I really didn’t think things through when I decided to move in here, just me and my trusty cat.”

Thanks for visiting. Don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales.