Harmony Kent's Blog, page 131
July 11, 2016
Ride ‘Em
Hello everyone! It gives me pleasure today to host author Delphine Dryden and her Erotic Romance novel, Ride ‘Em. Delphine will be awarding a digital copy of Ride ‘Em to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. For more tour stops, and more chances to win, please click on the banner above, which will take you to Goddess Fish Promotions’ Ride ‘Em tour page 
Saddle Up
Mindy has come to Logan’s dude ranch to convince him to sign away his land’s mineral rights to her stepfather. She doesn’t want to beg, but she will if she has to, like she does Friday nights when she submits to her master’s desire . . .
Buckle Down
Logan doesn’t like to be jerked around, in business or pleasure. And when he learns what Mindy is up to, he’s ready to teach her a lesson. In fact, he’d like to tie her up, strip her down, and give her a spanking she’ll never forget . . .
Ride Hard
With passion riding high, Logan and Mindy indulge in carnal play that leaves them both wanting more. And with their jobs on the line, they realize that their erotic fantasies might be their ticket to success . . .
Excerpt:
Mindy fumbled for her phone, turning off the annoying nasal voice of the GPS app before tossing the device back into the passenger seat. She didn’t know why she’d used it anyway. She didn’t need any navigation assistance for this trip. This was territory she’d conquered long ago, and left behind for better things. She hadn’t been back in a dozen years, not since that summer after she graduated, but nothing had changed much. The familiarity was disconcerting. When she’d passed the City Limits sign, she’d had to swallow back a pang of something suspiciously like homesickness.
I can do this.
She turned when she reached Bolero, barely skimming the edge of town before heading back out of it. Instead of driving toward her childhood home, she veered deeper into the countryside, toward the future she was determined to make for herself.
About the Author:
Delphine Dryden majored in English at the University of Texas at Austin. She has written contemporary and erotic romance for Carina Press and Harlequin, and mainstream steampunk romance for Berkley Publishing. Her writing has earned an Award of Excellence and Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews, an EPIC Award, an IPPY Gold Medal, and a Colorado Romance Writers’ Award of Excellence. She was the also the inaugural winner of the Science in My Fiction contest.
http://www.delphinedryden.com/
Buy the book:
https://www.amazon.com/s/?field-keywords=9781601836755
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/ride-em/id1088651882?mt=11
https://play.google.com/store/search?q=9781601836755&c=books
https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/ride-em-5
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ride-em-delphine-dryden/1122783830?ean=9781601836755
by 
July 10, 2016
Monday Musings Part Seven: No Strings
No Strings
Today, I’d like to take a closer look at giving. At first glance, it seems simple enough. Right? Erm … not quite. Have you ever given a gift to someone—a loved one, perhaps—and felt disappointed at their less than thrilled response? Or, even worse, discovered a while later that they re-gifted it? It doesn’t have to be a gift; it can be help you’ve offered or given and can take many forms.
They key is in your attachment to the offering. If you’ve kept hold of it, you haven’t given it, not truly. You’re still holding on. Also, if the person didn’t ask for it, then what right do you have to be hurt or upset if they don’t greet you with gratitude?
Once we’ve given something, whether that be a gift, our time, or assistance, we need to let go of it. We need to sever all ties. We need to cut the strings. Only then can it be properly given. What the recipient does, isn’t any of our business. Just like Monday Musing Part Four, on judging, it affects them far more than it affects us.
Anytime we’re tempted to give help or a gift, we need to take a look at what’s driving us. As paradoxical as this sounds, the wrong kind of giving can be selfish. Sometimes, the seemingly generous act is more about us, the giver, than the recipient.
Are we giving because we want to give, or because the person actually wants something from us? To flip this on its head a moment, to let someone help you can be an act of generosity. When I first became disabled, I resisted help, being fiercely independent. It took time, and a little pointing out from my Zen teacher, for me to realise that always rejecting that help was a selfish response. People wanted to assist and make things easier for me, and who was I to stop them from expressing that generosity? So, to accept a gift is also to be generous.
To summarise: When we give, we have to let go. The recipient’s response is none of our business and doesn’t affect our offering. The only thing that can affect that offering is our response. Our motives. Intention is an ever-present, ever-important facet of life. It underpins our every action. It affects the way we feel about something.
Remember, when a person accepts something from us, they’ve given us an opportunity to be generous. To show love or caring. From that perspective …
In the wise words of Zen:
‘The giver should be thankful.’
If you’ve missed my previous Monday Musings, you can find the links below:
by
All In
Hey folks! Welcome to my place today It gives me great pleasure to host All In, a contemporary romance by Simona Ahrnstedt, where the long Swedish nights unfold an affair that will bring light to shocking secrets. For links to Simona’s other tour stops, please click on the banner above.
Simona will be awarding a print copy of ALL IN (US/Canada only) to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
In the cutthroat world of Sweden’s financial elite, no one knows that better than corporate raider David Hammar. Ruthless. Notorious. Unstoppable. He’s out to hijack the ultimate prize, Investum. After years of planning, all the players are in place; he needs just one member of the aristocratic owning family on his side—Natalia De la Grip.
Elegant, brilliant, driven to succeed in a man’s world, Natalia is curious about David’s unexpected invitation to lunch. Everyone knows that he is rich, dangerous, unethical; she soon discovers he is also deeply scarred.
The attraction between these two is impossible, but the long Swedish nights unfold an affair that will bring to light shocking secrets, forever alter a family, and force both Natalia and David to confront their innermost fears and desires.
Excerpt:“No, I am busy. And I would never dream of trying to avoid you. You’re my best friend. Although I do have other friends, you know. Maybe tomorrow? My treat.”
“Busy doing what, if I might ask?” Åsa said, not letting the possibility of a free lunch tomorrow distract her.
Natalia didn’t say anything. She looked down at her buried desk. Now would be a good time for one of her phones to ring, or maybe the fire alarm could go off, she thought.
Åsa’s eyes widened as if she’d had a realization. “Aha, who is he?”
“Don’t be silly. I’m just going to eat lunch.”
Åsa’s eyes narrowed to two turquoise slits. “But you’re acting so weird, even for you. With who?”
Natalia pressed her lips together.
“Natalia, with who?”
Natalia gave up. “With someone from, um, HC.”
Åsa furrowed her light eyebrows. “With who?” she stubbornly demanded. She might have made a good cult leader, but she also would have made a terrific interrogator, Natalia thought. All that blond bimbo fluff was misleading.
“It’s just a business lunch,” she said defensively. “With no agenda. He knows J-O,” she added as if the fact that her lunch date knew her boss explained everything.
“Who?”
She capitulated. “David Hammar.”
Åsa leaned back and beamed at Natalia. “The big guy, huh?” she said. “Mister Venture Capitalist himself. The biggest bad boy in the financial world.” She cocked her head. “Promise me you’re planning to sleep with him.”
“You’re crazed,” Natalia said. “Sex-crazed. I actually wish I could cancel it. I’m really stressed out. But one of the things I can’t find in this mess is my cell phone, which has his number on it,” she added. How could you lose a phone in an office that was smaller than forty square feet?
“But for God’s sake, woman, why don’t you get yourself an assistant?”
“I have an assistant,” Natalia said. “Who, unlike me, has a life. Her kids were sick, so she went home.” Natalia glanced at the clock. “Yesterday.” With a sigh she sank into her desk chair. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look anymore. She was really done. It felt like she’d been working nonstop for ages. And there was so much paperwork she was behind on, a report to write, and at least five meetings to schedule. Actually she didn’t . . .
“Natalia?”
Åsa’s voice made her jump, and Natalia realized she’d been dozing off in her uncomfortable chair.
“What?” she asked.
Åsa looked at her seriously. Her mocking expression was gone.
“Hammar Capital isn’t evil, no matter what your dad and your brother think. They’re tough, yes, but David Hammar isn’t Satan. And he’s really hot. You don’t need to be ashamed if you think it’ll be fun to meet him.”
“No,” said Natalia. “I know.” But she’d been wondering what Hammar Capital’s legendary CEO wanted with her. And maybe he wasn’t Satan, but he had the reputation of being hard and inconsiderate even by financial industry standards. “No, I’m just going to have lunch and get the lay of the land,” she said firmly. “If he has business with the bank, he’s going to want to deal with J-O, not me.”
“But here’s the thing. You never know with Hammar Capital,” Åsa said, gracefully standing up. “And you’re underestimating yourself. Do you know anyone as smart as you? No, exactly.” She ran her hand over her completely stain- and wrinkle-free outfit. Even though she was wearing an austere suit (Natalia happened to know that this specific Prada suit had been tailor-made for Åsa), a simple silk blouse, and light-beige pumps, she looked like a glamorous movie star.
Simona Ahrnstedt © 2014 Fotograf Anna-Lena Ahlstrm +46-709-797817
Åsa leaned over the desk. “You know very well you shouldn’t care so much what your father thinks,” she said, as usual putting her finger right on the sore spot and pushing. “You’re brilliant, and you’re going to go far. You can make your career here.” Åsa gestured to the building they were in, the Swedish headquarters of one of the world’s biggest banks, the Bank of London. “You don’t have to work at the family company to be worth something,” Åsa continued. “They have the world’s least progressive view of women’s rights and you know it. Your dad is hopeless; your brother is an idiot, and the rest of the board wins the male chauvinist pig prize of all time. And I should know, because I work with them.” She cocked her head. “You’re smarter than all of them put together.”
About the Author:
Simona Ahrnstedt was born in Prague and is a licensed psychologist, a cognitive behavioral therapist, and most importantly, a bestselling author. As her novels have swept bestseller lists in her native Sweden, she has become a spokesperson for books by women, for women, and about women. Her provocative women’s fiction has been sold in multiple languages as well as audio format. She lives outside of Stockholm, Sweden, with her two teenagers.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/book.aspx/32460
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/all-in-simona-ahrnstedt/1122748679
https://www.amazon.com/All-High-Stakes-Simona-Ahrnstedt/dp/1496706196/
by
July 4, 2016
Silent Crusade
Hey folks! It gives me great pleasure today to go global and host Canadian author Richard Cozicar and his new book, Silent Crusade! A crime thriller that’s on fire. Take it away, Richard
Terrorists are targeting major western countries. The first to suffer is Britain, France takes the next hit, and then Canada’s largest city is devastated by the unthinkable acts of a suicide bomber. The concentrated efforts of the allied countries have failed to slow down the steady spread of death and destruction within their borders and they are getting desperate.
Fishing guide and retired CSIS agent, Brand Coldstream, returns from a Northern fishing excursion only to discover his girlfriend, Sara Monahan is missing. How far is Brand willing to go to find Sara and what will he discover on his search?
On the other side of the world, mercenaries from western countries join forces with Middle Eastern terrorists, but to what end?
Thrown back into the world of international intrigue that he tried to leave behind, Brand must now race against the clock to stop an unknown enemy lurking in the shadows. Will the U.S. President relent under the pressure to end a religious war with a shower of nuclear missiles?
What can one man do to prevent a nuclear catastrophe?
While searching for his missing girlfriend, Brand Coldstream uncovers a plot aimed at ending the centuries old battle between Christians and Muslims. Racing against time, Brand straddles both sides of the law in his effort to stop an unknown enemy and their attempts to force the leaders of the free world into a nuclear showdown.
***
After years of working many interesting jobs and reading thousands of mystery books I decided one cold snowy Alberta winter to add my name to the numerous fiction writers among us. The result was the start of the Brand Coldstream series, not CIA, not MI6 but a genuine Canadian hero.
I’ve spent my life researching such characters; my wife calls it reading but research sounds so much better. A series about an average Canadian guy who just happens to have retired from CSIS, The Canadian Security Intelligence Service and now spends his time as a fishing guide. Oh yeah. Did I mention he keeps getting rousted from retirement to take on the evils of the world? More interesting then a book about which flies he’s tying and which rivers occupy his time.
I was born in Northeastern Alberta and have lived in this beautiful province all my life. I started reading at an early age and must have read every superhero comic I could find when I was young. From there I graduated to Louis L’amour and Sherlock Holmes then came the great mystery books. Along the way I often wondered why there was never a Canadian version to match the thrilling books from other countries. Thus an idea was born. I have now released my second book in the Coldstream series and the third book is in editing.
To go along with the Brand Coldstream books I am currently writing my second sci-fi thriller online, “Climate Wars”. It appears on my blog with a new chapter appearing every week. The blog story is the second such. The first one “The Ice Racer” is complete and I am currently editing it for an E-book release.
To go with my reading fixation I am very fond of music. No genre specific just great music of which I have a very good collection. And fly-fishing. A passion I developed when I moved to southern Alberta some 20 odd years ago, walking and wading the numerous rivers and lakes in the region.
Contact info:
www.facebook.com/RichardCozicar
by
July 3, 2016
Monday Musings Part Six: Don’t Just do Something
Don’t just do something
How many times have you done something, or said something, only to wish later that you hadn’t? How often have you wished that you could bottle hindsight and sell it as foresight? I have, lots of times. I suspect that’s why I much prefer writing over public speaking—I get to check it and revise it before I put it out there. Not so much when I’m talking.
Time travel hasn’t been invented yet (not as far as I know). Once it’s done, we can’t undo it. We can’t unsay it. Life doesn’t come with a cosmic eraser.
The age-old saying, ‘Don’t just sit there, do something!’ does have it’s applications. However, living that way leads to more strife than not. If we have the opportunity to sit and reflect on what’s good to do, then we should make full use of that chance.
A Zen temple I used to stay at has a bench in its grounds with a plaque that flipped that saying on its head: Don’t just do something. Sit there! When I first saw it, it gave me a giggle. Only later did the profundity strike me. Only later did I understand the weight in those words.
Life has taught me over and over that any time I respond from anger, hurt, or any other form of intoxication, I fail to respond wisely. Sometimes I get away with it, but usually not. Can I rail against the consequences when I brought it upon myself?
Of course not.
Make no mistake, though. This isn’t a call to inaction. It isn’t a free pass to ignore something that we should be taking care of. Inaction has consequences just the same as action. In fact, inaction is itself an action. It’s a choice, just as surely as doing something is a choice. It’s choosing to do nothing.
The laws of Karma state that every action has a reaction. The same goes for inaction. If we think safety lies in avoidance, we need to think again. We each have choice in our lives; freewill. With such freedom comes responsibility. Which is the reason that every single thing we say, think, or do, is of utmost importance to us. It has a direct effect on how easy or otherwise life is. It has a direct effect on how disturbed or not we feel.
Yes, the tide ebbs and flows and we have no control over that. But why make waves unnecessarily? And, if it’s good to do, then have the courage to do it. Just try not to react blindly.
In the wise words of Zen:
‘Rule your mind, or it will rule you.’
If you’ve missed my previous Monday Musings, you can find the links below:
by
June 29, 2016
Who’s Pulling Your Strings?
Hello and welcome to Harmony’s place today. Oh boy, you’d best be on your guard with today’s guest and his main character, David Flint. Watch out he doesn’t pull your strings! Please give a big, warm welcome to author Kerry Alan Denney and his Supernatural Thriller, Marionettes. Kerry will be awarding a $20 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. To find his other tour stops and for more chances to win, please click on the banner above
Resuscitated after he drowns and dies in a flood, David Flint discovers he has returned from the other side with an uncanny ability: He can “jump” into people’s bodies and minds, and control their thoughts and actions.
David believes it’s a gift, and wants to use it to help people. Then four members of a ruthless drug ring savagely attack his fiancée and leave her in a coma, and David tries to use his new power to destroy the whole ring. But the ringleader, a voodoo priest known as the Zombie Master, is a formidable man with a deadly secret: He has the same incredible ability as David.
When the two human marionette masters clash in a brutal bloody showdown, using the ring’s members as their puppets, David discovers he’s battling for much more than his life—he’s fighting to rid the world of an evil human abomination.
Marionettes illuminates the greatest achievements of the human spirit and the darkest corridors of our minds, and answers the age-old question: What are the consequences of absolute power?
Excerpt:
My head was turned sideways, and I struggled to push myself into a sitting position only to find another sadistic little swordsman was trying to slice his way out of my gut.
“Let me adjust your bed. Take your time, sweetie,” the angel said. She used the bed’s controls to raise it so I could sit up.
The combination of the brutal swordsman in my gut, the vicious little bastards in my throat, and jackhammer-man in my head made me want out of this bad dream. That’s when things got mega-weird: I found myself inexplicably staring down at… me. My face was slack, my features drooping, and my open eyes looked empty and barely aware.
It scared the hell out of me, dream or not.
I saw the angel’s delicate hands gently adjust my shoulders and brush strands of my long dark hair out of my eyes from her perspective, as though her hands were mine.
I’m Cynthia, a nurse, I realized. I have two kids—Johnny and Leah—and a doting husband named Paul who is a wonderful father to our children. I want more than ever to help my patient, David Flint—the subject of much gossip among the second floor nursing staff—to be well and whole again.
“Little pieces, David,” Cynthia said, feeding ice chips from a spoon to the bedridden zombie who looked like me. I worried about the slack look on my face. “Let them melt in your mouth.”
Cynthia knew about Karin’s tragic death, and felt sorry for me at the same time that she felt hopeful for my continued recovery. This screwed with my mind, and because pity is something I can’t tolerate, I found myself jerked out of Cynthia’s perspective and back into my own.
I felt the cool, soothing comfort of the melting ice slide down my throat and wash away some of the little swordsmen. Take that, you bastards. But the pleasant sensation triggered a darker, nasty memory of brackish waters involuntarily swallowed recently.
My body shook with spasms as the memory rose to the surface of my mind and hit me like a sledgehammer blow crushing my skull. The surrounding dark waters engulfed me, and I panicked.
“Can’t… breathe,” I rasped, grabbing Cynthia’s arm. “Save me.”
“Oh honey, you’re remembering, aren’t you?” Cynthia took my hand and set the cup of ice chips on the rotating bedside table.
“Drowning,” I croaked, squeezing her hand. “Save me.”
“No, David, you’re not drowning. You’re in the hospital, safe and alive, and I’m right here with you.”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I looked up into her kind eyes, and saw worry etch lines in her brow. I suddenly remembered the razor-sharp chunk of glass penetrating my gut as I submerged beneath dark waters, unable to stay afloat any longer. That was when I gave in to the merciless deluge, seeing Karin’s face before me as I drowned.
About the Author:
Colleagues and readers have dubbed Kerry Alan Denney The Reality Bender. The multiple award-winning author of the paranormal thrillers Dreamweavers (Juju Mojo Publications, August 2015) and Soulsnatcher (Juju Mojo Publications, April 2014), the post-apocalyptic sci-fi/ horror thriller Jagannath (Permuted Press, February 2015), and numerous short stories published online and in anthologies, Kerry blends elements of the supernatural, paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy, and horror in his work: speculative fiction at its wildest and craziest. With joy, malicious glee, and a touch of madness, he writes reality-bending thrillers, even when the voices don’t compel him to. His protagonists are his children, and he loves them as dearly as he despises his antagonists… even when he has to kill them.
On July 24, 2015, Jagannath became a #1 Amazon bestseller. On March 31, 2015, Soulsnatcher won 2nd Place as 2014 Book of the Year in The Drunken Druid’s International Book Award competition. Jagannath and Soulsnatcher each received a rave blurb from New York Times bestselling author James Rollins.
Kerry lives in Stone Mountain, Georgia with his golden retriever Holly Jolly, a veteran professional Therapy Dog, where he is currently writing his next supernatural thriller… and deciding who to kill in it.
Be on the lookout for Kerry’s new post-apocalyptic/ paranormal thriller A Mighty Rolling Thunder, coming December 3, 2016 from Burning Willow Press.
Kerry’s website:
Follow Kerry on his Amazon Author Page:
http://www.amazon.com/Kerry-Alan-Denney/e/B00K378HHS
Follow Kerry on Twitter:
@KerryDenney https://twitter.com/KerryDenney
Kerry’s Goodreads Author Page:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8187822.Kerry_Alan_Denney
Kerry’s Facebook Author/ Fan Page:
https://www.facebook.com/KerryAlanDenneyTheRealityBender
Join Kerry on Google+:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/102464185794371169075/posts
DREAMWEAVERS on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Dreamweavers-Kerry-Alan-Denney-ebook/dp/B013C9QH66
JAGANNATH on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/Jagannath-Kerry-Alan-Denney-ebook/dp/B00SSGAHBK
SOULSNATCHER on Amazon:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XINW892
Kerry’s short stories:
http://www.kerrydenney.com/published-short-stories.html
MARIONETTES on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Marionettes-Kerry-Alan-Denney-ebook/dp/B01DEEJJF0
MARIONETTES on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29618820-marionettes
My review can be found on Goodreads and Amazon.
by
June 26, 2016
The Last Great Race
Hey folks! Welome to my blog today. It gives me great pleasure to introduce author Mark Morey and his Historical Fiction novel, The Last Great Race. Also, Mark treats us to his thoughts on Setting the Scene Aaaand …
Mark will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please click on the banner above for links to his other tour stops
This story is based around the life of one of the most fascinating and enigmatic sportsmen of his era, Achille Varzi: multiple race winner, twice Racing Champion of Italy and a hero to his many followers. Told partly through the eyes of Varzi and partly by fictional Italian-Australian racing journalist Paul Bassi, we follow the many triumphs and tragedies of Varzi’s life: his passionate love affair with Ilse, his tragic morphine addiction, his recovery from his addictions, his marriage to Norma and his re-signing to race for Alfa Romeo.
Only war intervenes, and Paul and his wife Pia leave Achille to spy for the British at the naval base in Naples. Paul and Pia endure hundreds of Allied air-raids, they join the partisans who fought off the German army until the Allies could rescue them, and then they survive in a near-ruined city as best they can.
By 1946 Italy is still shattered but life is returning to normal, and no more normal is Achille Varzi winning the Grand Prix of Italy that year. Over the next two seasons Achille Varzi scores more successes, until he makes his only ever driving mistake and is killed in Switzerland in 1948. Even though he died too young, Paul and Pia know that Achille Varzi would never have lived in his life in any other way.
Excerpt:
Marshal Balbo sent a large, black Fiat for the victor, and Achille was surprised to share the big car with Hans Stuck. They were driven to the Governor’s residence which was more like a palace, and escorted to the banqueting hall. One large table was at the end of the hall, and Achille was to share the victor’s table with Hans Stuck; one at the left and one at the right and a space in the middle. The Air Marshal appeared from a side doorway and greeted both men, and then he stood between them and took a bottle of white wine from an ice cooler before pouring some. He raised his glass, and despite a room of hundreds it was hushed.
“I want to congratulate the true winner of the nineteen thirty six Gran Premio di Tripoli,” Balbo said before turning to his left. “Hans Stuck!”
Everyone stood and they all toasted Stuck and Achille couldn’t believe it. He won the race; he won it despite using only fourth gear, and Stuck was being feted for finishing second! Or first, because the team orders came from Balbo? Achille looked around the room and everyone who was anyone in motor sport was there; including the drivers: Caracciola, Chiron, Nuvolari, team mate Rosemeyer and everyone else. Team managers too, including Enzo Ferrari, Neubauer and that idiot Feuereissen. Watching him being made a fool! How could he share the victors table with Stuck feted as winner? How could he be humiliated in front of men he’d beaten over the years? Achille got up and left through the open door to the side.
Setting the Scene
The Last Great Race travels to Italy, France, England, Switzerland, Czechoslovakia, Libya and Tunisia during the years 1933 to 1948. To describe individual scenes, wherever possible I used photographs or I used film footage from YouTube. It’s always easier to write from a photograph or film clip than to just make it up, and usually the description that comes from using a photo or a film clip is more alive and more detailed.
One of the scenes was the car racing circuit at Monza in 1933, and there were many pictures and also films of races from this era which I drew upon. Although those pictures and films were in black and white, I coloured my description:
They reached the park and a uniformed policeman manned the boom gate. Paul pulled up and the policeman strolled to the car while Paul fished for his pass from the inside pocket of his jacket. He held it out and the policeman nodded and opened the gate. They entered the park which was too beautiful and peaceful for a racing circuit. Large and formal, with many tall trees shading lush, green grass, and with the lawns bisected by footpaths and the race circuit. Paul followed the access road to the car park at the end. Ahead were the boxes, which was a long, timber building partitioned into spaces for each car for each team; with a roofed spectator area above for important people like sponsors and journalists. Hoardings displayed advertisements for fuel, oil, tyres, sparkplugs, wine and spirits, while many colourful pennants fluttered in the light breeze. Outside the boxes and facing the straight were mostly red and a few blue cars glinting in the sunshine. The main straight was very broad and at least three times the width of most circuits. The cars started on the western side of the straight and headed between trees to the Curva Grande and the road circuit. The cars returned on the eastern side of the straight adjacent to the boxes before taking to the banked oval which crossed the road circuit on a bridge. The oval then looped around the outside of the road circuit to bring the cars to the western side of the straight again. On the opposite side of the main straight were one large and six smaller, roofed, timber grandstands with seating capacity for many thousands, set two metres high on brick bases so that spectators standing in the open area closer to the track wouldn’t block the view of those seated behind. They were grandstands that would do justice to the best football or cricket grounds in the world.
Characters stay in many hotels during their travels, and in some cases I found current hotels that may have existed in the 1930s, and used pictures from hotel websites and other sources. This is one in Provence, France:
The hotel stood on the narrow strip of land between Rue Quartier Les Bosquets and the blue waters of Étang de Berre, with the hotel windows overlooking the lake. It was even better to reach their destination after more than 500 kilometres of driving.
Paul opened the small boot and they took respective bags to a glazed door which Paul held for Pia. Reception was small as expected for a small hotel, with a couple of leather chairs and a polished, timber counter with a book and a bell, and behind that were pigeon holes and a door. Nothing that didn’t need to be there, and despite dark red and gold patterned wallpaper, it was a bright room from light flooding in from big windows and the glazed door, both catching the mid-afternoon sun. Paul went to the counter and rang the bell, and a middle-aged woman came through the doorway a few moments later. Paul sensed Pia watching him from near the door.
One final example is this one, which shows you don’t have to use a lot of words to set the scene:
Achille woke from his near-slumber by the entrance of a tall, young man in racing overalls accompanied by a beautiful, blonde woman almost as tall. Achille was truly startled by the woman of his past. He fixed her car, he admired her legs when she sat to smoke a cigarette, he admired the way she spoke. She kissed his cheek and he fantasised about kissing her lips. But it wasn’t her because that was many years past. The young man noticed Achille and he crossed the box with his cap, goggles and gloves in one hand, and his beautiful companion in tow.
And from there, Achille Varzi’s life will never be the same again.
About the Author:
Writing technical documentation and advertising material formed a large part of my career for many decades. Writing a novel didn’t cross my mind until relatively recently, where the combination of too many years writing dry, technical documents and a visit to the local library where I couldn’t find a book that interested me led me consider a new pastime. Write a book. That book may never be published, but I felt my follow-up cross-cultural crime with romance hybrid set in Russia had more potential. So much so that I wrote a sequel that took those characters on a journey to a very dark place.
Once those books were published by Club Lighthouse and garnered good reviews I wrote in a very different place and time. My two novels set in Victorian Britain were published by Wings ePress in July and August of 2014. These have been followed by a story set against the background of Australia’s involvement on the Western Front, published in August 2015. Australia’s contribution to the battles on the Western Front and to ultimate victory is a story not well known, but should be better known.
Staying within the realm of historical fiction, one of the most successful sportsmen of the 1930s, Achille Varzi, lived a dramatic and tumultuous life. It is a wonder his story hasn’t been told before, beyond non fiction written in Italian. The Last Great Race follows the highs and lows of Varzi’s motor racing career, and stays in fascist Italy during the dark days of World War Two.
Mark Morey
http://markmorey.blogspot.com.au/
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June 25, 2016
A Freebooter’s Fantasy Almanac
Hi folks!
It gives me great pleasure to host author Jan Hawke and her new book, A Freebooter’s Fantasy Almanac!
Jan is on tour with 4Wills Publishing
Take it away, Jan!
Alter-egos, roleplaying and pen names…
Even if you’re not a fantasy or sci-fi geek, most people will at least be familiar with the concept of massively multiplayer online role-playing games (MMORPGs) and the curious attraction of playing in imaginary, often horribly realistic, scenario-based video ‘worlds’ such as The Sims, Tomb Raider, Half-life, Minecraft or the godfather of MMORPGs, The World of Warcraft.
No? Do you ever watch the Big Bang Theory? Joined the Trekkies, or a fan community where you can ‘become’ a Klingon, a Jedi, or a hobbit. Took the part of a ninja warrior, or a barbarian for a live-action roleplay game perhaps (LARP)? Or, going further back into the mists of time, indulged in some table-top war-gaming with the grand-daddy of them all, Dungeons and Dragons (D&D)? Purists will argue that you can trace the history of roleplay games even further back, but we’ll stop at D&D, way back in 1974, because that was the point at which people really began to embrace pen and paper roleplay games.
I came late to it in 2005, when I had fallen seriously ill in all kinds of ways, that had culminated in a massive breakdown, battling chronic depression, and started out on the road to early retirement. In need of some intellectual and creative stimulation, I drifted onto an online Tolkien fan community that had started up in 2000, when the Peter Jackson films had burst onto the scene. There, you could chat to other aficionados of the books and/or films, write fan fiction, make fan art, and play at living ‘in character’ in various ‘kingdoms’.
For me the roleplay was something I shied right away from at first, because that was totally scary – at that point I had very little sense of self left and had trouble just being ‘me’, let alone something exotic, like an ent or an orc. Instead I concentrated on drawing and doing photo-manipulation graphics, but gradually I wanted to write some fan-fiction, and that’s how I began to think more seriously about creating my own Middle Earth character to explore a fantasy world I’d loved since I was ten years old.
The way it worked on the roleplay forums was that you couldn’t play any of the famous characters from the books, otherwise it would have been awash with Gandalfs, Frodos and Galadriels. Instead, people made their own characters up to play in the kingdoms around the site that matched some of the locations from The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings. After a lot of agonising and abortive attempts to ‘settle’ in Minas Tirith or Rohan (so city guards or horse cavalry), I decided to become an elf, and headed off to Rivendell, home of one of my favourite characters, Elrond Half-Elven.
I joined two ‘guilds’, the Elven Art Association and The Bards Guild and ended up running both of them in a fairly short time. My favourite of the two was definitely the Bard’s Guild and that’s where I started to really hit my stride as a writer, and as a poet. So much so that my character, Janowyn, began to subtly merge with my writerly self, as her voice gained in resonance and affinity (see my bio below to understand just how much my inner elf has influenced my work and choice of pen name over the last dozen or so years!).
Excerpt from Fantasy Freebooting: a contemporary assay
The more venerable the world, such as Middle Earth, or the Star Trek milieu, the more susceptible they appear to being translated into happy hunting grounds for the fantasy freebooting community, simply because of the original world’s popularity and exposure to impressionable youngsters. Fan fiction, in the hearts of the perpetrators (and I freely admit I am one such) is seen more as an act of homage than predation, and has become increasingly accepted as a valid preoccupation and honourable appreciation of the oeuvre of literary giants. In some fantasy bastions, fan fiction is now an established and legitimate theatre of celebration, especially for those based on television and film manifestations, where there’s not necessarily a single perceived originator. I’m talking cult status series and movies here, such as Dr. Who, and Star Wars naturally, which have an array of writing talents who were ‘only’ fans to start out with, churning out endless variations and retellings of their original object of fascination’s story, on a sanctioned and even financially permitted basis. Then you have the less obvious groupies like Stephanie Meyer (Twilight series), Anne Rice (Interview with the Vampire et al) and Charlaine Harris (True Blood) in the night-sucking arena, who are seen as pioneers, rather than developers on a theme, by virtue of almost rehabilitating the sub-genre into comparatively contemporary settings and dubious levels of political correctness.
Some living fantasy authors, like J.K. Rowling, are also open to embracing fan fiction, provided their copyright isn’t endangered or flouted. My personal hero, Terry Pratchett, until his untimely demise, was thoroughly enthusiastic and appreciatively supportive of all fan activity (provided a proper licence was obtained should this be for a financial consideration); particularly of cosplay when it came to sartorial interpretations of his celebrated Seamstress’ Guild, the ladies of negotiable affection on the rambunctious Discworld. When it came to actually reading Discworld fan-fiction, he always and publicly declined to do so, as a safeguard against ‘pinching’ someone else’s idea of what was rightfully his own franchise, thus neatly side-stepping any subsequent wrangling on the grounds that he couldn’t possibly have known about it at all. Maybe this was because a more youthful Pratchett had also forayed into fan-fiction territory himself—as hero worship for his own idol, Arthur C. Clarke, and generously made a conscious decision not to discourage adulation on his own account when success finally ha
ppened. A sage decision one must concede, especially if you know the fans will do it anyway, whether you want them to or not…
Bio
Siân Glírdan is the fusion persona of the elven roleplay character, Janowyn (Jano), High Bard of the River Kingdom and her ‘real world’ creator, author, Jan Hawke. Glírdan is the elven word for ‘songsmith’, and Siân is a Welsh variant of Jan (in case you were wondering!).
When it became obvious to Jan that Jano had a far better handle than she could ever have on writing in the fantasy genres, Siân was born, fully formed and raring to go. A Freebooter’s Fantasy Almanac, which is basically the manual on how Jano was brought into being and developed, is Siân and Jano’s first official collaboration. They’re currently working hard on an epic future fantasy series, Tomes of the Havenlands, loosely based on the ancient Celtic world. The first volume should reach the shelves at the end of 2016.
A Freebooter’s Fantasy Almanac back blurb
This is poetry, wrapped in fantasy, within a memoir… Or, to put it another way, it’s a true tale that might well apply to many fantasy fans and gamers who can’t be bothered with keeping their realities separated from their more lurid imaginings.
In my case, this is a sort of ‘real’ cyberspace profiling, during a phase of my life when roleplay truly did need to be therapy, because what was happening around me for real was not what I wanted to participate in. So, buckle up your swash and prepare to witness a titanic battle played out on the field of sanity – where what happens in your head is the only truth that matters.
Book links
Amazon (eBook only for now) – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01H3R5K7K
Amazon Bio – http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01H3UVW06
A Freebooter’s Fantasy Almanac blog – http://freebootersalmanac.blogspot.co.uk/
Social Media links
Twitter – @SianGlirdanBard
Facebook Author page – https://www.facebook.com/SianGlirdanAuthor/
N.B. Tour sponsored by 4WillsPublishing.wordpress.com
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Monday Musings Part Five: Nobility of Silence
Nobility of Silence
Modern life is full of noise and busyness. For many of us, this is just how we want it, because it helps us to avoid being with what is. We use it as a distraction. To sit still, in silence, for most of us can be the hardest thing in the world. Silence can be painful.
It can also be beautiful.
You cannot see your reflection in running water, only in a calm pool. If we are unable to be quiet, and take succour from the peace, we have something in our life that we need to resolve.
Silence has another side to it: it speaks far more loudly than words. Often, our best response is no response. Remember, we don’t have a position to defend. If we have nothing good to say, then why say it? If I hurt someone out of anger or pain, it doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel worse.
And, chances are, if a person is angry or upset with us, they aren’t going to be receptive to anything we have to say. More often than not, our words will only inflame instead of soothe. Why add fuel to the fire?
Each of us brings our perspective to any situation or interaction. I’m sure that each and every one of you reading this post will bring your life experiences to its interpretation. I know the way I mean to say it, but you will (undoubtedly) read it in your way. I can’t help that. My job is to say it as clearly as I know how. Your job is to keep your mirror as clean as you can so that you can perceive my words as clearly as possible.
Whatever we do, say, or think, it is between us and our hearts. Or, for those who believe in God, it is between us and God. For the more generically spiritually minded, it is between us and the universe.
What do I mean by that? When I lived in a place of inadequacy, I constantly tried to keep the peace and not rock the boat. Unfortunately, that also meant that I compromised my heart time and time again. I kept squashing who I was for the sake of being ‘liked’. That’s no way to live. Neither is always telling it like it is. That causes so much hurt, and for what reason? At the end of the day, telling it like it is means spouting your opinions and stories.
Anything we do, think, or say, effects us way more than it does anyone else. And, usually, if you have to push a point, you’re flogging a dead horse. It takes far more strength to say nothing.
In the wise words of Zen:
‘He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.’
If you’ve missed my previous Monday Musings, you can find the links below:
June 22, 2016
Upcoming Kindle Countdown Deals!
Lot’s of Kindle Countdown Deals coming up … Dates below!
Slices of Soul: June 24 to 27
The Battle for Brisingamen: July 1 to 4
The Glade: July 15 to 18
To Celebrate Harmony’s Birthday!
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