C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 122
November 23, 2017
Friday Features – Holiday Pumpkin
Guest appetizer
Cheese Ball Pumpkin
by
HL Carpenter
October is National Pumpkin month, but we think such a beautiful fruit should get more than just one month of notoriety. So smile, say cheese, and make your own yummy appetizer for any holiday get-together.
Cheese Ball Pumpkin
2 8-ounce packages cream cheese
4 ounces crumbled feta or blue cheese
4 ounces shredded sharp cheddar or pepper jack cheese
2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp. prepared mustard
½ tsp. onion powder
Paprika
The stem of a green bell pepper
Place all of the cheese in a large bowl and let soften to room temperature.
When cheese is soft, add Worcestershire and mustard. Blend with electric mixer or food processor on low speed. Scrape bowl and beat blended mixture on medium speed 1 or 2 minutes more until well mixed (do not over-beat).
Turn the mix onto plastic wrap. Pull the wrap up and secure with a twist tie. Shape the wrapped mixture into a ball. Score the pumpkin “ribs” onto the cheese ball with your fingertip or a flat knife.
With the plastic in place, set the cheese ball in a bowl and refrigerate for 4 hours or overnight.
Before serving, sprinkle with paprika and add a bell pepper stem to top.
Keep refrigerated until the crowd arrives, then serve with assorted crackers.
To add even more fun to the party, discuss a good book. We suggest our latest speculative fiction novella.
Seventeen year old Vandy Spencer lives like a princess. Sheltered by her wealthy family, she happily makes plans to spend a before-college gap summer with her gorgeous boyfriend.
Then her dad is accused of financial fraud. The victims of her dad’s swindle vow revenge, and her dad flees.
As accusations and innuendos pile up, Vandy retreats to a hermit-like existence in her childhood tree house and struggles to separate reality from lies. Was her perfect life truly so perfect? Did she ever really know her father?
When family secrets come to light, revealing an unimaginable betrayal, Vandy learns to appreciate the simple richness of sincerity and truth.
EXCERPT
A branch cracked behind me and leaves rustled. I scrambled to my feet.
Stenny had come after me! He really did love me, enough to follow me, and…
Pete Hawthorn stepped out of the woods, holding a flashlight. The backglow lit his face, which was drawn into the frown he wore lately whenever he saw me, and his mouth turned down into a scowl. “Don’t you have any sense at all, Dandy-Vandy?”
I should have known Stenny wouldn’t traipse through the woods searching for me. Running through the dark wasn’t his style. He’d use his phone.
My own phone, tucked in the pocket of my shorts, burst into the first bars of Boyfriend. I ignored the noise and poked a finger at Pete’s chest. “Quit calling me that. Don’t you have better things to do than skulk around the woods in the dark? Like maybe going to work?”
“I took the night off.” He peered at me. “Why are you crying?”
“None of your business!” Then, as his words sank in, I asked, “Why’d you take the night off? Is Gus okay?”
“Gramps is the same as he always is.” Pete slid the button on the flashlight and the bulb dimmed. “I stayed home because we heard the news about your dad. We’re going to help, in whatever way we can.” His voice barely carried across the small space between us, the words and tone sincere.
“That means a lot. Thanks. Tell Gus thanks too.”
“Yeah.” Pete turned the flashlight on bright again and waved it in a searching arc. “Where’s the jerk-off? He leave you alone out here?”
My gratitude evaporated like dew off grass. I planted my hands on my hips as my phone played Boyfriend again. “Stenny’s not a jerk-off, and he’s probably at the tree house, where I left him.”
“How nice to know he’ll stay where you tell him to. At least you won’t need to put a leash on him when the two of you are wandering around France.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “The woods are really dark, Dandy-Vandy, in case you haven’t noticed. Do you have a flashlight? Or am I gonna have to walk you home?”
I didn’t need him to babysit me. I opened my mouth to say so, and then reconsidered as the sounds of the night surged around me. He was right. The darkness crackled with noises I hadn’t paid much attention to during my rush to get away from the hurt of Stenny’s doubt. The air seemed ominous too, full of a sickly-sweet odor, a combination of gasoline, motor oil, and damp dirt. The mix stunk the way I imagined zombies – or worse, vampires – would.
“Thanks, Pete. That’s a good idea.”
“I have them occasionally.” He gestured with the flashlight. “The path’s this way.”
We strode along single file without speaking. The dry leaves crackled beneath our feet and the occasional haunting cry of a bird shredded the air.
“Nightingale,” Pete said.
We reached the end of the path, coming out of the woods behind a row of bushes fencing Kingsway’s open lawn. A line of solar lights illuminated the back yard, glowing against the pool cabana and the house’s white walls beyond – big, ornate…and home.
I smiled despite my worries. “I love how pretty our house is at night.”
Pete shut the flashlight off. “I’ll send you pictures while you’re enjoying your European adventure with the jerk-off.”
I was turning to him when a man carrying a portable video camera dashed across the lawn. I gasped. “He’s headed for the house! I have to warn Dad.”
BUY LINKS
AMAZON – SMASHWORDS
Florida-based mother/daughter author duo HL Carpenter write sweet, clean fiction that is suitable for everyone in your family. The Carpenters write from their studios in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like their stories, is unreal but not untrue. When they’re not writing, they enjoy exploring the Land of What-If and practicing the fine art of Curiosity. Visit their website to enjoy gift reads and excerpts and to find out what’s happening in Carpenter Country.
Stay connected on Pinterest, Linkedin, Google+, and their Amazon Author Page.
November 21, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight Sun God’s Heir
Shines On
REDEMPTION , Book Three of the Sun God’s Heir trilogy, the latest action adventure novel by Elliot Baker . This exciting book ties up the series with the same punch and pizzazz as the previous books and is sure to captivate you. Be sure to get your copy today!
Death is not life’s final stop. There are worse ends.
Two brothers, once disciples of the Pharoah Akhenaten, reincarnate in seventeenth century France. From Spain to Morocco to Egypt, one is determined to rule, the other to protect.
Horemheb, driven to destroy his brother and end their ancient rivalry, invites an African shaman to assist in recovering ancient artifacts of power that will ensure his dominance. Twice before, these artifacts have raised and then destroyed civilization.
The other, Rene Gilbert, escapes from the murderous sultan of Morocco, closely followed by the sultan’s personal guard, the Bukhari. Trained from childhood, these assassins live to kill.
Now, in the blockbuster conclusion to the Sun God’s Heir trilogy, Rene must find a way to fulfill a commitment made lifetimes ago. His long journey across the ages hurtles toward its climax, with the fate of his soul, and perhaps our very world, in the balance.
EXCERPT
The four swivel cannons fired simultaneously in an earsplitting crack. The four two-man crews reloaded the breech, loading cannons quickly and efficiently. Their survival depended on their rate of fire. Each two-man team loaded a premade chamber filled with explosive and grape shot. The chambers, which had been prepared in advance, could be loaded quicker than a similar bore loaded weapon. This rapid fire as well as its swivel mount was what gave this weapon its incredible lethality.
René was about to order the cannons to fire again when the smoke cleared enough for him to see the first shots’ results. One weapon was capable of clearing the men from a ship’s deck in a naval battle. Four fired at once literally created a quagmire of blood and body parts out of the fifty men and horses that had exited the ravine first. For a moment, there was absolute silence. No matter how disciplined the troops, it would take a while for whoever remained in command to organize the next attack.
“Move the right hand wagon to its flanking position.” René pointed east.
Moving swiftly and efficiently, Walid had the men reattach the already hitched horses and move the wagon along its prepared path. A flanking maneuver would encounter a very nasty surprise. Minutes later, Walid returned to René’s side. “We are set. They will not succeed in flanking our position. With your leave sir, I will recheck the elevations of these cannons.”
“As you will, Walid. What do you think of firing the guns successively rather than simultaneously?”
“I will make it so. We must inflict greater casualties on each charge to increase the time between charges. To do that we must allow more troops to exit the ravine. By firing successive shots, we can maintain a near continuous rate of fire if necessary.”
René expected another attack within the hour and he was not disappointed.
The Bukhari erupted from the ravine. And the ‘murderers’ began to fire. The result was the same only now there were more men and horses. The number of dead and dying on the field created an additional barrier for the troops to overcome. The next attack would be a flanking attempt. The Bukhari’s horses were more of a disadvantage in this particular location so snipers scaled the rocks.
“Let us make climbing those rocks a little more precarious.”
The men aimed their muskets and began picking off the outliers that were in sight. The battlefront quieted. The Bukhari would wait for the cover of darkness before attempting to flank them. The afternoon hours passed slowly. Waiting for battle was always difficult. René was confident the routines followed by Ismail’s troops were similar. You ate, you rested, you remembered.
“Walid, have the men unhitch the horses. Tie them up next to the trail a half mile back. We will not move the wagons and if needed, we can retreat faster on horseback. The forest grew dimmer as the sun sank. The giant cedar trees were silent. All the animals had deserted their homes when the first cannon fired.
Flashes of light and explosions erupted from the cannons on the right flank, a burst of light in the growing darkness. As expected, the Bukhari had first attacked their right. Men charged out of the ravine on foot. They tried to find cover behind their fallen comrades, and failed. At such close range grape shot shredded both the cover and the men. A musket ball whizzed past René’s head blowing a chunk from the backside of the wagon. The Bukhari scaled the rocky gorge to the left and managed to come around on that side as well. Walid detailed the left most cannon to swivel and focus on the men coming around the left flank. One cannon in each direction was not enough. In the three minutes it took to reload the cannon, Screaming scimitar wielding men reached the wagon.
René moved in front to protect the gun crews. With a sword in each hand, he met the first black giant of a man who managed to reach the wagon. Ducking below a vicious strike tasked with removing his head, René plunged his sword into the man’s chest and disengaged, allowing the man to drop to the earth. More men challenged him. None survived. The two men on the forward gun yelled and he hit the dirt, the red hot metal exploding out over his head. The sound beneath the gun was deafening. The Bukhari pulled back to regroup. René’s men could not withstand another attack. They were nearly out of preloaded chambers for the guns.
“Walid, spike the guns and then take these men and collect the other gun crew. Fall back to where the horses are. Make sure that all four cannons are rendered useless”
“What about you?” Walid asked.
“I will be right behind you. Leave a horse for me, but do not wait. Ten men cannot stand against hundreds.”
“I cannot leave you, Captain.” Walid’s face constricted as if horrid memories flooded his mind. “I will not fail again.”
René put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “There will be times when we fail each other. No man is invincible. But I am confident that this will not be one of those times. I am not sacrificing myself. I intend to create a diversion that will afford us the time to escape”
“I will help you.”
“In what I am about to do you cannot help. You do not have the training. Trust me and go quickly for our enemies will move soon.”
“Do not die, El Muerte, for I cannot face the sheikh’s daughter without you.”
There was a hint of a smile on his face, but he was deadly serious.
“Do not worry. I am not ready to leave yet. I will be there.”
Walid gathered the two gun crews and they disappeared into the trees.
René backed deeper into the lush cedar grove. Being late fall, the trees all had cones filled with sap. He walked over to a one hundred and thirty foot patriarch of the grove and kneeled. With his hands opened in reverence to the trees and with regret at what he was about to do, he took a deep breath and sank deeper into the levels of consciousness. As he moved through the energy centers that control the physical body, his consciousness enlivened those centers that connected him with the wider universe of energy and matter. He began to know the tree. Not just the image his physical senses brought to him, but its life and spirit. He thanked the tree for its sacrifice and began to speed up the tiny packets of energy that made up the tree’s physical presence. Faster and faster their movement, invisible but manifest until a wisp of smoke was present on the outside of the tree’s bark. The smoke increased, becoming a small flame and then larger until the entire tree burst into flame with an explosive crack. The intense heat spread the fire quickly. The tree’s cones exploded like musket fire, sending arcs of flame into neighboring trees. René went to the other side of the trail and ignited another tree and then another. The winds coming off the mountains fanned the fire and in minutes a conflagration raced from one side of the grove to the other. René sprinted for the horses. The fire would not delay the Bukhari forever.
Amazon Buy Link
Award winning novelist and international playwright Elliott Baker grew up in Jacksonville, Florida. With four musicals and one play published and performed throughout the United States, New Zealand, Portugal, England, and Canada, Elliott has turned to writing novels. His debut novel, The Sun God’s Heir: Return, Book One of the trilogy, was released this past January.
A member of the Authors Guild and the Dramatists Guild, Elliott lives in New Hampshire with his beautiful wife Sally Ann.
Learn more about Elliot Baker on his website. Stay connected on Twitter and Facebook. Like Elliott’s Author Page to learn when new books are available.
November 20, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Million $
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Romance Writers Weekly – If I had a million dollars.
By S.C. Mitchell
Today’s topic comes from the wonderful Leslie Hachtel – If someone handed you a million dollars, what would you do with it?
Well, after seeing the topic my mind instantly jumped here:. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 16, 2017
Friday Features Free Christmas Stories
Free Book
Sizzle in the Snow
Sizzle in the Snow: A Soul Mate Christmas Collection is eight holiday romances packed into one volume. Majanka Verstraete of InD’tale magazine rated the collection four stars and five steam pots. She called the book “an interesting holiday collection” with “smooth and polished style” storylines. “Each story is full of wit, charm and – most of all – romance.”
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Our story is Kissing Santa:
When Sam S. Klaus, a professional Santa, has a fling with a beautiful elfette at a Santa Conference, he wants to make her Mrs. Klaus, but his intended disappears before Santa can pop the question.
Excerpt from Kissing Santa:
Anna Noel studied the trim backside of the Santa standing in front of her. He appeared younger than most of the Santas at the Santa Claus conference she’d chosen to attend this year. A lot more attractive than any Santa she’d ever met. For the briefest of moments she let her mind wander, lingering on Christmas wish number nine—make love to Santa. A heated flush climbed her chest as she envisioned the scene, and she flapped the jacket of her green elf costume to cool down.
Her gaze traveled over his hips, chest, and to the beginnings of a snow white beard. Then to his shock of silver hair underneath the white-trimmed, red Santa hat.
Yep. Definitely a Santa she wanted to know. Too bad she wouldn’t be the elf to his mall Santa. They could get to know each other and more.
The conference registrar drew her out of her Christmas fantasy with a loud, “Miss? Are you with this Santa?”
“What? No. I don’t have a Santa. I’m here alone.”
Sexy Santa turned and held out his hand. “Me, too. I’m Sam S. Klaus.”
A smile curled her lips as she took his hand. “As in Sam Santa Claus?”
His warm palm sent tingles through her fingers as he gently squeezed them.
A lopsided grin slanted his cheek upward, and he flashed a brilliant smile. “You have the same warped sense of humor as my parents.” He gave her a mock bow. “Sam S., for Santa, Klaus, with a K.”
“That’s your real name?” He let go of her hand. She fought to keep from grabbing it back. A real Santa Klaus? How great was that?
“The same, and you are?”
“An—” She stopped, suddenly unwilling to reveal her name. A rollercoaster of emotions raced through her, suggesting she might hit number nine with this Santa. If she did, and it didn’t go well, she wouldn’t want Sam Klaus to know her real identity. “An elf, who needs a Santa,” she said. “How about we team up? I’ll be your personal elfette, and you can be my Santa.”
Want to know what each story is about… besides romance and Christmas? Well, here it is! (If you like their blurb, check out each author’s other books by clicking on their name!)
SANTA BABY by Beth Carter
Unlucky-in-love Brooke Woods finds herself with a Christmas delivery and it isn’t from Santa. When her boyfriend leaves her for their neighbor, she heads to the nearest bar, meeting hunky, nice guy Anderson Bradley. The two only exchange first names, and their hot fling leaves them both wanting more but their anonymity makes that impossible.
Brooke never thought she’d end up in a hospital pregnant at Christmastime. Will a Santa Baby bring the new mother and father together or tear them apart?
SECOND CHANCES: A CHRISTMAS STORY by Amy Deason
When Grace Sellers needs to start over, she moves back to her old hometown with her two young children in tow. But the last person she expects to see is her high school crush, Michael Dennison.
Is this unexpected encounter a mere coincidence or a second chance at true love?
‘TWAS THE CRAZY NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS by Crystal Firsdon
“‘Twas the night before Christmas, when plans led to danger
For Clara and Drew, who until now were strangers.
As they run for safety, desire comes fast . . .
Will they have each other, or is this night their last?”
THE SNOW BIRD by Kim Hotzon
Lauren, a young single mother, is struggling to keep her children fed and a roof over their heads as the holidays approach.
Christmas is looking bleak until a sexy and wealthy property developer unexpectedly shows up in town, offering to repair her roof . . . and a whole lot more.
TAMED BY CHRISTMAS by Ryan Jo Summers
Years ago Paige and Shane experienced a tragic event in their romance. Unable to move past it, they broke up. Yet the passion remains, and she returns at Christmas time in an attempt to rekindle the love she and Shane once shared. It’s a rocky road, and it seems they might not succeed until a freak accident shows them what they really have to lose.
Can Shane tame Paige’s heart by Christmas? Or should they just let those still burning flames slowly die?
OPERATION SANTA by Tina Susedik
When Marci Hofer becomes fed up with the lack of attention from her husband, David, she decides to leave him. Devastated, he begins a campaign to bring her home. Calling it Operation Santa, he learns what he thought would be as simple as sending her gifts can backfire in the most embarrassing ways.
Will he survive the battle to get her back?
CHRISTMAS EVE SURPRISE by Cheryl Yeko
Steve knows he screwed up, but he’s determined to reclaim the woman he loves and the babies she carries.
But when he sweeps back into her life on Christmas Eve, Amy’s not sure she’s ready to forgive him for abandoning her six months earlier.
November 14, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight The Soul Mate Tree book eleven
Shares
THE STORM WITHIN
by
Cerian Hebert
Note from Donald: I got to read an advance copy of this book and finished in one day. The characters were believable, well developed and the story did not let me put the book down. Another excellent addition to the collection.
THE LEGEND OF THE SOUL MATE TREE:
I am old, I am ancient, my purpose is clear
To give those who are needy a treasure so dear.
They who come to my roots, touch my bark, stroke my leaves
Find the soul of their lives if they but believe.
When I call and you listen, your prize will be great
If your heart remains open and you don’t hesitate.
Do you yearn? Be you lonely? Is your time yet at hand?
Reach for me and I’ll give to you. I’m yours to command.
For your trust, for your faith, keep my secrets untold
And I’ll gift you forever, to have and to hold.
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An ancient legend spanning eras, continents, and worlds. To some, it’s nothing more than a dream. To others, a pretty fairy tale handed down through the generations.
For those in critical need of their own happy ending, a gift.
THE STORM WITHIN
By
Cerian Hebert
Healed from her own loss, Juliana Hopkins wants nothing more than to mend reclusive artist Aidan Byrne’s heart, and help close a chapter in his life that has haunted him for over twenty years. Risking their newfound love, Juliana is determined to release the ghosts he can’t let go.
Aidan has been in love with Juliana since the first moment he saw her, but if she can’t leave the tragedies of his past alone, he won’t be able to make a life with her.
She offers him a love he never dared to want, but loving her could rip open all the old wounds he’d never been able to heal.
Available now for pre-sale. Releases: November 15, 2017
Buy Link The Storm Within
Book Trailer for The Soul Mate Tree Series:
Bio:
It’s all about the romance. Since the age of twelve, Cerian has believed this and has wanted nothing more than to write stories with a Happily Ever After. Countless notebooks are filled with her stories written over the years while she’s worked jobs like cleaning stalls in New York to booking cruises in Maine. Currently she’s happily settled in southwestern New Hampshire, working for a company that offers professional development for educators. In her spare time, she’s busy weaving stories and continuing to pursue her dreams.
Bio picture
Find Cerian at:
Website Facebook Twitter Goodreads Pintrest Amazon Author page
Other blogs/info on The Soul Mate Tree books:
Book One: Realm of the Dragon, by CiCi Cordelia, Blog post
Book Two: Can’t Stop the Music, by C.D. Hersh, Blog post
Book Three: Between Venus and Mars, by S.C. Mitchell, Blog post
Book Four: The Trail to Love, by Tina Susedik, Blog post
Book Five: Make Me a Match, by Mackenzie Lucas, Blog post
Book Six: A Promise Remembered, by Erin Riley, Blog post
Book Seven: Never Give Up On Love, by Maggie Mundy, Blog post
Book Eight: Once Upon a Lady, by Addie Jo Ryleigh, Blog post
Book Nine: Sweet Sacrifice, by L.D. Rose, Blog post
Book Ten: Soul Song, by Mikea Howard, Blog post
Book Eleven:
November 13, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Writing is Space Exploration
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Why Writing a Novel is Like Space Exploration #MondayBlogs #AmWriting
By Lucy Mitchel
The other day, during a bout of procrastination, I found myself thinking about astronauts, space travel, rockets and aliens. To my surprise I discovered a few novel-writing similarities.
Here is my list:. . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 9, 2017
Friday Feature Lavender Honey Macarons
Guest blogger is
Leigh Goff
In my newest young adult fantasy, Bewitching Hannah, Hannah’s Aunt J promises sixteen-year-old Hannah a sweet surprise. The young witch hopes the surprise will be her favorite sugary treat—Lavender Honey Macarons. As she describes them, “They were the most amazing little delights; a melt-in-your mouth combination of whipped egg whites, honey, and French lavender…”
LAVENDER MACARONS with HONEY BUTTERCREAM
Macarons
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
1 tbsp. dried lavender buds
¾ cup almond meal
2 egg whites
3 tbsp. sugar
Preheat oven to 300° F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Blend the confectioner’s sugar, lavender, and almond meal in a food processor until fine, then whisk everything into a large bowl.
Use an electric mixer to beat egg whites and sugar together until you create a stiff meringue in a medium-sized bowl. This can take up to 10 minutes. Scrape any meringue clinging to the beaters back into the bowl.
Add the almond meal mixture into the bowl all at once.
Fold the dry ingredients into the egg whites and also rub the meringue against the side of the bowl to knock the air out of it. This is not a mixture combining that you need to baby. You want to deflate the egg whites don’t be gentle. By the time it’s ready, its consistency will be runny, closer to pancake batter than cake batter.
Fill a pastry bag with the batter. Use a pastry bag with a coupler or with a tip. Pipe your shells onto the parchment-paper lined baking sheets, about 1 inch. Space them 1 inch apart.
When you’re done piping, lift the pan and whack it down hard against your counter twice. Rotate the pan 90 degrees and repeat. You might see tiny air bubbles appear on the top of the rounds, a good sign. Do the same with the other pan. Slide the pans into the oven and bake about 15 minutes, at which point the shells should be able to be cleanly picked off the parchment paper.
Let the shells come to room temperature, then fill your macarons with the honey buttercream (recipe below). Use a pastry bag or a spoon.
Honey Butter Cream
½ cup butter (1 stick)
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
2 tbsp. honey
Beat the butter using the whisk attachment for about 2 minutes. Slowly add the confectioner’s sugar, and whisk until well incorporated.
Pour in the honey. Beat until well mixed.
Makes about 40 shells, or 20 macarons
Adapted from Brave Tart
While the shells come to room temperature here is something to pass the time.
EXCERPT
The imposing entrance segued into the main part of the old family chapel. Shadows flickered across the white walls as candlelight streamed down from an ornate iron chandelier cradling clear-colored hurricanes. Angelic sculptures hung between the arched windows and beneath the cloud-painted ceiling that Michelangelo himself would have envied, four wooden pews graced each side of the aisle.
I tiptoed farther in and spotted another black-lined white envelope on the altar. I was definitely in the right place.
My fingers trembled as I traced the letters that formed my name. This was way beyond ordinary, but why and—more importantly—who?
“W?”
A hint of the Shadow’s amber and woods scent mixed with the faint candle smoke of the chapel. “No. Way.” I spun around ready to stomp right out of there.
In that moment, a heavy gaze fell on me and the air felt charged with electricity. I searched right and left, seeing no one. “W? Whoever you are, show yourself.”
“This will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.” His potent voice reverberated off the walls and seemed to come from everywhere, including the inside of my head.
I locked my wandering gaze on the loft above the entrance where I spotted his silhouette. “Was leaving me in a burning wreck the hardest thing you ever had to do? Was it?” I raised my volume. “Who are you? Why did you leave me for dead?”
His intake of breath was audible. “I would never. I mean. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t.”
“Oh, lucky me.” I stuck my hands on my hips and tapped an impatient foot on the floor. “If you don’t want to finish me off, then you lured me here to do what, exactly?”
“To help you. I want to help you.”
“Ha!” The sarcastic laugh burst out before I could stop it. “You’ve done a bang up job inspiring my confidence and trust in that department.”
He simmered in silence for a moment. “What do I have to do to inspire you to follow my directions?”
Following someone else’s directions was definitely not my strength. I grimaced, but curiosity got the better of me. “What do you want?”
“You read the note.”
His desire to remain in the shadows was increasingly irritating. “I consider myself a very smart girl, so when a guy who left me in a burning car tells me he wants to help me take on a different deadly problem, I have to wonder if he’s not setting me up to fend for myself again. What’s your motive?”
I dropped my eyes to the envelope, turning it to and fro.
“Emme Blackstone is a mutual enemy and means us both harm.” A tinge of anger laced his tone.
The anger, I understood. After all, we were talking about Emme, but there was also a hint of sadness that intrigued me further. “Why do you think Emme means you harm?”
“It’s inevitable—because of what I am.”
What was he besides completely contemptible?
“It’s in her blood and I believe it’s in her destiny to wreak havoc, especially against someone who can challenge her in talent like you can.”
I dropped my hands to my sides, still clasping the enveloping. “Whoa. Like me? You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. How could you? I’ve been gone for the last year.”
A chortle caught in his throat. “What’s a year when you come from a bloodline with hundreds of years of history? A history that’s written down and available to certain people with the right—pedigree.”
Confused, I creased my brow as I continued to stare at his silhouette. “Have you been cyber-stalking me on Ancestry.com or something?”
“Hardly.” There was disdain in his voice as if he considered cyber-stalking to be worse than leaving a girl to die.
“Look, whatever you think you know about my family, I’m not like them. I’m not talented, and I don’t want to challenge Emme. I just want to live a normal life. Normal.” My voice escalated. “Do you hear me all the way up there?”
He huffed. “Normal? You don’t get to pretend to be normal when you’re not. It doesn’t work like that. Not in Annapolis. Someone always knows. Someone always unravels your secrets.”
I thought of the Witch’s Grave. I pictured the women’s slender figures dangling from sturdy, gnarled branches. Their tragic endings proved what I already knew. Magic only brought suffering and death. “You make it sound like I don’t have a choice. I’m telling you I do, and I won’t be a part of this.” I stomped my foot hard on the floor.
He shifted from the shadows into a dim ray of light, seething. “You read the note and you know Emme won’t stop. You need my help.”
I glared, trying desperately to make out the details of his face. “I don’t need anything from you.”
“You don’t have to like it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are a part of this. You know you are or you wouldn’t have come here. However, if that’s how you feel then you should leave.” The cold in his voice crystallized.
My pulse escalated. “Yup. That’s how I feel. And I’m only leaving because that’s what I want to do, not because you suggested it. Bye.” I marched to the door and wrapped my hand around the knob. I yanked it open. From the moment I’d first laid eyes on him, he’d been nothing but trouble. Horrible, awful trouble. However, as much as I hated to think it, he knew about me and the other witches in town. He was full of answers—answers I needed. I shut the door and turned back around. “How do you know all this about Emme and me?”
Leigh Goff loves writing young adult fiction with elements of magic and romance because it’s also what she liked to read. Born and raised on the East Coast, she now lives in Maryland where she enjoys the area’s great history and culture.
Leigh is a graduate of the University of Maryland, University College and a member of the Maryland Writers’ Association and Romance Writers of America. She is also an approved artist with the Maryland State Arts Council. Her debut novel, Disenchanted, was inspired by the Wethersfield witches of Connecticut and was released by Mirror World Publishing. Leigh is currently working on her next novel, The Witch’s Ring which is set in Annapolis.
Learn more about Leigh Goff on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.
November 7, 2017
Wednesday Special Spotlight Epic Fantasy
Shines On
Carol Browne
Burning Willow Press is excited to present the epic fantasy The Exile of Elindel, The Elwardian Chronicles Book 1, by Carol Browne. This exciting novel is filled with action and adventure and will keep you glued to your e-reader to the last page.
Elgiva, a young elf banished from Elvendom, must seek shelter among the Saxons as her only hope of surviving the coming winter.
Godwin, a Briton enslaved by the Saxons, is a man ignorant of his own inheritance and the secret of power he possesses.
A mysterious enemy, who will stop at nothing to wield absolute power over Elvendom, is about to make his move.
When destiny throws Elgiva and Godwin together, they embark upon the quest for the legendary Lorestone, the only thing that can save Elvendom from the evil that threatens to destroy it.
There is help to be found along the way from a petulant pony and a timid elf boy but, as the strength of their adversary grows, can Elgiva’s friends help her to find the Lorestone before it falls into the wrong hands?
EXCERPT
The night was waning when Elgiva woke, wondering where she was. The dark ceiling of Joskin’s cave hung above her, and everything had a reddish glow, cast by the embers of the fire. She slid from under the fur coverlet, her skin tightening at the loss of its warmth, and searched for her leather sandals.
Something had woken her, something that waited outside the cave. A runnel of dread ran down her spine.
She had an inexplicable sense of impending danger, but it was too insistent to ignore. An unnamed instinct stopped her from alerting her companions. She must face this menace alone.
She left the cave as quietly as she could. Her heart pounded in her throat as she peered between the rowan trees and searched the night. Whatever had awakened her, it beckoned. She held her breath and listened, but her ears detected nothing, save for a silence as dark and empty as an abandoned crypt.
It would soon be daybreak, but the sun had yet to rise, and the dark beyond the cave swarmed with potential horrors. She stepped out from among the rowans, relying on her acute senses to make out her surroundings. An unnatural calm gripped the night and as her sandals whispered against the cold grass, they sounded abnormally loud. She feared they would betray her presence.
After a while, she came to a stop and searched the trees. Thin strands of mist curled along the ground, cold and clammy, like an exhalation of sickness.
She hugged her shoulders, knotted her fingers in the cascade of her hair, and shivered in her ragged robe. All around her, the silence seemed to be drawing into focus.
“Who is it?” Her throat was too dry for her purpose. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Who’s there? I know you’re there. I can . . . I can feel you!”
Feel you.
A flash of silver sliced through the dark, and Elgiva gasped in fear. Her arms came up to shield her face as the beam struck a rock several yards ahead. It exploded with a whoosh and sent up thousands of splinters of light, which fell to the ground and sizzled in the mist.
A shape now stood upon the rock, its form concealed in a black, hooded cloak.
Elgiva clutched the amulet to her breast. Her hands were white with terror. “In the name of Faine, who are you? What sort of trick is this?”
A soft, sly voice spoke back to her. “Why should you fear magic?”
“What do you want?” she pleaded, her voice a croak of fear.
“To see for myself.”
“To see what?”
The dark shape sniggered, but made no answer. Instead, it swept its cloak aside, and a cloud of sparks flew out and covered the ground with beads of light.
Elgiva stepped back unsteadily, resolved to flee.
“Stay!” commanded the creature.
It raised a skeletal hand, and the forefinger swung towards Elgiva and pinned her against the darkness, holding her like a rivet of bone. No elf, no wilthkin, ever owned such a hand. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. This had to be a nightmare; she was still asleep in the cave. But no, it was all too real.
“Who are you? What do you want?” she cried. “I have . . . I have an amulet!”
The creature laughed derisively. “I am Death, and I have come for you.”
It began to radiate a sickly green light, enveloping itself in a caul of brilliance that pulsated with force. The light grew in size until the trees behind it were bathed in its angry glare. It reached for Elgiva, like a foul stench creeping along a breeze, and she was helpless. The creature’s power throbbed in the darkness.
Within the taut coils of her fear, her instincts screamed at her to run, but her limbs had turned to stone.
Siriol, Siriol, help me . . . help . . .
With a shriek of glee, the creature increased the throb of its power. Elgiva’s mind was suddenly invaded by an inexplicable force. She became divorced from herself and watched from a great distance, waiting for the horror to unfold.
Amazon Buy Link
Bio
Born in Stafford in the UK, Carol Browne was raised in Crewe, Cheshire, which she thinks of as her home town. Interested in reading and writing at an early age, Carol pursued her passions at Nottingham University and was awarded an honours degree in English Language and Literature. Now living and working in the Cambridgeshire countryside, Carol usually writes fiction and is a contracted author at Burning Willow Press. Being Krystyna, published by Dilliebooks on 11th November, 2016, is her first non-fiction book.
Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.
November 6, 2017
Tell Again Tuesday Log or Tag line?
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
All About Tag Lines
By Joanne Guidoccio
At a recent meet-up, I was surprised to learn that many of the writers in the room (myself included) didn’t know the difference between a log line and a tag line. I had always assumed the two terms could be used interchangeably. While both terms originated in the film industry, the two concepts have very different structures and functions.
A log line provides the main conflict, main character, and the stakes in a well-constructed sentence that is usually less than 25 words in length.
A tag line is a catch phrase that sets the tone. It sums up the entire plot in one compelling phrase or sentence that is at most 10 words in length.
In my research, I discovered that several synonyms exist for taglines, among them tags (United States), end lines or straplines in the United Kingdom, payoffs in Italy, baselines in Belgium, and signatures in France.
Here are sample . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
November 2, 2017
Friday Features Never Too Late
Welcomes
Caroline Warfield
[image error]
An Introduction
When the Bluestocking Belles let their readers select story elements for their next anthology, I was given a trope (a compromising situation that isn’t what it seems) and three other things (a Bible, an heroine in her thirties with hazel eyes, and a wise old man) that I had to include in my story. The setting that popped into my mind almost immediately was France in 1916. You may guess that unleashed the need for research. The result of it all was my story “Roses in Picardy” in the anthology Never Too Late, which goes live November 4. TOMORROW!
Food in the Trenches 1916
First of all, keep in mind that no one starved. The aphorism that an army runs on its stomach was as true then as ever. The armies made every effort to feed their men, even while civilian populations actually were starving. That doesn’t mean they ate well.
Field kitchens existed. When troops rotated out of the trenches they might have the hot coffee, porridge and stews such places provided. Getting to supplies to the kitchens was difficult, however, so they made due with basic rations, and what could be scavenged, including weeds and nettles. Getting food from the kitchens to the trenches was even more difficult. When it arrived it was usually cold and unappetizing. Gas attacks ruined stews and soups.
In the trenches men were given field rations. For British and colonial troops this consisted mainly of tinned meet (usually corned beef or “Bully Beef”), hard biscuits, tea, and bits of salt and sugar. They might also get beef stock powder. Sometimes they got jam or, on rare occasion, a sweet. An alternative to the beef was a horrid concoction of tinned stew called Maconochie Stew, said to be barely edible warm and impossible to eat cold. American troops fared little better although their tinned ration might include salmon or other fish.
A Recipe
Heating food in the trench presented another obstacle. If they could heat it at all, they usually did it over a candle. Camp stoves were rare. The very height of fine dining was probably trench stew. Cookit.com has a recipe for trench stew with these ingredients:
½ can tinned beef
whatever root vegetables you can find (they suggest a turnip and a carrot)
a pint of water
one or two hard biscuits
Stock cube or powder
You can find their recipe here, although you can probably figure out how to make it on your own. If you would like to try it, you might want to purchase reproduction rations. You can find them here: http://17thdivision.tripod.com/rationsoftheageofempire/id7.html
About Roses in Picardy
[image error] After two years at the mercy of the Canadian Expeditionary force and the German war machine, Harry is out of metaphors for death, synonyms for brown, and images of darkness. When he encounters color among the floating islands of Amiens and life in the form a widow and her little son, hope ensnares him.[image error]
Rosemarie Legrand’s husband left her a tiny son, no money, and a savaged reputation when he died. She struggles to simply feed the boy and has little to offer a lonely soldier.
Excerpt
Are men in Hell happier for a glimpse of Heaven?”
The piercing eyes gentled. “Perhaps not,” the old man said, “but a store of memories might be medicinal in coming months. Will you come back?”
Will I? He turned around to face forward, and the priest poled the boat out of the shallows, seemingly content to allow him his silence.
“How did you arrange my leave?” Harry asked at last, giving voice to a sudden insight.
“Prayer,” the priest said. Several moments later he, added, “And Col. Sutherland in the logistics office has become a friend. I suggested he had a pressing need for someone who could translate requests from villagers.”
“Don’t meddle, old man. Even if they use me, I’ll end up back in the trenches. Visits to Rosemarie Legrand would be futile in any case. The war is no closer to an end than it was two years ago.”
“Despair can be deadly in a soldier, corporal. You must hold on to hope. We all need hope, but to you, it can be life or death,” the priest said.
Life or death. He thought of the feel of the toddler on his shoulder and the colors of les hortillonnages. Life indeed.
The sound of the pole propelling them forward filled several minutes.
“So will you come back?” the old man asked softly. He didn’t appear discomforted by the long silence that followed.
“If I have a chance to come, I won’t be able to stay away,” Harry murmured, keeping his back to the priest.
“Then I will pray you have a chance,” the old man said softly.
About Never Too Late
Eight authors and eight different takes on four dramatic elements selected by our readers—an older heroine, a wise man, a Bible, and a compromising situation that isn’t. Set in a variety of locations around the world over eight centuries, welcome to the romance of the Bluestocking Belles’ 2017 Holiday and More Anthology.
It’s Never Too Late to find love![image error]
1181
The Piper’s Lady by Sherry Ewing
True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?
1354
Her Wounded Heart by Nicole Zoltack
A solitary widow, a landless knight, and a crumbling castle.
1645
A Year Without Christmas by Jessica Cale
An earl and his housekeeper face their feelings for one another in the midst of the English Civil War.
1795
The Night of the Feast by Elizabeth Ellen Carter
One night to risk it all in the midst of the French Revolution.
1814
The Umbrella Chronicles: George & Dorothea’s Story by Amy Quinton
The Umbrella Strikes Again: St. Vincent’s downfall (aka betrothal) is assured.
1814
A Malicious Rumor by Susana Ellis
A harmonious duo is better than two lonely solos for a violinist and a lady gardener.
1886
Forged in Fire by Jude Knight
Forged in volcanic fire, their love will create them anew.
1916
Roses in Picardy by Caroline Warfield
In the darkness of war, hope flickers. In the gardens of Picardy, love catches fire.
You can buy it from various retailers. The links are here. 25% of proceeds benefit the Malala Fund.
Caroline Warfield
Caroline Warfield has been many things. Now retired to the urban wilds of Eastern Pennsylvania, she divides her time between writing and seeking adventures with her grandbuddy and the prince among men she married. Her new series sends the children of the heroes of her earlier books to seek their own happiness in the far-flung corners of the British Empire.
Website: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaroWarfield
Newsletter: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/newsletter/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/warfieldcaro/boards/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/
