Marlow Kelly's Blog, page 23

An Interview with Lynda J. Coker

Lynda is busy touring with her latest release Stormee Waters, but was gracious enough to answer a few questions for us.

What do you think makes good writing?

For fiction, a writer must tell the story that lingers in their mind and heart, from their perspective, with their feelings. Tell the story they would like to read. I want characters that aren't perfect so that through their struggles and change, I come to care about them and want to stay in their story, even wondering how their lives are progressing long after I've finished the book.

Do you have a favorite hobby or pastime?

I have always like to design and have had a love affair with fabric for a long time. So I quilted for many years then wondered into the world of designing fiber art wall-hangings.  While a piece can be intricate and time consuming, I find the process quite enjoyable and a definite change from writing.

What's your favorite character archetype of literature? 

My favorite is the male lead who has an alpha male persona, is a commander with rough edges that every female wants to smooth.  He has a loving heart that he only gives away once and for keeps. 

oh yes, I agree with you when it comes to alpha males. Umm :)
Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions and I wish you the best of luck with Stormee Waters

Author Bio:

Lynda is an author of contemporary romance that lingers in a reader’s mind long after they’ve closed the book. She lives in Northeast Texas with her husband of fifty years. They enjoy traveling, trying new foods, spending time with family and friends, and doing community service work together. When she feels the need to take a break from writing, she enjoys creating fabric art.  She offers an open invitation to view both her writing and fabric art on her blog.

Blog:  http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspo...
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/lyndacoker
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/lyndacoker
Pinterest:  http://www.pinterest.com/lyndacoker/






Available at:


The Wild Rose Press 

Amazon  

Dirk Savage never fails to acquire what he wants until he encounters Stormee Waters and a backwash of trouble...

Stormee Waters knows about hard times. Needing to care for her aging grandmother and teenage brother, she moves to Houston, Texas and takes a writing job for a popular magazine. Her first assignment is to interview a successful business man for a series of articles entitled, Make My Man Texas-Sized. Her target, Dirk Savage, appears to have the right criteria. He's adventurous with the air of a conqueror. Admired by his peers and coveted by beauty queens and debutantes, he's just the type of man that Stormee needs to make her first article sizzle and sell. But can she handle the heat when she catches his attention?
Dirk Savage is used to acquiring what he wants, except in the illusive quest for the one woman who can fill his heart. The shock of discovering her in the naive young woman assigned to interview him sets his jaded emotions on high alert. Can he convince her that his pursuit is genuine?


Excerpt:

“How old are you?” His tone possessed a clipped edge of exasperation.

What does my age matter? Mortified, she fidgeted with the small purse she held in her lap.
“Twe—twenty-three.”

“You blush and fidget like a little girl.”

To her astonishment, and with more force than necessary, he closed her door, circled the car, and
slipped back behind the wheel. A few minutes later, he parked in front of the Stardust Restaurant. This time,
when her door opened, he helped her out and led her toward the restaurant’s entrance, stopping just short to
maneuver her into a secluded niche in the building’s exterior.

With her back against the rock wall, Stormee muttered, “What are you doing?”

“Time to make up for leaving me standing in your doorway.”

Shock kept her immobile, while the sweetest pleasure she’d ever experienced sensitized her mouth
beyond bearing. With unhurried, soft kisses, he explored the corners of her clenched lips. 

Mrs. Stanton’s warning echoed in her ears. “Remember to keep it professional, Stormee. He’s not the kind of man you’re used to dealing with.” She pushed away the annoying memory as he wet her bottom lip with his tongue.

Intensity by C.C. Koen

I chose to write about my favorite book boyfriends which reveals a little about the romance stories I love.



                            #1 BBF: MAVERICK HART


His name alone gives me the shivers. Reminds me of Maverick from Top Gun all the way. This guy is balls-to-the-wall tough, dirty-mouthed, and a supreme alpha. This novel also happens to be one of my favorite top reads. It resonated with me so much, I actually wrote the author an email. You can read more about that message at my website: www.cckoen.com. Refer to the blog page, where I post monthly book recommendations. Only my top picks make it.
http://racheljrobinson.com/
#2 BBF: TACK ALLEN


I have to be honest, Motorcycle Man was the first MC book I ever read, and Tack Allen was my all-time favorite BBF, until he got bumped by Maverick. I seriously had a huge crush on Tack and still do. Kristen Ashley gave him a classic MC attitude that I couldn’t help but crush on. There is something so addictive about a man who is brash, but also has a sweet intrinsic side that comes out at the most unexpected times. I loved everything about this book, and it’s not one to miss.
http://www.kristenashley.net/menu/home.html
#3 BBF: DEX LOCKE

http://marianazapatawrites.blogspot.com/

Ugh! I hated listing Dex as #3 and not #1. I loved this guy. He owns a tattoo shop and is also in a MC. Since I have two tattoos it was automatic—love at first read. Really though, this guy is written so realistically, you will think you are the heroine in the story and taking part in each exchange. He has a total bad attitude that he wears 24/7, but it won’t turn you off, because he gets just as good as he gives. So don’t miss this book. It’s a must read!

#4 BBF: KAYNE DOBRESCU

http://julieannereeves.blogspot.com/

I am such a sucker for the bleeding heart kinda guy. Kayne Dobrescu is definitely that, and he also happens to be a police officer. A hot guy in a uniform is another weakness of mine. This man though, is opposite of my other top three BBFs. Kayne is suffering from a horrific loss (no spoilers here). He’s also beautiful on the inside and out, making this story a must read.

#5 BBF: WADE CORDELL

http://www.roxannestclaire.com/romanticsuspense/romanticsuspense.html

Roxanne St. Claire hooked me on romantic suspense novels. The Bullet Catchers series was one I could NOT put down or read fast enough. She is another author I sent an email to. There aren’t many, in fact she is the only other author I have written to. Some books just hit you right in the heart, and this one did that for me. Wade Cordell is a sweet, southern, quiet guy that will steal your heart. I’d love to have a Wade in my own life. Hey! A girl can dream.

Intensity by C.C. Koen

INTENSITY BUY LINKS 


INTENSITY AMAZON  LINK

INTENSITY AMAZON AUTHOR CENTRAL PAGE

 INTENSITY BARNES & NOBLE  LINK

INTENSITY KOBO  LINK


INTENSITY SMASHWORDS  LINK



 

 

 
What would you do to improve your life?

Twenty-one-year-old Serena Thomas is faced with a tough decision. Unable to get ahead of debt and loneliness since her grandmother’s death she finds a new job, placing the sheltered virgin in an underground escort business. She tells herself it’s just a temporary life choice, but destiny has a different plan. She meets a mysterious and gorgeous man, who happens to be her new boss. Will Serena fit in or will she be left all alone again?

Lincoln (aka: Linc) Jefferson has an unusual life. He established The Lounge, an exclusive escort club for very personal reasons. A place where the women say who, when, and what type of sex they’re willing to have. The escorts possess all the power and the money. It’s a business Linc guards at all costs. Trying to maintain the secrecy is a constant challenge and one that’s tested when he enters into a relationship with Serena. She tempts him unlike any woman, even though he’s surrounded by beauty on a daily basis. The more time they spend together the harder it is for him to keep his secrets. Will Serena stand by his side or will she abandon him?

Sparks and passion fly, taking these two on a journey neither could have expected.

Excerpt

I turned toward the frameless picture windows lining the entire exterior wall and was presented with a breathtaking, unobstructed view of the harbor. Smack dab in the middle, behind an antique mahogany desk, stood the tallest, most impressive man I’d ever seen. The black suit he wore matched the surroundings, professional and sleek. The top three buttons on his white shirt undone, dark sprigs of hair peeked through and begged for my attention.

As I got closer, his eyes scanned me from head, to chest, to hips and up and down my long legs at least three times, resting on my ruby-red tiptoes.

Ha! Two could play at that game. Using the exact pace he did, I snapped mental pictures of every God given, Mr. Universe muscle. A wavy black ponytail, pulled tight at the nape, crested his wide shoulders and dipped to mid-chest, bringing my journey to a momentary pause. A taut dress shirt molded to his pecs became an instant favorite and preference I didn’t know I had. As I gravitated lower, the desk impeded my view, coming to rest at his waist and a nondescript silver belt buckle. My eyes drifted back up, wishing I could see more, but his tailored jacket without a hint of lint on it kept him hidden. Still, from what I could take in, the man had sin engraved all over him. 

I stopped in front of his desk and realized my earlier assessment of him had been right. My six five in heels, shrunk to five feet the way he towered over me by several inches. “Linc?” The wispiness of my voice made me cringe. Way to go, Serena.

His answer, one sharp nod. In the corners around each eye, little wrinkles appeared as he took another long journey over my body. Knees locked together, I tried hard not to fidget. “I’m Serena. Mylaynee said my interview was at twelve thirty. I’m a little early. I didn’t mean to interrupt if you were in the middle of something.” Damn, there I went, rambling. Yeah, that would have him eating out of my hands.

Linc rounded the desk, coming toe to toe.

"You’re a virgin."

 

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

C.C. Koen writes contemporary romance with a twist. An avid reader who enjoys mystery and suspense, her stories will never be what you expect. Determined to find adventure in her dreams and life, she enjoys skydiving, sailing and any activity that challenges her. Teacher by day, romance writer at night produce an active imagination that comes to life in her writing. Intensity is her debut novel.

Author Social Links 

WEBSITE: www.cckoen.com 

BLOG: http://authorcckoen.com

FACEBOOK: www.facebook.com/cckoenbooks 

TWITTER: http://twitter.com/authorcckoen 

GOODREADS: www.goodreads.com/authorcckoen

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2...

 
The author will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during this tour and the Blurb Blitz tour.


Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 



http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/nbtm-tour-intensity-by-cc-koen.html
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Winter Fire by Kathy Fischer-Brown

When I asked Kathy Fischer-Brown to share some of her research with us I didn’t expect such a fascinating and detailed look at the lives of these poor captives. Thank you, Kathy.

Winter Fire – The Story of a Story

Kathy Fischer-Brown

Of the literature available in seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth century America, “captive narratives” were an extremely popular and sensational genre. Depicting the trials and tribulations of white settlers—predominantly women—taken in raids by Native Americans, they remain gripping to this day. Stories of Mary Rowlandson, Hannah Dustan, Hannah Swarton, and Mary French, to name just a few, provide entertaining and informative reads. But none held my imagination more than that of Mary Jemison, a young teenager who was captured by a French and Shawnee raiding party and adopted into the Seneca tribe in the area around what is now Syracuse, New York. Even as she mourned the loss of her family, Mary lived the rest of her life among the Haudenosaunee. By the time she had reached a ripe old age, Deh-he-wä-mis (as she was then called) had all but forgotten her native language and was venerated by her adopted people.  An equally engrossing tale is told in a more recent book. John Demos’s The Unredeemed Captive (Vintage, 1995) chronicles the efforts of the Williams family of Massachusetts in the early 1700’s to regain their daughter following a raid on Deerfield. After years of searching and countless disappointments, Reverend Williams was horrified to learn that Eunice had married a Mohawk warrior and chose to remain with her captors.

It was only natural that when the idea for Winter Fire caught my imagination, I returned to these accounts. As the story took shape, further research led to a campaign of 1779 during the American Revolution, which had as its target Iroquois warriors under Mohawk war chief Joseph Brandt and his Loyalist allies. (An exceptional account of this bloody chapter in American history is told in Allan Eckert’s Wilderness War.) Following a number of murderous attacks on frontier settlements and equally brutal reprisals, George Washington dispatched Generals John Sullivan and James Clinton deep into Six Nations lands to minimize the effectiveness of Brandt’s forces by burning their villages and crops. The resulting devastation led only to more retaliation.  

An unexpected by-product of this offensive was the recovery of a number of white captives and their return to “civilization.” Some went happily with the army, while others had to be forced from the smoldering remains of their adoptive homes.

This inspired me to ask myself, "What if...?" What if a white woman in like circumstances had been taken away against her will and returned to what was left of her family? 

The narratives are filled with tales in which this had been the case. Unfortunately, these reunions, more often than not, were unpleasant for both the former captives and their relations. Back among their own people, many of the redeemed were scorned, shunned, and regarded with suspicion for their strange ways. After years of living among the “savages,” attempts to reintegrate into a society that was now foreign and strange ended in failure for these people trapped between two worlds. At first opportunity they ran off and attempted to rejoin their Iroquois families. Very few of these tales had a happy ending.

With these accounts as its foundation, Zara Grey’s story took root in my imagination. Caught up in a war pitting neighbor against neighbor, son against father, white man against “red man,” a young heiress of Dutch descent becomes both a pawn and a pariah, with murder in the bargain.

Ethan Caine, the hero of this historical romance, has as his backstory a polarizing incident based loosely on true events. In eastern Pennsylvania following The French and Indian War, during the 1763 conflict known as Pontiac’s Rebellion, wilderness settlements throughout the colonies remained vulnerable to attacks. Fueled by the lack of support they were receiving from colonial forces, a group of self-appointed vigilantes, the “Paxton Boys,” attacked and killed residents of a nearby village of peaceful Susquehannock. While the actual episode was unprovoked, the fictionalized account in Winter Fire incorporates a patchwork of similar clashes. Young Ethan is deeply traumatized by these events and the ensuing senseless slaughter. Fifteen years later, he is forced to confront his prejudices and regrets when he rescues a half-drowned white woman dressed in clothes of Seneca design from an ice covered creek. She’d been running from someone or something, and toward Iroquois lands.

The resulting novel, a 1998 Golden Heart finalist, has as its core the inter-cultural conflicts of its time magnified by the perceptions, misconceptions, and fears of people in the midst of war. It’s also the story of a man and a woman whose lives have been entwined from the beginning.

Winter Fire by Kathy Fischer-Brown




Available at:

Amazon US kindle 

Amazon UK kindle  

Amazon Australia kindle 

When Ethan Caine pulled the unconscious woman from the half-frozen creek, he had no idea that his world was about to explode. Dressed in quilled doeskin of Iroquois design, she stirred up dark secrets from his past. At the same time, she was everything he desired. But she was more Indian than white, and on the run for murder. He needed to know the truth. He needed to find it within himself to trust her.

Banished by the Seneca Indians who had adopted and raised her, ostracized by the whites in the settlement, Zara Grey wanted only to be accepted. “Ethancaine” treated her with kindness and concern. It was easy to trust him. But her Indian ways disturbed him, and in her heart she would always be Seneca.


Excerpt

Prologue

October, 1779. Six Nations Territory

She ran. Breathless, heart straining. Despite the stabbing pain in her side and the fire in her lungs, she forced herself on through the crackling underbrush. The cold wind whipped hair in her eyes. Briars tore her face and hands. 

Yet with each labored stride, the soldiers= shouting voices drew closer. She dared not look back for fear of losing ground, dared not avert her eyes from the forest path.  

But where was she to run? As if the question were an obstacle in her path she stumbled to a halt.

There was no one to help her. The People had gone, taking with them all help, all hope. She was alone. The outcast. Nameless. 

Gasping, she slumped to her knees into the dew-drenched leaves.

The witch Jiiwi is no more!

The truth of it choked her. She set her teeth against the cry of anguish rising in her throat. She could have chosen death! Death at the hands of The People would have been swift. Nichus, her-husband-no-longer-her-husband, had assured her.

But her fear of death had been stronger than her fear of the unknown. She had chosen life. And with it, banishment.

She tore wind-blown hair laced with leaves and twigs from her face and glanced back over her shoulder. The soldiers were nearly upon her.

Five of them. They slowed their pace. Perhaps they knew she could run no more. They approached as if puzzled, talking among themselves. ?Savages musta left her behind when they sneaked off,@ one of the men said. ?Why d=you suppose...?@

“Hotakwih!@ she said to herself, unable to hold back the tears. It is finished. Raising her eyes to the sky above the autumn colored hills, she whispered, ?Hohsah@ It has begun. She bowed her head. “Haywokahweh!@ I have gone in a circle.

When the blue-coated soldiers caught up with her, she no longer had the strength or the will to resist. 

Two of them edged closer to her in the shadows. ?Here, we=re not going to harm you,@ one said, his voice a raspy whisper. ?Do you understand?@

She could not bring herself to look at them. Soon they would do more than talk. She knew. Soon they would see what she was. They would take her away. Take her back. Back to where the circle had begun.

She shuddered.

“Not so close,” the other man ordered. “Give her room. You=re scarin= her.”

A twinge of unease rippled through her stomach. These were the same blue coats that had left a trail of ashes where thriving villages once had stood, who girdled the fruit trees so they would wither and die, who laid waste the fields of corn and squash and beans. She had seen them before, in her dreams. Her dreams had shown them the way.

“Good God!” Another of them cried out. “She=s white! The woman=s white!”

The first man knelt before her. “Do you speak English? Can you tell us your name?”

She would not trouble herself to reply.

“Here!” A man fumbled in his pack, producing a slice of jerky. He extended it just beyond her reach, an attempt to lure her closer, like a starving dog. But she would not oblige him. “I=ll wager you=re hungry.” 

She lifted her head slightly and eyed the meat with longing. Three days of subsisting on nothing but roots and groundnuts had left her light-headed and weak. But she would accept none of their food. She looked down at the leaves.

“Suit yourself,” the man grumbled, and tore off a piece with his teeth.

In the distance, the shouts of men rose above the morning stillness. An acrid odor wafted on the wind through the trees. Across the meadow, lush with green grasses, beyond the expanse of ripening fields and orchards, the soldiers had set fire to the village.

From a place deep inside her, as if awakened by the sounds and smells, an old terror forced itself past the dust of forgotten memory.

Zara! Run!

Voices from the past rang out across time. Silenced for so long, they gained new strength and force on the billows of smoke darkening the sky.

Mama! Her own voice. The voice of the child she had been.

For as long as she could remember, her dreams had been filled with fire and smoke. And a savage host tore her from one world and thrust her into another. So it had been in the past. So it would be again.

“Haywokahweh!” she said, and she closed her eyes.

The circle was complete.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

As a child Kathy wanted to be a writer when she grew up. She also wanted to act on the stage. After receiving an MFA in Acting from the Mason Gross School of the Arts and playing the part of starving young artist in New York, she taught theater classes at a small college in the Mid-West before returning home to the East Coast, where over the years, she and her husband raised two kids and an assortment of dogs. During stints in advertising, children’s media publishing, and education reform in the former Soviet Unions, she wrote whenever she could.

Her love of early American history has its roots in family vacations up and down the East Coast visiting old forts and battlefields and places such as Williamsburg, Mystic Sea Port, and Sturbridge Village. During this time, she daydreamed in high school history classes, imagining the everyday people behind all the dates and conflicts and how they lived.

Claiming her best ideas are born of dreams, Kathy has written a number of stories over the years. Her first published novel, Winter Fire, a 1998 Golden Heart finalist in historical romance, was reissued in 2010 by Books We Love, Ltd., which also released Lord Esterleigh’s Daughter, Courting the Devil, and The Partisan’s Wife.

When not writing, she enjoys reading, cooking, photography, playing “ball” with the dogs, and rooting on her favorite sports teams.

LINKS:

Website:  http://www.kfischer-brown.com 

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KathyFischerB...

Twitter: http://twitter.com/KFischerBrown

Amazon Author Central: http://www.amazon.com/Kathy-Fischer-B...

Blog: http://illsay.wordpress.com/

BooksWeLove (Publisher): http://www.bookswelove.net/kathyfisch... 

Video Trailer

http://youtu.be/7SCXxbaEUck

Buy Links :

Amazon US kindle: http://amzn.com/B004BA5GMM

Amazon US paperback: http://amzn.com/1926965434

Amazon UK kindle: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004BA5GMM

Amazon UK paperback: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1926965434

Amazon Australia kindle: http://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B004BA5GMM

Kathy will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.


Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: 

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/10/nbtm-tour-winter-fire-by-kathy-fischer.html

a Rafflecopter giveaway

In Deep and In Deeper by Kella McKinnon

 In Deep Available at Amazon


 




In Deeper Available at Amazon

 

“I never thought it would go this far… that a man with such terrible secrets would steal my heart and make me want him so much, when his life of danger and lies should have made me want nothing more than to turn and run. I understood him, you see. I knew that beneath all of that money and power, and yes… violence, was a man in desperate need of love. So desperate that he took from me something I wasn’t ready to give: my future.”

Brielle Dalton thought the few months in Vegas she needed to finish her dissertation would also be a chance to have some fun before ‘real life’ took over. But she never counted on meeting Cristos Vicario, the irresistible but troubled owner of the Adagio casino. The attraction was instant and all-consuming, but in the beginning neither knew that their lives had crossed before, and the result had been nothing short of tragedy. By the time Brielle discovers who Cristos really is, and what he has done in a reckless attempt to keep her, it’s too late. She’s already in too deep.

Excerpt from In Deep

I turned to Cristos and offered him a casual smile.  He was watching me, his expression unreadable at the moment, which bothered me.  I’m usually very good at reading people.  It’s second nature to me, so much so that I often don’t even know how I do it, so I felt a little bit blind when it came to this man.  And of course when people are very hard to read, they usually have something to hide.  His stoic silence was making me squirm, so I made an attempt at conversation.

“Thank you… for taking me to dinner.  Where are we going?”
         
His expression relaxed into a devilish smile.  “My pleasure, Brielle.  And it’s a surprise.”
             
He shifted his body a little so that the length of his thigh was pressing against mine.  A jolt of heat raced through me at the contact, but when I looked up again, he was gazing past me and out the window, so I couldn’t tell if he’d done it on purpose.  I had the sudden, disconcerting urge to crawl into his lap and rub up against him.  Just thinking about it was making my heart beat faster.
              
“We’re almost there”, he said.
                
“Already?”
               
He laughed.  “Vegas is a small city.  Were you hoping the ride would last longer?”  He pressed just a little bit closer, and I tried to scoot a bit farther away so that I didn’t suddenly lose my mind and actually crawl onto his lap.  The way my body was reacting to him, it was a distinct possibility, and I needed to be careful or I was going to end up looking like either a slut or an idiot, neither of which was flattering.
               
His hand came down gently on my thigh and my breath hitched in my throat.  “Are you sure you’re not afraid of me, Cariño?”
               
He was looking at me with those sexy eyes again, and I felt like I could fly.  “No.  I’m not afraid of you,” I said with a little laugh.
                
“Good.  If it’s not fear I’m sensing from you, then it must be desire.”  His voice was deep and just a little husky.  He was so near, so real, so hedonistically male.
               
I could only stare at him for a long moment, during which Dante opened the partition to announce our arrival, breaking the spell I had apparently fallen under.  Be careful, Brie, or you’ll end up hitching a ride home with his personal assistant later.
               
The car pulled to a stop at the curb, and Dante came around to open the door for us.  Criss got out and then reached for my hand.  I slipped mine into his and that same thrill went through me at the contact.  His grip tightened.  I stepped out onto the curb, and was shocked to see several people with cameras raised in our direction.  Dante stepped protectively between us and the crowd, and Criss took my arm.
               
“Ignore them, Brie.  Just keep walking.”
              
I did, and within moments we were inside a posh looking restaurant, and being shown to our table as Dante disappeared toward the car.
               
Once we were comfortably seated at an intimate corner table, I leaned closer.
               
“Does that happen all the time?  The photographers?”
               
He shrugged as he opened the wine list and perused the pages.  “Sometimes.  Other times I manage not to be noticed.  It just goes with the territory.”
               
“Oh…”
               
His eyes flicked up to mine.  “Don’t worry, Dante will keep them from bothering us during dinner.”
               
He signaled the waiter, who hurried over to our table.  “A bottle of your best red, please.  And ask the chef to prepare something special for us tonight.”
               
The waiter’s eyes practically sparkled as he gave a little bow and headed for the kitchen. No doubt he was anticipating a rather large tip.
 
Criss turned his full attention to me, leaning his elbows on the table and casually running one finger over his full bottom lip.  “Alexis tells me you’re a student in anthropology.”
 
His eyes, god… they burned right through me.  I had to clear my throat a little.  “Yes, I’m just finishing up my Ph.D., which of course is why I’m here in Vegas.”

“Why anthropology?  It’s kind of unusual, isn’t it?”
 
I smiled, my love for the subject undoubtedly shining through.  “It just comes naturally to me, I suppose.  I’ve always loved to study people, figure them out, their motives and interactions.  I sort of have a knack for understanding all that on a really basic level that most people never see.  It’s fascinating to me, always has been.”

He leaned closer and gave me a dark smile, his lips curving up dangerously.  “And are you going to figure me out, Brielle?”
 
“I don’t know”, I said quite honestly.  It was already obvious to me that the man ran pretty deep, and I had a very hard time reading him.  The one thing I did know for sure is that if I let him have the upper hand with me, this spark we seemed to have would go nowhere.  If I fell into the mold he made for me, I was certain he would use me up and then walk away.  He would probably do that anyway. That must be the way he had always managed to avoid relationships, because women tried so hard to become what he wanted them to be. 
AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Hello everyone!  Let me introduce myself.  Though I used to work in Boston in the biotech industry, I’m now loving life on a small farm in New England where my husband and I are raising our three children and lots of animals.  Between taking care of chickens and goats and shuttling the kids to dance class and piano lessons, I find the time to pursue my own interest: writing.  I relish creating stories and bringing my characters to life on the written page, and each book is a labor of love.  

I’m passionate about the romance genre because of the emotional journey a well-written novel can take the reader on, and my goal with each of my books is to do the same for my readers.  I would love to hear from you at kellamckinnon.com, or kellamckinnon@gmail.com.

www.amazon.com/author/kellamckinnon

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show...

www.kellamckinnon.com
Feel free to follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here:  

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/11/vbt-in-deep-and-in-deeper-by-kella.html



One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card. a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Violent, Lusty, and Sad Medieval Nun

For a woman to become a nun in the medieval world her family had to pay a grant or dowry to the nunnery. This meant that convents were comprised almost entirely of women from the upper class, and although some of these religious houses were poor and spiritual, others were a little more materialistic.

The convents were a dumping ground for unwanted and illegitimate daughters, women with disabilities, women prisoners – Christina Bruce sister to Robert I of Scotland was imprisoned in a convent by Edward I. But they were also a refuge for widows and maybe the only opportunity for a woman seeking intellectual pursuits.

Given the affluence of the inhabitants it should come as no surprise that nunneries employed servants to do the manual labor. St. Mary’s in Winchester had twenty-six nuns who were served by nine women servants, five male chaplains, and twenty male servants. To their credit they educated twenty-six children and supported thirteen poor sisters. 
It sounds like a pleasant, easy life, but so much depended on the prioress. In 1442 at a convent in Catesby a prioress named Margaret Wavere had an affair with a priest named William Taylour. When word of her affair got out Margaret became violent. She tore off the veils of her charges and dragged them about by their hair. Word of her cruelty leaked out when six nuns ran away. At a bishop’s inquiry, she beat any nun who gave testimony against her, and bribed the bishop’s clerk to discover what had been said and by whom.

In most convents life was not all doom and gloom. On feasts like Christmas and the May games minstrels, harpers, and dancers performed at the nunneries. Strictly speaking the church forbade this, but it was an age when many bishops had their own personal entertainers, not to mention mistresses and families, so the rule was largely overlooked. And there was more than one story of a nun running away with a minstrel, and taking him as her lover.

Given the fact the most of the nuns were sent to the nunneries without any real regard to their suitability for convent life it’s surprising that more of them didn’t take lovers. In 1351 the commissioner for the Bishop of Bath and Wells was so shocked by the behavior of the nuns of Cannington in Somerset he accused the convent of being more like a brothel than a priory.

I wonder what it would have been like for a woman who longed for a husband and children to be forced into an institution where she was forbidden to have them. This would have been made harder by the fact that nuns didn’t live in isolation from the world as they were supposed to. Everyday they were confronted with temptation, a temptation made more alluring by the fact it was forbidden. 
Nuns who took a lover and then repented were given penance and forgiven. Nuns who left their convent to marry and have children were excommunicated and their marriage cursed by the church. In a medieval world where the church controlled every aspect of daily life, and eternal torment and hell were real fears, many nuns repented and returned to  holy orders.

But there were exceptions; one of them is the sad story of Agnes de Flixthorpe who ran away from St Michael’s, Stamford, in 1309. Bishop Dalderby of Lincoln seems to have taken a particular interest in her; he threatened anyone who helped her with excommunication. He then proceeded to hunt her down. A year later she was captured in Nottingham. She was dragged back to St. Michaels where she was imprisoned with her legs shackled until she agreed to wear her habit and resume her life as a nun. She refused.

Dalderby sent her to a nunnery in Devonshire and had her imprisoned in solitary confinement, hoping the isolation would break her spirit. It did. She agreed to repent and was returned to Stamford in 1314. By 1316 she had run away again. The prioress seems to have tried to keep Agnes’ escape a secret. But in a letter, penned in 1318, Dalderby threatened the prioress with excommunication if she didn’t capture poor Agnes.

In 1319 Dalderby died and Agnes disappears from the historical record. We don’t know if she was forced to return or left in peace. Personally I like to believe that once the bishop died the church forgot her, and that she married and had children.

Of course at the end of the day medieval nuns were just like everyone else. They could be ambitious, caring, spiritual, violent, spoiled, lusty and kind. But in a world where most women had very little input concerning their life choices I have to feel sorry for them. 

Book Blast - Of Love and Vengeance by Louise Lyndon

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REVIEW QUOTE:

…fans of Medieval England, romance novels, and historical fiction, [you] would [probably] enjoy this well-written book… Maria, The BookHostage

Forced to marry Lord Aymon to ensure her nephews survival, English Lady Laila vows undying hatred for the Norman she holds responsible for so many deaths. Discovering Aymon has committed an act of treason gives her the chance to seek vengeance he deserves.  But will Laila really let Aymon die once she learns the truth?

A hardened Norman warrior, Lord Aymon has lived through atrocities no man ever should. With the invasion of England over, all he wants is a quiet life and a wife who will give him heirs and obey his every command. Instead, he finds himself wed to feisty and outspoken Laila. But when she learns the truth of his treasonous act, can Aymon count on her to keep his secret?
Excerpt

Aymon caught a flicker of movement from a window on the second story. “I think we’re about to meet the welcome party.” An arrow zoomed toward him and landed on the pommel of his saddle. A half an inch closer and he would no longer be able to sire children. As if in demonstration of his ability with the bow and arrow, the shooter fired again. This time directed toward Hugh. The second arrow too came within a half an inch of his friend’s manhood.

“You missed!” Aymon called toward the shooter.  He questioned his stupidity for mocking someone with such a good aim.

“You want me to show you how good an aim I really am?” a woman’s voice echoed out across the yard.

“Bloody hell,” Hugh half cursed, half laughed. “Where does a woman learn to shoot like that?”

Aymon was shocked and admittedly a little impressed a woman had such remarkable shooting skills. He could use such a sharp shooter on his side in battle. After all, it was better to have someone so skilled firing for you than at you.

Aymon raised his black leather gloved hand in surrender. “No. I’m firmly attached to my balls, thank you very much.”

“Who are you?” the shooter demanded. “And what do you want? There is nothing of value here for you to steal. Be on your way, man, and leave me in peace.”

“Some would say a female is of value,” Aymon drawled sardonically.

A second arrow lodged firmly on the pommel between his legs.

“I do not give third chances. I’ll give you to the count of three to leave. Or else you will find an arrow straight through your heart.”

Aymon’s warhorse whinnied, and he fought to control the beast whose temperament was as black as his coat. “Put down your weapon!”

“One!”

“We mean you no harm!”

“Two!”

“I am Lord Aymon, and this is Lord Hugh. I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine.”

Silence.

The two men looked at one another unsure what to do. “Should we storm the building and lay claim to what is yours?”

Aymon shook his head. He dismounted but never took his eyes from the door to the manor. “She will soon make her appearance.”

Hugh, too, dismounted. “How can you be so sure?”

Aymon looked at his friend. “We do not have arrows through our hearts.”

AUTHOR BIO:

Louise grew up in Australia before moving to England, where for sixteen years she soaked up the vibrancy of London and the medieval history of England. She has since returned to Australia. In 2013 Louise won first prize in the Crested Butte Sandy Writing Contest – Historical Romance Category –for her story, The Promise, which has since been retitled as, Of Love & Vengeance. When not writing, she can be found crawling under barbed wire and hoisting herself over twelve foot walls!

AUTHOR LINKS:

EMAIL:  louise_lyndon@yahoo.com
WEB:  www.LouiseLyndon.com
BLOG: www.LouiseLyndon.com/blog
FACEBOOK:  www.facebook.com/pages/Louise-Lyndon/...
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/LouiseLyndon1
PINTEREST: llyndon3513
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/LouiseLyndon

Louise is giving away a free ebook copy of her novel via rafflecopter. The draw is open until the end of March. For more chances to enter visit all the stops on her tour. You can find the dates and websites on Louise's blog  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Cover Reveal - Stormee Waters by Lynda J. Coker

Enter the Stormee Waters Launch Giveaway Link:  http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspo...



Available at:

The Wild Rose Press 

Amazon: Available for preorder NOW



About Lynda


Lynda is an author of contemporary romance that lingers in a reader’s mind long after they’ve closed the book. She lives in Northeast Texas with her husband of fifty years. They enjoy traveling, trying new foods, spending time with family and friends, and doing community service work together. When she feels the need to take a break from writing, she enjoys creating fabric art.  She offers an open invitation to view both her writing and fabric art on her blog.

Blog:  http://betweenthelinesandmore.blogspot.com

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/lyndacoker

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/lyndacoker

Pinterest:  http://www.pinterest.com/lyndacoker/

Dirk Savage never fails to acquire what he wants until he encounters Stormee Waters and a backwash of trouble...

Stormee Waters knows about hard times. Needing to care for her aging grandmother and teenage brother, she moves to Houston, Texas and takes a writing job for a popular magazine. Her first assignment is to interview a successful business man for a series of articles entitled, Make My Man Texas-Sized. Her target, Dirk Savage, appears to have the right criteria. He's adventurous with the air of a conqueror. Admired by his peers and coveted by beauty queens and debutantes, he's just the type of man that Stormee needs to make her first article sizzle and sell. But can she handle the heat when she catches his attention?

Dirk Savage is used to acquiring what he wants, except in the illusive quest for the one woman who can fill his heart. The shock of discovering her in the naive young woman assigned to interview him sets his jaded emotions on high alert. Can he convince her that his pursuit is genuine?


Excerpt

She came back to reality and placed the box on the foyer table, picked up her purse, and stepped through the door. The evening light cast a deep shadow across the man at her side, giving the illusion that he became one with the darkness, and something more she couldn’t define. When he escorted her to a sleek, black sports car of indefinable origin, something more took on solid proportions in her imagination. Every tingling cell in her body warned her against the power of his striking personality. That feeling barely registered before another followed. Dirk Savage didn’t play by anyone’s rules but his own. She nibbled her lower lip and stole a glance at him as he helped her to fasten the seat belt.

“Don’t look so dismayed. I’m not going to ravish you, at least, not before we’ve had our dinner.”

Still leaning over her, with nothing but a thought between their lips, his low chuckle reached to the very bottom of her toes. Embarrassed by his scrutiny, she turned her head.

Fifteen minutes passed. He’d made no small talk, and she welcomed the silence. They’d cleared the congested part of town and cruised through an exclusive residential area. Expensive homes perched along the river’s edge.

Gone by Anna Bloom

I asked my guest, Anna Bloom, to tell us more about the location for her latest novel, Gone. Imagine my delight when she shared her memories of Cornwall, a place I long to visit. Over to you Anna.

Hi, and thank you for taking part in my Gone Blog Tour.

I always set my books somewhere that feels special to me, or has had significant importance in my life. My first series of books were set at my University, and while I changed things around slightly, I took great joy in re-creating the setting for my readers.

With Gone, I dug a little deeper into my personality and history. I wanted it to be somewhere truly special where I believed life-changing events could happen, and for me one of those places is Cornwall. It’s somewhere that I love and when I’m there it feels like home – even though I’ve never lived there. All my oldest, fondest memories are tinged with the golden sands that Cornwall provides.

You see I live in London, UK. It rains, a lot. Rain, rain and then a little more rain. Not always a downpour, but damp and frizz inducing at best.

When I was a child, from a toddler onwards my parents always took us to Cornwall on holiday. My parents were never wealthy and we were never the kind of family that would jet set to foreign sands, but they were particularly skilled at jamming the car full of all our belongings and driving five hours to the Cornish coast. And that’s where the magic happened, every year without fail. The sun would shine, the sea would be perfect, the days would be long, the Pasties would be delectably crumbly, with just the perfect sprinkling of sand and for me it was the best holiday I could ever wish for.

Years later when my sister and I were nearly grownups and had left home we started going away for holidays on our own. Guess where we went? Yep, Cornwall. It was even better then, the sun still shone, the sea was still perfect, although maybe a little cooler, and this time the cider was leg numbingly awesome.

When I met my husband and in the early tentative days of dating suggested a holiday, guess where we went? Oh yes, Cornwall. Even more cider was consumed on that holiday.  We even looked at getting married there, but sadly the logistics didn’t work out.

For me Cornwall is a place of magic possibilities. Two weeks in Cornwall can feel like two weeks where anything is possible. So when I wanted to write a story about two lost souls who meet and help heal each other, there was only one feasible setting I could give it. The Golden beaches of St Agnes, the most beautiful village in the world, where the sun shines, the heather grows on the cliff tops and the cider still makes your legs numb if you drink enough of it.

I’m now looking at taking my own children there so they can crate their own magical, childhood memories running along the same beaches that I ran on in times gone past and I’m sure that they are memories that they will never forget either.




Available at

Amazon
 
Amazon.UK



Rebecca Walters is haunted by past tragedies and the names that people call her. When her parents take her to Cornwall for two weeks and she meets local artist Joshua Adams, Rebecca starts to understand that her future is what she can make it. But when her past secrets start to catch up with her will Rebecca fight to remain the girl she's found or will she run from a past that won't stay Gone.


Excerpt

“Josh, come on! Don’t be such a girl.” 

I grind an elbow into warm sand as I lean up to find out who Josh is, and why he is a girl.

Instantly I feel on edge. There are six guys running down the beach, surf boards under their arms.

I don’t want to talk to anyone, or even be seen by anyone. I was just looking for some peace and quiet.

I should have stayed in my room. That way I can’t hurt anyone and no one can hurt me.

I breathe a sigh of relief as five of the guys dive straight into the sea, completely ignoring my exposed spot on the sand. Then I offer myself a rueful laugh as I realise that these people are used to seeing strangers on a beach. I won’t hold any interest for them, yet. Not until they realise who I am and the rumour mill starts up again. I will be long gone by then.

It’s the bastard thing about Social Media. It’s impossible for people not to find out who you are. No matter how much you might want them not to.

Facebook is the bane of my life. I know I’ve made mistakes. I don’t need status updates about it.

I wonder which label will attach itself to me first?

I’m a girl with lots of labels and I’m not talking about current fashion trends.

Allowing myself a slow exhalation of air I repeat the words that are currently keeping me going. I will be gone soon. Soon enough.

I watch as the six guys splash through the waves. They keep their wetsuits rolled down and give me what would be an arresting eyeful of toned abs, if my eyes weren’t distracted by something else. The sixth one.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Anna Bloom is a contemporary romance writer with the sole writing ambition of writing about life as it happens. Dedicated to real characters, real problems and real romance Anna writes tales to stir your heart and head. Combining a busy schedule of looking after two young children, working in a local school and writing swoon worthy romance for Mature Teen readers, she also spends a lot of time imagining kissing hot guys and talking to the voices in her head- all in the name of her art.

@annabloombooks

https://www.facebook.com/AnnaBloomBooks


www.annabloomwrites.com

Anna will be awarding a $50 Amazon GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a signed copy of GONE and the author's back catalogue of ebooks to a randomly drawn host.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Happy New Year

This post is for those of you thinking about making a New Year’s resolution to diet and exercise. To start off I have to say I’m not a big fan of New Year's Resolutions, I mean if you really want to make a change in your life why wait until the New Year. Every day is the first day of the rest of your life. But that’s just my opinion if you need to wait until a specific date to make a change who am I to judge.

Okay down to business. If you want to diet I suggest you keep it simple. If you aren’t use to eating nourishing foods I suggest you start there.  Instead of keeping track of everything that goes into your mouth why don’t you start by making sure that everything you eat is healthy. To do this simply cut back on fat, sugar and salt, and try and incorporate more fruits and vegetables into your diet.

After a month of eating healthy you can look at portions. Portions will vary depending on your size, and activity level. I’m a small, middle-aged woman so about 2-3 ounces of meat (A portion about the size of my palm works for me.)

A word on exercise – You have to work up to your goals. If you already have an exercise routine add to it, and take a few weeks for your body to get used to the new activity level and then increase the level again. Don’t try and do everything at once, you don’t want to hurt yourself.

My last piece of advice (Not that you asked for it) Have one day a week where you take a break from the diet. It’s hard to stay away from the foods we love – forever – everyone gives into temptation eventually. I set aside one guilt-free day to have a few of the foods I love. I bake something good for breakfast, like scones or muffins. If I’m out I might enjoy a coffee and cookies with the kids, and at the end of the day I have a glass of wine. Then the next day I’m ready to eat healthy again. Allowing myself one day off a week helps me eat healthy the rest of the week, and lets face it – a couple of cookies and a glass of wine once a week isn’t going to kill me.

If you can afford it I suggest a proven program that promotes healthy food choices and exercise such as Weightwatchers.

I hope all your dreams are realized in the coming year, and I leave you with this cartoon. I hope your experience exercising is better than his.

The Man Who Banned Christmas

Oliver Cromwell In the mid-seventeenth century the Lord Protector of England, Oliver Cromwell, banned Christmas. For those of you who’ve never heard of him I’ll give you a brief introduction. He was a puritan member of parliament and the leading force behind the English Civil War and the execution of Charles I. I think in modern times we would call him a dictator. Although he fought for parliament in the civil war, once the war was over he abolished parliament and proclaimed himself Lord Protector of England.

Supporters of Cromwell (Yes, he has supporters even today.) say that parliament actually made Christmas illegal but I find it hard to believe that he didn’t have a hand in it. After all, he controlled the army, and had the power to dismiss parliament and take over. If he had opposed making Christmas illegal it never would have happened.

Cromwell was a devoutly religious man, who believed that everyone should live their lives in strict accordance with the bible, he passed a series of laws restricting the daily life of the population. He closed inns and theatres. Most sports were banned. Swearing was punishable by a fine or imprisonment, and women were not allowed to wear makeup. Just going for a walk on Sunday, unless you were going to church, was a punishable offence. 
Even in seventeenth century they knew 25th December wasn’t really Christ’s birthday. To the puritan mind Christmas was a pagan celebration, and a relic of the Catholic religion in England. On 19th December 1643 an ordinance was passed encouraging people to use Christmas time as a period of reflection rather than celebration.

“With the more solemn humiliation because it may call to remembrance our sins, and the sins of our forefathers who have turned this Feast, pretending the memory of Christ, into an extreme forgetfulness of him, by giving liberty to carnal and sensual delights...”

Carnal and sensual delights? My Christmas celebrations are nothing like that. Anyway, within a year Christmas, Easter and Whitsun were officially banned. Anyone caught attending church on Christmas Day was arrested.

As you can imagine banning Christmas was tremendously unpopular. There was rioting in several cities, and people were forced to hold their festivities in secret, which was very risky considering they would have been thrown in jail if they were caught.

Cromwell died in 1658. Within two years England, once again, had a king sitting on the throne, Charles II, and Christmas was restored.  
Of course making Christmas illegal was doomed to failure because even though we may tire of the crass commercialism that surrounds the holiday it is part of a much a larger concept. As I wrote in my blog post Merry Christmas or Happy Winter Solstice, there is evidence that people of the Northern hemisphere have marked mid-winter for at least five thousand years, probably longer. Why? I’m not entirely sure, but I do know that in the deepest, darkest part of the year we seem to need to celebrate the light.

For me, spending time with my family, seeing the Christmas lights, and feasting on delicious food, lifts my spirits enough to keep me going until spring. It is that emotional lift that makes the season so special. So wherever you are and whatever you believe I wish you a warm, safe and happy holiday.

I hope you enjoy my holiday photos