Friday, March 23, 2018

Friday's Featured Guest - John Wisdomkeeper #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Native American

 1     What were you in your life before you became a writer? Did this influence your writing?

I’ve been a Native cultural teacher and an addiction counsellor for Native youth, and this was the foundation for my writing and continues to influence everything I write.

2.                 2  Are you genre specific or general? Why? I don't mean genres like romance, mystery, fantasy etc. There are many subgenres of the above. 

I write Native cultural stories and true experiences based on many travels.

3. Did your reading choices have anything to do with your choice of a genre or genres? 

Yes, of course, because my reading choices are in the areas that I study and teach.

4. What's your latest release? 

Fly Away Snow Goose, a residential school, historical fiction novel co-written with author Juliet Waldron.

5. What are you working on now? 

The second edition to the Wisdomkeeper Collection

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Thursday's Third Scene from Bast's Warrior #MFRWAuthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Paranormal #Egypt alternate world

Tira opened her eyes and stifled a gasp.  Where was she?  The surface beneath her was softened by a thin pad.  She turned her head and bumped her temple against a hard surface.  Some kind of headrest prevented her from appraising her vicinity.  The substitute for a pillow wasn’t very comfortable.  The cover felt like linen rather than the thin cotton sheet she used.  She raised herself to a sitting position and the sheet slid to her waist.  Light streamed through a series of openings set high on one of the white plastered walls.
Her heart fluttered in a series of rapid beats.  Think.  Had she been kidnapped and sold as some kind of sex slave?  She drew a deep breath.  Why did nothing smell familiar?  She was Tira.  Tears trickled down her cheeks.  Someone had died.  Why couldn’t she remember who had betrayed her?
Tira wiped her face on a corner of the sheet.  With that word memories prickled with the same sensation in her head as when an arm or leg woke after falling asleep.
If you could go to ancient Egypt tonight even if the Two Lands is not the one you’ve studied, would you go?
She had agreed.  Had she somehow been transported to another Egypt?  So far she’d seen nothing to prove or disprove the theory.  The bed and the headrest had been pictured in books she’d read about the ancient land of the pharaohs.
Now what?  She couldn’t remain in bed and she definitely couldn’t leave this room in the nude.  Clothing was her first objective.  She slid from the narrow cot and nearly fell.  The bed stood on a wide platform.  Tira visually explored the room and noticed a stack of near-white cloth on a backless bench.  She wrapped the sheet around herself and crossed the room.
On a low table she found a pottery pitcher and a bowl.  She dipped a cloth taken from the rim of the bowl into the water and washed.  The heated air dried her skin.
As she studied the bench she noticed the legs were shaped like the feet of a feline.  She drew a deep breath.  She had arrived in ancient Egypt.  One by one she lifted the pieces of cloth from the bench and studied them.  Get dressed and learn where you are and why you’re here.
After several attempts she managed to clothe herself.  One strip formed a breast band.  A second, she used as a loincloth.  The third was a wraparound short skirt rather like a kilt.  A leather belt held a knife and a pouch containing a black substance she decided was kohl.  Since she had no idea how to apply the stuff she decided to pass.
She looked for shoes and found sandals.  She sat on the bench and slipped a foot beneath the leather straps.  She drew the shin guards up her leg and fastened the leather ties.  Surprisingly they fit.  The leather soles didn’t slip on the stone floor when she performed a series of warm-up exercises.
The beaded curtains in the doorway rattled.  Tira slid into an attack position.  Two elderly women entered the room.  Tira stared.  Were they the ones who had sheltered her for a time?  They looked similar.
One of the women wore the same clothes as Tira.  Her graying hair was cropped short like Tira’s but the woman’s didn’t curl.
The second woman’s hair was dark and cut shoulder length.  Was it a wig?  The woman’s ankle-length sheath bared her breasts.  A collar necklace covered her upper chest.
When Tira tried to talk about the world she’d left the words wouldn’t form.
The only knowledge you can take with you is what will fit into the time you reach except for your fighting skills.  You will be unable to speak of this world or of modern conveniences.
She glided toward the women.  If they proved to be a threat she would attack.
“Welcome to the Two Lands,”  the older of the two said.  “I am the chief priestess of this temple of the goddess Bast, protector of women and children.  A cat with a cream-colored coat wove a path around her legs.
Bast.  She had read about the goddess, one of the minor ones in the ancient Egypt of her world.  Was Bast a major player in this time and place?  What other changes would she find?  She swallowed a gasp.  How odd that she understood the language.  “My name is Tira.”  She could speak it as well.  She crouched and allowed the feline to sniff her hand.
The priestess smiled.  “Come and join us for a meal.  We will tell you why you are with us.  You are one of the awaited ones.  There is a task the goddess has set for you.”  She turned to her companion.  “Do you have the amulet that marks her as a warrior of Bast?”
“I do.”  The other woman smiled.  “I am the head of the warriors of this temple.  Do you willing accept your task?”
Even if you must remain for all your days.
Again she heard part of what the elderly women of the brownstone had asked.  She was here and there was no possible return.  “I do.”  She met the woman’s gaze.  “What if I fail?”
The priestess shuddered.  “There will be imprisonment or death.”
Tira swallowed.  But she would have found the same future in her own world.  “I won’t fail.”  She made the vow aloud and silently.
The warrior held a chain of silver links with a large silver medallion hanging from the center link.  Tira studied the piece.  A cat formed from smoky blue-gray gems formed the center of the circle.  Above the image were lapis hieroglyphics.  Tira read them.  “Chosen of Bast.”  She bent her knees so the shorter woman could slip the chain over her head/
“Where in the Two Lands am I?”
“In the nome of Mero.”
Tira pictured a map of the Nile and didn’t recognize the name.  Was she in the north or the south?  “Where exactly is this nome?”
“Near the first cataract,”  the chief priestess said.
In the south, Tira thought.
Tira followed the women along a corridor.  The wall on the left was higher than the one on the right.  Did the left wall form the rear of the temple?
They entered a large room where ornate columns braced the roof and allowed a view of the garden.  Backless stools were arranged in clusters.  Women dressed like the chief priestess sat near small tables.
The priestess chose seats in a secluded niche.  “Sit.  Food will be brought.”
Before long, women carried plates and trays of food to the table.  Tira selected from a variety of dishes, some she recognized and some she didn’t.  There were lentils and chickpeas, beef and some type of fowl, a variety of lettuces, onions both cooked and raw and cheese.  Wine and beer were offered.  Tira accepted beer.  She sipped the bitter brew and put the cup down.  The alcohol content of the beverage was more than the kind she knew.  She needed food to counter the effect of the alcohol.  Once she finished the food on her plate honey-sweetened dates appeared.
She swallowed the last of the beer and looked from one woman to the other.  “What would you have me do?”
“You are our hope,”  the priestess said.  “With the help of the goddess you were brought from a far land to this troubled place.  The invaders came with their horses and chariots.  Like a plague of locusts they swept through the land leaving destruction behind.  Three treasures, gifts from the major gods, were removed from the pharaoh’s house.  Before those who took the symbols of the role were able to report their location they were killed.  Their deaths took place in the Valley of the Pharaohs.  Thus the flail, the crook and the double crown were lost.”
The warrior took up the tale.  “Twenty years ago the invaders were driven from the land.  The pharaoh and his sons were killed.  We have sought the symbols and have unearthed a clue as to where they were hidden.  At present the land is divided and the nomarchs vie for the rule.  Your quest will help us establish a new dynasty with ties to the beginning.”
Tira looked up.  “How can this be done?”
“Though the pharaoh and his sons reside in the afterworld one woman of his house remained alive.  She fled the estate and vanished in the desert.  Word came that she gave birth to a daughter.  That child, now a young woman, can trace her lineage to the first dynasty.  The man who weds her will sit on the pharaoh’s chair.”
“Where will I find her?”  Tira asked.  “How will I know her?”
“She is not your quest.  When the time is right she will be revealed.”  The priestess leaned forward.  “Your quest is to find the hidden symbols.  When you leave the temple seek the compound of the nomarch of Mero.  Among his scrolls I believe you will find information to aid your search.  During the rebellion against the invaders he carried many scrolls from the temple of Toth.  When you reach the town near his estate you will meet a warrior of Horu, the god of the skies.  He will join you in the search.”
Tira frowned.  “How will I identify this companion?”
“He will wear an amulet marking him as Horu’s choice.”
Tira closed her eyes.  “Can you tell me more about these symbols?”
The priestess rose.  She crossed the room and entered an alcove.  A short time later she returned with a small scroll.  After unrolling the papyrus she showed Tira the pictured objects.  Tira studied them.  Beneath each of the symbols she saw another picture.  There was a cat, an ankh and a hawk.
The priestess rolled the scroll and tied it with a strip of linen.  “Take this with you to help in your quest.  Other clues will be found.”
Tira had seen pictures of the flail, the crook and the double crown in books.  In the images on the small scroll she noticed small differences from the ones she remembered but she thought she would recognize the objects when she found them.  She accepted the scroll.  “How do I find this nomarch and his compound?”
“You will be shown a road.”  The priestess leaned forward.  “Be wary.  Ramis of Mero is no friend of the goddess.   He is an ambitious man and wishes to see his eldest son named pharaoh.  Though Mero sits at the gateway to trade with the dark lands Ramis wants more wealth.  With his son as pharaoh he will become the power behind the chair.  As vizier he will gain power.  To achieve his goals he has allied with the priests of Aken Re, the abomination.”
“If he is the enemy why will he allow me into his house?”  Was the quest for the symbols a true one?  Did the priestess want her to spy on the nomarch and the priests?
The warrior smiled.  “When he sees your amulet he will offer his help.  He will act like a friend.  He plays a double game and wishes a sandal in each camp.  He may try to learn what you know.  He might decide to give you to the priests.  Do not trust him.  Learn what you need and depart as soon as you have the knowledge.”
The chief priestess nodded.  “You are a woman who will remind him of a past he chooses to ignore.  His ancestors were slaves from Nubia who won their freedom and through marriage rose to power.  You are also unlike the women on his court for you will not bear to be confined and controlled.”
Tira swallowed.  She had known men with the same nature as the nomarch and she hadn’t liked them.  “How far must I travel to find this compound?”  Another thought arose.  She had never ridden a horse.  Driving a chariot was beyond her imagination.
“You will be guided to a path along the river.  If you walk north you will reach the town where traders come and workers live.  Anyone you meet can direct you to the nomarch’s compound.  You should be there by dark.”
Tira rose.  “I’ll leave now.”
The priestess clasped Tira’s hand.  “May the spirit of Bast guide and guard you.”
Tira paused.  “When I have these objects should I return here?”
“The goddess Bast and the god Horu will guide you.  There are other temples to the goddess.”
The warrior beckoned.  Tira followed her down the hall.  The older woman slipped into one of the rooms along the hall.  She returned and handed Tira a heavy pouch and a bundle she could fasten on her back.  “A blanket and five changes of clothes.  Coins for the journey.”  She strode along the hall.
Tira pushed the small scroll into the bundle and fit her arms through the straps.  The warrior opened a door into what Tira believed was the main temple.  Drawing a deep breath she entered, halted and stared.  A huge mural on the back wall showed the goddess surrounded by a variety of felines.  One of the views showed Bast as a warrior, one within a circle of children and another of her offering the crook to a man and a necklace to a woman.
The beauty of the mural held her attention until the warrior touched her arm.  “Come.”
They strode along a walk with plinths on either side leading to an open doorway.  The highest pair flanked the mural.  On each pillar an image of a cat stood.  Some were created from preserved skins, some modeled from clay and others carved from wood, semi-precious stones and various rocks.  Had there been any temple like this in the Egypt she had studied?  She couldn’t remember reading of one.
One of the statues appeared to be carved from a smoky gray stone.  As Tira passed, the cat stretched, yawned and leaped to the ground.  Tira knelt so the feline could smell her hand.
The cat nipped the skin between Tira’s thumb and fingers.  A shock of awareness swept through her body.  Truly she had been chosen by this feline as a companion.  As Tira rose the cat rubbed her legs.  Tira lifted the feline into her arms.
The warrior laughed.  “Bast Ka has chosen to become your spirit guardian.  She will go with you.”
A rumbling purr vibrated against her chest.  Bast Ka leaped to the ground and padded to the temple entrance where pillars carved into likenesses of cats flanked the rectangular doorway.
Tira followed.  Though she would have loved to remain and explore the temple an urgency to be on the way filled her.  She would return another time.  This was her world until death claimed her.
That thought remained as she trailed Bast Ka from the temple.  Occasionally the cat turned and stared at Tira.  Beyond the entrance they passed walled enclosures where lions, leopards, cheetahs and a tri-colored breed she had never seen roamed.  The huge cats moved toward the low wall.  Bast Ka halted and yowled.  The large felines retreated.
The warrior waited at the end of the walk.  “This is your road.”  She pointed to a path of packed earth.  “Good fortune to you.  May we meet again in this time and place.  If not, surely in the afterworld.  Remember all we have told you.  I leave you now.  Good hunting.”
“I’ll do my best.”  Tira set off along the path.  How much knowledge did she have of this new world?  The spoken language was hers.  She recognized and seemed to understand the things the priestess and warrior had told her.  She knew what most of the foods had been and she had easily figured how to dress.
Wish I had a car.  She could think the words but when she tried to utter them she couldn’t.  She had been warned that would happen.  She could bring nothing from the future of the other world into this one.
The sun moved toward mid-afternoon.  To the right she saw the rushing water of the river.  The sound of the cataracts seemed distant.  On the other bank she saw granite cliffs.  Along the edge of the path reeds grew.
Would she encounter crocodiles or other unfriendly creatures?  She edged closer to the cliffs.  She was along but this wasn’t unusual.  She seldom allowed others to cross the barriers she had erected.  Her sister had been close but Luci had cared only about drugs and escape.  In this time and place Tira regretted her sister’s death and the loss of a life poorly spent.  Bast Ka purred.  The sound brought comfort.
As she continued to walk, the sun sunk lower in the west.  She wondered how far she had walked since leaving the temple.  One thing she discovered was how much easier walking on dirt was that the concrete sidewalks she had known.
As the sunset flared in brilliant colors the river turned red and orange.  When the light faded the water darkened.  Tira smiled.  She was almost where she had dreamed of being.  Here was a different Egypt and a different time but she felt as if she belonged.
A crescent moon edged above the horizon.  Stars appeared, more than she’d ever seen.  There were no city lights to dull the night sky.
The cliffs on her left were further from the river.  Ahead she saw the outline of buildings.  Her stomach rumbled.  Perhaps there would be a place where she could buy a meal and find somewhere to sleep.  Were there restaurants and hotels in this land?  She hoped to find someone to ask.  Though she was wary of speaking to strangers perhaps the amulet would protect her.
Bast Ka jumped from her arms.  The cat yowled and took the lead.  Tira trotted after the feline.  Where were they going and what would they find?

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Wednesday Moon Summoned #MFRWHooks #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Fantasy #Swords #Sorcery

Moon Summoned

 Join me and the other authors who are doing a blog hop with some great books    Mine is a fantasy with three heroines, three heroes and three villains 

Three Moon Summoned women. Ashiera the Seer who controls the winds and sees into the thoughts of others. Dian the Warrior who controls fire and fights with the sword. Egeria the Healer who controls fluids and heals those who are injured. They are joined in their battle by Sieper a sailor who knows the winds, Kobe once sworn to the Lord of Shadows and Jetan a healer of animals. These three vow to help the three women against those sworn to Evil. Lugal the Cabal reads the winds and thoughts. Sargon the Gladius controls fire and the armies of the Lord of Shadow. Lugal the Cabal has knowledge of herbs and uses them for evil. These three with their cohorts will face the three and three sworn to the Mistress of the Moons. 

Previously published as Mistress of the Moons Janet Lane Walters has written a story that will take you to another time and place. She gives vivid descriptions of her characters and their role in this story. Ms. Walters has constructed a civilization so real that you will feel its very existence. A place where men rule women as chattel for their sexual needs, and three evil rulers who drain their bodies of their very essence for spells and to gain power. There is betrayal and treachery inside of plots, as each priest plans to rule alone. Ashiera, Egeria, and Dian are bound to the spirits of the ones who came before them. They discover a truth that will astound them, and have them doubting their chosen path. They will experience a love that is forbidden and discover that two stand together better than one. I could feel the emotional struggle between love and destiny, described so passionately by the author. I hope Ms. Walters plans to continue this story. I could feel that this is just the beginning of this tale. Janet Walters book, Moon Bright, Moon Dark will go on my keeper shelf, beside such authors as Charlotte Boyett-Compo and Nancy Gideon. I give this story Five Hearts and recommend it highly. Enjoy!



The setting sun brought shadows creeping along the mountain slopes. From the battle lines stretched across the plateau, the smell of blood mingled with the dust. Metal clanged against metal. Shouts, curses and screams filled the air. The moans of the wounded broke the Seer’s concentration on the amber light streaming from the crystal atop her staff. The beam sent a jagged pattern through the growing darkness.
A piercing cry arose. The ruby ray from the Warrior’s sword shot toward the sky. The Healer darted among the fallen and knelt beside the sorely wounded woman. Blue light from the Healer’s wand focused on the Warrior’s wounds. The Healer poured life-sustaining energy through the azure beam.
Gusts of wind drove thick waves of fog from the mountain peaks to obscure the plain and to cover the retreat of the women. A cluster of the servants of the Mistress of the Moons, clad in tunics of amber, red and blue, stumbled after those who bore the Warrior. They carried her between a pair of standing stones into a narrow passage that led to a crater lake and the Place of Choosing.
The Seer stumbled and would have fallen if the Healer hadn’t caught her arm. Together they moved through the fog. The edges of their cloaks brushed the standing stones.
“How much time have we?” the Healer asked.
The Seer tightened her grip on the staff. “I pray enough to complete the ritual before the eclipse hides the light of the moon.”
The Healer guided the other woman into the narrow passage. “With the coming of the fog, the bright moon and the dark moon have risen. We must succeed or all is lost for the One we serve.”
“Pray our call is answered before the next eclipse and the time of the lunar of the dark moon. For now and to all eternity, the thirteenth moon, the dark moon will rise each year to fill the sky.”
“We must wait thirteen years before this comes to pass. Pray the Mistress of the Moons will hold the Queen of Darkness at bay so the ones we call will have a chance.”
“Unless those who serve the Lord of Shadows call the Queen forth.”
The Healer sucked in a breath. “Never will the ones who serve the shadowed one share the rule.”
The Seer sighed. “Mistress bless. So be it. We will call, the Three will come and all will be as it has been. Unlike those in the other nomes, we can’t allow a drastic change to alter what we’ve built.”
“Agreed,” the Healer said.
They emerged from the passage and walked across the rock-strewn earth to the crater lake. The walls on three sides formed a crescent around the pool.
The Seer marshaled enough strength to walk unassisted. Her hair, darkened by age, flew wildly around her face. The Healer’s hair was as black as a night beneath the dark moon.
The remaining women clustered at the edge of the lake. The Seer and the Healer took the ends of the stretcher on which the Warrior lay. They waded through the cool water to the isle in the center of the lake. Gently they laid their companion on the pale rock. The Healer placed the Warrior’s sword on her chest and crossed the woman’s arms beneath the orb in the hilt.
Those who served the Mistress as seers, warriors and healers held torches aloft.
The ebon globe slid across the surface of the pale golden moon. The Seer passed her hand over the head of her staff. From the depths of the amber crystal, a band of pale yellow light flowed.
“From out of time and out of space, we three, Seer, Warrior, Healer, send our spirits questing for those who will continue the battle against the Lord of Shadows. We call for those who will keep the faith exactly as we have. Mistress of the Moons, pray keep the Queen of Darkness in bonds so You will prevail.”
The Healer raised her wand. The blue crystal on the tip flared and blue light shone. “The time of passing is upon us.” Her voice held neither fear nor anticipation. “Moon bright becomes Moon dark. May this eclipse add strength to our quest.”
The dark orb continued its stately progress across the face of the moon. The Seer held her staff so the light shone across the body of the Warrior. “How fares our sister?”
The Healer pressed a hand against the Warrior’s chest. “Her heart beats, but her body weakens. Can she bring forth the light of her sword?”
“The Mistress will sustain her.”
The Healer gasped. From the ruby crystal embedded in the hilt of the Warrior’s sword, a red ray rose to touch the blue and amber. “Just as our lights unite, we three are one.”

Moon Bright, Moon dark,
Mistress of the Moons.
From out of time,
From the depths of space.
Call the Three,
Seer, Warrior, Healer.
Empower them.
From conception comes the thought.
From the thought rises the desire.
From desire springs the seed.
And the fruit becomes the harvest,
Ending shadows, bringing light.

The women who had gathered at the edge of the lake added their voices to those of the Three. Once, twice, thrice, they intoned the call. As the dark globe completely covered the moon, they plunged their torches into the water. Clouds of herb-scented smoke obscured the isle. When the sun rose only a staff, a sword and a wand remained



Tuesday, March 20, 2018

Tuesday's Writer's Tip - More on Characters - Actions and Reactions #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Action #Reaction

There is another way of making your characters leap into being in the reader's mind. Action and Reaction are vital elements to understand. How often have you heard someone say "He or she isn't acting in character." So this is one of the ways you need to look at your characters and make sure they stay in character all the pages of the book.

When something happens around your character, how do they react. Are they angry? Do they retreat? What emotions are stirred inside? You need to know how your character will react to the good and bad things of life. One of the ways of doing this is of course knowing your character very well. We all react to different things in different ways. So do characters. But for the characters there's little room for ambiguity. Feeling one way today and another way tomorrow about the same thing can make the character's reactions seem wrong. Sometimes I have this problem with my critique group. They think about how they would feel about something and want the character to feel that way. Some characters feel differently from the general public.

After you have their reaction, you need to think about how they will act. Will they become physical, retreat, just do nothing. Any of these reactions will show something about the characters. Action means taking steps and thinking about what to do. Sure an action can seem like a spur of the moment but but not necessarily so. But it can also be a triggered response and the writer needs to know what is behind that response.

So as you write the scenes of the book, you need to think about all the characters involved in the scene. The scene may not be in their viewpoint but how they react can be seen through their body responses, their dialogue. So think about reactions. Then think about action. What will the main character do? The other characters in the scene, what will they do? Reaction and action make your character seem alive, but make sure they stay in character.

Monday, March 19, 2018

Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Poem #Grandson visits #Writing

Meander 1 Poem -- Coffee Grounds

Mornings, I wanted hot coffee.
You never did. I drank alone
Filling my cup with fresh perked brew.
You stayed in bed until I called,
Applied your pungent aftershave
To blot my fragrant coffee bean.
Our marriage simmered on the stove
For twenty years we stayed together,
Oils and essences losing strength
Becoming bitter in the pot.
Until today --
I emptied the grounds.

Meander 2 _Grandson Visits - Because of distance and the unability to travel it's been two years since I saw my grandson. Not that we haven't been in touch but seeing is better. He's gotten taller and broader in those two years. He still likes oatmeal. Even packed some on his case but I remembered and there are about 50 packets he can use. He watched me doing a crossword puzzle and shook his head. How do you know the words. I really think it takes years and doing the puzzles a lot of times. There's a trick and that's knowing what thecreator of the puzzle thinks. But back to the grandson. It's really good to see him.

Meander 3 - Writing - I am coming close to the end and it's getting a bit scary. Three chapters to conquer and the whole blamed thing to format but that won't take too long once I finish the writing of the three final chapters. There have been several drafts so this is  the last except for the clean up. Wish me luck,

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Sunday's Book featuring Bast's Warrior #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Paranormal #Alternate world #Egypt

Bast's Warrior (An Alternate Egypt Book 1)
Tira flees a threat to her life and encounters two elderly women who offer her the chance to be sent to an alternate ancient Egypt with no thought of return. She has had a fascination with Egypt and can even read hieroglyphics. Once there she will be given a task. Failure could mean death. Dare she take the chance and can she find the lost symbols of the rule before an enemy finds them? 

Kashe, son of the nomarch of Mero is in rebellion. His father desires him to join the priesthood of Aken Re, a foreign god. He feels he belongs to Horu, god of warriors and justice. He decides to leave home, meets Tira and joins her in the search for the symbols of the rule. Will his aid bring good fortune and will their growing love keep them from making a fatal mistake?

Previously published as The Warrior of Bast

"This engaging voyage into an ancient Egypt that includes power-hungry priests and hazardous treasure hunts entertains from page one. Familial intrigue heightens the tension, as does a kidnapping or two. The cast of characters is dynamic and complements the well-conceived plot." ~ 4 Stars, Susan Mobley, Romantic Times Magazine

March 26, 2015
Format: Kindle Edition

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Saturday"s Blurbs featuring Books by Barbara Baldwin #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Contemporaryromance #timetravel

An Interlude by [Baldwin, Barbara]
Peter A Myerson, IV, is a successful businessman in New York City and has little time to deal with a house left to him by a great-aunt he never knew. He will simply go to New Orleans, sell the house and return to his organized and predetermined life.
That plan flies out the window when he meets CJ Fortier, the historical preservationist who is determined to finish the work she has been paid to do. As different as they are, Peter is instantly drawn to her passion, and not just for her work.
In the process of remodeling they find an old diary written by his aunt with entries dating back to the 1920’s. It’s a glimpse into the past when the house was a speakeasy and brothel and it leads them to fulfilling a few fantasies of their own. But finding items referred to in the diary lead Peter and CJ into trouble as unknown people are after information only his late great-aunt would have known.

Lost Knight of Arabia
To whoever finds this journal:
I started out this rainy November morning in 1988 as an archeology intern uncovering sunken treasure from the Steamboat Arabia, but due to circumstances I don’t understand, at the end of the day I found myself on board the Arabia, back in 1856, the year she sank.
Thus Brianna begins her journal, finding herself rescued by Jake Worth, a passenger on the Arabia; a man with secrets of his own and no desire to be responsible for another human being. But fate has thrown them together, and while Bri can’t explain how she got there, she is fascinated by the fact that she is living the history she has only read about.
Bri pulls Jake into the problems of the people on board almost on a daily basis and he reluctantly helps if only to keep her out of trouble. She is attracted to him, but since she wasn’t on the original manifest, she fears getting involved will alter history in some way. Yet when Jake comes to her in passion she can’t resist her feelings. As the steamboat paddlewheel takes them closer and closer to that fateful day, will they have a choice in their destiny?

It’s 1870, and even in wild, west Texas, nothing is more important than family.
When Joe Dawson was just 15 years old, tragedy tore his family apart. He spent the next 7 years searching for his brothers and sisters, even as he found purpose for his own life on a ranch and with the Texas Rangers. He is afraid to claim love when he finds it because everything he ever loved has been stolen from him. Yet through spring round-up, marauding Indians, stampeding cattle and the long cattle drive, his heart slowly heals because of the kindness of the rancher who rescued him and the love of the rancher’s daughter, who trusted him with her heart.
But until Joe is able to reclaim his family, he won’t allow himself to build a life with the woman he loves. It is through Sky’s love that Joe realizes the heart can find safety and joy in family, whether it’s family born or a family newly made.

Friday, March 16, 2018

Friday's Guest - Barbara Baldwin - Who She Was Before #MFRWAuthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Romance #timetravel

Where were you in your life before you became a writer? Did this influence your writing?
            I’ve had a wide variety of “professions” in my life including legal secretary, working at a commercial cattle feedlot, teaching every grade from Kindergarten through college, and grant writing. All of these gave me a foundation for being able to write well. As for influences, there are bits and pieces of my life in all my stories – a scene/incident, a friend/acquaintance/boss, a location. Life is too full of unique characters and happenings not to put them into my stories.

Are you genre specific or general? Why? I don’t mean genres like romance, mystery, fantasy, etc. There are many subgenres of the above.
            I am all over the map! I’ve written everything from short stories to full length fiction; poetry to a documentary on state history. I write short stories and turn them into Christmas story cards, and fables/myths about places I’ve visited like Ireland and Mexico.
When I started writing romance, I thought my first book would be about privateers, because I loved reading those. Instead, it took place on a cattle ranch in Montana. (With more than 22 romances now out, I still haven’t written about privateers.) As a story begins to form; or as I jot down random scenes that I think will work in a story, I don’t have much choice in whether it will be contemporary, historical or time travel. That seems to be determined by my characters or in some cases by the story idea.
For example after visiting the Steamboat Arabia museum several times, I knew there was a story to be written, but did I want to write a contemporary about its excavation or a historical about when it traveled the river in the 1850s? Combining the best of both worlds, I wrote a time travel titled “Lost Knight of Arabia.”

Did your reading choices have anything to do with your choice of a genre or genres?
            As a child I read all the horse books I could get my hands on, and then progressed to Perry Mason mysteries. Those topics find their way into my writing, but usually only in a minor way. Before I started writing as an adult, my first experience with romance was reading Kathleen Woodiwiss and I fell in love with the genre. Although I write other things, the majority of my focus is on romance.

What’s your latest release”?
            “An Interlude” was just released in February. It’s a fun contemporary romance involving an uptight New York businessman and a contrary historical preservationist from New Orleans.
The element that makes it unique is a diary from the 1920s. It’s not a time travel, but the diary gives a glimpse into the past which plays a major role in their present time.

What are you working on now?
            A quilt. Seriously, I am, but as I sew my brain is plotting and building characters and trying to decide where to set my next story. I know it will be contemporary, but I haven’t decided if it should take place in a little seaside town or a snowy mountain resort town. I just know it won’t be in a huge metropolis.

Where can we find you??

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Thursday's Third Scene Pursuing Doctor West #MFRWauthor #BooksWeLoveLTD #Medical #romance #humor

Zelda Carter wanted to pinch herself, but she knew Michael’s arrival wasn’t a dream. She’d heard rumors, but hospital’s grapevine bred stories as fast as mold multiplied in a dungeon. She sat at the desk and stared at nothing. Co-workers bustled past. The loudspeaker crackled. The phone rang. She sighed. He had returned home to practice surgery. She would see him every day.
Maybe this time he would open his eyes to the possibilities. Perhaps the strange and awful occurrences wouldn’t happen. Could she find a crack in his stone heart and prove she was the right woman for him?
Never had.
You’re wrong.
This time she would find a lure he couldn’t resist. She sucked in a breath and swore the citrus scent of him overpowered the sharper hospital odors.
“Ms. Carter, lab on line one,” the unit clerk said.
Zelda grabbed the receiver and jotted some values she’d wanted checked. She turned to the clerk. “Karen, if anyone wants me I’ll be in my office.”
“I’ll let them know, boss lady. You need to call Nan.”
“Will do.” Zelda strode down the hall. She needed to let the staff recruiter know there would soon be an opening for a nurse on the unit.”
She shut the door, reached for the phone and punched her friend’s extension. After Nan answered, Zelda mentioned the opening. “Need someone with dynamite qualifications. I’ll email you the specifics.” A gasp burst free when she saw the paper airplane perched on the edge of her desk.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her heart hammered. What did he want? Visions of Michael filled her thoughts. She drifted into a dream. His green eyes glittered with interest. He asked for a date.
“Zelda, are you there.” Nan’s shout shredded the daydream.
“Just spaced out for a moment.”
“What’s he like?”
“The new surgeon. The house is buzzing with rumors and more. Thought I’d come to the one who has surely met him.”
Zelda laughed. “I have first dibs. Don’t you remember him?”
“If I knew his name I might.”
“Think four years ahead of us in school. Think red gold hair, though now it’s a dark auburn. Think broad shoulders, football, basketball, and baseball. Think handsome as sin.”
Nan chuckled. “Michael West.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Zelda hung up. She smoothed the paper airplane. She remembered the hundreds of notes she’d sailed over the back fence.
Must mean something.
Sure it does. Maybe.
The voice of doubt sounded again. She stared at the words he’d written and started the process of deciphering the scrawl. How could he? She’d loved him for years. Granted he’d ignored her years ago.
Professional. An order. As if she was anything but a professional here. A glance at the signature and she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Your former neighbor.
Tears rolled down her face and she gasped to catch a breath. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he learned she lived in the same building. Heavens, their bedrooms were separated by a very thin wall.
She folded her arms. Michael West, you’re in for a surprise. She brought the note to her nose and inhaled the citrus scent permeating the paper, or maybe her imagination. She tucked the note in her pocket. This belonged in her box of Michael mementos. Had he saved the notes and other items she’d given him over the years? Hope grew like bacteria in a Petrie dish. The missive proved his interest. So did the way he’d watched her this morning. His stares had ignited her body.
Michael, watch out. She would find a way to capture more than his sideways glances. She knew something he was too blind to see. She was his perfect mate.

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Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Wednesday Lines of Fire #MFRWHooks #MFRWAuthor @BooksWeLove #fantasy romance

Lines of Fire (The Guild House - Defenders Hall)
 I'm joining iwth other authors in a blog hop to give you a bit about some really great books. We are here  My offeringis a fantasy romance with some sword fighting

To honor a promise made to his dying father, Alric trains as a Defender. For some reason the Swordmaster wishes him gone and his first two bondings end in failure. A failed third one will see Alric banished. His meeting with the older daughter of the Swordmaster reveals a double heart bond, but she has been promised to Petan, the Swordmaster’s favorite. A duel is fought and though Alric can read Petan’s lines of fire, the other dueler cheats and nearly kills Alric. Petan is banished but he knows secret ways into Defenders Hall. Kalia, his now bondmate’s lines are tarnished. Not only do Alric and Kalia need to find Petan, they must learn how to cleanse her lines. Buy Mark:


Whispers of the grief to come slithered through Alric’s thoughts. He knelt beside his father’s bed and brushed the older man’s hand. The lines of fire on his father’s skin, once bright scarlet, had faded to pale pink. Thought the end approached, Alric wasn’t ready to see his father pass from life into the abyss of death.
“Papa,” he whispered. "The men of the Guild Houses and their bondmates arrive in just five days to test me for admission into the Defenders Hall.” His words were a plea for his father to remain with him for that time.
The older man’s eyes opened. The pain Alric saw brought wetness to his eyes. When his father died, there would be no relative to witness the acceptance as a Defender trainee. From the moment his father had given Alric a wooden sword and shown him the ways one could be used, he had desired to leave the village and pursue more training.
With fierce determination, Alric sought to infuse some of his vitality into his father. As always, the attempt failed. Why could the lines of fire be used to halt the flow of blood and to not achieve a return to vitality? Alric groaned. If he had been on the wood-cutting trip into the forest, he could have helped his father and the other man. A boar had gored and broken their bodies. The other lumberman had died. Alric’s father had lingered and suffered.
The harsh whisper startled Alric. His father hadn’t spoken once in the ten days since his shattered body had been carried to the village.
“Listen. Be Defender.”
“I promise.”
“Swordmaster. Enemy. Lines of fire. Not all can see,”
Alric frowned. What die his father mean? Was the Swordmaster the reason his father’s bond had been broken and he had been banished to this distant village? Why should the lines remain a secret? Before he had a chance to ask his father spoke again.
“Find sibs.”
Alric’s head jerked up. “Sibs. I have none.”
“One boy. One girl. Too young to steal away. Just you.”
This new information rocked Alric’s thoughts. “I will find them.”
“Bracelet. Take. Use. True mate.”
New ideas and new demands swamped Alric. Questions rattled like nuts falling from the trees in autumn.
“Save. Defenders. Restore old ways. Promise.”
“I will.” Alric wasn’t sure what he had promised but his father’s words flowed through his thoughts the way the lines of fire flowed over his skin. He pressed his forehead against his father’s hand and slammed shut the gates of grief.
The rattled breathing slowed and began again. Each stop and start brought a welling of tears closer to the surface. The sound stopped. Alric waited. He raised his head. The lines of fire on his father’s skin vanished.
Gut churning sobs began and wracked Alric’s body. When the storm of tears stopped Alric rose. With leaden steps he walked to the cabin door to summon the village women to care for his father’s corpse.

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