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Tag: Medieval Romance Novel

A New Interview With Myself

sue

Hey! Where’re you going? I thought we were going to blog for a moment?

I’ve got a Zumba class in 15 minutes. Sorry. I hate interviews. Have I mentioned that?

 

Zumba? Really? I mean you’re getting on in years. I hope you take it easy…

Hell no. I take it to the max. I got calories to burn. I sit at a desk all day long.

 

What other workouts do you do?

I exercise at least six times a week. One step class, three Zumba classes, and two yoga classes. Listen, I really need to go…

 

That seems like a lot. When do you find time to write?

I get up at 5:30 seven days a week and write for at least two hours.

 

How impressive. How do you force yourself to do that?

Huh? Force? I’ve heard other people say what ‘hard work’ writing is. It’s not like that for me. What is hard, is to STOP writing. I wish I could write all day and all night.

 

I see you’ve published two medieval romances. Is there a particular reason you chose that genre?

Ha. ‘How to Train Your Knight’ was the first to get noticed by a publisher and my best at that time. I have a couple contemporary novels and a paranormal story just waiting for me to go back and get them ready for print. I wish I had more time…

 

Did you always want to be a writer?

Uh… no…. Honestly? For the longest time, I didn’t think beyond saving for my kids’ college, paying my bills, and getting a good night’s sleep. Being able to write is a recent discovery. I learned I can paint watercolors, as well. I sold a few in a gallery. And I learned to tile, and ah, code, manage a software project… I think as we get older, our capacity to learn increases. Don’t you?

 

Hmmm. Most would disagree.

You really are a Debbie Downer. Got a case of the Mondays? You get one more question. As I said, I have a workout.

 

What advice would you give new writers?

First of all? Do you love it? If not, find something else to do. If yes, then write every spare minute you have and then, if you are serious? Get some professional feedback and get better at your art. Then write some more and get more feedback, and write some more and get your work out there. And dream big and get published and write some more.

Sorry self. I gotta go. We can talk later.

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Stella channels the past?

af0c84d5492a484b8076b638c3574d68The weirdest thing happened this morning and I just have to share it.

For those of you that don’t know me, I’m generally considered an extremely level-headed woman, I know well the difference between making things up and reality.

So that is why I am FREAKING OUT!

The heroine in my third book is entirely fictional and is supposed to be the only living survivor of King Magnus, the last of the Norse rulers on the Isle of Man. In my story, the King of Scotland, who conquered the Manx,  decides to put her on the throne, as an effort to win the goodwill of the people. I made up a haughty female to be able to spar with the alpha knight I have in mind.

This morning, while doing some research on the ‘Isle of Man,’ I found an obscure reference to another,  written by a scholar at Western Michigan University. In it, I read that there actually was a queen on the isle of Man in the same decade in which I am writing!  She was the closest living heir to the last king of Man,

I had no idea.

SHIVERS.

http://www.medievalists.net/2012/09/16/viking-women-in-the-isle-of-man/

http://scholarworks.wmich.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1057&context=hilltopreview

 

 

 

 

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THE BLOG EXTRAVAGANZA CONTINUES! $25 RAFFLE!

Hi to All of You AWESOME folks who landed here today!!!
99CentsAndNever

First of all, I say Good luck on the $25 Raffle.

 

HERE IS THE LINK!!!
https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/f34356f18/

Secondly, I’ve had so many friends and new authors ask me these few questions.

What is a Blog Tour?
It’s a whole lot of websites who’ve agreed to host your content for a day, or a few days.

How can I get myself one of those?
I thank likeabossbookpromotionsblog@gmail.com for arranging this second of two wonderful tours.

I can get over forty folks to blog for me?
Well, it isn’t quite that easy. If you want to be successful, you should help promote the promoter! To do that, I suggest that you think to ‘give back.’ Create safe places where romance writers can post. You can make a Facebook page or a Goodreads group or a Pinterest board. Or find some new way! Tweet your favorite authors!

 

Medieval has never been better

 

Here is a list of bloggers who’ve agreed to share in my release day!! I have posted their Facebook and their Blog sites. I’ve also made sure to ‘tweet’ them all at least once today!

I’ve made sure they have a ‘never seen before’ excerpt!!!

You can catch us on FACEBOOK as well!!!

https://www.facebook.com/events/494523867375360/

THANK YOU ALL!!!

  • http://www.sugarandspicesmuttyandnice.com/ https://m.facebook.com/morrisonmagee?ref=bookmarks
    http://romancenovelgiveaways.blogspot.com/ https://www.facebook.com/RomanceNovelGiveaways
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    http://twoangelsandadevil.com/ https://www.facebook.com/2FeistyAngelsandaDevil/
    http://anythingbutvanillablog.blogspot.com/ and http://digitaldirtygirlbookblog.blogspot.com/ https://www.facebook.com/AnythingButVanillaBookBlog/ and https://www.facebook.com/DigitalDirtyGirlBookBlog/
    https://book-loverblog14.blogspot.co.uk https://facebook.com/bookloverblog2014
    Http://www.SassyMomsSayReadRomance.com Https://www.facebook.com/SassyMomsSayReadRomance
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Merry Monday Presents ‘How To Marry Your Wife’

OMG OMG OMG OMG

You have JUST GOT to see what my FIRST REVIEW LOOKS like.

I am humbled, awed, inspired, and jumping for joy.

http://www.adrisinclair.com/how-i-went-to-scotland-on-a-horse-by-adri-sinclair/

COMING NOVEMBER 18th!!!!

COVER BLURB!

     What foul devilry is this? They told her he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry? Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. The pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.
Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have in his travels? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her fierce scowls, the Templar knight decides to wed and win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Ahead, evil deeds await, laced with castles, kidnappings, and secrets. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in death will he rekindle the passion they once shared.

 

EXCERPT:

“My lord, your castle awaits to the north and your relatives may be held captive. We must turn back.” The words were spoken by Harold-the-Younger who would be forgiven, just this once, for his impertinence.

“And my wife is missing. Thank you for stating the obvious. If you can’t be more helpful, I suggest your mouth be best used for taking in breath.”

Jacob pointed down the river. “There. What’s that?”

Thomas’ heart sank. A flat bottomed boat lay bobbing upside down against the bank of the river. A woman’s body lay beside it in a pool of blood. He swallowed hard and dug spurs into Demon’s side. His charger tossed his head, snorted, and veered, but Thomas gained control and raced toward the grisly scene.

A dog chewed at a headless mass of flesh and snarled. He kicked the animal away, squatted, and cursed. Pieces of Merry’s bloodied tunic twisted among the innards. He dropped to his knees and shouted with first raised into the air. “Be ye damned forever.” Part of the curse was for whoever had just killed her, the other for God, and lastly for himself.

Assessing the gore was the hardest thing he’d ever done. What was left of the flesh had the length and breadth of his wife. One arm was cleaved at the wrist. His soul refused to acknowledge the scene in front of his eyes and he refused to mourn. Not yet. He’d find the bastard who’d done this to her, cleave him in to small bits, and let the vultures feed.

A horse whinnied behind him and Jacob’s flat voice spoke, “The head is gone.”

“Let me be. I’ll bury her. Alone.” He gathered stones and placed them beside the body.

“It’s way too opportune that the poor woman’s head and hand are missing. I smell a ruse.”

The blackness that threatened to devour his soul wouldn’t let in one ray of hope. “Do as you will. I’ll bury what’s left of her.”

Thomas scoured the flood plain for a sign of her. Was it possible? Crows circled above, but other than that, the land lay bare. All signs and tracks around the body had been swept away. The coward was clever. About a mile beyond, a forest loomed. Perhaps the woman-slayer trembled there.

Having no shovel, but many a stone, Thomas moved the body parts to a central area and covered them. With none to watch, tears came unbidden as he placed the last round stone atop what was left of her body. He gasped for air, knowing not how to go on, but knowing he must for his little son.

“What say you, lass? You were right. Better that I should’ve stayed dead.”

Memories, detecting the flaw in his mail, attacked without mercy. Six years ago, he’d spied her across the room with the devil in her eyes. She’d smiled boldly at him and giggled with her friends. The first time they’d sat together at table, he’d fed her like a baby bird and cut her food. All in the great dining room watched, knowing that in the doing so he’d claimed her.

He recalled that fateful night, when they’d hand-fasted before God. She’d begged him to take her and he’d been too weak to resist completely. He’d promised to come back after trading in London and marry her. How was he to know that Marcus would send him abroad at the king’s request? His soul howled, never to be consoled again.

He sobbed, falling upon his knees, with his hands covering his face. Forgive me. He’d loved with her that night as much as he’d dared. So beautiful her lovely sighs, so bountiful her breasts. She’d opened her legs and accepted his hand until she’d come undone. Mayhap a holier man could have resisted her offerings, but oh no, not him. Nay. He took all but her virginity and remembered how sweet the agony to spew his seed between her legs.

He allowed one more moment of self-pity, planted the final rock upon her grave, and squeezed his eyes as they burned. He apologized for his blasphemy and prayed God to take his angel into heaven and allow him to meet her there anon. First, he would seek revenge and see to the welfare of his son.

His eyes popped open when the grasses rustled in front of him and the ground opened up. A muddy black demon arose with shiny eyes and yellow teeth. Grinning, it exited the hole with a most ordinary sword held high. Then there was naught, but darkness.

 

 

 

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‘How To Marry Your Wife’ – Blurb and Cover

Tell me. What do you think? COMING NOVEMBER 18th!

What foul devilry is this? They told her that he was dead. After six long years without a word, her knight falls onto his knees and sings poetry. Then he denies their son? Heed this well. She’s no longer an innocent who’ll giggle and tarry on his every word. The sharp edge of her tongue and knife is the only welcome he’ll get. She’ll not marry him. Besides, the pain would be too much to bear should he ever leave again.

Her attitude is beyond understanding. What voice did he have? The king commanded and he obeyed. Regardless of her hatred, the Templar knight weds. This time she will travel with him and he will win back her favor. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall. Evil deeds weave a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and missives. Will the treacherous journey split them asunder forever? Mayhap only in heaven will he rekindle the passion they once shared.

The prologue is right here. Click and get ready!
 

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Writing a Novel

k10ALAS!

Sometimes writing wrings my soul dry. More than an actor I must become my characters. I share their desires. I feel their pain. I cry. I want to help but like a good and gracious god, I know they must go through these chapters in order to be happy and productive, post-novel. It’s hard to explain but in my mind’s eye, these people are real. I’m just documenting a segment of their lives.

As heroine, I have survived much trauma. As I fall in love I begin to remember why I don’t want a man to touch me. I am torn and tormented. I shed tears as the memories of my attack begin so seep into my consciousness.

As the hero, I am living a lie. I either get the heroine to fall in love with me or die. The more attracted I become to her, the more I detest myself. I can find no way out. Until I am knighted, my life is little more than that of a slave. Even then, I will be underneath my grandfather’s powerful rule. If he wants her pregnant with my child, so be it.

Oh dear hearts. Worry not. We are but on the fifth chapter. It seems bleak now, but we will prevail.

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Midwest Book Review

MidwestBookReviewHow To Train Your Knight
Stella Marie Alden
Soul Mate Publishing, Macedon, NY 14502
ASIN: B00WRNKOOU $2.99 Free with Kindle Unlimited
www.stellamariealden.com http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WRNKOOU

D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review

Most medieval novels don’t offer up a steamy romance theme; but then, How To Train Your Knight isn’t your usual historical novel, but offers a gripping love story set in 1276 that opens with the bang of a screaming woman accosting Sir Marcus Blackwell, a holy crusader forced into a marriage with a foul-tempered widow.

Lies, ladies, she-witches, murder and love are vividly portrayed as characters are well-developed and dialogue and description nicely done to capture the sounds, scents, feel and lingo of Medieval times (without resorting to confusing vernacular, which makes for an exceptionally smooth read).

Where other romances would fall into modern description, How To Train Your Knight stays true to its times, tailoring its graphic sexual encounters with a sense of the decorum and trappings of Medieval times. From the period clothing of the era which is removed with a different touch (“…finally he undid the leather ties holding the three sheaves, and her knives clunked to the floor.”) to a woman’s acceptance of the pleasure involved in making babies (which doesn’t translate to the usual confession to a priest if a husband is involved), Stella Marie Alden excels at presenting powerful protagonists who both express their sexuality and discover riches of the heart in the process.

Because romance is the key, binding factor in How To Train Your Knight, audiences should be genre readers looking for a healthy dose of history to spice the steamy interludes. These factors contribute to a powerful story line that is as much about sexual awakening and love as it is about the process of becoming a powerful partner and surviving the medieval world.

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Sneak Peak “How to Train Your Knight”

Marcus was up and comfortably saddled before dawn the next day. When his wife appeared from out of the bathhouse, the sun had not yet appeared, but a soft yellow light had spread across the sky.

“Not a word from you.” He eyed Charles with suspicion. The stable lad responded with a wide-eyed nod, just as she ran across the green and into the church.

“I’ll be right back. Keep Midnight in readiness.” He dismounted and gave his disappointed horse a pat on the rump. Entering the stone abbey by the back door, he was surprised to land in the monk’s quarters. The sparse room held a table, a clay lamp, two pallets, a hearth, and some furs. James, kneeling quietly in prayer, stood slowly, frowned, and regarded him with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’d like to join the mass unseen.” Marcus held palms open and up.

“What’re you up to, Blackwell? I’m not sure we’re on the same side. Lady Ann has been like a daughter to me and the manner of your wedding pleased me not.”

“Truly?” He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve yet to even enter relations with her. I’m the one who should be affronted. She’s the one who’s dressed as a lad, running about like a wild hellcat. I’m merely watching out for her safety. How does the church allow it?”

James regarded him for a moment more and gave a quick nod. He led him down a narrow stone hallway to a pew set up behind the altar and out of view of the congregation. “Blessings upon you, my son. And good luck.”

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