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Tag: writing a novel

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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BLOG-A-THON Extravaganza!

HOW TO MARRY YOUR WIFE by STELLA MARIE ALDEN

AMAZON BUY LINK

OVER 40 BLOGGERS HAVE JOINED WITH ME TO WELCOME THE RELEASE OF MY NEW MEDIEVAL ROMANCE!

I could not be more thrilled.

I have two tours scheduled.
One from the 18th to the 20th!

And one from the 23rd to the 26th!

I will be posting details on my the facebook events and keeping you up to date!

HERE IS THE FIRST EVENT
https://www.facebook.com/events/953991171337076/

What is a blog tour?
It is when a group of bloggers host your content on their site, sharing your joy of the birth of your book!
What happens there?

For those that show up and leave a comment that proves they have taken a peak at my first page, they can click on a link to be entered into a raffle to wind $25 in CASH!!

So.I sure hope you win!!

ENJOY!

Go ahead and click on ‘How To Marry Your Wife’ over there on the right!
IT’s free with Kindle Unlimited.

If you haven’t bought the first? Well it’s ONLY .99 for a very limited time.

Have a great Thanksgiving!

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A Few of my Favorite Things

Favorite Things….

Mani-s and pedi-s and looking like forty,
Oil of Olay and a car that’s quite sporty.
Got my guitar with a set of new strings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cold shoulder sweaters with hot handsome hubby,
Dancing till midnight, a bottle of bubbly,
Wild riffs that fly and a guy that can sing,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Boys in tight t-shirts with jeans that are holey,
Bars that are hoppin’, and shots of Patron-ey, (oh well)
Wild times of winter that promise of spring
These are a few of my favorite things

When the trolls bite,
And my screen pings,
When I’m feeling sad…
I simply remember my favorite things,
and then I don’t feeeel ssoooooo bad.

thank you very much…… hee hee

sow

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Thursday Threads Presents Cathy MacRae

thehighlandersreluctantbride

The Highlander’s Reluctant Bride

Author: Cathy MacRae

Genre: Scottish Medieval Romance

Heat level: Sensual

 

Determined to keep the Macrory clan’s holdings out of the clutches of marauding pirates, King Robert II sends his man, Lord Ranald Scott, to hold Scaurness Castle. There, Laird Macrory lays dying, awaiting word from his son who is missing on the battlefields of France. If the son is not found before the old laird dies, Ranald will take over as laird—and marry Laird Macrory’s headstrong daughter.

Lady Caitriona sees no reason she cannot rule the clan in her brother’s stead, and is bitterly disappointed with the king’s decision to send a man to oversee the castle and people. Not only is Ranald Scott only distantly related to the Macrory clan, but he was her childhood nemesis. She has little trust or like for him.

Her disappointment turns to panic when the king’s plan is completely revealed and she realizes she must wed Ranald. Pirates, treachery, and a four-year-old girl stand between her and Ranald’s chance at happiness. What will it take for them to learn to trust each other and find the love they both deserve?

 

Excerpt:

Absently Riona brushed a wayward strand of dark auburn hair from her face as she took two quick paces to catch up with him. The movement reminded Ranald of her as a child.

“I don’t suppose ye were too anxious to come here,” she said.

He formed a rueful expression. “Nae. ‘Twas no’ my first choice.”

“I know ye dinnae like it here. Ye always seemed relieved to depart.”

Ranald laughed. “‘Twas ye I dinnae like.”

Rather than take offence, Riona nodded again. “Nor I ye.”

“Ye were a difficult lass.”

She drew up short, staring at him. “Me? Difficult? All I ever wanted was to be included. Ye were forever running off, trying to leave me behind.”

Ranald did not check his pace. “Ach, we did let ye play sometimes.”

With a huff, Riona scrambled to his side. “Oh, aye. Ye let me play ‘princess.’ The princess ye kidnapped and held for ransom by tying me to a tree all afternoon.” She grabbed at her skirt again as she stumbled and caught herself.

Ranald paused and his horse tossed his head at his master’s sudden halt, but Riona didn’t slow her stride. With one long pace he was even with her again.

“And what about the time ye let me go fishing?” she tossed at him. “Except I had to sit in the bottom of the boat and use my skirt to hold yer catch. I smelled of fish for a week.”

Ranald chuckled and shook his head. “That wasnae me, lass.”

She bit her lip, and Ranald wondered why her straight, white teeth fascinated him so. He stared at the reddened mark her bite left behind.

“True,” she allowed. “Ye dinnae like the water, do ye?”

Ranald swallowed back his wayward thoughts. This was Riona, his childhood nemesis, not the sweet widow he’d left behind at Scott Castle.

He caught her sideways glance at him and realized he’d not answered her. “Nae. ‘Tis all that up and down and sideways motion. Makes my stomach churn.”

“How do ye intend to be laird of a people who live by the sea?”

“I cannae say if I’ll ever be much of a sailor, but I will be laird.”

 

BUY LINK: http://www.amzn.com/B00J1PNPPC/

Author’s links:

Website: www.cathymacrae.com

Twitter: @CMacRaeAuthor

Facebook: www.facebook.com/cathy.macrae.58

Cathy MacRae

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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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Thursday Threads presents Viola Russell. YAR PIRATES!!!!

Welcome Pirates! YAR!

BuccaneerBeauty

Genre: Historical Romance

Heat Level: Sensual

BUY LINK:  http://www.amzn.com/B010MOFENQ/

 

BUCCANEER BEAUTY is the story of Grace, Graínne, O’Malley, the beautiful daughter of a powerful Irish chieftain and a conventional mother. At the age of eleven, Graínne cuts her hair and sneaks aboard her father’s galley ship, determined to follow a life at sea and to seek the company of a handsome Scottish gallowglass, Bruce Donnel. Graínne proves herself a budding warrior when Spanish marauders invade her father’s vessel, but her parents have other plans for her. Though she proves an able sailor, Graínne is forced to marry Donal O’Flaherty, another powerful chieftain. Though enamored of Bruce Donnel, she nonetheless obeys her parents and proves an able helpmate to her violent and rash husband, continuing her own adventures at sea while raising children and supervising her husband’s home. Her heart, however, still belongs to a handsome Scot who she can never have.

 

Upon Donal’s death by ambush, Graínne continues her adventures along the Irish coast and Europe, secretly battling England’s growing power in her country. Alternately sleeping with the devil or manipulating the British authorities to her own ends, Graínne is determined to save her family and people from the tyranny imposed upon them by England. To make her family stronger, she weds Richard Bourke, one of the most powerful men in the region, but she can never forget Bruce Donnel and the passion he incited within her soul. Richard proves Graínne’s most stalwart supporter and she his, their minds and bodies uniting in an almost mystical union. Together, they faced the English with no fear—with only audacity and boundless courage. Still, the shadow of a youthful gallowglass intrudes on Graínne’s peace.

 

Excerpt:

“I wish you could come with me to Bunowen.” Grainne heard Bruce’s footsteps when he stepped on the hay spread along the barn. She looked up from grooming her chestnut horse.

“Now what would I be doing there?” Bruce ambled toward her and began stroking the mare’s nose. The horse stomped on the ground with her right front hoof and let out a fierce snort. The Scot took a step back.

“She thinks you mean to dishonor me.” Grainne grinned at him as she combed the horse’s mane. “My da gave her to me after that first voyage. Before that, I’d only had a pony. He said I could handle Anu after that.”

Bruce had regained his courage. He searched within the folds of his cloak and offered the horse a carrot. Anu gazed at him with what looked like suspicion, sniffing the tempting vegetable. “She’s a wild one.”

Grainne laughed and threw her arms around the animal’s long neck. “She’s a smart one, you’re meaning.” She stared at the now fully-grown man before her. His fair hair fell lightly onto his shoulders, and he wore the tartan trews typical of his people. She glanced at the way his muscular legs bulged within the tight material of his tartan trews. He’d spent most of his life yielding an axe, and Grainne didn’t want to admit to herself how lonely the months were when he returned to his native land with the rest of his men. “How old are you now, Bruce Donnel?”

Bruce watched as Anu took a generous bite from the carrot, then he lifted it to his own lips, grinning. “Older than you, Lady Grainne.” He studied her for a few minutes. “Twenty.”

“So no Highland Lass has won your heart, has she?” Grainne swept the coarse mane from the comb and tossed it aside. She wiped her hands on her trews and pushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

“No, my heart’s been stolen by an Irish goddess, but I can’t have her.” He turned to the pawing horse and shared the rest of his carrot.

Grainne’s heart hammered inside her breast. She took a deep breath and forced levity into her voice. “Who is she, pray tell?”

Bruce was suddenly so close to her that she could feel his hot breath feathering the slight hairs on her neck. “Don’t play with me, Grainne. It hurts too much.”

Grainne swallowed hard as her very being lurched with desire and aching need. Every sinew in her body wanted to wrap him within the all-consuming fire of her passion. She forced a laugh into her voice. “What hurts? By what I hear aboard ship you waste no time pining for the chieftain’s daughter. You’re quite the man about port. Many a Spanish and French lass can attest to that.”

“They mean nothing.” His fingertips lightly touched a strand of her hair, but he jerked away as if an electric jolt raced through his body. He added bitterly, “But you’re the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Connaught, and you’re soon to be the wife of another. I’m a poor mercenary.”

“Not so poor by what I’ve heard.” Grainne struggled to control her own rapid breathing. The heat of his body infiltrated her very pores. “Rumor has it you’ve farmland in the Highlands.”

Bruce’s face was very close to hers as he moved closer to her, his breath fanning against her lips as they lightly touched hers.  Grainne involuntarily touched his cheek, her fingertips on fire and her own breathing sounding loud in her ears. “You’ve heard right. It would be a great place to raise sheep, if I had the right woman.”

“Aye. It would be in a place with the right woman.”

Grainne looked away, but she still felt his heat. He cupped her chin under with his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. His brown eyes bore into her soul. Grainne’s whole body grew hot, and she gently slapped away his hand. Turning from him, she replied softly over her shoulder, “I have to finish with Anu.”

“Would you leave with me, my wild rose?” Suddenly, Bruce’s powerful arms encircled her waist. He ran his lips along her neck as his hands shifted to her breasts.

Grainne turned to him, almost against her as though she couldn’t help her conscious will. In his arms, she wasn’t possessed of a mind at all, only an aching body that longed for sexual release. During her long journeys at sea, Grainne had acquired many unsavory sailors’ habits. She loved to game and swore in such a way that made her mother cross herself before flailing her only daughter, but Grainne had never given of herself to man. She’d purposefully withheld her sexual favors from the men inhabiting her father’s ships. Grainne was a chieftain’s daughter. She wouldn’t disgrace him or herself.

 

Viola Russell

By Viola Russell

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STELLA’s THURSDAY THREADS PRESENT CD HERSCH!!!

SONOFTHEMOONLESSNIGHT

TITLE: The Turning Stone Chronicles: “Son of the Moonless Night
GENRE: Urban fantasy, Paranormal, Romance
HEAT LEVEL: Sensual

Currently available in eBook on Amazon at: http://amzn.com/B00XK3E172

Owen Todd Jordan Riley has a secret. He’s a shape shifter who has been hunting and killing his own kind. To him the only good shifter is a dead shifter. Revenge for the death of a friend motivates him, and nothing stands in his way . . . except Katrina Romanovski, the woman he is falling in love with. Deputy coroner Katrina Romanovski has a secret, too. She hunts and kills paranormal beings like Owen. At least she did. When she rescues Owen from an attack by a werebear she is thrust back into the world she thought she’d left. Determined to find out what Owen knows about the bear, she begins a relationship meant to collect information. What she gets is something quite different-love with a man she suspects of murder. Can she reconcile his deception and murderous revenge spree and find a way to redeem him? Or will she condemn him for the same things she has done and walk away from love?

Excerpt from Son of the Moonless Night:

A crash in the alley stopped Katrina Romanovski mid-stride. Like the October mist swirling in off the lake, her gypsy blood stirred sending her intuition into high gear. Something unnatural was happening.

Go see what’s wrong. She heard her father’s voice as clearly as if he stood next to her.

On the heels of his words came her mother’s pragmatic warning in clipped British tones. You know what curiosity killed. Katrina pushed the ever-present warning aside. Mom never approved of Dad’s supernatural hunts and even less of his drawing her into them.

Pulling the oversized cross she always wore out from under her shirt, Kat looked around for a weapon. Please, not a vampire. I hate vampires! A piece of wood sticking out of the trashcan at the front of the alley caught her eye.

Grabbing it, she broke the end off into a sharp point. The mist-filled air filtered the light from the single bulb over one of the alley doorways. The wind swirled the loose trash around making a quiet approach difficult. Sidestepping the paper, with the stake in one hand and holding the gun she took from her purse in the other hand, she crept into the alley.

A roar echoed against the buildings, the sound nearly sending her running. That roar wasn’t a vampire. It sounded more like an animal. Kat inched closer. In the yellow pool of light from the back door of the building, a black bear, over seven feet tall, reared on its back legs and swung its paw at the man standing at the edge of the light. He crashed to the ground, shirt torn open from the slashing claws. Blood covered the fabric, and he clasped his left hand over his shoulder to stem the flow. The bear bent toward him, teeth bared in a smile. A wicked smile.

Kat aimed her gun, but before she could pull the trigger, a shot rang out. The flash of gunpowder lit the face of the injured man. The blast reverberated against the buildings. With an enraged bellow, the bear staggered backward against the wall. Shaking his head, the animal dropped to all four paws. Weaving like a drunk, he lumbered toward his attacker. The man took aim again, shooting the animal between the eyes. Animal and human collapsed on the dirty, littered pavement.

As she started to move forward, Kat’s gypsy senses crawled over her skin like angry red ants. As she slipped back into the shadows, the bear shed fur. Changing size. Then, finally, turning into a man.

Shape shifters. Her stake wasn’t any good against them, and her bullets weren’t silver. This one appeared dead anyway. Had the wounded man seen the shift? Tossing the stake aside, she paused by the shifter and quickly moved to the wounded man. Out cold. Still human.

When she touched him, his eyelids fluttered open. “Did I get it?”

“What?”

“The bear.”

CD Hersch

 

Where you can find CD:

Soul Mate Publishing: http://smpauthors.wordpress.com/

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

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/C.-D.-Hersh/e/B00DV5L7ZI

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCDHersh

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CDHersh

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‘How To Marry Your Wife’

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

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 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 leave her again.

Shocked beyond measure that he has a son, a Templar agrees he must wed. He insists his new family travel with him to his lands in the north. It’s a long road from London to Hadrian’s Wall and evil deeds weave into a plot laced with castles, kidnappings, and pigeons. Will the journey split them asunder forever? Perhaps only in heaven will he find a way into her hardened heart.

Check out the prologue.

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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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