Showing posts with label books we love publishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books we love publishing. Show all posts

Thursday, May 13, 2021

New Series, New Book!

 



I'm delighted to be presenting a new YA series this month...the Linda Tassel Mysteries. Linda is a daughter of the Eastern Cherokee nation in Georgia. In Death at Little Mound she is discovering about the ancient people of her homeland through her work on an archeology dig. Into her life comes Tad Gist, a recent transplant from Buffalo New York. Just in time to help her solve a murder.

my first Nancy Drew mystery...The Secret in the Old Clock!


I enjoyed writing about Linda from Tad's point of view. I set the stories in the 1990s, when my children were teens.  What fun to revisit that time of their lives. When I was a teen, I loved reading Nancy Drew mysteries, but was frustrated that Nancy stayed a perpetual sixteen through all her adventures. I plan to follow Linda and Tad through their teen age years and deepening romance.

I hope you or a young reader you know will join them!

Monday, June 29, 2020

Housewives, Traditional Sex Roles & Mopping the Floor


Amazing how much time housewives spend pondering their floors. You may think that such a preoccupation is a sign of not much going on in that life, but from a "housemaid" view, the state of the floor is a re-occuring issue. Worn board floors, where cat fur accumulates in powdery drifts after a mere 3 days, or the kitchen linoleum which desperately needs waxing, they all cry out to me. I might fancy myself in an observatory, pondering the gravitational fields of Trans-Neptunian objects, but math always evaded me. --Or maybe I was just a typist at heart.

Gravitational studies do have a small place in the field of housecleaning.  A bit of cat fluff falls at the same speed as the toast crumbs my husband sweeps absently from the table onto the floor. This practice of his used to make me see red. Sometimes he'd do it even while I, rag in hand, was on my way to tidy that exact surface. These days, however, I pick my battles. He doesn't seem to realize that things on the floor immediately become my problem. Or--more darkly--maybe he does.

Most likely, he doesn't think and then multiplies this by doesn't care, because really scratch the surface and most men don't think much about women's work, especially if they have a "proper" housewife in residence. 

This blog is from an elder's POV, one from the "baby bust" cohort. As a female of that era, I was trained to domesticity in the traditional mode by a mother who wasn't much for housework herself and maybe figured such a virtue would eventually help me out in the marriage market. Back then, the deal between the sexes was: The Man performs the work he does in field or office, factory or machine shop and in return, Woman cooked, cleaned and helped to tend the green square surrounding the house, as well as being MOM to the kids. If you were a farmer's wife, you had an extra task in the form of poultry. 

Prehistorical Digression:

Imagine a Cro-Magnon a.k.a. EEMH "European Early Modern Human" woman (perhaps an Aurignacian, the ones with the great wall "posters") cleaning out the clan cave. Gotta take out the garbage you know, or you'll attract all kinds of unwanted guests, like the cave bear who used to live here, the local wild dog pack or the saber toothed tiger, the old one who can't chase faster prey anymore.

This old tiger may be a bit lame, but he's fast enough the dine on you, monkey.


Better to get the tell-tale odors away from your front door. You could simply heave the gnawed bones over the edge of the cliff. If you weren't lucky enough to have such a handy disposal area, you had to laboriously dig a hole with an antler pick and bury the stuff. And just about the time you'd get the place cleaned out, I'd bet dollars to donuts that the men would be back with a new carcass and all jazzed on fermenting grapes or something vegetative and disorienting they'd eaten in the woods. They'll just want to barbecue and party. If that's the case, tomorrow will just be same another day of taking out the trash.

Thank heaven EEMH men did "bring home the bacon," because women were incredibly busy. Either pregnant or nursing, chewing great swathes of hide to soften it sufficiently to sew, or gathering firewood and water and scrounging about for roots, nuts and berries, while trying to keep the older children from falling over the edge of that room with a spectacular view.

Years ago, post climbing the ladders to the dwellings at Mesa Verde, my first question was  how did they raise any kids up there? Or did they tie up toddlers  like backyard dogs until they'd acquired complete balance skills and some judgment?

So now, considering what housecleaning used to be like, I don't consider my modern housework all that hard. When I wrote Mozart's Wife I imagined Constanze's trials when the money ran out--which it often did--and how often she'd find herself doing the chores. Hand-scrubbing those lace cuffs and cravats and undies in a world in which there was no decent hand-cream for winter cracked skin! Soothing ointments? Another item for which you'd have to track down the ingredients and then concoct a cure yourself. Worse would be dishes in a world with no indoor plumbing. The Mozart's, like many today, ate a lot of take-out when they could no longer afford an apartment with a kitchen and/or the requisite cook and scullery maid to staff it.



Personally, mopping floors has become a creative driver. Versions of this housewife's trance work often appear in my stories. The Cinderella-like tale of Genesee, where a Metis girl is demoted from beloved daughter to servant, or Elizabeth Hamilton's strategy in A Master Passion to "encourage" her husband to accept the gift of a housemaid from his in-laws, or  Angelica in Angel's Flightattempting to settle her nerves by scrubbing the steps at her Uncle's Hudson Valley house on the eve of a British terror campaign .



~Juliet Waldron

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"Thou dost appear beautiful on the horizon of heaven... "

(From the Hymn to Aton by Akhenaton "the Heretic")





   

Friday, April 3, 2015

Enough Thinking Already!!




My boss, a fourth degree black belt and my Sensei, is always coming up with new ideas and new projects to work on - for both of us. The other day he told me a story about someone shaking their head at him and asking him how all his ideas came to him. His reply was, "That's easy. I don't think about them. Whenever I stop thinking, that's when the ideas come." That struck a chord with me.

I've had so many friends carry on about being "stuck" and having "writer's block." Then there's me. I'm not one of those people who has to force books to appear. In fact, ideas seem to lurk around corners and attack me when I'm not looking for them. My first series, Wild Blue Mysteries, came from a dream one night about a cat. Literally! The entire series developed from there while I walked around town and sat in coffee shops.

As I type this, I have two series in various phases of publication and one more I'm plotting when I get free time (a rare commodity with three kids and a job!!) My second series, Gilda Wright Mysteries, came from my karate training and current job. Lots of ideas stem from learning how to protect yourself from the "what ifs." Isn't that how most writers get their great ideas? From an attack of the "what ifs"?

One of the best things I have learned from is the dreaded deadline. No time for writer's block when you have an agent or publisher waiting for your work. You have to sit and let the thoughts flow.

A writer friend of mine told me she has problems finishing a book. She has great ideas, but has problems finishing writing an entire book. My number one advice to her was to get a glass of wine (or tea or coffee...) and to stop thinking and let the story flow. The ideas WILL come. Stop trying to change things as you go along, there will be plenty of time for that during the editing phase when being stuck will be the farthest from your mind!

Speaking of which, I'm off to my editing cave! Have a wonderful Easter!

Diane Bator

You can find me at:  http://bookswelove.net/authors/bator-diane/








Friday, January 25, 2013

BWL Blurbathon: Savage Possession by Margaret Tanner



Welcome to the Books We Love Blurbathon

SAVAGE POSSESSION BY MARGARET TANNER

A sweeping tale of love’s triumph over tragedy and treachery in frontier Australia.
A mistaken identity opens the door for Martin Mulvaney to take his revenge on the granddaughter of his mortal enemy. 
An old Scottish feud, a love that should never have happened, and a series of extraordinary coincidences traps two lovers in a family vendetta that threatens to destroy their love, if not their lives.  
Juliet Waldron’s blurb will appear on Sunday 27th January. We hope you will come back and check it out.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

My Publishing Journey to date by Jamie Hill

It's hard for me to believe that it's been six years since my first romantic suspense novel was published. Family Secrets wasn't the first book I wrote, but it was the first to get published. I had a wonderful editor (thank you Susan) and I really loved the book. I'll never forget my first ever review-- 4 and 1/2 stars out of 5, and the reviewer said glowing things. I printed that puppy out and carried it around for days, reading it to anyone who would listen.

The book did okay, and garnered more lovely reviews. Sadly, the small press that published Family Secrets closed it's doors and my book was an orphan. It took several years before I found a new publisher and the next two I chose folded before I ever really got going. I didn't give up, kept persevering, but just couldn't seem to find the right fit for the book and me. Harlequin liked my premise but said they could never have divorced heroes or heroines with kids for the lines I submitted to. (Really?)  By the time I got done trying to figure out their guidelines, my head was spinning. But it would have been nice to see my book in bookstores.

Actually, a nearby bookstore, Hastings, has a local author section, and they let me place some copies of Family Secrets there on consignment until they got too dusty a couple years later. I sold two, and one was to my best friend. LOL

Family Secrets was always meant to be part of a series. I started book two, Family Ties, shortly after book one. But frankly, when I couldn't find a good home for the first book, I didn't have much motivation to complete the second one. One of my Amazon reviews mentions that books one and two share similar characteristics, like heroes who smoke and drive Ford Explorers. (I like Explorers, okay?) And when I started these books years ago, many more people smoked. It wasn't farfetched that detectives who worked heavy caseloads might smoke, drink a shot or two, and yes, cuss. (Sorry Mom. She still hasn't forgiven me for that.)

Books We Love came along at just right time in my life. Once Family Secrets was happily settled in, I got busy and finished Family Ties last year. And this year, the Amazon revolution happened, and many of our Books We Love titles took off. I'm thrilled to say that Family Secrets was one of them. It hit #67 on the Top 100 Paid Kindle Books recently, which is pretty good for the thousands of books Kindle offers. Family Ties is steadily climbing.

So what this did was motivate me to get off my duff and write that third book I'd always imagined. It actually came easier than I expected, and I'm very, very pleased with the result. Family Honor is available for sale on Amazon now and will be in print in a few weeks. 

Family Honor makes the sixth novel I've published, three romantic suspense and three older titles that are straight romance. I've decided that romantic suspense is my true love. I'm plotting my next series and can't wait to get started. I hope you'll check out my books and join me on my unfinished journey!



Family Honor

Bodies of dead women are piling up and Detective Melanie Curtis is doing everything she can to solve the 'Cheerleader Slasher' case. Surprised to discover her chief has requested help from the FBI, she's even more shocked when she meets the sexy FBI special agent sent to assist her.
 
SSA Nate Willis tracks serial killers for a living. The slasher case is a challenge, but nothing compared to the feisty police detective he finds leading the investigation. Their attraction is swift and mutual, but the killer is escalating and they need to solve the case before they can focus on their personal relationship. When the unthinkable happens and the investigation is turned upside down, is their chance for happiness also in jeopardy?

“Author Jamie Hill has a knack for pulling a reader deeper and deeper into her stories as they try to figure out where she is leading them.” ~ Tammy, Fallen Angel Reviews




Monday, May 28, 2012

MEMORIAL DAY - DARING MASQUERADE

 MEMORIAL DAY AND MY BOOK - MARGARET TANNER
Call it blatant self promotion if you will, but I thought as it is Memorial Day in the US, I would post this battlefield excerpt from my latest romance novel, Daring Masquerade, which is set during the 1st World War.

In Australia we remember our war dead, on ANZAC Day, 25th April and also Remembrance Day/Armistice Day on 11th November.

ANZAC Day commemorates the landing at Gallipoli in Turkey by The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACS) on the 25TH April, 1915. And the 25th April is now sacred. It is when we remember the brave men and women who paid the supreme sacrifice in the 1st World War and in subsequent wars, 2nd World War, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. These battlefields are also stained with American blood, as you would be well aware.
DARING MASQUERADE – Out on Kindle from Books We Love Publishing
The third battle for Ypres had begun. The first and second Australian Divisions marched through the ruins of Ypres in Flanders, and fought their way along the Menin Road ridge. Their ultimate destination was Passchendale.
It had been raining steadily, the front had turned into a sea of mud, criss-crossed with miles of concrete German blockhouses. A German arc of machine gun fire dominated the landscape and the casualties were terrible.
Ross despaired of the carnage ever ending. After one battle another always followed. Men died or were wounded; many simply disappeared into the mud.
Reinforcements came and went, followed by more reinforcements. Few old faces were left now. Increasingly, he feared he might never leave this chamber of horrors and return to Harry at Devil’s Ridge. Never get the chance to utter the words, ‘I love you,’ to his wife.
How much longer could his luck hold out? He had suffered several minor shrapnel wounds that only required a dressing.
On the morning of the fourth of October, 1917, Ross’ unit was sent to Broodseinde Ridge. Forty minutes before the attack, soldiers waiting in the rear a mile behind the line saw white and yellow German flares through the hazy drizzle.
0530 hours.  Heavy trench mortars fell on Ross’s men as they sheltered in shell holes. At 0600 hours, the British artillery barrage opened up and he waited. Another attack—more casualties in this endless saga of death and suffering.
White tapes marked the jump off area. When the signal for attack came, he urged his men on.
“Come on, come on.”
He stood up and started running. Officers led by example, he remembered from training. The men charged forward now, yelling and screaming.
A line of troops rose from some shell holes a little in front of them, and Ross suddenly realized they were Germans mounting a counter attack. Too late to do anything but keep on going.
He did not see where the firing came from, but felt a thud, first in one leg then the other. As he sank to his knees, he felt a bullet slamming into his chest. He toppled forward.  Soldiers ran over him. Boots pressing into his back forced him deeper into the mud.
This is the end. I’ll never see Harry again.
He regained consciousness. It was daylight. How long had he been lying out in no-man’s land? Groggily, he got to his hands and knees. Pain and exhaustion racked his body. Breathing was agony. The landscape see-sawed. Shell fire echoed in his ears.
What’s the use? All I have to do is close my eyes and sink back into the mud and oblivion.
Too tired to fight any more, he started slipping away. His body floated upwards and the pain disappeared.
“Ross, don’t leave me. Fight Ross, fight for me.”
“Harry?” He opened his eyes but he was alone.  Only dead men, twisted and grotesque lay out here in no-man’s land with him.
Did he want to leave Harry a widow at twenty? Never hold his son? Oh, God, he couldn’t die like a dog out here. His body might never be recovered. Harry would wait and mourn, but keep on hoping for years. She would never hear the words ‘I love you,’ fall from his lips. What a bloody fool he had been obsessing over Virginia, instead of letting himself fall in love with Harry. Now it was too late.  She would never know the true depth of his feelings for her. He couldn’t do it to her. He must survive.


Regards
Margaret 






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