Dawn Chandler's Blog

 

THE REBELLIOUS COUNTESS

Helene Matheson

BLURB:  

Society may be run by the men of the ton, but sixscandalous sisters are determined to take it by storm one gentleman at a time.

      Máira Blair married for love, her honeymoon tripwith the Earl of Dorset is a dream come true—until reality turns it into anightmare. Máira wakes up to discover her husband isn’t an earl, but thecaptain of a pirate ship and what was supposed to be her honeymoon, is a voyagebound for war-torn France. If that isn’t enough to disparage her husband’scharacter, he abandons her in the middle of a French port where she must find away to survive as she defends her virtue and her life. Just when she’s convincedof what kind of rogue she married, the pirate transforms into a hero on a questto save her and the missing Earl of Astley.

 

Sir Elias Drake married for convenience, he needed aScottish bride to complete his mission. He can resist his desire for hisbeautiful wife, especially after she discovers his true identity. Except MáiraBlair was more than he bargained for. He needs her skills, cherishes hercompassion, and is tormented by her passion, which only makes him want her andthe life their marriage represents more.

It will require both of their talents to rescue theEarl of Astley, and it will take more than a war to defeat their hard-wonlove—if they can escape.                               

 Read an Excerpt 

      Her Scottish blood began tosimmer. The mettle of her ancestors wronged by backstabbing, licentious Englishbastards was rising to a call so deeply ingrained in her soul, she wanted tofight. It didn’t matter her mother was English, she was a Scottish bastardthrough and through as far as the ton was concerned. One of the scandaloussisters. Even Iseabail’s marriage to a duke hadn’t been able to stop the labelfrom spreading. Máira’s good-for-nothing husband had just added to her family’sruination by making her a walking, talking scandal of the worst kind.      It was Ellison. There was nodoubt. It didn’t matter that he wore clothes she didn’t recognize, or that ahat sat low over his brow hiding most of his features. It didn’t matter thatthe sun was going down and the only light in town was coming from the windowsof The Happy Hag. It didn’t matter that she’d somehow slept the night and dayaway probably due to the bump on her head.      She knew it was Ellison by thetune he whistled and poetical way he performed it. He’d whistled that same tunethe night of their wedding. How she remembered that she wasn’t certain, but itwas him, of that there was no doubt. He could whistle like no one she’d everheard in her life. Melodic, and sorrowful, his song spoke of love found andlost. It spoke to her soul, and she wanted to punch those sinful lips formaking her feel anything but hatred.

 

                          About the Author:  
      Helene Matheson writes steamy Regency historical romancenovels with intelligent, unstoppable heroines who don’t require an alpha maleto save them—having one in their bed is another story.

 

      Helene moved south for fun in the sun after she retired frompublic service and began pursuing her life-long dream of writing. She wrote theAmazon best-selling mystery series The Book Barn Mysteries for Lyrical Pressand has written multiple award-winning romantic suspense novels under KymRoberts.

 

      In her spare time she can be found woodcarving by the poolor blogging for The Cozy Corner on Fresh Fiction. 
      To contact her on socialmedia, you can find her under KymRoberts911 on FaceBook, Instagram, Twitter andPinterest. Her books can also be found on her websites. 
Helene Matheson: http://www.HeleneMatheson.com
Kym Roberts: http://www.KymRoberts.com 

 

Love what you have read so far, go get your copy today

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DRDM5CSH
Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-rebellious-countess-helene-matheson/1147883832

 

Books a Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Rebellious-Countess/Helene-Matheson/9781648399787

 

 GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTERCODE

HeleneMatheson will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Please use the link below to enter to win.

 http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f5216

Before the end of 2025

Two novels completed

An agent found

And a minimum of two children’s books published

These 4 short goals for the remainder of 2025 will make this story possible….

I have been a writer since I was in grade school, I wrote my first full-length novel (150,000 words) when I was 12 and started several others. In school, I allowed myself to get sidetracked, by basketball, volleyball, track, band, and choir, but I still wrote every day, finding my voice and my passion and not letting anything stand in my way of me being a writer, but I never considered myself an author, not someone with the talent to get paid to do what they loved. I met my first love when I was 15 and we married in high school. He was born with a terminal illness and the doctors told us every year that if he made it through this winter, he would probably make it to the next. We had two children, and by the time he was 27, he had had several strokes and was bedridden for the last 6 years of his life. I had to work three jobs to take care of the kids, pay for the bills, get his medicine, and his home health nurse. I am sorry he had to go through it, but I am grateful that I had the opportunity to know him. He was an amazing man and my inspiration. He never complained about what life had thrown at him, knowing that each day could be his last made him live that day to the fullest. He was passionate and adventurous, never letting his illness stop him from doing what he loved, doing things that most people told him he shouldn't or couldn't because he was sick. He is the reason I will never end a conversation or leave the house without telling people that I love them, and that they are important to me because, with him, I never knew if he would be there when I got home. After his strokes I let my writing drop to nearly nothing, finding little time to sleep or eat, let alone time to be creative, while I worked 7 days a week, sleeping during my lunch, and concentrating what little home time I had to just be with him and the kids. At 33 he passed away from a heart attack, on April Fool’s Day, the worst joke he ever played on me. I am devastated by his loss, and I miss him every day, even now, 17 years later. I know that he had a full life, and I am so glad I got to be a part of it. I never want to go through that pain again, but the eighteen years I had with him made it all worth it. When he passed, I threw myself into my writing, writing several new books and storing them away. When I met my new husband, he started to push me to publish my books, but it was hard for me, as I said, I never believed I could be an author. Picked on in school, quiet and shy, I was much better at sitting alone in a room and losing myself to my work than I was at putting myself out there. My mother only had one call from the school about me, the teacher wanted to speak to her about me not talking in class. Mom was confused saying that she thought kids weren't supposed to talk in class. The teacher said...She won't even talk when I ask her a question. I am not a talker, and still am not, and I am not one to put myself out there. At the time my husband was pushing me to get published, I had never even let someone look at my writing. I had written several short stories for school assignments that had to be read aloud in class. The kids made fun of me, but the teacher tried to push me to get my work published, telling me how good it was. I said no, telling her, and myself, that I was just writing for me, for fun, and that being an actual "writer" was not what I wanted. I finally allowed my husband to, not exactly bully me :) but to strongly encourage and motivate me, and I started putting my work out there. I now have a couple of children’s books, and two novels published. The response was good, I have good reviews and sales were decent for a first-time unknown author. The problem is...they were published over 10 years ago. I have finished two other novels, am halfway through a third, and have several chapters into about 50 or 60 others, not to mention the original story that I wrote, oh so many long years ago, that is complete, still sitting and waiting for me to do some last-minute edits and turn it into my publisher. Every time I sit to work on a book, I end up telling myself that something else is more important, that the floors need to be swept, the dishes need to be done, and the laundry needs folded. I tell myself that all of this is more important than wasting time at a computer doing something that is not paying the bills. Every time I think about turning my work in to the publisher, I just keep thinking that my earlier success had to have been a mistake, it was an accident that will not be repeated, either that or all the people that hated it just didn't bother to say anything. Sales dropped off and have gone to nearly nothing because I did not have the momentum with another book to keep the readers interested, especially since both of my published novels are book 1 in their series. Also, because I am not one to "put myself out there" marketing for my book has been close to nothing. I have let self-criticism keep me from completing any of the books that I am working on and have let fear and doubt keep me from being something I have wanted to be since I was 8.

I know my story, I am a writer and I am an author. People are going to love me or they are going to hate me, but that is the nature of writing. Not every book is for every person and all I have to do is read the reviews of my favorite books to remind myself of that. I have had a wonderful life, and I have a great story. As I have written this I realize something, it is not a story I want to "change", but like the tales that I write, that mass of stories that I have sitting in my computer and in the vast notebooks that encompass my office, all I have to do is to find the courage to complete my own story, to edit out the parts that are holding me back, to refine my words and my storyline until it matches my vision of a better future.

So what I am working on is not my new story, because I need to stick with something and see it complete. This is my soon-to-be-published story, and edits, changes, and cuts need to be made to make that happen. In my writing career, I need to focus on one story at a time until it is done, not tell myself that I need to switch between them because this character or that is talking to me. That is just an excuse to procrastinate, a chance to allow my doubts to stop me without admitting that is what I am doing. I need to put a set limit on editing, because I know it will never be good enough for me and I will always find some word or some phrase that could use a little tweaking, could be just a little better. That too is just a way to fall before my fears without admitting that that is what I am doing. When the book is done, I need to turn it in to the publisher, it will never be published if I don’t turn it in. For both my writing career and my personal life I am going to go back to school and get my history degree. (That must wait until next year though, because I have agreed to become the President of the Idaho Veterans of Foreign Wars Auxiliary, and that will mean lots of travel and time over the next year. It is something I am terrified to do---it means a lot of speeches in front of people I do not know and many meeting that I will be in charge of--I hope it helps not only the veterans and their families but me as well) For my books to be successful I must start putting myself out there into the public, restarting my blog, getting back onto Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, and getting out to do book signings, in other words, being my own cheerleader. In my personal life, I need to lose weight. I don't care what I look like, and I don't care what the scale says. What I do care about is my ability to ride the rides at the fair, to go mountain and rock climbing, to go running, to go hike the Appalachian Trail, and to spend many years with my family. The things that I love doing, things I miss or dream of doing, but things that I cannot do because of my weight.

Making these changes to my story will allow me to have the Happily Ever After that everyone, including me (I remind myself subtly) deserves to have. It will make me a better wife, a better mother, and a better person.

#newstory #mystory

 

 One Million words written

Six novels completed

An agent found

And a minimum of four children’s books published

These 4 short goals for 2023 will make this story possible….

I have been a writer since I was in grade school, I wrote my first full-length novel (150,000 words) when I was 12 and started several others. In school, I allowed myself to get sidetracked, by basketball, volleyball, track, band, and choir, but I still wrote every day, finding my voice and my passion and not letting anything stand in my way of me being a writer, but I never considered myself an author, not someone with the talent to get paid to do what they loved. I met my first love when I was 15 and we married in high school. He was born with a terminal illness and the doctors told us every year that if he made it through this winter, he would probably make it to the next. We had two children, and by the time he was 27, he had had several strokes and was bedridden for the last 6 years of his life. I had to work three jobs to take care of the kids, pay for the bills, get his medicine, and his home health nurse. I am sorry he had to go through it, but I am grateful that I had the opportunity to know him. He was an amazing man and my inspiration. He never complained about what life had thrown at him, knowing that each day could be his last made him live that day to the fullest. He was passionate and adventurous, never letting his illness stop him from doing what he loved, doing things that most people told him he shouldn't or couldn't because he was sick. He is the reason I will never end a conversation or leave the house without telling people that I love them, and that they are important to me because, with him, I never knew if he would be there when I got home. After his strokes I let my writing drop to nearly nothing, finding little time to sleep or eat, let alone time to be creative, while I worked 7 days a week, sleeping during my lunch, and concentrating what little home time I had to just be with him and the kids. At 33 he passed away from a heart attack, on April Fool’s Day, the worst joke he ever played on me. I am devastated by his loss, and I miss him every day, even now, 17 years later. I know that he had a full life, and I am so glad I got to be a part of it. I never want to go through that pain again, but the eighteen years I had with him made it all worth it. When he passed, I threw myself into my writing, writing several new books and storing them away. When I met my new husband, he started to push me to publish my books, but it was hard for me, as I said, I never believed I could be an author. Picked on in school, quiet and shy, I was much better at sitting alone in a room and losing myself to my work than I was at putting myself out there. My mother only had one call from the school about me, the teacher wanted to speak to her about me not talking in class. Mom was confused saying that she thought kids weren't supposed to talk in class. The teacher said...She won't even talk when I ask her a question. I am not a talker, and still am not, and I am not one to put myself out there. At the time my husband was pushing me to get published, I had never even let someone look at my writing. I had written several short stories for school assignments that had to be read aloud in class. The kids made fun of me, but the teacher tried to push me to get my work published, telling me how good it was. I said no, telling her, and myself, that I was just writing for me, for fun, and that being an actual "writer" was not what I wanted. I finally allowed my husband to, not exactly bully me :) but to strongly encourage and motivate me, and I started putting my work out there. I now have a couple of children’s books, and two novels published. The response was good, I have good reviews and sales were decent for a first-time unknown author. The problem is...they were published over 10 years ago. I have finished two other novels, am halfway through a third, and have several chapters into about 50 or 60 others, not to mention the original story that I wrote, oh so many long years ago, that is complete, still sitting and waiting for me to do some last-minute edits and turn it into my publisher. Every time I sit to work on a book, I end up telling myself that something else is more important, that the floors need to be swept, the dishes need to be done, and the laundry needs folded. I tell myself that all of this is more important than wasting time at a computer doing something that is not paying the bills. Every time I think about turning my work in to the publisher, I just keep thinking that my earlier success had to have been a mistake, it was an accident that will not be repeated, either that or all the people that hated it just didn't bother to say anything. Sales dropped off and have gone to nearly nothing because I did not have the momentum with another book to keep the readers interested, especially since both of my published novels are book 1 in their series. Also, because I am not one to "put myself out there" marketing for my book has been close to nothing. I have let self-criticism keep me from completing any of the books that I am working on and have let fear and doubt keep me from being something I have wanted to be since I was 8.

I know my story, I am a writer and I am an author. People are going to love me or they are going to hate me, but that is the nature of writing. Not every book is for every person and all I have to do is read the reviews of my favorite books to remind myself of that. I have had a wonderful life, and I have a great story. As I have written this I realize something, it is not a story I want to "change", but like the tales that I write, that mass of stories that I have sitting in my computer and in the vast notebooks that encompass my office, all I have to do is to find the courage to complete my own story, to edit out the parts that are holding me back, to refine my words and my storyline until it matches my vision of a better future.

So what I am working on is not my new story, because I need to stick with something and see it complete. This is my soon-to-be-published story, and edits, changes, and cuts need to be made to make that happen. In my writing career, I need to focus on one story at a time until it is done, not tell myself that I need to switch between them because this character or that is talking to me. That is just an excuse to procrastinate, a chance to allow my doubts to stop me without admitting that is what I am doing. I need to put a set limit on editing, because I know it will never be good enough for me and I will always find some word or some phrase that could use a little tweaking, could be just a little better. That too is just a way to fall before my fears without admitting that that is what I am doing. When the book is done, I need to turn it in to the publisher, it will never be published if I don’t turn it in. For both my writing career and my personal life I am going to go back to school and get my history degree. (That must wait until next year though, because I have agreed to become the President of the Idaho Veterans of Foreign Wars Auxiliary, and that will mean lots of travel and time over the next year. It is something I am terrified to do---it means a lot of speeches in front of people I do not know and many meeting that I will be in charge of--I hope it helps not only the veterans and their families but me as well) For my books to be successful I must start putting myself out there into the public, restarting my blog, getting back onto Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, and getting out to do book signings, in other words, being my own cheerleader. In my personal life, I need to lose weight. I don't care what I look like, and I don't care what the scale says. What I do care about is my ability to ride the rides at the fair, to go mountain and rock climbing, to go running, to go hike the Appalachian Trail, and to spend many years with my family. The things that I love doing, things I miss or dream of doing, but things that I cannot do because of my weight.

Making these changes to my story will allow me to have the Happily Ever After that everyone, including me (I remind myself subtly) deserves to have. It will make me a better wife, a better mother, and a better person.

#newstory #mystory

 

    I just recently released my novel The Dark Lady into an audio version. There were more immediate sales than I had expected. I am averaging about 10 audio sales a day, more than either my eBook or my paperback did in the beginning. This got me thinking about the way things have changed for readers in respects to the way people buy and "read" books.
      My favorite way to read is to curl up with a good paperback, a warm blanket and a good cup of coffee. I do like hardbacks, but to me they look better on the shelf than they feel in my hands. They are more cumbersome and harder to read for me, though I do have some that I buy in hardbound. Stephen King I usuall y buy in Hardbound anymore, but that is because I don't want to wait for the paperback version to be released. I love the feel and sound of a book as you flip through the pages, and although some people think me odd I love the smell of books, old or new. Although the new on demand printing doesn't have the same good smell as the large printing presses. The thing I think I was looking forward to more than anything else when I published my book was to smell it when it arrived. 
      Even though I prefer to sit and hold books, I do seem to be listening to them more and more. I think it is the busier lifestyle that many people have anymore that makes it such a popular choice. I always feel like I am not getting anything done and I feel guilty if I am sitting down to read. If I put on the headphones and listen I can garden, clean, bake, can, work on my kids book illustrations, crotchet blankets or scarves...well you get the idea. Life anymore seems to have gotten to where it is harder for people t o just sit down and read without feeling as they should be up doing something else. Now don't get me wrong I do take the time to sit down and read, but it isn't as often as I like.
      My least favorite way to read, although I do when I am out and around, is through eBook. I have the kindle app on my phone and my tablet. My tablet is a 10" and my phone is the Note 3 (a large screen for a phone) but even with the larger screen I still don't enjoy the experience of reading as much on the screen. It takes me longer to get into a book than it usually does.
      I am curious to know why the audible is selling so much quicker than the other versions of the book that are available. Is it just because people are busy or is it because of the way Audible.com is set up, a monthly membership with a credit each month. I know when I buy them, using credits, I don't really think about it. I just hit purchase, but if I were to buy the book with actual money (and yes I realize it is actual money, but it comes out automatically and it is already designated for a book, I did all my debating before I started my membership), but with that being said, if I were to buy one with "actual" money I always seem to put more thought into it. Am I the only one who thinks this way or is that strange?
      So when you are deciding on a book which do you prefer, audio, eBook, paperback or hardbound? Why do you prefer one above the other?
      Stop by and check out The Dark Lady, in audio, eBook and paperback, sorry no hardbound yet, and let me know what you think.
Audible
eBook
Paperback

      
   There are basically two types of writers. The Plotter and the Pantser. Now while there are those who run wild through the middle and take the best from both worlds, we will focus today on the two different writing styles themselves. Neither group is better off than the other, it is all a matter of which style works best with you. Hopefully every writer will find their stride and find the style, or combination thereof that makes their Muse sit up and take notice.
   For me, I am a Pantser, always have been, Though, with the new series I am currently working on, I am trying to be more of a plotter (its not pretty). So, since I am striving to do more plotting and planning we will start with that group of writers, The Plotters.
      A Plotter knows the story, or at least a basic premise of where that story will lead. They understand the way the story will develop and they can plan out major scenes as well as the ending all before they sit at that blank sheet of paper (literal or on the computer screen) and even write one word.
A Plotter comes in a variety of degrees.
      The soft Plotter, who writes out an outline and begins to write with a fair amount of room to allow the story to change and grow as they go along. Someone who understands who the main characters are and where they need to go, but doesn't always plan for how they will get there.       The other end of the scale is the fastidious plotter. This writer, one who I could never be, plots out step by step how the book will progress. They write story boards, draw maps and only begin writing when they are confident they will have it the way it will be in the finished product. These writers leave only a small margin for change as they go along.      There are many different ways to be a Plotter, from the mild to the extreme and everywhere in between. No matter how you do it, from the plots in the head to the plots on paper, if you plan out where your book will go you will fall into the category of Plotter.       My London series is going to be a long running series the involves many of the same characters, I am trying to plan my next books at least to a small degree so any characters who will be featured in the next books, will get the right kind of notice in the current works. This has proven to be a challenge for me and this is why...I am a Pantser.     A Pantser is much different from a Plotter. I do not plot anything. It is one of my favorite things about being a writer. I get the excitement of watching my characters stories unfold before me as I write and while sometimes I want the story to go one way, I always let it go in the direction it wants to go. It always makes for a better story in the end.      My writing style works this way. An image or a line, a scene or just a face comes to me (and I never know at this point if it is the beginning, middle or end of the story that I am seeing). It says hey, here I am and you need to tell my story. Then I sit down at the computer, or take my notebook and pencils to a nice secluded lake or mountain top, and look at the blank page. With that start in mind, I wait patiently, and if I am lucky, I do not have to wait long,  for that first line to emerge. Then I just let the story take me away. Usually once that first line is out, the rest seems to flow fairly smooth.       The way I see it, a Pantser's story belongs not to them, but to the characters. It does not always unfold for me the way I think it will and what I want to happen sometimes does not, but such is the way of life. It is not for me to dictate what will happen when, but just to tell the story as it comes to me.       A lot of people think I am odd when I say I do not control my stories, but  it makes a better story if I don't, not just for my readers but for me as well. So I willing give control of my stories to my characters and try my best to stay out of the way.       Pantsers, like Plotters, come in a wide range of degrees as well. On one end of the spectrum is the pantser who does not plot anything. They work only off the words that spill out of them and let the story come as it may.       The other end of the rainbow is the pantser who after the story has begun begins to see parts of the story that will unfold later. This usually happens when an event in chapter three has to have an effect or solution later. So this pantser will make notes of those things that will happen later to adjust the story as needed to make it work the way is should.      For both Pantsers and Plotters they work the way that works best for them. There is no right way or wrong way to get the words on paper. Just get them onto the paper. Then the real work begins.      

                      A big hello from Southern Idaho to all my wonderful readers today. I would like to introduce you to a crime writing attorney. His second book in his crime fiction series has just released and is a book I am looking forward to reading.  Please give a warm welcome to Alan Brenham and his newest Jason Scarsdale novel, Rampage. 
      It is great to have you with me today.  First tell us a little about yourself.  Your likes and dislikes, your favorite foods, your special pets? What makes you…you?                                          Alan:  Thank you Dawn.               I’m an attorney with police experience who loves writing crime fiction. Aside from writing, my likes include dating my wife, travel and watching football.               My foremost dislikes are rude people and politicians, although it’s probably hard to tell the difference between the two sometimes.               My favorite foods range from steaks to seafood to Italian and German cuisine.              I’ve had two pets in my lifetime that I’d rate as special. The first was a German shepherd I brought back from Germany; the second was a snow-white cat who allowed me to live under the same roof with him.
     What is the title of your current work and what is it about?Alan:  My current novel is Rampage.       The book is second in a series that follows Austin Detective Jason Scarsdale. The stakes soar both professionally and personally for Scarsdale as he finds himself in a race against time to hunt down a vicious gang hell-bent on murder. Realizing that his new partner, the attractive divorcee Tatum Harper, could be trouble in more ways than one, he tries to run her out of Homicide. Will their partnership destroy his romantic relationship with long-time girlfriend Dani Mueller? Will he and Harper both survive the harrowing face-off with the increasingly unhinged gang leader?
Buy Links:   http://www.amazon.com/Rampage-Jason-S...          How long did have you been writing and when did you know that writing was what you wanted to do? What kind of writer are you, a plotter or a pantser?Alan:  Writing fiction began about ten years ago more as a passing interest. Once Black Opal Books published my first novel, I was hooked. As for what kind of writer I am, the best answer is that I’m both a plotter and a pantser. Plotter first - pantser second.
      Share your social profiles with us. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest…where do you spend your cyber-time?Alan:  My cyber time is spent on Facebook with Twitter running a close second.
      What draws you to the genre or genres in which you write? Alan:  With experience in criminal law and police service, writing crime fiction seemed like the obvious and most logical genre to spend my time with.
      Who is your favorite author and why? Which book speaks to you the most?Alan:  It’s a dead heat between Michael McGarrity and James Hayman. Both men author crime fiction/police procedurals.  McGarrity is a former deputy sheriff in New Mexico so we have the police service in common. His Kevin Kerney novels paint a vivid picture of the New Mexico setting where the stories take place. Hayman and I share a common birthplace - New York - both of us love Scotch and are married to beautiful brunettes.                            Hayman’s Darkness First is probably the one book I’ve had the hardest time putting down.

   What do you like to listen to when you write? Music, TV, silence? Alan:  It’s a toss-up between silence and music. It depends on how creative I feel at the time.   When do you find the time to write? Are you an early morning person or a late at night writer?Alan:  Actually I start about mid-morning and go through the creative process until my wife steps between me and the computer screen and tells me that’s it for the day.
        Tell me about any promotions or contests you are running? Where can we go to sign up and what are the rules?Alan:  The only promotions I’ve been involved with are those with the few book tours I’ve participated in.
      Thank you for being with me today.  I enjoyed learning about your book and look forward to reading it.

Other Alan Brenham books available: 
            Pride of Justice  (Book one of the Jason Scarsdale books)            Cornered

       Welcome everyone, I am glad you could join me. I want to introduce you to a great author and a wonderful set of books.

      Laurel Downing Bill is my guest today and I am extremely happy to have her. Aunt Phil's Trunk is a wonderful collection of stories about Alaska's colorful history written by both Laurel and her aunt Phyllis.      
      These books are dedicated to Laurel's aunt. Phyllis Downing Carlson was one of Alaska's most respected historians and the inspiration behind Aunt Phil's Trunk. She moved to Alaska as a small child in 1914 and grew up amongst railroad men and miners before becoming a teacher and historian.
      Laurel Downing Bill was born in 1951, just four short years before Alaska became a state. She grew up between the gold rush town of Fairbanks and Juneau. Growing up with a passion for writing she earned a bachelor's degree in journalism in 2003 and has since written award-winning articles while working hard to give us these wonderful stories.
      These women were immersed in the rich history that fills these volumes.
   











              





         Aunt Phil's trunk, both volume one and two, are filled with the adventures of Russian fur traders, Eskimos, gunslingers, dog sledders, and the first lawyers. Filled with thrilling tales and wonderful photographs it is easy to lose yourself in the past of one of our wildest states.

      I am glad to have had the opportunity to read the first two volumes and am looking forward to the volumes to come.
 
       Excerpt from Volume One: 

Woody Island’s Icy Past
      A little “two-by-four” island a couple of miles off the city of Kodiak has a number of Alaska’s firsts. The first horses in Alaska were brought here, the first road was constructed,
the first iron rails were put in and the first field of oats was sown. And they were all put in place to support one thing: a sawmill, so the residents could start what many people called “Alaska’s Wackiest Industry,“selling ice.
      The sawmill established on Woody Island was perhaps unique in commercial enterprises because its main product was sawdust, which was needed to preserve ice – something abundant in Alaska that
California wanted.
      In 1851, Californians were in the midst of a gold boom and could afford such luxuries as ice to chill their drinks and keep their food from spoiling. But ice sent from Boston via Cape Horn was very expensive and not enough could be supplied to meet the demand. Alaska was closer. The first shipment of ice was sent from Sitka in February 1852, and it sold for about $75 a ton in San Francisco.
      Some authorities contend that the secret and principal object of the American Russian Commercial Company, or the “Ice Company” as it was generally called, was not to deal in ice. They say it was to supply Alaska with provisions during the Crimean War when it was feared
that Alaska might fall into British hands. But it’s beside the point WOODY ISLAND’S ICY PAST 59
whether the “ice business” was just a blind. It proved profitable, after an uncertain start, and provided work and profits for many years.
      Little Woody Island profited, too, for ice from Sitka proved unpredictable due to that city’s mild climate. Once – in the winter of 1853-54 – a California ice ship had to chip ice from Baird Glacier
because Sitka had no ice that winter.
      The first mention of the ice establishment on Woody Island comes in 1855 in a letter from Lt. Doroshin to Gen. Helmerson, according to Seal and Salmon Fisheries and General Resources of Alaska IV.
      “On Wood Island, Kodiak Harbor, during a number of years past, horses have been kept to perform certain labor in connection with a mysterious ice company and for the use of these horses a field of 12 acres of oats is regularly sown.”
      The ice company encountered some financial trouble in 1859, and a Capt. Furuhelm was sent to put matters on a better footing; a new contract was arranged and the depot of the American Russian
Commercial Company was fixed on Woody Island.

As a thank you for joining us please take this time to enter into the giveaway for a chance to win a PDF copy of one of these great books. Enter here :  http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/disp...

For more information on these or other of Aunt Phil's books, please visit http://www.auntphilstrunk.com/
and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3pCFe...
Please connect with Laurel Downing Bill and get to know more about her and Alaska's history.
www.AuntPhilsTrunk.com
www.Facebook.com/LaurelBillAuthor
www.Twitter.com/LaurelBill

Welcome everyone. I would like to introduce Carole Avila. He novel Eve's Amulet is releasing today. Make sure to get your copy.         Dawn: It is great to have you with me today.  First tell us a little about yourself.  Your likes and dislikes, your favorite foods, your special pets? What makes you…you?      Carole:  I have so many likes that they’re too hard to name. If the food tastes great and is healthy, I’ll eat it. If the music makes me “feel,” I listen to it. If the art attracts my eye, I take it in. I love being with my three daughters and thankfully, we’re all very close. My dogs, Kayla and Bostrum, are both like furry kids. What makes me me is that I am very spiritual and intuitive. As a life coach, generally attracting people who have endured childhood sexual abuse, I help others move forward beyond fear toward their personal goals. As an abuse survivor, I have to constantly remind myself to take care of my needs, too. Writing is a great part of my life, the easiest form of expression for me.       Dawn: What is the title of your current work and what is it about?      Carole:  Eve’s Amulet, Book 1 is a fun, time-travel western adventure. It’s partly romance and historical fiction. Mandy Ruhe is swept back in time to Texas 1845, into the body of ranch owner, Carmena Luebber. Mandy must assume Carmena’s role until she finds a way back to her own time. She is caught in the lives of her new employees, and ends up torn between two men in love with the real Carmena. Mandy's amulet is stolen by a historical figure and she needs it to get back home before she destroys lives in the past as well as the future, but the only way to get it back is to participate in a criminal act that may be doomed to failure.
Buy Links: http://blackopalbooks.com/blackopalstore/product/104-eves-amulet-book-1http://www.amazon.com/Eves-Amulet-~-Book-1/dp/1626940568/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375989807&sr=1-2&keywords=carole+avila  
      Excerpt     Captain Charles Sanders rose above insanely gorgeous. He could turn the head of a mannequin. He was the classic image of a steroid muscle man on the front cover of a paperback romance, an easy six-feet-four—maybe five—inches tall. And the captain was much closer to my age than Carlos.      No wonder I, or rather, Carmena, was attracted to him. I wanted to gobble the officer up like milk chocolate, and in testimony, my mouth remained opened a bit too long. The captain’s smile grew wider and Carlos cleared his throat rather loudly.      I swallowed. “Captain. It’s absolutely wonderful to see you.” And it was.      Carlos, out of the captain’s line of sight, rolled his eyes heavenward. I stumbled past the chairs behind my desk.       “Thank you, Carmena.” The captain’s masculine voice wrapped invisible arms around me. “And may I say that it’s always wonderful to see you?”      He glided across the room with the heat of a professional tango dancer. He took my hands and placed a long, slow kiss on the back of each one. Goosebumps rose on my arms, shivers did the whole up and down thing along my spine, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone with the man.      “I’m so glad you have recovered from that unfortunate circumstance.” No matter what he said, his words oozed masculine sensuality.      “Carlos,” I kept my toothy grin on the officer, “I’ve changed my mind about our last discussion. Perhaps you can attend to that other matter we were just dealing with.”      “And what matter would that be, Carmena?” Carlos asked. He enunciated every syllable in the name and stood like a permanent fixture with his arms crossed.      I waved my hand. “Whatever. Just take care of it.”       The captain’s blue eyes glittered like the crown jewels under a spotlight and his smile caressed me like a cashmere blanket.      “I don’t understand, Carmena,” Carlos said. “We were just discussing your poor condition after the lieutenant’s attack.”      “Is it true?” the captain asked, deep concern evident in his tone, and he held my hands tighter. “Are you unwell, Carmena?”      “Oh, no. I’m feeling much better now.”      “Why don’t we sit down?” Charles said. He took my arm, and I felt a girlish flutter in my solar plexus. We sat down on the leather settee, and Carlos seated himself on the matching chair directly across from us.      “How are you, Captain?”      “I’m very fine, especially now that I’m here, knowing you’re well.” His voice, smooth as French butter, made me want to melt into it.      We continued to hold hands and my eyes held fast to his. “Carlos, is there something else you need?”      "Yes, actually. We need to finish the conversation we were having moments before the captain arrived in which you told me how fatigued you still felt since the attack.”        Alarm washed across the captain’s handsome face. “Please, Carmena. You mustn’t try to be brave for me.” The captain unwittingly joined the enemy’s side in the verbal tussle I was having with Carlos and he abruptly stood. “Perhaps I can return another day.”       I practically jumped on top of him and dragged him back down. “But I’m much better today!” I turned to Carlos and gave him a ferocious stink eye. “Aren’t I looking much better, Carlos?”      “Well…” He rubbed his chin. “Now that you mention it, you do look a little pale.”      The captain squeezed my hands and I wished he would kiss them again. “I’m ashamed that I didn’t consider your physical health more thoroughly before riding out.” I made to protest, but he quickly added, “I’m also flattered that you don’t want to send me off, Carmena, but we really do need to put your frail condition before all else. I shall call on you next week.” He glanced at Carlos. “I’m sure you’ll be feeling better by then.”      Warm lips brushed the back of my hands yet again and the captain smiled. “Good evening, Carmena.” He started for the library doors.       I trailed the captain like a love-struck teen, hoping he’d change his mind about staying. “It’s much too late for anyone to be riding at this time of night.”      “Surely you don’t doubt the ability of a captain in the Texas Cavalry to take care of himself?” Carlos said.      “I don’t mean to insult you, Captain, but I fear for your safety,” I lied. “There are so many highway men and all manner of vicious beasts out at night. We’ve plenty of guest rooms to see to your comfort.”      “Ay, Diós!” Carlos muttered.      Charles took my hands in his. His smile couldn’t get any wider, and my heart tried to jump out and rest in his dimples. “Don’t worry about me, Carmena. Several of my men are waiting at the gate. Now, I insist that you get your rest so that we may enjoy a proper visit upon my return.”      “But I’m really feeling fine!”       “Thank you, Captain, for seeing to Carmena’s needs before your own,” Carlos said.       The Adonis made a gracious bow to Carlos. To me the captain said, “I will call on you next week when you’re feeling much better, if I may?”      I pouted despite the offer of another visit. “Of course.”      He kissed my hands for the umpteenth time, and I wanted him to stay all the more. Like a needy little puppy I followed the captain to the door, but he said, “I will see myself out, Carmena. I’d prefer it if you sat down and rested.”      “Of course. Anything you want, Captain.” And I meant it.      He kept his smile in check, and Carlos huffed behind me.      The captain’s long pointer finger stroked my cheek to my chin, and he whispered, “Perhaps we’ll have time later to share a few private moments together.”      I sighed and brazenly admitted, “I’d really like that.”      Carlos grunted. The captain grinned as he closed the library doors behind him.      I whirled around to face Carlos who openly smirked. I jabbed my fists on my hips and glared, but my dirty look had no impact.      Carlos took his seat at the desk and pointed to my own. “Now, let me think.” He tapped the side of his cheek. “Where were we before you said how you wanted me to stay in the library with you during the captain’s visit, no matter how awkward?”      “Diós,” I griped and stomped across the room. I plopped down hard into my chair and crossed my arms.      Carlos laughed.      “Get on with it,” I said. “What were you going to say?”      “I was about to tell you everything I know of the real Carmena Luebber.” 
       Dawn: How long did have you been writing and when did you know that writing was what you wanted to do? What kind of writer are you, a plotter or a pantser?         Carole:   When I was 3 years old I knew, after reading Go, dog. Go! that I would be a writer. I didn’t learn how to properly write until I was in the first grade and my first story was cut to shreds by a substitute teacher. I got a big red F on the paper, like a flag telling all the other kids what a terrible story I had written. Although I was only six years-old, the paper was marked off for poor spelling, punctuation, and grammar, and there wasn’t one mention on the content of my story. I crumbled it up and vowed never to write again. Of course, I did write but I kept my poetry, fiction, and non-fiction to myself until my best friend, Laura, told me on her death bed that I was called to be a writer. As soon as I recovered from her passing, I wrote my first novel, a romance based on a dream that I had seven nights in a row.      I am a pantser writer. I dream most of my stories (in full color with surround sound) or with fingers on the keyboard, I am inspired and just take off.        Dawn: Share your social profiles with us. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest…where do you spend your cyber-time?      Carole:  I am still learning how to discipline myself as a writer with regards to anything outside of the actual writing process. I am (slowly) learning how to improve my website, www.caroleavila.com, and I answer all e-mails there and at info@caroleavila.com. I am at Facebook and Pinterest under Carole Avila. I try to use my writing pen name at all my social media sites. I’m also at writeme1 at Twitter. My blog can be reached from my website or by going to caroleavilablog.wordpress.com. 
      Dawn: If you could travel to any-where or any-when…when and where would that be? What would you do when you got there?      Carole:  I think I would like to remain in America at the turn of the last century, when so many great industrial discoveries were being made, like the telephone and automobile. It seems to me that at that time our technology united people, whereas today, computer technology puts a “safe” distance between us. Honestly, I’m a very private person so I get hung up in that, too. I feel better sending texts and e-mails rather than calling or sending a snail-mail card to someone.  
      Dawn: What draws you to the genre or genres in which you write?       Carole:  I think that if I had to claim a genre, it would be romance, but that’s normally not the main focus of my stories. I love to develop my characters and give them something meaningful to do, or have them search for meaning. (The Eve’s Amulet series is about women connecting to their inner resources and using their natural talents wisely.) My writing is inspired–the thoughts flow in, and I grab hold of them, which explains why I write romance, adventure, young adult horror, non-fiction, mystery, poetry, contemporary literary works, and other genres.
      Dawn: Who is your favorite author and why? Which book speaks to you the most?      Carole:  That’s like asking “What is your favorite food or music?” There are just too many fabulous authors out there! I met Ray Bradbury several years ago and had the most amazing 2-hour conversation with him on the craft of writing. I met Nicholas Sparks after The Notebook first came out and liked that he wanted to write romance, not common for most men. Well written books speak to me the most, regardless of the genre. It wasn’t until recently that I started reading sci-fi. Once I read Divergent, The Hunger Games, and The City of Bones, I was hooked. 
     Dawn: What do you like to listen to when you write? Music, TV, silence?      Carole:  I can’t listen to anything! Music and movies grab my attention, especially if it’s something I like. I write in silence but my mind is filled with words, action, and the characters who live there! 
      Dawn: When do you find the time to write? Are you an early morning person or a late at night writer?      Carole:  Honestly, Dawn, it depends on how much caffeine I’ve had! If I have one cup of black tea or coffee after 9 a.m., it’s enough to keep me up past 1 a.m. If I drink a cup at night, I usually see the sunrise! I love chai tea with cream and hazelnut coffee. It’s sooooo hard to refuse a cup! My usual internal clock would probably put me more in the night owl category, although I write during the day as well. Like most dedicated writers, I write for hours and lose track of time. 
      Dawn: Tell me about any promotions or contests you are running? Where can we go to sign up and what are the rules?       Carole:  Aarggh 
! I’m still working on it. I am still too new to the marketing world, but I see that I have more to do!
                                 Thank you, Carole for being with me today.  I enjoyed learning about your book and look forward to reading it.
      Carole:  Thank you, Dawn, for generously having me at your site. I really appreciate your time and energy!

Well today is the last day of the Blogger Book Fair. I hope you are ready for my last guest author from the fair. Today I have with me Michelle Birbeck.
  Dawn:Michelle, it is great to have you with me today.  First tell us a little about yourself.  Your likes and dislikes, your favorite foods, your special pets? What makes you…you?
Michelle: Pizza! And chocolate. Or even better, chocolate and marshmallow pizza, with sliced bananas on top. And now I’m hungry… Anyway! About me, well, I got married when I was 18 and everyone told me it would never last. Twelve years later, and my husband and I are still happily married, with our newly toothless cat, Loki, and our adorable bunny rabbit, Poppy.
I love my book collection, which spans the whole house, and my faeries, which also span the entire house. Things I hate are thunder, but only when I’m inside. If I’m outside, then I’m fine with it, and I love watching for lightning.
And that’s me! Well, part of me, anyway.  
Dawn: What is the title of your current work and what is it about?
Michelle: I have a couple of books out at the moment, both in the same series. The first is called The Last Keeper, and its sequel is called Last Chance. Both are available for all ereaders and in paperback, and are paranormal novels.  
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/MichelleBirbeck/e/B00800FYQ2/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1363107267&sr=8-1
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/michelle-birbeck
iBookstore: https://itunes.apple.com/us/artist/michelle-birbeck/id518091551?mt=11 
Excerpt:
The Last Keeper
Serenity Cardea's race has been hunted to near extinction. She's a Keeper, with the ability to influence others, including those immortal beings who want dominance over the world. Ray Synclair is a history professor in training with a passion for times past. Fascinated by Serenity, he has no idea that the world is filled with immortals, most of whom want him dead. Because the only way to kill a Keeper is to kill their partner...
     Last Chance
With her race saved from the brink of extinction, Serenity’s life could not be better. Married, finally, to Ray, and back in London for the first time in a century, retirement isn’t coming easy. Being a housewife was never in her make up.
But when Lizzy calls to say the Keepers’ records have been stolen, retirement is preferable over the danger they now face.
Targets once more, Serenity’s isn’t inclined to sit back and let her brothers and sisters face the losses she witnessed, but the order to move an entire race comes at a price.
Whoever is behind the threat, they show none of the mercy The Seats once did. No broken families left to suffer the loss of parents, aunts, uncles. This time they’ve gone too far, and when they take the lives of the race’s children, Serenity’s mind is made up. This time they will be no threats, no mercy.

     This time there’ll be no survivors.
 
Dawn: How long did have you been writing and when did you know that writing was what you wanted to do? What kind of writer are you, a plotter or a pantser?
Michelle: I started writing when I was in school, just daft little bits and pieces, but then when I got married, work took up most of my time, and it wasn’t until I left work that I really took it up again. That was six years ago now, and ever since then, I have been writing as often as possible.
As for what type of writer I am… a bit of both. If I have a very tight deadline, then I like to have an idea of where I am going, because otherwise, I keep thinking I’ve forgotten to include one of the plot points. But for the most part, I like making it up as I go along. And no matter which way I write, there are always a high number of little bits and pieces that will pop us as I’m writing and take me by surprise.  
Dawn: Share your social profiles with us. Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest…where do you spend your cyber-time?
Michelle: I spend a lot of time on twitter, and even more time than I should on Tumblr. You can find me here:
https://www.facebook.com/MichelleBirbeck
http://michellebirbeck.tumblr.com/
https://twitter.com/michellebirbeck
and http://shortsweetandsnappy.wordpress.com/

Dawn: If you could travel to any-where or any-when…when and where would that be? What would you do when you got there?
Michelle: I’ve seen a lot of people answer this question with Hogwarts or Narnia, but though I love Narnia, neither of those really appeal to me. If I had the choice of absolutely anywhere, I would have to choose the holodeck of Star Trek. Not because there is any particular person there that I want to me, but because everyone I ever wanted to meet could be there. I could input all the books I love and all the times and places I want to visit and go be part of them.
That, and the whole travelling through space sounds like so much fun!
      Dawn: What draws you to the genre or genres in which you write?
Michelle: I adore the paranormal genre. Vampires, witches, wereanimals… there are just so many things that you can do with them. So many little changes that alter their whole dynamic. I love that I can take any time period, any country, and throw in some paranormal and supernatural creatures and have a whole new story. The genre, to me, seems to endless with the things that you can do with it.     
      Dawn: Who is your favorite author and why? Which book speaks to you the most?

Michelle: My favourite author is Richard Laymon. I have all of his books, and I love every single one of them. They have their own shelf in amongst my books, and I have a whole load of first and signed editions, too.
If I had to pick one book of his that I love the most, it would be The Lake. I adore the way all the bits and pieces of the plot twist about and come together in the end. Seeing the past influence the present in the way that it does was fantastic, and I have read the book several times since I discovered it.
       Dawn: What do you like to listen to when you write? Music, TV, silence?
Michelle: I have to have my music on. Doesn’t matter what, as I have an eclectic selection to choose from, but it has to be music. The TV distracts me and makes my mind wander, and silence is even worse for doing that. So for me, it has to be music. For some reason it focuses my mind and helps me keep at it longer.
Also, I love to sing. I’m not any good at it, but I still love to do it, at the top of my voice.
       Dawn: When do you find the time to write? Are you an early morning person or a late at night        writer?
Michelle: Early and late evening are the times for me. Mornings and I don’t get along very well. Mornings like to try and wake me up when the sun is still attempting to rise, but I fight back most of the time and lie in as long as I can. That way I can stay up later and get more writing done. Although, I prefer summer mornings to winter. At least in the summer the mornings are light and bright. I can’t stand having to get up on a winter’s morning when it’s still dark and cold.
But for editing and interviews and blog posts, it has to be late morning and early afternoon. That seems to be my work portion of the day, the time when I get all the non-writing bits out of the way. Then I get to spend the rest of my night in my own head making things up.     
      Dawn: Tell me about any promotions or contests you are running? Where can we go to sign up  
      and what are the rules?

Michelle: There are a couple of promotions that I am part of at the moment. The first being the Smashwords Summer/Winter sale. My short stories are now all free to download for this month only, and my second book, Last Chance, is half price!
You can also check out https://www.facebook.com/writercmwright to see when her big 1000 like giveaway is, as there will be a chance to win a copy of my first book, The Last Keeper, as well as some signed bookmarks! There will also be chances to win a whole host of other goodies from other authors.
 
Dawn: Michelle, I want to thank you for being with me today.  I enjoyed learning about your book and look forward to reading it.  Thank you all for joining us on the Blogger Book Fair and thanks to everyone who voted in the Reader's Choice Awards. Please check out our winners at http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/p/readers-choice-awards.html  
 


 

I hope everyone is having a great time with all the authors from the Blogger Book Fair. We have had some exciting books so far. Today my guest is here to sweep us away on a journey. Come fly with us as we travel Through A Dark Mist with my guest Marsha Canham. Marsha, it is great to have you with me today. [image error] This year's Blogger Book Fair theme is to let your imagination travel to far-away places. Since I love to travel, but can't always match my wishes with my budget, I let my writing take me where ships and planes can't go. Even better, since I write historical romances, I can sail the high seas in breeches and a cambric shirt, ride the moonlit moors as a highwayman, stalk the Highlands of Scotland in a kilt or...visit the dark forests and castles of medieval England.

Through A Dark Mist is book one in a trilogy of stories I wrote based around my interpretation of the legendary forest thief known as Robin Hood. Since there was no such person in existence, and since most of the history of that time was passed down through songs and poems told by travelling bards, Robin Hood was most likely a composite of many heroic stories attributed to the same man. As the stories and songs were passed down from generation to generation, his legend grew, as did the feats of his "merry men". In my trilogy, I researched the period thoroughly and found how the many *real* stories and characters could possibly have been combined to produce the Robin Hood created by those bards so many centuries ago.

Here is an excerpt from Through A Dark Mist:
Servanne glanced slantwise at the men who comprised the bulk of her escort. They all looked as if they broke their nightly fasts by chewing nails, and as if they could and did slit throats for the sheer pleasure of it.
[image error] Which raised another question, and another icy spray of gooseflesh along her arms. Why were such fearsomely huge and bestial men flinching at every snapped twig and crinkling leaf they passed?
Servanne did not have to wait long for the answer. A faint hiss and whonk broke the silence of the forest; a gasp, followed by an agonized cry of pain sent a guard careening sideways out of his saddle, his gauntleted hand clutched around the shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest. A half dozen more grisly whonks struck in close succession, each resulting in a grunt of expended air and a bitten-off cry of pain.
Shouting an alert, Bayard of Northumbria cursed loudly and voraciously at the ineptness of the scouts he had dispatched ahead to insure against the possibility of just such an ambush occurring. In the next wild breath, he reasoned that, without a doubt, they must be as dead as the ox-brained incompetents who had allowed their concentration to wander to the curves and smiles of a flock of tittering women rather than remain fixed on the deadly dangers of the forest.
A second round of curses forced Bayard to acknowledge how efficiently the trap had been laid and sprung. Four of his best scouts had been silenced, seven guards already dead or dying, the rest of the cavalcade corralled and surrounded in a matter of seconds, with no real or visible targets yet in evidence.
“Lay down your weapons!”
The command was shouted from somewhere high up in the trees and Bayard’s gaze shot upward, rewarded by nothing but swaying branches and splintered sunlight.
“Bows and swords to the ground or you shall all win the privilege of joining your fallen comrades!”
The breath hissed through Bayard’s teeth with impotent fury. His keen eyes searched the greenwood but he could see nothing—no pale flash of skin or clothing, no movement in the trees or on the ground. A further lightning-quick glance identified the arrows protruding from the chests of the dead soldiers. Slim and deadly, almost three feet long and tipped in steel, they were capable of piercing bullhide or mail breastplates as if they were cutting through cheese. Moreover, the arrows were shot from the taut strings of the Welsh contraptions known as longbows. In the hands of an expert, an arrow shot from a longbow could outdistance the squatter, thicker quarrels fired from a crossbow by a hundred yards or more. Many a train of merchants had been waylaid and fired upon from such a distance that they could not even distinguish their attackers from the trees.
As was the case now, Bayard thought angrily. He and his men were like ducks on a pond and, unwilling to fall helplessly to a slaughter, he had no choice but to reluctantly give his men the signal to lower their weapons.
“Who dares to challenge our right of way?” the captain demanded, his voice a low, seething growl. “Who is this dead man? Let him step forward and show his face!”
A laugh, full and deep-throated, had the same effect on the tension-filled atmosphere as a sudden crack of thunder.
Servanne de Briscourt, her hand tightly clasped to Biddy’s and her shoulders firmly encircled by the fierce protectiveness of a matronly arm, was startled enough by the unexpected sound to twist her head around and search out the source of the laughter.
A man had stepped out from behind the screen of hawthorns and had moved to position himself brazenly in the middle of the road. His long legs, clad in skin-tight deer-hide leggings, were braced wide apart; his massive torso, made more impressive by a jerkin of gleaming black wolf pelts, expanded farther as he insolently planted one hand on his waist and the other on the curved support of the longbow he held casually by his side.
Standing well over six feet tall, his body was a superb tower of muscle that commanded the eye upward to the coldest, cruellest pair of eyes Servanne had ever seen. Pale blue-gray, they were, twin mirrors of ice and frost, steel and iron. Piercing eyes. Eyes that held more secrets than a soul should want to know, or, if knowing, would live to tell. They were strange eyes for so dark a man—hair, clothing, and weathered complexion all combined to make it so—and it was with the greatest difficulty that Servanne relented to the tugging pressure of Biddy’s hands and turned her face away, burying it against the muffling shield of ponderously soft bosoms.
    “I bid you welcome to my forest, Bayard of Northumbria.” The villain laughed softly again. “Had I known in advance it was you daring to venture across my land, I should have arranged a much warmer welcome.”
My website is http://www.marshacanham.com
I am on Facebook as well:  http://www.facebook.com/marsha.canham
Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/marshacanham
And my blog, Caesars Through the Fence http://marshacanham.wordpress.com/ 
Through a Dark Mist can be found at
 Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Through-Dark-Robin-Trilogy-ebook/dp/B0054H911I
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
Barnes and Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/throu... 

 http://www.marshacanham.com  visit my website
 Caesars Through the Fence, my pithy blog
find me on Twitter @marshacanham

Thank you Marsha, I have enjoyed having you with me and I look forward to reading your work.

Everyone please go check out all the other great blogs and meet the rest of the authors at the Blogger Book Fair this year by clicking the picture below.

Blogger Book Fair