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358 products
Anastasia
Sometimes the simplest of choices can have the most devastating of consequences.
Sometimes falling in love can be a curse.
Sometimes being the hard man is the hardest job.
Hungary, 1949. George, Eva and Zoltan. Three people trying to live by the rules within a system that demands total obedience.
George, a rising star of Hungarian football, is told to throw a game. Faced with an impossible dilemma, George has to decide - to risk everything to fulfil his dream or, for the sake of his future, obey the rules.
Eva, reeling from the tragedy of losing her baby, Anastasia, falls in love at a time when love is fraught with danger.
Zoltan works for the secret police where having a heart is a sign of weakness. A torn man trying to suppress the good within him, his job takes him further and further from the things he values most.
Seven years later, in 1956, their destinies collide as Hungary erupts into revolution. Secrets can no longer be hidden as loyalties are pushed to the limit.
Set against the violent backdrop of suppression and revolution, Anastasia is a tale of people caught in the machinations of history, where the choices you make determine your fate. And at the heart of the novel, the unseen presence of Anastasia.
"Characters come alive -- you get into their heads. They are empathetic or cruel and heartless, but always interesting. There is the dark side of human nature as well as its opposite."
"Skilfully developed with a suspenseful plot which keeps the story moving."
"The characters are very human, and the descriptions of these tragic events make for an excellent read."
"Impactful. Heart-wrenching. An important read."
Rupert Colley is the founder, editor and writer of the bestselling 'History In An Hour' series of ebooks and audio, published by HarperCollins.
Historical fiction with heart and drama.
About the Author
Colley, Rupert: - "Rupert Colley was born one Christmas Day, which means, as a child, he lost out on presents. Nonetheless, looking back on it, he lived a childhood with a "silver spoon in my mouth" - brought up in a rambling manor house in the beautiful Devon countryside. It's been downhill ever since. He was a librarian for a long time, a noble profession. Then he started a series called History In An Hour, "history for busy people", which he sold to HarperCollins UK. Rupert now lives in London with his wife, two children and dog (a fluffy cockapoo) and writes historical fiction, mainly 20th century war and misery. Historical fiction with heart."
Answering Liberty's Call
"...exciting and breathtaking...a triumph of courage and womanhood." —Readers' Favorite
In 1778, war is men's business. That doesn't stop Anna Stone from getting involved in the fight.
As the wife of a preacher-turned-soldier, a healer, and mother of three, Anna knows her place in this world. She tends to things at home while her husband and brothers fight for liberty. But when her loved ones face starvation at Valley Forge, she refuses to sit idly by.
Armed with life-sustaining supplies, Anna strikes out alone on horseback over 200 miles of rough and dangerous terrain. Despite perilous setbacks along the way, sheer determination carries her toward her destination. When she learns of a plot to overthrow General Washington, her mission becomes more important than ever. With the fate of the American Revolution in her hands and one of the conspirators hot on her trail, Anna races to deliver a message of warning to Valley Forge before it's too late.
Based on events in the life of the author's sixth-great-grandmother.
More Reviews:
The Historical Fiction Company Book of the Year Contest, Honorable Mention
"...vivid and authentic detail...Lawson makes all the trials of the American Revolution come alive." —Jodi Daynard, author of The Midwife's Revolt
"This novel is a grand and rollicking revolutionary adventure undertaken by a young mother and brave American patriot." —Historical Novel Society, Editor's Choice Selection
"Ms. Lawson takes us back in time, but also connects the reader and history by showing the same kinds of conflicts affecting people then and today...a remarkably compelling read." —The Historical Fiction Company
Author Bio:
Tracy Lawson's passion for storytelling led her first into the world of dance and educational theater. She now has three nonfiction books and six novels to her credit, and in her latest, Answering Liberty's Call, she blends extensive genealogical and historical research into a page-turning thriller. A Cincinnati native, Tracy splits her time between homes in Ohio and Texas. She and her husband have one grown daughter.
Apollo's Raven
"...elements of magic and mystery abound....Tanner also does an admirable job weaving in politics and mythology of a bygone people. A complex and promising start to a new fantasy series." —Kirkus Reviews
"History truly comes alive under the pen of author Linnea Tanner, but there’s also plenty of room left for characters to breathe and develop under watchful narration. The plot is stellar: well-thought-out and executed with a great sense of beat and pacing as each moment of both the romance arc and the curse is portrayed. Overall, an un-put-down-able fantasy adventure from start to finish." —Readers' Favorite
"An engaging historical fantasy, Apollo's Raven by Linnea Tanner is a captivating tale of triangles [and an] epic Celtic tale of magic and a curse.“ —2019 Pencraft Book of the Year Award
A Celtic warrior princess is torn between her forbidden love for the enemy and duty to her people. Award-winning Apollo's Raven sweeps you into an epic Celtic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia. In 24 AD British kings hand-picked by Rome to rule are fighting each other for power. King Amren's former queen, a powerful Druid, has cast a curse that Blood Wolf and the Raven will rise and destroy him. The king's daughter, Catrin, learns to her dismay that she is the Raven and her banished half-brother is Blood Wolf. Trained as a warrior, Catrin must find a way to break the curse, but she is torn between her forbidden love for her father's enemy, Marcellus, and loyalty to her people. She must summon the magic of the Ancient Druids to alter the dark prophecy that threatens the fates of everyone in her kingdom. Will Catrin overcome and eradicate the ancient curse. Will she be able to embrace her forbidden love for Marcellus? Will she cease the war between Blood Wolf and King Amren and save her kingdom?
SCROLL FOR SAMPLE!
More Reviews:
2020 Readers' Favorite Bronze Medal Fiction Magic/Wizardry
2019 PenCraft Best Book of the Year Award
2018 New Apple Book Awards: Official Selection Fantasy
2018 eLit Book Award: Silver Medal Fantasy/Science Fiction
2017 Global Ebooks Award: Bronze Medal Fantasy/Historical
2017 New Apple Book Awards: Official Selection Historical Fiction and Cross Genre
"...a captivating tale of triangles; love, lust and espionage, friend, foe, and spies., barbarians, civilized Rome and spiritual-supernatural beings. The author's knowledge of the mythology and the history of 43 AD Celtic tribes is astounding as she weaves a tapestry of intrigue, a Gordian knot of rivalry and a love story." —Authors Reading (2019 Pencraft Book of the Year Award)
"...a historical fantasy with strong elements of romance, political intrigue, and magic. Many surprising twists enrich the historically drawn plot. Points of view shift between different characters effectively, heightening the tension from one moment to the next." —Historical Novel Society Review
"If you're looking for something entertaining with a fast, action-paced rhythm, Apollo's Raven by Linnea Tanner is a definite must. For a women who is trying to figure out where she belongs in her world, this tale is relatable to other young women in our timeline who are also trying to figure out where they belong." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award)
"... a soaring epic that carries its audience on an adventure full of ancient magic, passionate romance, and political intrigue." —IndieReader (Indie Approved)
"The historical romantic fantasy takes readers to 24 AD to the Southeast Coast of Britannia, blending magic, romance, and politics into a satisfying tale of one determined Celtic woman who must choose between doing her duty and following her heart." —BlueInk Review
"Apollo's Raven is a good introduction to what life was like for the Celtic Brits when the Romans invaded. The plot is intriguing, and the forbidden love angle adds to the punchiness of the story." —Author Luciana Cavallaro
"An unpredictable, spellbinding tale, made so much richer by the historical integrity of the research carried out by the author, Linnea Tanner." —Author Ann Frandi-Coory
"...an enticing avalanche of one revelation after another....I like to think of this story as a huge metaphor for history rewriting itself through fiction and allowing individuals to take charge of their own destinies." —OnlineBookClub.org
"a rapturous read that mixes Celtic mythology into a good historical romance." —Foreword Reviews
Author Bio:
Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids.
Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book.
A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.
Book Excerpt:
Chapter 1: Raven’s Warning
24 AD, Southeast Coast of Britannia
Princess Catrin reined in her horse at the edge of the precipice overlooking the sea below to study the pattern of her raven’s flight, seeking an omen. Her dream of the skull-faced moon, bleeding crimson, still plagued her. It was as if she had glimpsed both into her soul and into the future, yet she did not know how to interpret it.
The Raven, her animal guide, shot like an arrow into the thickening mist that partially obscured the sun. The sudden nip of a cool, salty breeze made her shiver. Longing for the disappearing sun’s warmth, she nestled into her plaid cloak and focused on the bird’s aerial acrobatics, first diving at the sheer cliff, then darting up. This close to the edge, one misstep of her horse could dash them both onto the jagged rocks below. Only her raven, a divine messenger, had the power to overcome such a fall and rise into the heavens to soar with the gods.
The Raven disappeared into the fog. Out of the haze, the red-striped sail of a flat-bottom ship suddenly appeared. Driven mainly by oars, it thrust to and fro in the turbulent water; it was unlike the deep-hulled vessels of seafaring merchants powered by air currents over their sails. At the bow of the ship was a strange looking beam shaped like a bird’s beak.
Catrin’s gaze followed the Raven’s movement beyond the white cliffs, where more striped sails were emerging from the mist. She counted ten, but there might be more. A chill feathered up her spine.
Could these be warships?
From the distance, she could not determine the total number of ships or the country of their origin. She needed to see through her raven’s eyes for that. But to do so, she had to be alone to meld her thoughts with the Raven. Uneasy that her sister, Mor, and their companion, Belinus, might disrupt her connecting to the Raven, she scanned a clump of brambles some distance down the grassy slope where she had left them. A few weeks back, the couple had met at the Beltane’s spring festival and had since become intoxicated with each other.
Catrin was still rankled that Belinus had tricked her into weapons training. His real purpose had come to light the evening before, when he told her to wait on the hillside so he could finish practicing with Mor. A warm blush spread across Catrin’s face as she imagined their legs entangled with each other. Did they think that she was deaf and blind and that she was too dimwitted to understand what they were doing? The king would not think kindly of it if one of his trusted warriors charged with training his daughters for battle was seducing one of them.
Now barely discerning the couple through the thick brush, she surmised they were again fully occupied with each other, leaving ample time for her to take the next step with her raven before they again joined her.
She dismounted and raised her sword, a signal for her raven to return. The large bird swooped toward her like a dark shadow. She lifted an arm on which the bird landed. Its midnight-black plumage contrasted sharply with her fair skin and gold braided hair. On the threshold of womanhood, she felt closer to this creature than to many of her own kind. Still, she hesitated connecting with the bird.
A few years back, she had told her father of her ability to see the present and future through the Raven’s eyes. She desired to be a Druidess. He denied her request to be trained in the spiritual order, saying, “I have decreed that no one in my family can use the powers of the Ancient Druids.”
When she asked why, he responded with a grim frown. “The magic is too unpredictable and often alters in deadly ways. Foresight is not a gift but a curse in our family.”
The king’s answer confounded Catrin, but she dared not defy him openly or get caught when she secretly practiced her new mystical ability that the Raven had shown her.
The Raven first sought me out, she reasoned in favor of using her newly discovered powers. I must heed the Raven’s warning. If I am to assess the danger the ships pose, I need to study them up close.
She had to hurry, though. The fire between her sister and Belinus would soon cool.
Catrin lifted her arm and looked to the Raven, considering her decision. “What do I have to fear from you? I am a Cantiaci warrior.”
The Raven cocked its head and gawked at her, as if ready to answer her question.
She asked, “Did the sun god send me an omen about the warships offshore?”
When the Raven mumbled some gibberish, she tapped its beak. “What does that mean?”
The Raven screeched, bobbing up and down. She smoothed its ruffled feathers. “Do you know why the ships are here?”
The Raven grew still on her arm. She winced, recalling the image of the blood moon in her dream. She asked, “Do they plan to attack?”
The Raven nodded excitedly, as if in response. Encouraged, she asked, “If I saw through your eyes, could I learn who they are and the reason they’re here?”
The creature tilted its head sideways, the signal for her to enter its mind.
She hesitated. “What if Father learns that I've taken this next step? Will he punish me for disobeying him … for ignoring his warning?”
The Raven shrieked and arched its wings. She chuckled. “That is right. He did say to study the enemy before each encounter, but never hesitate in battle. That’s what I’m doing—exactly what my father expects. I’m finding out if enemies are aboard the ships, but to do so, I must see through your eyes.”
Catrin again hesitated. Once before, when she had melded and disconnected from her raven guide, she lost consciousness. It took awhile for her head to clear after that episode. If that happened again, it could spell disaster so close to the precipice.
She stepped away from the cliff ’s edge and stared into the Raven’s eyes, which glowed like amber gems. The bird’s talons emitted a bolt of electric heat into her arm. A light flashed in her mind, and the Raven’s essence permeated her core being. She knew that she had entered the Raven’s prescient mind.
The landscape appeared blurry until she adjusted to the Raven’s eyesight. Brightly colored wildflowers dazzled her with purple hues that she was unable to detect with her human eyes. A thrill rushed through her veins as she sensed the bird’s breast muscles contracting to flap its wings. When the Raven began its thrust into flight, she felt the misty air lift its outstretched wings.
When the Raven soared toward the channel, she could see her human form standing as motionless as a statue on the emerald hilltop clasped to the jagged precipice. The sheer chalk cliffs formed an impenetrable wall against the crashing waves. Beyond the cliffs, there was a sparsely vegetated shoreline toward which several ships were sailing and where other vessels were moored. Armored infantry-men were disembarking, wading to the shore, and marching across the beach. On higher ground, soldiers set up tents in a square encampment. One of the guards had a lion’s head covering his helmet. In his hands was a pole with a silver eagle on top. She assumed it meant powerful animal spirits were guiding them.
A palatial tent in the center of the encampment caught her eye. Its outside walls were made of twined linen sheets, violet and red, brocaded with eagles. Surrounding the central structure were crimson banners, each emblazoned with the sun god in a horse-driven chariot. At the tent’s flapped entrance were two foreign noblemen attired in purple-trim white togas. Another man, towering over the foreigners, wore a rustic toga and plaid breeches—garments that nobles from her kingdom typically dressed in. From the back, he looked familiar, his thick coppery hair draped over his shoulders like a lustrous wolf pelt.
To confirm her suspicions that she knew this tall, brawny man, Catrin directed the Raven to circle around, so she could get a closer look. When the man’s ghostly, disfigured face came into view, her heart wrenched. She recognized her half-brother, Marrock.
Grotesque images of ravens pecking tissue out of his face flashed in her mind. For seven years, she had believed herself safe from him, but there he was—a specter arisen from the cold ashes of her nightmares.
Why has he returned with an army?
A sense of doom crawled all over her when Marrock’s head tilted back, as though he knew her essence was flying overhead. His blue-green eyes began glowing and changed to the same amber-gem color as her raven whenever she harnessed its magical power. The Raven’s muscles suddenly paralyzed, freezing its wings. A strong force pulled her through a crevasse in the Raven’s mind and hurtled her into a tunnel of brilliant gold light.
She plummeted, tumbling out of control, toward a black portal in the center of a rainbow-colored arch.
Chapter 2: Secret Magic
Just before Catrin burst through the portal, she found herself lying on familiar, yellow-flowered grass on the cliffs. Above her, the Raven’s wings disappeared into a gray haze. A shiver of panic as sharp as needles prickled down her back.
Was this what my father meant about the magic being unpredictable?
With the landscape settling around her, she inhaled the briny air and felt her own world again. Still, a burning tingle lingered in her arm as questions barraged her mind.
Did Marrock do this to me? Did he somehow sense I was spying on him by using my raven’s eyesight? Did he put me into another world? Is this the deadly magic my father warned me about—the double-edged blade that others who detect my raven-sight can do me harm?
A woman’s shrill voice startled Catrin. She rolled on her back to find her sister, Mor, looking down at her, the reins of her bay horse in hand. Gusty wind swirled Mor’s ebony tresses around her face, which was etched with concern.
“What happened?” asked Mor. “Your horse was loose. From a distance, I saw a raven on your shoulder as you collapsed.”
“I slipped and fell,” Catrin said, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. “Help me up.” She grasped Mor’s extended hand and pulled herself to her feet. Still light-headed, she teetered while brushing the chalk from the cliff stones off her leather chest armor.
“Did that raven do something to you?” Mor asked. “Before you collapsed, you appeared frozen; your arms twisted over each other like broken wings. It was as if you left this world and became some-thing else. A wraith or a soulless corpse comes to mind.”
Catrin glanced around, thinking it odd that Belinus was not with her sister. Assuming he was nearby, she looked beyond Mor, but there was no sign of him.
“Why don’t you answer me?” Mor snapped. “This is the second time I’ve seen this happen to you this week. You know what Father said. You are not to do magic with that raven.”
The image of Marrock with the foreign troops flashed in Catrin’s mind, and she blurted, “I saw warships offshore. Marrock is leading them!”
Mor scanned the ocean channel, now thick with rolling fog. “I don’t see anything.”
Catrin pointed northward. “Look beyond the cliffs.”
Mor shielded her eyes with a hand to search again. A moment later, she gave Catrin a dubious frown. “There is too much fog to see clearly. When did you see Marrock?”
“A bit ago—” Catrin suddenly realized it could have been quite some time since she had been in the Raven’s mind.
Mor gripped Catrin’s arm and pulled her closer. “Did your raven cast a spell on you, and you imagined this? People say your raven makes you mad!”
Catrin bristled. “That is utter nonsense! I only connect to the Raven when I need its help and have complete control over it.”
When Mor’s jaw dropped, Catrin realized she had let her secret slip out. She bit her lower lip, but it was too late to take the words back. Upon further consideration, she didn’t know how to convince Mor of the threat posed by Marrock and the foreign army unless she disclosed her use of forbidden magic. She finally admitted, “When-ever I need help—like … like seeing something in the distance—I can enter the Raven’s mind and see through its eyes.”
“Explain exactly what happens when you see through its eyes,” Mor said. “Do you shape-shift into a raven?”
“My human vision turns off when I switch to the Raven sight. I can see below me when it flies. The Raven also sends me dreams of the future. Last night, I dreamt the moon turned into a bleeding skull. I took this as an omen that our kingdom is in grave danger. When I saw Marrock with foreign soldiers, I confirmed this was true.”
Mor paused, as if trying to absorb what Catrin had just said. “Merchant ships are always sailing near the coastline. How could you even tell they were warships from the distance?”
“Armed soldiers were disembarking from vessels moored on the beach beyond the cliffs—”
Mor interrupted. “Nobody can see that far, even through raven eyes.”
“Let me finish!” Catrin snapped. Mor’s lips clamped into a scowl as Catrin continued. “My raven flew over the bay, where I saw hundreds of soldiers setting up camp on shore. That is where I saw Marrock!”
“I find your tale truly hard to believe,” Mor said, shaking her head.
“I’m not a liar,” Catrin insisted. “We must heed the Raven’s omen. Soldiers would not be with Marrock unless he plans to attack us. We need to warn our father.”
“Warn him of what?”
“Marrock is back with a foreign army!” Catrin declared. “Remember, sister, Marrock swore to slay everyone in our family when Father banished him seven summers ago.”
“You’ve made a bold claim without proof.” Mor exclaimed. “I never saw Marrock with my own eyes and, for that matter, I never saw any warships. What if you’re wrong? You don’t have any evidence that he is plotting to attack our kingdom. Father will be furious when he discovers you used your raven’s magic. Besides, I want to stay here and finish training with Belinus.”
Catrin could feel her face flush with anger. Train with what—his sword? She pointed to herself. “I’ll accept the blame if I’m wrong, which I’m not. We must go back now!”
Mor put her hands on her hips. “I’m not leaving until I see these phantom soldiers and ships with my own eyes.”
Catrin, noticing her sister suddenly glance up, turned and spotted Belinus waving from the adjacent hilltop to signal weapons had been set up for practice. The last thing she wanted was for Mor to persuade him to stay so they could finish their tryst before slinking back home. Mor had lost all sense of propriety with a common warrior.
Of all days to practice, I should be warning Father!
When Mor pulled the reins of the bay and began walking away, Catrin yanked her by the arm to halt her. “What are you doing?”
Mor spun toward Catrin. “Belinus is set to go. I am getting your horse ready, so you can practice spear throwing."
Catrin wagged her head in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? We must go now and tell Father what we have seen.”
Mor glared. “I don’t take orders from someone who practices black magic with a raven. You see things nobody else can.”
Catrin ripped the reins from her sister’s fingers. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going. If Father asks me why you are not with me, I will tell him about your little meeting with Belinus.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
Wordlessly, Catrin mounted her bay and stared at her red-faced sister.
“Answer me!” Mor shouted.
Catrin pointed to the spear on the grass. “Hand me that lance.
I’ll tell Belinus about what I saw. You can load up your weapons and join us.”
Mor flung the spear up to Catrin.
Catrin adjusted the weapon and kicked her horse into a gallop. Gale breezes from the channel stung Catrin’s eyes as she drove her horse near the cliff’s edge and up the ridge to where Belinus was waiting. With thoughts running wild about a possible attack by Marrock, she ignored the perils of the precipice and the rocks below. With spear in hand, she clamped her legs against the horse and threw it.
The metal tip pierced the raven’s image on a shield that Belinus was holding. Clad in leather breeches and chain mail, he yelled, “Why did you do that? I wasn’t ready.”
Catrin halted in front of him. “We need to get back! Warships have landed; Marrock is leading them!”
Belinus gave a shocked look. “Marrock? Warships? Where?” Catrin pointed northward. “In the nearby bay.”
Hearing horses approaching, Catrin turned and found her sister riding the black stallion and leading a pack horse.
Mor huffed. “Why didn’t you wait for me? You’re lucky I don’t have to scrape your smashed bones and flesh off the rocks.”
“No time to argue!” Catrin snapped. She ordered Belinus, “See to the weapons. I’ll explain everything to you on our way back to the village.”
Mor blazed at Catrin as Belinus packed the weapons. After he mounted his horse, he told Catrin, “With the coming fog, it may be difficult to see the ships on our way home. Ride with me and tell me more about what you saw.”
Catrin rode with Belinus on the pathway while Mor followed them. As they descended the grassy hilltop, Catrin told Belinus about the warships and Marrock's return. Belinus appeared alarmed, glancing all around. He asked Catrin more questions and suggested they take a closer look at the seashore.
They directed their horses into a darkening forest in the valley. When they rode out of the woods and approached the beach, thick fog was swallowing the ships in the bay and marching out of the haze were soldiers heading their way.
Catrin glanced back at Mor. “See … there is the danger.”
Mor’s shoulders stiffened. “Keep riding.”
Belinus rode ahead and kept his hand on his sword’s pommel. “Follow me. Don’t look scared. These are Romans!”
Appointment in Bath
A chance meeting between the sheltered daughter and the forward-thinking son of rival Victorian families sparks a forbidden romance in USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews's fourth book in her acclaimed Somerset Stories series.
Shy and stammering Meg Burton-Smythe has spent the whole of her life living on the fringes of local society. She's more comfortable with her daydreams than she is with people. But when a dashing, golden-haired hero rides to her rescue one morning, she dares to hope that her dreams might finally come true. There's only one problem: her handsome rescuer is the son of her father's sworn enemy.
Ivo Beresford doesn't believe in clinging to the past. Freshly returned from a lengthy grand tour, he's looking to the future, eager to spearhead the building of a new railway extension in Somersetshire. But an unexpected encounter with Meg Burton-Smythe, the isolated only daughter of his parents' oldest foe, sets the past and the future colliding.
Resolved to put ancient grudges to rest-at least where innocent young ladies are concerned-Ivo encourages lonely Meg to embark on a secret friendship. After all, what harm can a friendship do? It isn't as though there's any danger of the two of them falling in love...
Before the Fall
"A highly ambitious, engaging, and evocative novel and a hauntingly captivating read." -The Sunday Independent
What happens when a woman is haunted by the sins of her foremothers--and the men who betrayed them?
Facing the birth of her child, and single motherhood, Jo Devereux has spent the last six months in Mucknamore, the small hometown that she ran from twenty years ago, investigating her family's troubled past.
A trunk of letters and diaries left by her grandmother and great- aunt reveals a heartbreaking legacy of bitter secrets - secrets that have haunted the women in her family for four generations.
Now she must find out the ultimate truth Who really killed her great uncle? What secrets and lies lay under her mother's and grandmother's unshakeable silence?
And then there is Rory... her childhood love and the son of her family's sworn enemies. Could Jo's mission to uncover the truth be the key to a possible future together? Or will it be their undoing?
As she pieces together the poisonous fragments of the past, Jo must now face up to what knowing the truth means for her future-- or risk losing everything all over again.
Read this haunting, heartbreaking saga of love, loss, and secrets in a country and a family ravaged by all kinds of intimate war.
About the Author
Ross, Orna: - One of the 100 most influential people in publishing. The Bookseller ORNA ROSS is an award-winning Irish novelist and poet--and an international advocate for independent authors. She writes and publishes a wide range of books: inspirational poetry, literary-historical fiction, and publishing guides. A vegan, mindful runner, daily meditator and f-r-e-e-writer, Orna lives and works in London. When not writing, she runs the global non-profit Alliance of Independent Authors, ALLi (ally with an i) with Philip, her husband and co-director.
Bend with the Wind
Nobility. Garden parties. Luxury. Prestige.
War breaks out. Merry Hall and its male heirs are now at stake.
From the time of William the Conqueror, the Beaumonts have enjoyed the privileges of wealth and position. Their pleasure is to be nothing more than farmers and knights of the realm.
Nevertheless, with the dawn of the twentieth century, a stray artillery shell slays the current baronet and Thomas Beaumont finds himself the new incumbent, but with no farming knowledge, his first instinct is to run. However, the family motto reads: Where there is a will there is a way. Sir Thomas finds his way and by the end of the Great War, the future looks brighter for him and his four young sons. Merry Hall is once again safe.
AND, then another deadly crisis raises its ugly head This time it's not up to Sir Thomas. Can the Beaumont brothers safeguard their legacy and can they honour their ancestors?
If you like fast-paced, action-packed historical novels, then you will love Peter Rimmer's Bend with the Wind, a story that will keep you reading long into the night. It's not your traditional WW2 novel but one filled with business, sex, courage and a family with a determination to win no matter what.
Bermuda Blue
Summer, 1946. When Boston reporter Jerry Canavan is sent down to cover the Newport Bermuda yacht race, the trip feels more like a reunion than an assignment. He stays at the luxurious home of Cam McShane, a classmate from Boston College, and runs into his childhood friend Paul Crump, who is an MP at the U.S. Army base.
For the three young veterans, Bermuda is like a tropical paradise. Cam hangs around the bars at night, socializing with other ex-pats and planning to start a business. Paul patrols downtown Hamilton and dreams of falling in love. With the war finally over, everyone wants to start living again, and the sailboat race is a symbol of the island's future and the return of tourism.
Jerry tries to stay focused on his work until he meets Gabrielle, a beautiful and mysterious French girl who lives next door. But romance isn't his only distraction because before the yachts even cross the finish line, the lives of his friends have started to unravel. Cam's drunken philandering has a much darker side, and Paul's relationship with a local black girl causes a scandal.
As Jerry's time grows short, he learns a shocking truth about Gabrielle's family. Only then does he realize that Bermuda is not all sunshine and Rum Swizzles. People may have flocked there to forget the past, but the war and its consequences are something no one can escape.
Author Bio:
Jonathan Cullen grew up in Boston and attended public schools. After a brief career as a bicycle messenger, he graduated from Boston College with a B.A. in English Literature (1995). During his twenties, he wrote two unpublished novels, taught high-school in Ireland, lived in Mexico, worked as a prison librarian, and spent a month in Kenya, Africa before finally settling down three blocks from where he grew up.
He currently lives in Boston (West Roxbury) with his wife Heidi and daughter Maeve.
Between Two Fires
Beyond the Crushing Waves
Two generations from one family face heartbreak and injustice in this poignant and emotional novel inspired by true events.
Married to her dream man, and with a baby on the way, Dr Mia Sato's life is in perfect order.
When her beloved grandmother has a fall, the photograph clutched in her hand prompts Mia to ask questions her grandmother isn't willing to answer. Then she cries out a confession that rocks Mia to her core and leads her to make a shocking discovery of a past filled with lies, broken families and forced child migration.
Mary Roberts is a poor gutter child living in a council house in 1950's London. When she and her sister are given away to an orphanage by their mother, they could hardly imagine the turn their lives were about to take.
Harry Evans is an orphan who finds himself with Mary and her sister on a ship bound for Australia. To a farm for children, where abuse and neglect are rife. A journey that will change their lives forever, and from which they'll never return.
Based on one of Britain most secret and shameful real-life scandals in which over 100,000 British children were forcibly deported to Canada, South Africa, and Australia over several decades. Lilly Mirren's heartbreaking, captivating and ultimately uplifting tale reminds us that no matter where the journey leads us, our heart will always find its way home to those we love.
For readers of Before We Were Yours and Where the Crawdad Sings.
Author Bio:
Lilly Mirren is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Brisbane, Australia with her husband and three children.
She always dreamed of being a writer and is now living that dream. When she's not writing, she's taxiing her children to various after school activities, visiting her parents at the beach, or drinking coffee with friends.
Her books combine heartwarming storylines with achingly realistic characters readers can't get enough of.
Bodyguard of Deception
BODYGUARD OF DECEPTION: A NOVEL OF SUSPENSE
VOLUME ONE OF THE WORLD WAR TWO TRILOGY
By Samuel Marquis
#1 Denver Post Bestselling, Award-Winning Author
Praise for Bodyguard of Deception
"Bodyguard of Deception grabbed my attention right from the beginning and never let go. The character development is excellent. Samuel Marquis has a knack for using historic details and events to create captivating and fun to read tales."--Roy R. Romer, 39th Governor of Colorado
"Readers looking for an unapologetic historical action book should tear through this volume." -- Kirkus Reviews
"Old-time spy buffs will appreciate the tradecraft and attention to detail, while adventure enthusiasts will enjoy the unique perspective and setting for a WWII story. As Marquis throws in everything but the kitchen sink, he turns this well-told, if byzantine adventure novel into a combination of The Great Escape, Public Enemies, a genuine old-time Western, and a John Le Carr novel."--Blueink Review
"The world hangs in a delicate balance in the heart-pounding World War Two Trilogy opener, Bodyguard of Deception by Samuel Marquis. Put together with an intricate plot to follow and a commitment to realistic detail, there's a lot going for the read...a wonderfully nail-biting experience with good characters and solid intrigue."
--SP Review - Four-Star Review
"As usual, Marquis's descriptions are vivid, believable, and true to the time period...Bodyguard of Deception is an intriguing launch to his new trilogy."--Dr. Wesley Britton, Bookpleasures.com (Crime & Mystery)
"Bodyguard of Deception is a unique and ambitious spy thriller complete with historical figures, exciting action, and a dastardly villain. Fans of prisonbreak plots will enjoy this story of a loyal German struggling to save his homeland."--Foreword Reviews
"A fast-paced, riveting WWII espionage thriller. Bodyguard of Deception is as good as the best of Daniel Silva, Ken Follett, Alan Furst, and David Baldacci and brings back fond memories of the classic movie The Great Escape and Silva's finest novel, The Unlikely Spy."--Fred Taylor, President/Co-Founder Northstar Investment Advisors and Espionage Novel Aficionado
Can the American and British Allies stop a vaunted German spymaster and his U-boat-commander brother from warning Hitler's High Command about the Allies' greatest military secret? It is a secret that could win the war for Germany--or, at the very least, delay the outcome for years with an inestimable cost in bloodshed, physical destruction, and suffering. And it is a secret that the two contentious brothers must grapple with within their own Wehrmacht ranks, as they bring U.S. and British intelligence to their knees on America's doorstep with the clock to D-Day ticking down. From a U-boat on the frigid North Sea to a brutal British interrogation center in heart of London to a remote German-POW camp and the world-famous Broadmoor Hotel overlooking the high plains and snow-dusted mountain peaks of Colorado, Bodyguard of Deception will keep you guessing until the final chapter. The first book of #1 Denver Post Bestselling, Award-Winning Suspense Author Samuel Marquis's World War II Trilogy.
By Broken Birch Bay
“Through an intricate weaving of characters, Knipfer constructs an engaging story that doesn’t just live on the printed page, but the characters speak to your heart.” —Readers’ Favorite
Set in the early twentieth century, single mother, Petra Livingston, and her young son, Jefferson, have come home to Broken Birch Bay, Minnesota braving the town gossips over her sordid past.
Spurred by contention with her dad, Petra takes a job at a local cafe, working for her independence and meets Don De Muir, who worms his way into her heart-which she swore she'd never give away again.
Thrilled to have her ally and sister, Petra, back home, Honey sets aside her mom's disappointment in her and plans her wedding to a local fisherman, Jeb Spangler, a man with a broken past and a temper. However, as the time draws near, Honey gets cold feel, reevaluating her feelings for Jeb.
Will Petra allow Don past her defenses? Will Honey and Jeb move forward into their future or be derailed by what comes between them? Will it be one of the sisters, a boyfriend, or a parent who lifts their hand to protect another, taking a life in the process?
Told in a split-timeline of prison diary entries and narrative, fans of Christian mystery, Christian historical fiction, and clean romance will relish this unique mystery.
More Reviews:
“Knipfer masterfully weaves a small-town historical drama, peppered with a sharply crafted whodunit, resulting in a rustic and remarkably engaging work of pastoral historical fiction.” —Self-Publishing Review
”Written in a way that evokes all kinds of emotions. Knipfer does a fabulous job of weaving a story full of suspense, love, tension, and mystery.” —KC Hart, bestselling author of the Katy Cross mystery series
Author Bio:
Jenny Knipfer lives in Wisconsin with her husband, Ken, and their pet Yorkie, Ruby. She is also a mom and loves being a grandma. She enjoys many creative pursuits but finds writing the most fulfilling.
Carregan's Catch
Is gold worth gambling for when death is at stake?
A fragile peace is broken and James Carregan is called to action. All thoughts of finding a suitable wife evaporates. Months later, the Shona rebellion quelled, James finds himself crossing paths with power-hungry Gavin Morgan, the son of his old friend, Rhys.
With an irresistible proposition, James and his new acquaintance leave the Morgandale Estate for Cape Town. Becoming the toast of the town, Gavin hosts a series of bacchanal parties attracting high-ranking British officers and beautiful women alike... Including the scintillating Sonny, James's love interest.
But despite his new-found fame and fortune, Gavin senses a war brewing between the British and Boers. Young Morgan makes plans to deal with both sides... Treason punishable by death if discovered. As tensions mount and fighting breaks out, Gavin and James are forced into a series of lies and deceptions to hide his complicity.
In matters of love and war, fortune favours the brave. But with Sonny waiting in the wings, James must decide if his loyalty to his old friend Rhys justifies betraying his country...
Carregan's Catch is the next chapter in an epic saga immersing readers in British colonial Africa.
Castle of the Red Contessa
"Fantasy fans will take a dive dive in this lavishly detailed story." -Kirkus
Despite the success of their first adventure, Thurmond and his companions, Sarah, Roscoe, and Torgul, are out of money and about to be expelled from their new home at Grimsgard. The only solution-a raid on Castle Sathas, the home of an infamous witch-cult.
To get there, they must undertake a long and perilous overland journey through a wilderness rife with ruthless bandits, voracious wolf packs, and greedy robber-knights. Along the way, their every step is shadowed by an unseen nemesis bent on their destruction.
Beset by treacherous landscapes and deadly enemies, it seems their quest is doomed to fail. And even if they win through, will they survive the ancient evil waiting in Castle Sathas?
Throat-gripping and unpredictable, Castle of the Red Contessa takes the reader on a heroic quest of rousing medieval adventure.
About the Author
MacKenzie, Robert John: - Robert John MacKenzie is an experienced educator with an abiding enthusiasm for medieval history and literature. He has traveled extensively throughout Europe, exploring museums, castles, and battlefields. After living for years in Asia and Europe, he now resides in northern California.
Cause to Repine: A Pride & Prejudice Variation
Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy come from two different worlds. She loves her country estate existence. He was born for London’s high society. If his aunts have anything to say about it (and they always do), Darcy’s future depends on finding a bride with connections to the nobility.
Can Darcy and Elizabeth overcome their families, fears, and the constant berating of London’s gossipmongers to follow their hearts?
Author Bio:
E.M. Storm-Smith is a mother, wife, attorney, former engineer, and literature lover. A lifelong obsession for books drove her to create stories of her own. Several years into the journey of writing about characters she loved, E.M. decided to take her passions to the world and see what happened.
When she’s not writing, E.M. is spending her time reading others’ books—preferably somewhere with lots of sunshine—traveling, and cooking things.
Cecilia: A Regency Romance
She dreams of marrying a nobleman. Too bad he's only pretending to be one.
Cecilia Cosgrove's beauty opens doors and hearts everywhere she goes. With a marquess courting her, the status and wealth her family is counting on her to obtain is finally within her reach-until she meets Jacques Levesque, the French nobleman who immediately pegs her as affected and superficial. While piqued and offended, Cecilia secretly begins to wonder whether he might not have a point.
Poor French migr Jacques Levesque has been disguised as a French nobleman for almost as long as he can remember, trying his hardest to keep his head down in a society obsessed with rank and high birth. But when Cecilia Cosgrove comes into his life, he finds it hard to maintain his fa ade-or to want to.
While Cecilia struggles between the desire to please others and the wish to pursue her own course, Jacques's interest in her provokes a powerful enemy intent on taking him down. With love, acceptance, and the future on the line for them both, Cecilia and Jacques must decide whether a life lived behind a mask is any life at all.
Chateau Laux
“Colonial America comes to vivid life in this nuanced, engaging historical novel.” —BookLife
Great for fans of Willa Cather and Amy Belding Brown’s Flight of the Sparrow.
Inspired by a shocking incident in eighteenth century America, award-winning and internationally acclaimed Chateau Laux is the story of Lawrence Kraymer, a young entrepreneur from a youthful Philadelphia, who chances upon a French aristocrat and his family living on the edge of the frontier.
Born to an unwed mother and raised by a disapproving and judgmental grandfather, Lawrence is drawn to the close-knit family. As part of his courtship of one of the patriarch's daughters, he builds a château, igniting memories of a past that should have been left alone and setting in motion a course of devastating events he could not have anticipated.
More Reviews:
2021 IAN Book of the Year Awards, Gold Medal for Outstanding Historical Fiction
2021 Coffee Pot Book Club Book of the Year Award, Gold Medal for Historical Fiction Set in America
2021 Historical Fiction Company Awards, Silver Medal for Historical American Fiction
2021 Readers' Favorite Book Award Winner, Bronze Medal for Historical Event/Era Fiction
2021 American Book Fest’s Best Book Awards, Finalist for Cross-Genre Fiction
2021 B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree
“A haunting, eloquent, and engaging historical drama." —Kirkus
“This beautiful piece of storytelling set in colonial times that will forever touch a reader's heart and soul…. The writing in Chateau Laux is excellent, but what is most remarkable is the storytelling…. It is a miracle of sorts, that the world is given such a beautiful work.” —Mark Zvonkovic, author of A Lion in the Grass
“…a bittersweet story of tragedy, found family, and reconciliation…an engrossing novel set during colonial times.” —Foreword Reviews
“Loved it!…. I recommend this book for fans of early American history and its connection to France.” —Jessica Lucci, award-winning author of the Watch City trilogy; Reedsy discovery
“…it is not just a novel that Loux has penned, but a masterpiece, a rose among thorns, a chateau among farmhouses. With such a keen sense of human life and emotion, David Loux brings to life a story that threatens to mesmerise with scenes of pure, unrestrained delight and scenes that will pull at your heartstrings and have you reaching for the tissues.” —The Coffee Pot Book Club
“…a brilliant portrayal of ambition, tragedy, and reconciliation...[an] engaging historical masterpiece…inspired by real events…. The plot was unpredictable and shocking…. Poignantly written, Chateau Laux effortlessly blends history and culture with recurring concepts of good and evil.” —Onlinebookclub.org
“…a timeless, entrancing, compelling and elegant work of art.” —Historical Fiction Press
“A nascent nation, in all its moral complexities, is apprehended through the lives of members of an isolated middle colonies community on the edge of the frontier in this moving and important historical novel.” —MaryEllen Beveridge, author of After the Hunger: Stories
“Readers seeking an absorbing historical novel of transformation, tragedy, rebirth, and renewed relationships set against the backdrop of 1700s frontier America will find Chateau Laux a gripping story of love, loss, and survival that's made even stronger for its roots in real events. It's a riveting read that requires no prior familiarity with eighteenth century history in order to prove compelling.” —Midwest Book Review
“Chateau Laux portrays its historical settings and characters with skill and excellence. The story is well-developed and all its elements are skillfully achieved. I highly recommend it.” —Edith Wairimu, Readers' Favorite
“Chateau Laux is a sweeping historical novel that transports the reader to the height of religious oppression and bigotry in Europe in the eighteenth century and across the seas to the burgeoning, seeming freedom of the New World: the bustling colony of Philadelphia... I thoroughly enjoyed Chateau Laux and can highly recommend it.” —Grant Leishman, Readers' Favorite
“…a dramatic story fraught with intense suspense. Based on actual people and events, this gripping novel held me on the edge of my seat from the first page until the last…. Caught up in the stunning story, I couldn't put the book down for anything, not even dinner. It is an extraordinary book, and I recommend it to everyone who loves stories filled with action, drama, and love.” —Susan Sewell, Readers' Favorite
“If you're itching for a well-written historical fiction novel based on real events, Chataeu Laux is the book for you.” —Pikasho Deka, Readers' Favorite
“…a thought-provoking historical novel that everyone will love. It bordered on love, grief, betrayal, loyalty, compassion, survival, and guts. The plot was brilliant and refreshing, while the story was unusual yet unique…. I loved this novel, and the flawless editing influenced my beautiful reading experience.” —Jennifer Ibiam, Readers' Favorite
Author Bio:
David Loux is a short story writer who has published under pseudonym and served as past board member of California Poets in the Schools. Chateau Laux is his first novel. He lives in the Eastern Sierra with his wife, Lynn.
Makes the reader look forward to more!!
I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the books. I am reading the last book 1945. I was born 1935 and my brother was born 1929. He graduated high school in 1945 -- later served in Korea. Brought back a lot of memories - some sad of those lost in the neighborhood (my best friend lost her brother in the early 40's. I remember those that came home. The stories in the book were wonderful -- it was a joy to read them.
I enjoyed the book. It gave insight as to what women had to put up with back then.
I love it . It depicts a time before my birth 1946. So I got an insight into the time before I was born.
I enjoyed the book,I need to order the rest of them
Christmastime 1939: Prequel to the Christmastime Series
“Charming, heartwarming...whimsical and pleasingly old-fashioned throughout.” —Kirkus
Christmastime 1939 introduces the reader to the Christmastime series. Set in Brooklyn, we meet the young widow Lillian Hapsey and her two sons, Tommy and Gabriel. Even though the Christmas season is just around the corner, Lillian has no Christmas spirit. Alone, unhappy with her job, and plagued by financial concerns, Christmas has become a burden to her.
Overshadowing everything is the war in Europe. Despite the setbacks, Lillian is determined to give her sons a happy Christmas. Can she rekindle her girlhood love for the holiday season? Rediscovering her touchstone just might be the key to unlocking the excitement and magic of Christmas.
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Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
Book Excerpt:
Home. Almost a week since Lillian Hapsey returned from her sister’s house upstate, and things were exactly the same. The inspiration or revelation or solution she had hoped for hadn’t happened. She hadn’t thought her plans through. Instead, she had trusted that everything would fall into place, and now here it was—Christmas was almost upon her, and she had no Christmas spirit at all.
She let Tommy and Gabriel splash in the bathtub a little longer than usual. It gave her a chance to sort her thoughts, and to enjoy the hot water bottle on her lower back without the boys asking too many questions. She rested her feet on the small embroidered footstool and rubbed her legs.
A pile of clothing to be mended sat next to her, but she had no desire to get started on it. She frowned at her fatigue—it can’t have anything to do with age, surely, she told herself. Thirty-four isn’t exactly old. It must be the extra hours I’ve been putting in at work.
The small sketchbook she carried with her everywhere lay open on her lap. She paged through the drawings she had made from the visit to her sister’s—rows of trees in the orchard with a few old apples and leaves clinging to the branches, her sister Annette knitting by the fireplace, a swing that hung from an old oak tree, another of Annette kissing her sleeping baby. Lillian’s face softened at the memories. It had been a good trip.
She moved the hot water bottle to her lap and savored the stillness of the moment—a contrast to the busy week. It had begun with the train ride home from upstate, then back to her routine of scheduling babysitters for Tommy and Gabriel, and keeping up with her work at the department store. Now that Thanksgiving was behind them, the Christmas season had begun in earnest.
She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes, wondering how she would muster up the energy and enthusiasm to get her through the season. The radiator rattled and whistled with coming steam. A soothing warmth began to fill the living room, chasing the cold away. She sank deeper into the couch, giving in to her weariness. The hissing and shshing of the radiator grew louder and louder, accompanied by the gurgling in the pipes. A peaceful oblivion overtook her.
After several minutes, the radiator sounds lowered to a sputter. Then a whisper. Then a soft, warm silence filled the small room. Broken by sounds of laughter and splashing from the boys.
Lillian opened her eyes and realized that she had dozed off. That won’t do, she thought.
She sat up straight and looked about her. She couldn’t help but compare her tiny Brooklyn apartment to her sister’s rambling old house on the orchard with a lovely view out of every window—the flower beds and vegetable garden in the back that still showed a bit of color, the charming old cider house, the country road leading into town. From the upstairs bedroom window, the view was like stepping into a painting—softly undulating farmland dotted with red barns and white farmhouses, the orchard stretching out to the west, and in the distance, patches of woods and a small stream that sparkled in the sunlight.
And the sunsets! The golden light over the orchard swelled her heart each time she saw it. She often ran upstairs as the day was fading in order to catch it, making excuses as she suddenly left the room. “Just getting something from upstairs,” or “I think I’ll fetch my sweater.” Not that she had to hide anything, she simply wanted those few minutes all to herself, to better take in the powerful stirring of beauty and longing. It was a reminder of girlhood dreams and all the things she was going to do with her life. She and Annette were raised in a town not far from the orchard and being upstate always plunged her into the past when she was young and full of dreams, before she and Annette had married and moved away.
Lillian shook away her thoughts and lifted a few items from the pile of clothes—three pairs of trousers, a few dresses, and a skirt.
“Tommy, Gabriel! Time to finish up!”
She threaded a needle and draped the first pair of trousers over her lap. Mrs. Harrison from the dry cleaner down the street was kind enough to throw a little business her way. It wasn’t much, but it helped to supplement her earnings from the department store.
She pushed the needle through the woolen hem, trying to recapture the glimmer of Christmas excitement she had felt up at her sister’s. A few days after Thanksgiving, Annette had begun to unpack some of her decorations. The children had caught her enthusiasm as they pulled out garlands and the crèche set and red ribbons.
Lillian smiled in memory of the afternoon they sat at the kitchen table with the children and prepared sliced oranges to dry for ornaments, and made clove and orange pomander balls. The scent of fresh citrus and cloves filled the kitchen while the kids sang Christmas songs and laughed when they made up the words they couldn’t remember. And the evening when they sat in front of the fire, the kids sprawled on the floor, cutting pictures out of the catalogs—until Annette’s husband, Bernie, sent them all running and squealing when he crawled into the room growling and pawing like a bear.
Her smile deepened at the memory of rocking Annette’s youngest, five-month-old Abigail. Was there any greater sweetness than holding a baby as it smiled up at you and kicked its legs and shook its tiny fists in joy?
She set her sewing down. Is that what was making her sad? Knowing that she would never have another child? Or was it the nostalgia of being at Annette’s? Or was she just tired?
Spending Thanksgiving this year with Annette and Bernie, rather than Christmas as she usually did, had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now Lillian felt a stab of dread at the mere thought of facing the Christmas holiday alone.
No need to fear Christmas, she thought, picking up her sewing again. She would simply follow Annette’s advice, and start with their mother’s Christmas recipes. That would put her in the holiday spirit. And then hang the stockings, and get a tree, and…
She glanced over at the time.
“Hurry up boys! Your show will be on soon.”
The bathtub was soon gurgling as the plug was pulled and the water drained. She heard Tommy and Gabriel opening and shutting drawers as they pulled out their pajamas.
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth!”
Lillian cast another glance at the living room. There wasn’t a single sign of Christmas. She would have to get started.
Oddly enough, it would be their first Christmas together in Brooklyn. They had always celebrated the holiday upstate. Especially after Tom died, Annette had insisted that Lillian and the boys spend Christmas with her and Bernie and their growing family. With Tommy eight years old now, and Gabriel five, all their Christmas memories were from the orchard.
Lillian set her sewing down and brought the hot water bottle to the kitchen. This would be an important Christmas, and instead of preparing for it, she had spent these past few days filled with worry—missing Annette, hoping the landlord wouldn’t raise the rent, and fretting about the new manager at work, Mr. Hinkley. He had never liked her, and when Mrs. Klein finally retired and he was promoted, he made his feelings abundantly clear. He still resented the older manager’s preference for Lillian.
No need to ruin her evening thinking about him, she thought, sitting back down. The trip to Annette’s was supposed to be a prelude to Christmas. But Lillian felt no surge of excitement. She wasn’t in the mood for Christmas and would be glad when it was over. Everything felt wrong.
And of course, underlying everything, was the dark shadow cast by the war in Europe. The news reports grew more frightening with each passing day. She had believed that war would be averted. That Hitler would be appeased. But when he invaded Poland in the fall, England and France had declared war. Where would it all end?
She stared out and worried about a world controlled by Nazis and Fascists. Worried that the U.S. would be pulled into the war—or worse, that they would be attacked by Nazis. First bombed, then invaded, then…
Makes the reader look forward to more!!
I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the books. I am reading the last book 1945. I was born 1935 and my brother was born 1929. He graduated high school in 1945 -- later served in Korea. Brought back a lot of memories - some sad of those lost in the neighborhood (my best friend lost her brother in the early 40's. I remember those that came home. The stories in the book were wonderful -- it was a joy to read them.
I enjoyed the book. It gave insight as to what women had to put up with back then.
I love it . It depicts a time before my birth 1946. So I got an insight into the time before I was born.
I enjoyed the book,I need to order the rest of them
What a wonderful story that truly pulls on your heart strings! The era is portrayed so beautifully! I love these stories!
Can’t wait to read more.
I had got ten the Christmastime 1939 and wanted to see how the story started. I really loved reading the book and imagining me cutting that time period. I just love it!!
You feel like you are experiencing the time with her. I enjoy the evenings
Sitting by the fire and drinking some wine. Charles even gets on my last nerve at times. Really enjoying the series.
Christmastime 1940: A Love Story
"A charming, heartwarming tale of two people looking for a second chance at love and family. [Mahkovec] remarkably conveys Droom's transformation, [and] readers will enjoy the novel's detailed imagery, which has a whimsical and pleasingly old-fashioned quality throughout." —Kirkus Reviews
Set in New York City against the backdrop of impending war, Christmastime 1940 tells the story of an unlikely romance between a struggling young mother trying to make a fresh start and a man who has lost his connection to humanity.
The curmudgeonly Charles Drooms is perfectly content with his life as the owner of a successful accounting firm. However, when the beautiful widow, Lillian Hapsey, and her two young sons move down the hall from him, his narrow world is shaken. Three forces—Lillian, the Christmas season, and a mysterious little boy—converge to stir up powerful memories, pushing Drooms to make some life-altering decisions.
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
What a wonderful story that truly pulls on your heart strings! The era is portrayed so beautifully! I love these stories!
Can’t wait to read more.
I had got ten the Christmastime 1939 and wanted to see how the story started. I really loved reading the book and imagining me cutting that time period. I just love it!!
You feel like you are experiencing the time with her. I enjoy the evenings
Sitting by the fire and drinking some wine. Charles even gets on my last nerve at times. Really enjoying the series.
These stories are so enjoyable. I couldn’t wait to receive the next 3 books. I hope there will be more stories added!
I ordered all seven books at the same time. I have finished all
the books and enjoyed them very much. Reading them brought back memories of WW2. I have been recommending them to many
Of my friends.
Loved it. IZZY IS THE LIFE OF THE BOOK
I love this series! It's a very realistic time snap of life in working class families in NY City and the US during WWII. I'm currently up to Christmas 1942 and controlling the urge to read the whole series in one marathon reading sprint!
Christmastime 1941: A Love Story
Christmastime 1941 opens two days after Pearl Harbor has been attacked. War has just been declared, and New York City is in a state of chaos and panic as it tries to prepare for possible attacks. Following the same characters established in Christmastime 1941, and introducing a few new ones, it tells the power of old loves, new loves, and friendship.
It continues the love story of Lillian and Charles, the adventures of Tommy and Gabriel, and depicts two bittersweet romances: that of Izzy and her fiancé Red, and that of the office manager at Drooms Accounting, sixty-year old Mrs. Murphy, and her Brendan.
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
These stories are so enjoyable. I couldn’t wait to receive the next 3 books. I hope there will be more stories added!
I ordered all seven books at the same time. I have finished all
the books and enjoyed them very much. Reading them brought back memories of WW2. I have been recommending them to many
Of my friends.
Loved it. IZZY IS THE LIFE OF THE BOOK
I love this series! It's a very realistic time snap of life in working class families in NY City and the US during WWII. I'm currently up to Christmas 1942 and controlling the urge to read the whole series in one marathon reading sprint!
Christmastime 1942: A Love Story
I loved these series. Following the family n friends thru all the years during Christmas n war..
It was my pleasure to glimpse into another lifetime..❤️
Enjoyed very much!! Usually WW II historical novels take place in Europe, so was good to read about how it affected those in the USA.
Made me feel like I was living in their cozy little apartment . Author writes in a
Realistic style and exhibits the kinds of emotions I myself would have ! Looking forward to reading the rest of the series !!
Christmastime 1942: A Love Story
In Christmastime 1942 the Axis forces are winning, and America struggles to find its footing in the war. Men leave to fight and women join the workforce. New York City vibrates with energy, romance, tension, and urgency. Yet love burns brighter than ever, bringing people together and giving them hope for the future. The famous Stage Door Canteen in Times Square provides the background for one of these romances—between the proud, but wounded, Edith Mason and the Shakespearean actor, Desmond Burke.
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
Christmastime 1942: A Love Story
I loved these series. Following the family n friends thru all the years during Christmas n war..
It was my pleasure to glimpse into another lifetime..❤️
Enjoyed very much!! Usually WW II historical novels take place in Europe, so was good to read about how it affected those in the USA.
Made me feel like I was living in their cozy little apartment . Author writes in a
Realistic style and exhibits the kinds of emotions I myself would have ! Looking forward to reading the rest of the series !!
I am up to Christmastime 1942. I have lived them all. I find myself wondering about the characters' lives through out the rest of the year. Perhaps the author can expand on the series!
Christmastime 1943: A Love Story
In Christmastime 1943 the war intensifies, the Christmas season arrives, and love is kept alive on the home front. In New York City, Lillian Drooms struggles on her own while her husband, Charles, is away at sea. She volunteers with “Artists for Victory” at a hospital for wounded soldiers, but soon begins to doubt her ability.
Meanwhile, on a farm in Illinois, the beautiful seventeen-year-old Ursula is torn between her sense of duty and the power of love. The source of her deepest yearning and her deepest hatred lies in Friedrich, one of the German POWs recently hired to work on the family farm. The Christmas season brings its charm and warmth—but can love survive in these turbulent, fragmented times?
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
I am up to Christmastime 1942. I have lived them all. I find myself wondering about the characters' lives through out the rest of the year. Perhaps the author can expand on the series!
Christmastime 1944: A Love Story
Years of relentless fighting have strained the country, and the December news of the Battle of the Bulge crushes the hope that war in Europe will soon be over. Lillian Drooms pushes ahead with her career as an artist while she anxiously awaits the arrival of her husband, Charles, for Christmas, and her friend Izzy finally gives Mr. Rockwell the old heave-ho—or does she?
And on the farm in Illinois, Ursula’s troubling situation reaches a climax and is intensified by the arrival of her brother Jimmy, home on furlough from the Pacific. Among pervasive loss and disappointment, is there room for Christmas hope and happiness?
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
Shop the Christmastime series
Christmastime 1945: A Love Story
In the final book of the Christmastime series, the war is over. After years of grueling combat, heavy losses, and heartbreak, the first Christmas after the war promises to be a memorable one. Millions of servicemen are hoping to make it home in time for Christmas. Lillian Drooms anxiously awaits the return of Charles, fearing a final disaster. Izzy has opened a line of communication to Red, but what her future holds remains a mystery. On Kate’s farm, her eldest son has made it home––but will her other two sons return from the Pacific? Ursula lives in dread of Friedrich’s impending departure and wonders if she’ll ever see him again. And unexpectedly, Jessica gives her heart to a returning soldier, only to be rejected by him. Can this first Christmas after the war be a happy one?
Author Bio:
Linda Mahkovec is the author of World War II historical fiction, short stories, and contemporary novels.
Themes of love, family, and home dominate her stories, and though they may be set against the backdrop of war or deal with the disappointments in life, the overarching feel is uplifting and hopeful. Threads that run through her work are the search for beauty and meaning, and the artistic female character—whether she is a painter, a gardener, or simply someone who lives creatively and seeks connection.
Mahkovec was born and raised in a small town in Illinois. She then spent several years in the San Francisco Bay area and Seattle, and for the past thirty years has lived in New York City. She has a PhD in English, specializing in Victorian literature. She has previously published as Agnes Irene.
Cold Case in Nuala
Come Tomorrow
Twelve-year-old Luci Quick never forgot the boy who saved her life that fateful Christmas Eve. But when he disappeared without a word after bringing her food, she was forced to focus on raising her baby sister when her mother suddenly died. Now six years later and struggling to make ends meet with an alcoholic and gambling-addicted father, the poverty-stricken woman can't believe her hero has returned...and he's all grown up.
Wesley Ford's world changed after helping the girl who still haunts his dreams. When he was whisked away to boarding school at fourteen, he feared he'd never see her again. But now free to come back following his father's death, the wealthy heir is shocked to discover Luci and her sibling never escaped their rundown shack.
With fate dealing her another opportunity for happiness, Luci seizes the day when an offer of help turns into an unexpected proposal. But before they can settle into their future, Wesley must face painful family secrets that could tear them apart forever.
Can a Yuletide miracle make a wish for love come true?
Come Tomorrow is the first book in the uplifting Castaway Christmas historical romance holiday series. If you like feel-good tear-jerkers, engaging characters, and sweet magical realism, then you'll adore Tess Thompson's Edwardian rags-to-riches story.
Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical romantic women’s fiction with nearly forty published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on “Hometowns and Heartstrings.”
Cross Country
Having her father away in Vietnam wasn't easy for Bets, but she soon discovers having him back home comes with its own set of problems. When a letter from her friend Emmie arrives along with a ticket to the Woodstock Music Festival, Bets has a tough decision to make. Should she stick it out back home or leave her problems behind for a cross-country adventure?
There's a lot happening in 1969, and figuring it all out is complicated. The people Bets encounters all have their own perspectives, each changing the way Bets thinks about the war in Vietnam, the problems America is dealing with, and her own problems at home.
Cry of the Fish Eagle
Flying Officer Rupert Pengelly briefly escapes war to the British colony of Rhodesia. His mission not just duty-driven but a promise to look for an orphaned young girl, Sasa Savage. Having disappeared into the African bush with her eccentric grandfather, she is lost to him and with time running out he rejoins the theatre of war.
When peace returns, Rupert travels home to his beloved Cornwall and the farm he loves, only to learn he has been cruelly cheated out of his inheritance by his distant cousin. Devastated and desolate. Rupert is torn. Can he keep a pledge to a dead man and return to Rhodesia continuing the search for the missing girl? Will the cry of the fish eagle call to him?
Dagger's Destiny
"I highly recommend Dagger’s Destiny. For anybody with an interest in historical fiction, there is plenty to love in the setting Linnea Tanner has created. For those with an interest in epic fantasy...Dagger’s Destiny is a book sure to keep your interest. Both genres are blended together into a seamless whole with outstanding results." —Readers' Favorite
A Celtic warrior princess accused of treason for aiding her enemy lover must win back her father's love and trust. In the rich and vibrant tale, Author Linnea Tanner continues the story of Catrin and Marcellus that began with the awarding-winning novel Apollo's Raven in the Curse of Clansmen and Kings Series. Book 2, Dagger's Destiny sweeps you into an epic tale of forbidden love, mythological adventure, and political intrigue in Ancient Rome and Britannia.
War looms over 24 AD Britannia where rival tribal rulers fight each other for power and the Romans threaten to invade to settle their political differences. King Amren accuses his daughter, Catrin, of treason for aiding the Roman enemy and her lover, Marcellus. The ultimate punishment is death unless she can redeem herself. She must prove loyalty to her father by forsaking Marcellus and defending their kingdom--even to the death. Forged into a warrior, she must overcome tribulations and make the right decisions on her quest to break the curse that foretells her banished half-brother and the Roman Empire will destroy their kingdom.
Yet, when Catrin again reunites with Marcellus, she is torn between her love for him and duty to King Amren. She must ultimately face her greatest challenger who could destroy her life, freedom, and humanity.
Will Catrin finally break the ancient prophecy that looms over her kingdom? Will she abandon her forbidden love for Marcellus to win back her father's trust and love? Can King Amren balance his brutality to maintain power with the love he feels for Catrin?
More Reviews:
2019 Readers' Favorite GOLD MEDAL Fiction Magic/Wizardry
2019 Global Ebook Award GOLD MEDAL Fantasy/Historical
"Imbued with both Roman and Celtic traditions, myths and legends, the story draws a contrastive parallel between the two cultures and civilizations. There are memorable scenes such as the brilliant description of the fertility rite meant to validate Marcellus's claim to kinship and to symbolize his union with the Earth Goddess who bestows rich crops and large livestock. If the realism of the story is ensured by the constantly changing network of political alliances and backstabbing, its beauty springs from the wonderfully interwoven mythological references and enlightening mystical experiences." —OnlineBookClub.org
"...a wonderful tale of romance, intrigue, mystery, and legend to create an entertaining and complex story...the magic of the druids was woven into the story, complementing the drama being created between Catrin's desire to prove her loyalty to her father, and the machinations of Rhan and Marrock. Everything meshes together to give the reader a truly entertaining story of love, magic, and betrayal." —The International Review of Books
"There is never a dull moment in this book...If you are looking for an exciting adventure that leaves you wanting more, do not pass up Dagger's Destiny. Boasting fully developed characters and a well-defined setting, this book caters to all readers. The romance, fantasy, action and subterfuge are sure to win over readers from several genres." —Literary Titan (Gold Book Award)
“Ancient Rome and Britain are the background settings for this epic tale of love, betrayal and political intrigue. The Roman era and the ensuing battles between the clan leaders in Britain during the first century AD do not often appear as the setting for fantasy novels—a pity, since this era is very intriguing. Dagger’s Destiny is historical fantasy at its finest, and a must read for anyone who enjoys history involving ancient Rome.” —Majanka Verstraete for InD’Tale Magazine
“Author Linnea Tanner is a master storyteller of historical fantasy. Set in first century Britannia, a fantastical isle, the theme of balancing duty with illicit love, the consuming lust for power, intrigue and Celtic magic provides conflict and twists in this spell-binding story.” —AuthorsReading
“Dark magic, familial revenge and an illicit romance. This story packs a punch and the author doesn’t hold back on the intrigue or the mystical power of the druids. You may have heard the phrase ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’, then this story has it in spades.” —Author Luciana Cavallaro
Author Bio:
Award-winning Author Linnea Tanner weaves Celtic tales of love, magical adventure, and political intrigue into the backdrop of Ancient Rome and Britannia. Since childhood, she has passionately read about ancient civilizations and mythology which held women in higher esteem. Of particular interest are the enigmatic Celts who were reputed as fierce warriors and mystical Druids.
Depending on the time of day and season of the year, you will find her exploring and researching ancient and medieval history, mythology and archaeology to support her writing. As the author of the Curse of Clansman and Kings series, she has extensively researched and traveled to sites described within each book.
A native of Colorado, Linnea attended the University of Colorado and earned both her bachelor's and master's degrees in chemistry. She lives in Windsor with her husband and has two children and six grandchildren.
Dear Inmate
Their silent disgust failed to affect me anymore. But this was not silent. This was loud and forceful and violent. I could not ignore it.
Massachusetts, 1854. The anti-foreigner American Party, better known as the "Know-Nothings," take power throughout the state. The city of Lowell elects Leonard Ward, a member of the party, as its mayor. Suddenly the "Know-Nothings" are everywhere. And they're going after the Irish.
Rosaleen is ready to fight back. Emboldened by strange conspiracies about the Catholic Church, violent mobs and corrupt government officials are making life nearly unbearable for her people. Lowell's newly formed police department is committed to ridding the streets of "Irish filth," beating and arresting anyone who crosses them. When Rosaleen uncovers a horrific truth, it will test her in ways she could never have imagined.
Targeted by dangerous opposition, she needs help. But are her friends as loyal as she believes?
About the Author
Boyle, Lisa: - Lisa Boyle has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Born and raised in Finksburg, Maryland, Lisa received bachelor's degrees in journalism and international affairs from Northeastern University in Boston, Massachusetts. As part of her college program, Lisa traveled the Middle East and spent two months reporting on political and human-interest stories. She has been published in various online publications and magazines, and has held many different jobs over the years from cheesemonger, to educator at the U.S.S. Constitution Museum. Lisa and her husband Tim live in North Carolina with their daughter and a goofy-looking mutt named Lloyd.
Death in Damascus: A Heathcliff Lennox Murder Mystery
There's a damsel in distress and accusations of attempted murder flying around, but it's not in the comfortable confines of the English countryside, it's in the very distant city of Damascus. Lennox must go and investigate, although he's not too keen on exotic locations, and his old retainer, Greggs is distinctly averse to the very idea.
Nevertheless, ex-Chief Inspector Swift persuades them and they reach the ancient city to discover a movie crew, a spy and a couple of mysterious ladies. Nobody seems to be telling the truth, they all have secrets, and there's one secret in particular that's drawn them like bees to the honeypot. But what is it? And then there's murder, and mysteries from the ancient past, and a handsome Sheik who remains in the shadows.
Heathcliff Lennox and Swift must investigate and use all their ingenuity to unravel the enigma that lies hidden in the dusty streets of ancient Damascus.
Major Heathcliff Lennox, ex-WW1 war pilot, six feet 3 inches, unruly dark blond hair, age around 30 - named after the hero of Wuthering Heights by his romantically minded mother - much to his great annoyance. Death in Damascus is the fourth book in the Lennox series.
Drifter: Book Four
Duet for Three Hands
“I stayed up the entire night reading Duet for Three Hands…[it] was the epitome of unputdownable.” —The Bookish Owl
A standalone historical romance from USA Today bestselling author Tess Thompson that teaches a valuable lesson about life's most important choice: embracing the power of love or being consumed by the power of hate.
Nathaniel Fye's marriage into the wealthy Bellmont family is one of convenience, and the brilliant concert pianist soon discovers he has no idea who his wife really is. Then tragedy leaves Nathaniel with nothing more than memories of his fame and fortune, and a single protege—the widow Lydia Tyler—to continue teaching.
Jeselle Thorton's heart has always belonged to one man, who, fortunately for Jeselle, has always reciprocated her love. But because of the color of their skin, the couple can never have more than their dreams of a future together.
Four lives brought together by circumstance will be forced to combat prejudice and risk everything in this deep and complex family saga of forbidden love and flawed humanity in America's Depression-era South.
SCROLL FOR SAMPLE!
Author Bio:
Tess Thompson is the USA Today Bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary and historical Romantic Women’s Fiction with nearly forty published titles. When asked to describe her books, she could never figure out what to say that would perfectly sum them up until she landed on Hometowns and Heartstrings.
Book Excerpt:
Part 1
From Jeselle Thorton’s journal.
June 10, 1928
When I came into the kitchen this morning, Mrs. Bellmont handed me a package wrapped in shiny gold paper, a gift for my thirteenth birthday. A book, I thought, happy. But it wasn’t a book to read. It was a book to write in: a leather-bound journal. Inches of blank pages, waiting for my words.
Mrs. Bellmont beamed at me, seemingly pleased with my delight over the journal. “You write whatever ideas and observations come to you, Jeselle. Don’t censor yourself. Women, especially, can only learn to write by telling the truth about themselves and those around them.”
I put my nose in the middle of all those empty pages and took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the clean smell of new paper. Behind us Mama poured hotcake batter into a frying pan. The room filled with the aroma of those sweet cakes and sizzling oil. Whitmore came in holding a string of fish he’d caught in the lake, the screen door slamming behind him.
“Tell me why it matters that you write?” asked Mrs. Bellmont in her soft teacher voice.
“I cannot say exactly, Mrs. Bellmont.” Too shy to say the words out loud, I shrugged to hide my feelings. But I know exactly. I write to know I exist, to know there is more to me than flesh and muscle being primed for a life of humility, servitude, obedience. I write, seeking clarity. I write because I love. I write, searching for the light.
Mrs. Bellmont understood. This is the way between us. She squeezed my hand, her skin cream over my coffee.
Tonight, for my birthday present, Whit captured lightning bugs in a glass jar, knowing how I love them. We set the jar on the veranda, astonished at the immensity of their combined glow. “Enough light in there to write by,” I said, thinking of my journal now tucked in my apron pocket.
“They spark to attract a mate,” he said, almost mournfully.
“They light up to find love?” I asked, astonished.
He nodded. “Isn’t it something?”
We watched those bugs for a good while until Whit pushed his blond curls back from his forehead like he does when he worries.
“What is it?” I asked him.
“They shouldn’t be trapped in this jar when they’re meant to fly free, to look for love.”
He unscrewed the lid, and those flickers of life drifted out into the sultry air until they intermingled with other fireflies, liberated to attract the love they so desperately sought. I moved closer to him. He took my hand as we watched and watched, not wanting the moment to end but knowing it must, as all moments do, both good and bad, light and dark, leaving only love behind to be savored in our memories.
Chapter 1: Nathaniel
On a hot and humid day in the middle of June, Nathaniel Fye rehearsed for a concert he was to give that night at the Howard Theatre with the Atlanta Orchestra. It was late afternoon when he emerged from the cool darkness of the theatre into the glaring afternoon heat and noise of Peachtree Street. He walked toward the large W that hung over the Hotel Winecoff, where he planned to eat a late afternoon meal and then head up to his room for a rest and a bath before dressing for the evening concert. Thick, humid air and gasoline fumes from passing automobiles made him hot even in his white linen summer suit. Across to Singapore, starring Joan Crawford, was displayed on the Loew’s Theatre marquee. What sort of people went to the moving pictures, he wondered? Ordinary people who had lives filled with fun and love and friendship instead of traveling from town to town for concerts and nothing but practice in between. All the travel had been tolerable, even exciting, when he was younger, but now, as his age crept into the early thirties, he found himself wanting companionship and love, especially from a woman. Lately, he daydreamed frequently of a wife and children, a home. The idea filled him with longing, the kind that even the accolades and enthusiastic audiences could not assuage. But he was hopeless with women. Tongue-tied, stammering, sweating, all described his interactions with any woman but his mother. His manager, Walt, was good with people. He could talk to anyone. But Nathaniel? He could never think of one thing to say to anyone—his preferred way of communication was music. When his hands were on the keys it was as if his soul were set free to love and be loved, everything inside him released to the world. He would never think of taking the astonishing opportunities his talent had afforded him for granted, especially after the sacrifices his parents had made for him to study with the finest teachers in the world. Even so, he was lonely. The disciplined life and his natural reticence afforded little opportunity for connection.
A young woman stood near the entrance of the Winecoff, one foot perched saucily on the wall while balancing on the other, reading a magazine. She wore a cream-colored dress, and her curly, white-blonde hair bobbed under a cloche hat of fine-woven pink straw with a brim just wide enough to cover her face. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the door’s glass window, suddenly conscious of his own appearance. Tall, with a slight slump at his shoulders from years at the piano, dark hair under his hat, high cheekbones and sensitive brown eyes from his father but a delicate nose and stern mouth from his mother. Handsome? He suspected not. Just because you wish something didn’t make it so, he thought. As his hand touched the door to go in, the young woman looked up and stared into his eyes. “Good afternoon. How do you do?”
Porcelain skin, gray eyes, perfect petite features, all combined to make a beautiful, exquisite, but completely foreign creature. A beautiful woman. Right here, in front of him. What to do? His heart flipped inside his chest and started beating hard and fast. Could she tell? Was it visible? He covered his chest with his hand, hot and embarrassed. “Yes.” He lifted his hat. Oh, horrors: his forehead was slick with sweat. Yes? Had he just said yes? What had she asked him? He moved his gaze to a spot on the window. A fly landed on the glass and went still, looking at him with bulging eyes.
Her voice, like a string attached to his ear, drew his gaze back to her. “It’s unbearably hot. I could sure use a Coca-Cola.” With a flirtatious cock of her head, she smiled. She had the same thick Georgian accent as all the women in Atlanta, but there was a reckless, breathless quality in the way she oozed the words.
“Quite. Yes. Well, goodbye, then.” He somehow managed to open the door and slip inside.
The hotel was quiet. Several women lounged in the lobby, talking quietly over glasses of sweet tea. A man in a suit sat at one of the small desks provided for guests, writing into a ledger. A maid scurried through with an armful of towels. He wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the wall. What was the matter with him? How was it possible to hold the attention of hundreds during a concert, yet be unable to utter a single intelligible thing to one lone woman?
He stumbled over to the café counter and ordered a sandwich and a glass of Coca-Cola. He allowed himself one glass whenever he performed in Atlanta during the summer. The heat, as the young woman had said, made a person long for a Coca-Cola. But only one, no more or he might never stop, and next thing he knew he’d have one every day and then twice a day and so forth. Sweet drinks were an indulgence, a dangerous way to live for a man who must have complete discipline to remain a virtuoso. If he allowed himself anything or everything he wanted, where might it lead? He could not be like other people, even if he wanted to be.
Waiting for his drink, he heard, rather than saw, the door open, and then the blonde woman sat beside him, swinging her legs ever so slightly as she perched on the round bar stool. “Hello again.” She placed her hands, which were half the size of his and so white as to appear almost translucent, upon the counter. She interlaced her fingers, rather primly and in a way that seemed to belie the general forwardness of sitting next to a man she didn’t know at an otherwise empty counter. He nodded at her, catching a whiff of gardenia he supposed came from her smooth, white neck.
“Would you like to buy me a Coca-Cola?” She peered up at him from under her lashes. Her eyes were the color of storm clouds.
What was this? She wanted him to buy her a drink? Had she hinted at that outside? What a ninny he was. Of course. Any imbecile could have picked up on that. Walt would have had her in here with a soda in her hand before the door closed behind them. He tried to respond, but his voice caught in the back of his throat. Instead he nodded to the man in the white apron behind the fountain, who, in turn, also in silence, pulled the knob of the fountain spray with a beefy arm.
“I’ve just come from the Crawford picture. It was simply too marvelous for words. I do so love the moving pictures. What’s your name?” She pressed a handkerchief to the nape of her neck where soft curls lay, damp with perspiration. What would it feel like to wrap his finger in one of the curls?
“Nathaniel.”
“I’m Frances Bellmont. You from up north?”
“Maine originally. I live in New York City now.”
Her gray eyes flickered, and an eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “I see. A Yankee.” He thought he detected an excitement as she said it, as if to sit by him were an act of rebellion.
“As north as you can get and still be an American,” he said. At last. Words!
“’Round here we’re not sure any of y’all are true Americans.” She took a dainty sip from her soda and peered at him out of the corner of her eyes. “Now wait a minute. Are you Nathaniel Fye, the piano player?”
“Right.”
“Oh my.” She turned her full gaze upon him. “That is interesting.” She had full lips that looked almost swollen. “My mother and I happen to be attending that very concert tonight. I don’t enjoy such serious music, but my mother simply adores it. We’re staying overnight here at the Winecoff. We live all the way across town, and mother thought it would be nice to stay overnight. Together.” She rolled her eyes.
Before he knew what he was saying, a lie stumbled from his mouth. “Party. Later. In my suite. You could come. Your mother, too.”
“A party? I’d love to attend. Do I have to bring my mother?” She sipped her soda while looking up at him through her lashes.
“I, I don’t know.” He stuttered. “Isn’t that how it’s done?”
She slid off her seat, touching the sleeve of his jacket like a caress. “I’m just teasing. We wouldn’t think of missing it. I’ll see you then.” And then she was out the door, leaving only the smell of her perfume behind, as if it had taken up permanent residence in his nostrils.
Later that night, before the concert, he stood at the full-length mirror in the greenroom of the Howard Theatre, brushing lint from his black tuxedo jacket. Walt sat across from him in one of the soft chairs, scouring the arts section of the New York Times and occasionally making notations in a small notebook.
“I’d like to have a small group up to my room. After the concert tonight.”
“What did you say?” Walt, a few years younger than Nathaniel, possessed light blue eyes that were constantly on the move, shifting and scanning, like a predator looking for his next meal. He was once an amateur violinist who had played in his small town of Montevallo, Alabama, at church and town dances before he went to New York City. “Played the fiddle, but I didn’t have the talent to go all the way,” he told Nathaniel years ago, during their first interview. “But the music, it gets in a person’s blood, and I aim to make a life out of it however I can.”
Walt closed the newspaper without making a sound, like he was trying not to spook a wild horse. He stood, folding the newspaper under his arm. He had a slim build and wore wire-rimmed glasses. Receding light brown hair made his forehead appear more prominent than it once was. Despite his ordinary appearance, women flushed and giggled when he spoke to them. “Never, in five years, have you had folks up to your room. Much as I’ve asked you to.”
“I know,” Nathaniel said, shrugging as if it were nothing important. “You know I can never think of anything to say to people.”
Walt’s eyes were already at the door. “You want me to bring the music promoter I was telling you about? He’s keen to get after you with some ideas.”
“Fine.”
Walt rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I’ll make sure no one stays too late. We leave for the West tomorrow on the early train.” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “Why the sudden interest in sociability?” He raised an eyebrow and punched him on the shoulder. “Could it be the young lady I saw you with earlier?”
Nathaniel straightened his bow tie. “How did you know that?”
“I was checking into the hotel when I happened to see the two of you at the bar. I saw her again at the restaurant tonight. Dining with her mother, if I make my guess. They’re almost identical.”
Nathaniel wanted to ask more but kept quiet. He took his pocket watch out of his trousers and set it on the table. His pockets must be empty when he played. He stretched his fingers.
“You do know who they are, don’t you?” Walt’s forehead glistened. He took off his glasses and waved them in the air. Nathaniel couldn’t decide if he only imagined the movement was in the shape of a dollar sign.
“Last name’s Bellmont.”
“Yeah, that’s Frances Bellmont you bought a soda for, my friend. The Bellmont family’s old money. Used to own half of Georgia. He’s a vice president over at Coca-Cola.”
“I see.”
Walt waggled his fingers, teasing. “I know you don’t care about such things.”
“Just be at my room at ten,” Nathaniel said, chuckling. “Before anyone else arrives. I’ll need you to do the talking.”
“My mama always said I was a good talker,” said Walt.
“One of us has to be.”
“I’ll get hold of some champagne. From what I hear, Frances Bellmont likes her champagne.” He slapped Nathaniel on the back.
“What do you mean?” A dart of something, almost like fear, pierced the bottom of his stomach.
“Just rumors. Nothing to worry over.”
“Tell me.”
“She likes parties. That’s all.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s my job to know these kinds of things.” Walt put up his hand, like a command. “Stop. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you interested in a woman. Don’t ruin it by talking yourself out of it.” He left through the greenroom door, calling out behind him, “Good luck tonight.”
After the concert, Nathaniel went back to his suite and bathed the perspiration from his body, using a scrub brush and soap he imagined smelled like a woman’s inner wrist. He washed his thick, dark hair and flicked it back with pomade so that the waves that sometimes fell over his forehead were tamed. Using a straight blade to shave his face, he scrutinized his looks. Would he ever be appealing to a girl like Frances Bellmont? His eyes were brown and on the small side, if he were truthful. And his lips were thin, now that he really looked at them, although he had straight, white teeth. That was something. People were always telling Walt that Nathaniel came across as intense, and sometimes even the word frightening had been used. I’ll smile, he assured himself. Easy and fun, like Walt.
He hung his tuxedo in the closet and smoothed the bed cover from where he’d rumpled it during his earlier nap. Then he straightened the sitting room, disposing of a newspaper and moving several music sheets marked with his latest composition to the other room. Would people sit, he wondered? Or stand? He looked about the room. He hadn’t noticed much about it upon his arrival. All hotels began to look the same after a while. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room, cascading like fallen tears and casting subdued light across a dark green couch with scalloped legs. A round table stood between two straight-backed chairs with cushions decorated in a complicated red floral design. Would there be enough room for everyone? How many did Walt invite? He should have asked. Despite his recent bath, he began to perspire.
Just then there was a knock on the door. It was Walt, looking newly shaven and dapper in a tan linen suit with a blue tie. With him was a man about Walt’s age, whom he introduced as Ralph Landry. “How do you know Walt?” Nathaniel asked him, feigning interest, trying to keep his gaze from wandering to the door.
“Knew one another growing up in Montevallo, Alabama.” Ralph’s accent sounded like a foreign language to Nathaniel: slow, elongated vowels, twice as many, it seemed, than words usually had, and no “r” sounds. “Moved out to New York together for college, and I went on to med school. Now I’m headed back to Montevallo to start my own practice.” Ralph’s face, pink and fleshy, looked like the underbelly of a sow, and he had a particularly thick neck that seemed about to pop open his bow tie.
“Best of luck to you.” Nathaniel cleared his throat and glanced over at Walt, who was taking bottles of champagne out of an apple crate. He forced himself to look back to his companion.
“How’s your younger brother doing?” Walt asked.
“Half-brother,” Ralph corrected him. “He calls himself Mick now.” Ralph’s face turned serious. “He’s at loose ends since graduating from high school.”
“Send him out to California,” said Walt. “Didn’t you tell me he lives for moving pictures? He could get a job out there.”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Ralph.
“We can thank Ralphie here for the illegal suds,” Walt said, slapping is friend on the back.
Ralph took a big sip. “Well, let’s just say being able to stitch folks up after a gunshot wound in the middle of the night provides some benefits.” He laughed and took another gulp of champagne. “Have to get a little wop blood on my hands sometimes, but it’s worth it.”
Nathaniel felt a blast of revulsion, knowing Ralph meant the New York underworld of organized crime. One of the head crime bosses had asked Nathaniel to play at his daughter’s birthday party several years ago. He booked an overseas tour to get out of it, fearing his hands might be crushed if he refused.
“You want a drink, Nathaniel?” asked Walt.
Nathaniel shook his head, no.
“Don’t drink, Mr. Fye?” asked Ralph.
“I do not,” said Nathaniel, stifling a sigh. This was a mistake. Frances probably wouldn’t even show, and he’d be trapped here all night while these derelicts went through the half-case of champagne.
“Nathaniel here is looking for sainthood after his death,” said Walt. “All he does is work. So you and I’ll have to drink his share.”
Before Walt could answer, there was another knock on the door. It was John Wainwright, the music promoter, and his wife. Walt had told Nathaniel the wife’s name, but he couldn’t remember it. The palms of his hands were damp. His throat tightened. The pulse at his neck was rapid, yet his breathing felt shallow, like he couldn’t get enough air. He caught a glimpse of the bed in the other room and felt a sudden, intense longing for the feel of the cool sheets on his skin.
To his relief, John Wainwright came over to him and held out his hand, introducing himself. Mr. Wainwright had the kind of face no one would remember in the morning and a limp, clammy handshake, like a faded, damp cloth on a clothesline. His wife wore a black evening gown that clung to her wide hips and large breasts. Her copper red hair was cut in an unflattering blunt bob above the ears. She stared at Nathaniel with eyes rimmed in charcoal-colored liner, grasping in her gloved hands the program from tonight’s concert. “Autograph for me?” She blushed, the fat of her upper arms straining against the elastic of her long white gloves.
He did so, avoiding her gaze. My God, the room was stifling. He reached inside his jacket for his handkerchief and wiped the palms of his hands and then mopped his brow.
“I’m just absolutely thrilled to meet you.” Mrs. Wainwright’s highpitched voice reminded Nathaniel of one of those yappy lapdogs he saw with wealthy New York socialites. “Oh, the excitement in the theatre tonight when your hands hovered over the keyboard before those last notes. I thought the woman next to me might faint. How do you do it?” Her eyes bulged as she leaned forward, so close to his face that he caught a whiff of onions on her breath.
“It’s just my job.” His voice sounded like a rusty gate. He tried to smile, feeling as if his lips were caught against his teeth. “Same as anyone.”
Another knock on the door. Walt, setting down his glass of champagne, moved to answer it. Nathaniel held his breath. He wanted it to be her. And he didn’t want it to be her.
Walt opened the door, and there stood Frances Bellmont. She wore a pale blue gown with rows of fringe all the way up the skirt, which reminded him of the spikes of sea anemones. Fair hair curled around her face, and her stormy eyes were made up with black mascara. They sparkled even from across the room and were, for an instant, the only things Nathaniel could see. He tore his eyes away from her. Yes, he thought, that’s what it felt like to turn away, like a ripping away from something life-giving. Her mother was equally lovely, and Walt was correct, they looked remarkably alike, except Mrs. Bellmont was several inches shorter and wore her hair in longer curls.
The room had gone silent, like an enchanted breeze had woven its way among everyone, rendering them speechless. Walt recovered first, taking the Bellmont ladies’ hands in turn and introducing himself. Nathaniel could do nothing but stare at his shoes and wish for a piano where he could play and hide. And then, like walking in a strong wind, he came forward and put his hand out to Mrs. Bellmont. She took it, and he brought her gloved hand up to his lips in the way he’d seen Walt do many times to young ladies after concerts.
“Mr. Fye, I’m pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Bellmont’s eyes were identical to Frances’s, except without any makeup. She was virtually unlined, but her face was thinner than her daughter’s, showing evidence of her age. He imagined, for a brief, insane moment, that he saw his future, but then her lovely resonant voice, like a stringed instrument, brought him back to the present. “The concert was simply lovely. What a privilege to meet you in person.”
“Mr. Fye, good to see you again.” Frances tugged at her gloves as her eyes shifted about the room. “Are more guests expected?”
“I’m not sure. Walt arranged this.” Frances’s gloves were off now, dangling in her left hand like discarded snakeskins. “Oh, I do hope so. It’s wonderful to be out. You must have such a glamorous life in New York City.” She held out her left hand.
He took the offered hand, but instead of kissing it properly as he intended, his shaking hand seemed incapable of bringing it to his mouth; instead of making contact with her soft skin, he kissed the air just above her knuckles, resulting in a smacking from his lips that sounded like a baby suckling. He felt his ears turn red.
Frances smiled at him and removed her hand, which was the texture of a rose petal. Dazzling, that’s the only way he could think to describe her smile. It reached him someplace deep inside, stirring feelings he didn’t know he had. Was it possible that a man like him could get a woman like Frances Bellmont to love him? If only he were less awkward, less confused.
She stuffed her gloves into the small, black purse she carried. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you have a glamorous life in New York City? I imagine you know actresses and singers. Think of that, Mother.” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, her eyes bright, “I suppose there are hundreds of parties?”
“I’m unsure. I travel much of the time. In fact, I leave for the West tomorrow. I’ll be gone eight weeks.”
“The West? Do you mean California?” asked Frances.
“Yes. All the western cities, including San Francisco and Los Angeles.”
“Hollywood?” Frances clapped her hands together. “How exciting.”
“I suppose.” He wanted to tell her how lonely he was, how comforting it would be to have a wife by his side, but, of course, he could not. Even he knew this was not appropriate cocktail party conversation.
Ralph Landry brought champagne to both the Bellmont ladies and then guided Mrs. Bellmont over to the Wainwrights, leaving Nathaniel alone with Frances. For the second time in less than a minute he wished for a piano, and then he simply wished for music, but there was not a gramophone in the room and no piano at which he might sit and transform into the man featured on posters and programs. Instead, in the glow of the beautiful Frances Bellmont he was merely a large, awkward man in an expensive suit.
He remembered then, as if it were only yesterday, standing at the side of the Grange hall when he was in his late teens, home for a brief visit before he left for New York City to begin another chapter in his tutelage, dressed in a suit made by his mother. For days, while he practiced in the other room, he’d heard the stop and go of the sewing machine, between his scales and notes; his mother unconsciously matched the rhythm of whatever he played—relegated, for her son, to seamstress from her own seat at the piano bench.
That night, at the Grange, a band of the variety Walt had once been part of played as entertainment. There was a fiddler, a banjo player, and a pianist who had no feel for the subtlety of music. The singer was a young woman with a clear, crystal voice; thick, shiny, brown hair arranged in a loose bun at the nape of her neck; and round, blue eyes the color of the sea on a sunny day. She wore a cheap cotton dress, loose like it belonged to an older sister, but Nathaniel could see the roundness of her hips and breasts, could imagine what her thighs might feel like in his hands. And the desire for her rivaled even his ambition, so that for nights afterward he thought of her, staring at the ceiling in his childhood bedroom, which was no bigger than a closet, with walls so thin he imagined he heard the wood rotting in the sea air. He prayed for the thoughts to go away, even while imagining himself as the moderately skilled piano player next to her. He wondered, should this be his small life instead of the large one his mother imagined for him, that he, indeed, had imagined for himself?
But he’d gone away, to live with his mentor, and it would be years before he acted on his base desires with a prostitute in New York. While he thrust into the half-used-up immigrant girl who spoke only the romantic, lyrical Italian of her native country, he closed his eyes and imagined the singer. It was only after he was done that he truly looked at the girl’s face and saw her humanity. She was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister. What had he done? Sickened, his lust was immediately replaced by a terrible feeling of regret and shame that lived in his gut for months afterward, like a flu from which he couldn’t recover. But he was a man, and there were others from time to time, all women who traded pleasure for money. It shamed him, each one, and yet he was a slave to his desires. Without a wife, he must turn to these destitute women and then repent on Sundays and ask for forgiveness. How lonely it was, this life that was his destiny. The feeling of desolation lessened only when he played. And so he did. Day after day. Night after night.
Now, at this makeshift party, Frances drank her champagne as if it were water. Think of something to say, he commanded himself. Cigarettes. Offer a cigarette. Women liked that. Did they like that? He had no idea what women liked. “Would you like a cigarette?”
“No thank you. Not in front of Mother. She has this ridiculous notion it’s bad for a woman’s complexion.”
He put them back in his coat pocket without taking one for himself and then stuffed his hands in his pockets. Under his jacket, he drew his stomach to his backbone, cringing inside. He caught Walt’s eyes and silently begged him for rescue. Walt understood, apparently, because he brought Mrs. Bellmont over to where Nathaniel stood with Frances and offered his arm to the younger woman. “Miss Bellmont, come with me. I’ll introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright. And my old friend, Ralph Landry.”
After they had gone, Mrs. Bellmont smiled up at Nathaniel. “Frances was awfully happy to be invited to a party. We don’t have nearly as an eventful life as she wishes.” Her accent was slightly different from Frances’s, clipped with more distinct “r” sounds.
This was something, he thought. Something to ask. “Are you from Georgia originally?”
“A small town in Mississippi, but I’ve been in Georgia for more than twenty years now.” She paused, glancing over to where Frances was now talking with the Wainwrights. “Frances tells me you’re from Maine. I’ve read it’s beautiful there.”
“I’ve never been anywhere prettier.” A surge of pleasure exploded inside him. Frances had spoken about him to her mother. Perhaps she liked him a little. “If you can stand the winters.”
“How does your father earn his living?”
“Lobster. Worked the cages almost every day of his life, pulling up those crates with his bare hands, often to find only one or two lobsters at a time.”
“He’s passed, then?”
He nodded, feeling the ache in his chest that had taken a year to subside. “Three years ago.”
“He lived to see your success?”
“Yes.”
“He must have been quite proud.”
“I believe so. He wasn’t one to talk much. My mother told me he used to listen to my recordings every single day before he died.”
His mother had been his first teacher, but after several years she decided he’d surpassed her ability to teach him and found a teacher of considerable reputation in the next town over. He remembered, vividly, his father taking the boat out on Sunday afternoons, even though it was the Sabbath, to catch additional lobsters to pay for Nathaniel’s lessons. “You can’t imagine what they gave up for me to have this life.”
“I’m sure I can.” She played with the collar of her gown, a lovely light green that reminded him of gowns he’d seen in Paris last year. He thought of his mother’s one decent dress, ironed faithfully every Saturday night to wear to church the next morning, until the fabric thinned at the elbows and frayed at the hem. “My grandmother did the same for me. And we must never forget those sacrifices.” Mrs. Bellmont smiled and took a small sip of champagne.
“Is Frances your only child?”
“No, I have a son. Whitmore.” Her face lit up when she said her son’s name.
From across the room Walt laughed and clinked glasses with Mrs. Wainwright and Frances. Nathaniel must have sighed because Mrs. Bellmont’s kind eyes met his as she touched the sleeve of his jacket. “What’s wrong, Mr. Fye?”
He blinked. “Nothing really.”
“You don’t usually host parties, I imagine?”
“Never.” He turned toward her. “I find it difficult.”
“Meeting new people?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve had to live a disciplined life. It doesn’t leave much time for social engagements.” Her voice was sympathetic, understanding. “So why tonight?”
He took his hands out of his pockets. The bubbles in Mrs. Bellmont’s glass floated one by one to the top of her drink.
“I suggested the party for the sole purpose of seeing your daughter. I also wanted to meet you properly so that I might ask if I could call on her when I return from the West. But when she was in front of me, I couldn’t think of one thing to say.”
Mrs. Bellmont was silent for a moment, twisting the stem of her champagne glass with her fingers. “When I married, my husband paraded me in front of people like I was a prize racehorse. I have a nervous stomach, and I’d be sick for hours beforehand. I had to figure out a way to get through those engagements.”
“What did you do?”
“You’ll laugh.”
He smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time that night. “I promise not to.”
“I found a book called The Lost Art of Conversation, by Horatio Sheafe Krans. I probably should have read Emily Post instead, but I’m one to look to the masters first, so I muddled through each of the essays, and do you know what I learned?”
He put his hand up to his heart. “Tell me, Mrs. Bellmont, and save me from a life of solitude.”
She laughed. “It all comes to this.” She raised one hand in the air like a preacher. “Ask questions.”
“Questions?”
“Precisely. Begin every conversation by asking a question of the other person. It never fails me. People love to talk about themselves.” She looked, once again, over at Frances, who was now talking with Mr. Wainwright, and then back at Nathaniel. “Mr. Fye, you must come visit us. This isn’t the setting to talk with Frances properly.”
“You might think I’m too old for her. I’m thirty-two.”
“Frances is twenty. Quite old enough to marry. My husband’s ten years older than I am. I see nothing wrong with it. Anyway, her father will like it if you call on her at our home. He’ll be delighted that a man of your reputation is interested in Frances.” She took another sip of her champagne.
“Do you think she would consider me?”
Her face softened further as her eyes turned a deeper shade of gray. “I didn’t raise a fool, Mr. Fye.”
“That’s kind. Thank you.” He forgot himself for a moment, forgot his terrible wanting of young Frances Bellmont and his paralyzing shyness. The room was beautiful and so were his party guests, and, in the company of Mrs. Bellmont, he felt like the kind of man who laughed at parties and thought of questions and answers. It was good, this, to have people around him, and he felt hope, too, for a future that might include the beguiling Frances Bellmont and her lovely mother.
Then, he noticed Frances and Walt across the room in a corner by themselves. Frances leaned into Walt, whispering something in his ear. Walt flushed and shook his head. A moment later Walt left Frances and came to stand next to him. “Excuse me, Mrs. Bellmont, but it’s getting late, and our prodigy here needs his beauty rest.”
Mrs. Bellmont set her glass on the table behind them. “Oh, of course. It’s getting late for us, too.” She waved to Frances. “Time to go, darlin’.”
Frances stood next to Ralph Landry now; he poured more champagne in her glass. “But we just arrived,” said Frances.
“Nathaniel has a busy day tomorrow,” said Walt. Nathaniel stared at him. He’d never heard Walt sound so cold. What had happened?
Frances glared at Walt while drinking the rest of her champagne in one swallow.
Everyone else bustled about, getting ready to leave. Goodbyes were made until it was only the Bellmont women left, standing in the doorway, and Walt, gathering the empty champagne bottles.
“Good night, Mr. Fye,” Frances said. “It was awfully nice of you to invite us.” Behind them, Walt flung bottles into the apple crate. Frances leaned forward, pulling at the lapel of Nathaniel’s suit jacket, and whispered in his ear. “Please tell me I’ll see you again soon?”
“I would like that very much.”
“Mr. Fye’s agreed to call on us at the house when he returns from California,” said Mrs. Bellmont to her daughter.
Frances gave Nathaniel her hand. “Something to look forward to then, even though it seems terribly far away.” She paused, looking up at him from under thick lashes. “I can’t remember a better evening.”
Nathaniel kissed both women’s hands and bid them good night. After he closed the door, he turned toward Walt, grinning. “She wants to see me again. I can hardly believe it.”
“I don’t think Frances Bellmont’s a good idea.” Walt went to the table and poured a last bit of champagne into his glass from the open bottle on the table.
“Why? Did something happen between you?”
“Let’s just say I know women, and she’s trouble.” Walt downed the champagne in one gulp and thumped the glass down on the table. “You could have your pick of women, you know, if you could conquer this shyness.”
“I tried tonight, Walt. I thought you’d be pleased.” He deflated, like a cake just taken from the oven into a cold room.
“I want you to be happy. I know you’re lonely, the way we work all the time. Hell, so am I. But you have to be careful of beautiful women. They come at a price.”
“They do?”
“The most important decision of any man’s life is who he chooses as his wife. Remember that.” Walt picked up his jacket from one of the chairs and draped it over his arm. “Miss Bellmont is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. That also makes her the most dangerous.”
Walt was out the door before Nathaniel could think of what to say.
Each to His Own: A House Divided
The war is over. But some wounds take time to heal...
The 1950's are in full swing, and for some, World War II is just a grim memory. Young Adam Beaumont, the son of a wealthy aristocratic family, is a commissioned officer in the Royal Air Force. With Adam's uncle wielding considerable influence, he is next in line for the Baronetcy. But Adam cares little for family politics, and is still haunted by the murder of his Malayan mother at the hands of the Japanese.
At a debutante ball, Adam overhears whispers of scandal. Beau, his pompous and arrogant cousin, claims Adam is illegitimate... that his father and mother never married, and he is not worthy of the family estate. With no marriage certificate to prove otherwise, Beau's insult strikes a nerve, and Adam's blood boils. He is determined to prove his cousin wrong, by any means necessary...
Traveling to Hong Kong to work in his uncle's branch of the family business, Adam delves into his family's wartime past. Desperate to find a witness to his parent's wedding, the young man makes the acquaintance of his father's old friend, Perry Marshbank. But in the years since the war, Perry has become a wanted drug lord, with deep ties to the underworld. And his motives for helping the young Beaumont are questionable indeed...
From the silken boudoirs of Hong Kong to the glitzy theatre palaces of New York, Each to His Own weaves historical fact and fiction into a memorizing tapestry. Fans of Ken Follett, James Michener, and Wilbur Smith won't want to miss the next epic chapter in the Beaumont saga.
Echoes from the Past: The Brigandshaw Chronicles Book 1
Two best friends divided by war. Can an Englishman and an Afrikaner carve out an existence for their families in the savage bush?
South Africa, 1887. Son of a tyrannical English sea captain, Sebastian Brigandshaw loves his childhood sweetheart and his country. But before he can marry, his cruel father banishes him and his broken heart to the British South African colonies. With the beauty of the backcountry and the goodwill of local Afrikaner Tinus, Seb builds a new life despite the threat of another Boer War on the horizon.
Ignoring the tensions threatening their land, Seb and Tinus grow close, determined to create a life on a farm with their two families. But as hostilities open between the Boers and the British, war places the devoted friends on opposite sides.
Can Seb and Tinus's friendship survive the brutal conflict, or are they destined to fight to the death for their countries?
Echoes from the Past is the first book in the gripping Brigandshaw Chronicles historical fiction series capturing the beautiful untouched wilderness of Southern Africa. If you like friendships battling against all odds, rich settings, and history-come-to-life, then you'll love Peter Rimmer's captivating saga.
Elephant Walk: The Brigandshaw Chronicles Book 2
War is inevitable, with two enemies finding themselves fighting on the same side. But one wants peace, the other intent on murder
With his Oxford days over, Harry Brigandshaw spends an idyllic summer at Purbeck Manor in the heart of the Dorset countryside and home to his friend Robert St Clair. Harry meets the young and impressionable Lucinda who falls madly in love with him but the love is not returned. Lucinda is to never forget.
The utopia of summer comes crashing down when Harry receives a devastating telegram from Africa. He must return home. Immediately Together, Harry and Robert set sail for Rhodesia and to Harry's beloved Elephant Walk. What was a mapped out future has now been crushed.
The years pass and 1914 approaches with England declaring war on Germany. With the conflict now in full swing and those closest to Harry enlisting in the army, Harry's brother is killed in action. Devastated, Harry enlists for vengeance. As he moves up the ranks, a past acquaintance from Oxford is also making a name for himself - the invincible killing machine, Fishy Braithwaite.
Fishy becomes jealous and a burning hatred begins to simmer. The motive turns personal. Winning is not so important. But who is Fishy after? Who will he kill?
Elephant Walk is the second book in the gripping Brigandshaw Chronicles historical fiction series with Peter Rimmer bringing to life the savagery and futility of war in Europe and the sheer beauty of Africa. If you like real-life people and their situations facing crises beyond their control, then you won't want to miss this next instalment of Peter Rimmer's saga.
Eternal Deception
A NEW BEGINNING THREATENS TO END IN DISASTER
The Kansas plains offer Nell a chance to support her small family and bring Sarah up away from the prying eyes that might discover her illegitimate birth. But when her only ally among the seminary's leaders dies, Nell finds herself at the mercy of people she doesn't entirely trust-and she's not in a position to escape.
As her talent as a dressmaker improves her fortunes, Nell attracts the attention of two suitors and struggles with the problem of reconciling love, independence, and respectability for her daughter's sake. Shocking news from back home and another death at the seminary force a decision.
A disastrous winter journey, a treacherous game, and an impossible love could wrest control of Nell's life out of her hands for good.
About the Author
Steen, Jane: - Jane Steen grew up in England but lived in Belgium and the United States as an adult, before returning to the UK in 2016. Her corporate writing career included translation, editorial guidance for lawyers, contract drafting, writing fundraising appeals, marketing for realtors, and freelancing as a communications consultant. Jane is an independent writer of historical fiction, concentrating on the Victorian mystery sub-genre. She is a member of the Alliance of Independent Authors, the Historical Novel Society, Novelists, Inc., and the Society of Authors.
Fair as a Star
2020 Library Journal Best Romance
"A kindhearted love story that will delight anyone who longs to be loved without limits. Highly recommended." —Library Journal
A Secret Burden...
After a mysterious sojourn in Paris, Beryl Burnham has returned home to the village of Shepton Worthy ready to resume the life she left behind. Betrothed to the wealthy Sir Henry Rivenhall, she has no reason to be unhappy—or so people keep reminding her. But Beryl's life isn't as perfect as everyone believes.
A Longstanding Love...
As village curate, Mark Rivenhall is known for his compassionate understanding. When his older brother's intended needs a shoulder to lean on, Mark's more than willing to provide one. There's no danger of losing his heart. He already lost that to Beryl a long time ago.
During an idyllic Victorian summer, friends and family gather in anticipation of Beryl and Sir Henry's wedding. But in her darkest moment, it's Mark who comes to Beryl's aid. Can he help her without revealing his feelings—or betraying his brother?
More Reviews:
"Historical romance fans won't want to miss this." —BookLife
“An emphasis on mental health care and compassion underlies a charming historical romance.” —Kirkus
“Fair as a Star is a must-read for all Victorian historical romance fans. It was hard to put down and kept me up late into the night.” —Readers’ Favorite
"Profoundly moving, tender and lovely, it's one of the best books I've read this year." —All About Romance
"If you love historical romance, you'll love this book." —The Herald-Dispatch
"Beautiful, poignant, heartfelt, moving and deeply romantic. Mimi Matthews has never impressed me more...and that's saying something." —Relz Reviewz
"This might just be Mimi Matthews' best book yet....An amazing, inspiring, heartwarming read." —Jane Porter, New York Times bestselling author
"Wonderfully poignant, intelligent, and one of my favorite novels of the year." —Elizabeth Camden, RITA and Christy award-winning author
"A gentle, beautiful love story... With a delicate touch, Matthews offers a timeless parable about loving and accepting others for who they are, flaws and all." —Clarissa Harwood, author of Impossible Saints
"A tender, delicate love story that effortlessly transports the reader to another era. Highly recommended!" —Sarah Ladd, bestselling author of The Cornwall Novels
Author Bio:
USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical non-fiction and traditional historical romances set in Victorian England. Her articles on nineteenth century history have been published on various academic and history sites, including the Victorian Web and the Journal of Victorian Culture, and are also syndicated weekly at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, two Shelties, and two Siamese cats.
Falling Through Time
Gwendolyn Allen has been in love with Reilly, her best friend, since she met him more than a decade ago. But dreams of a happily-ever-after are dashed when Gwen finally accepts that Reilly won't return her love for him. She's determined to move on, and she has...almost.
Reilly is tired of dancing to the Fates' tune, and when he and Gwen find themselves thrown together for three weeks, the Fates decide to step in...or rather, step out. Suddenly, everything Reilly knows is shaken to its core. When his otherworldly abilities begin to fall through time, Reilly may have to trust in something other than fate...
He might just have to trust in love.
Found in Pieces
A heart-rending story of two mothers-one white, one black-struggling for truth and justice in the Civil Rights-era South
In 1958, when almost no women own and edit newspapers, Pearl Goodbar, a white mother of two teen-age girls, risks her family's financial future to buy a small, defunct Southern weekly. Before she can get the paper up and running, her husband loses his job, a smoldering desegregation crisis flames up in the state capital, and Elton Washington-a young black man whose mother, Sadie Rose, is also a businesswoman-disappears.
The mystery of Elton's whereabouts brings Pearl and Sadie Rose together in a gut-wrenching search for truth and justice and leaves Pearl facing editorial and business decisions that could lead to more money woes and even physical harm to herself and those around her. Which way will she turn when commitment to honesty, integrity, and equal rights runs headlong into responsibility and duty to family?
Both women's lives are complicated further when townspeople learn what happened with Elton. Meanwhile, the head of the local White Citizens' Council stirs racial hatred, and another prominent white man hides a dark secret that Sadie Rose knows but will not tell. The town's former marshal-a white septuagenarian everyone calls Mr. Claude-and a black businessman-Leon Jackson-play important roles in the shocking events, including murder, that follow. But Pearl is key to the answers they seek.
Find out why.
About the Author
Adams, George Rollie: - George Rollie Adams is a native of southern Arkansas and a former teacher with graduate degrees in history and education. He is the author of South of Little Rock, which received four independent publishers' awards for regional and social issues fiction; author of General William S. Harney: Prince of Dragoons, a finalist for the Army Historical Foundation's Distinguished Book Award; coauthor of Nashville: A Pictorial History; and coeditor of Ordinary People and Everyday Life, a book of essays on social history. Adams has served as a writer, editor, and program director for the American Association for State and Local History and as director of the Louisiana State Museum in New Orleans. He is president and CEO emeritus of the Strong National Museum of Play, where he founded the American Journal of Play and led the establishment of the International Center for the History of Electronic Games.
Freedom Dues
Recipient of the 2021 Gold IBPA Benjamin Franklin Award, Historical Fiction category.
1729: Blair Eakins is a fifteen-year-old Ulster-Scot living in Ireland under the crushing weight of famine, poverty, and prejudice against his people. In search of a better future for himself and his beloved, he pays for passage to the American colonies the only way he can: he commits himself as an indentured servant for a term of four years, having no idea what he's in for. His rough ocean crossing is ony the beginning of a new life of hardships in Philadelphia. In Lodon, ten-year-old orphan pickpocket Mallie Ambrose is arrested for stealing a handkerchief. After experiencing the horror of Newgate prison, she is sentenced to Transportation; bound into indentured servitude and exiled to the American colonies. Once in Maryland, she is sold to a tyrannical tobacco planter for seven years. As Blair and Mallie each endure hellish conditions, their paths eventually cross when they are acquired by the same owner. After Blair steps in to defend Mallie from their cruel master, the two escape and head west, finding unlikely allies among the Delaware Indians. But as fugitive without rights, they live in constant fear of capture.Indra Zuno vividly portrays the terror and injustice of indentured servitude in pre-Revolutionary War America while championing the indomitable spirits of two strong survivors who struggle against monumental odds to find the freedom to love each other and control their own destiny.
Award: Benjamin Franklin Award - Gold Medal Winner
Full Circle
If you hope well in life, everything turns out fine. But hope for Rhodesia is fading...
Granted a Crown Land farm, all Bobby Preston wants is a life of happiness. With a woman by his side. His estate to flourish. A family. With that, he proposes marriage. To a girl he barely knows...
Full of optimism and excitement, Katie accepts and begins her voyage to Africa. Spending her first night under the African stars, it all seems perfect. But then doubts begin to set in. Tensions are rising with stirrings of a vicious conflict on the horizon. Black nationalism continues to grow, and the future is looking very bleak. For some...
The best of times are over and for Britain, its domination in Africa is beginning to crumble. Peter Rimmer's tenth outing, Full Circle, in the massive Brigandshaw Chronicles, will leave you with so many questions and a deep yearning for all it once was.
Gentleman Jim
Named a Kirkus “Best Books of 2020”
“A vigorous, sparkling, and entertaining love story with plenty of Austen-ite wit.” —Kirkus
She Couldn't Forget...
Wealthy squire's daughter Margaret Honeywell was always meant to marry her neighbor, Frederick Burton-Smythe, but it's bastard-born Nicholas Seaton who has her heart. Raised alongside her on her father's estate, Nick is the rumored son of notorious highwayman Gentleman Jim. When Fred frames him for theft, Nick escapes into the night, vowing to find his legendary sire. But Nick never returns. A decade later, he's long been presumed dead.
He Wouldn't Forgive...
After years spent on the continent, John Beresford, Viscount St. Clare has finally come home to England. Tall, blond, and dangerous, he's on a mission to restore his family's honor. If he can mete out a bit of revenge along the way, so much the better. But he hasn't reckoned for Maggie Honeywell. She's bold and beautiful—and entirely convinced he's someone else.
As danger closes in, St. Clare is torn between love and vengeance. Will he sacrifice one to gain other? Or, with a little daring, will he find a way to have them both?
More Reviews:
“Gentleman Jim by Mimi Matthews awakens your soul to the enduring power of love…. passionate and powerful.” —Readers’ Favorite
“Matthews…charms with this Regency tale of love, mistaken identity, and revenge…. This page-turner shouldn’t be missed.” —Publishers’ Weekly
“Matthews ups the ante with a wildly suspenseful romance, filled with scheming and betrayals, and featuring a courageous heroine in fragile health paired with a hero bent on retribution who isn't too good to be true.” —Library Journal
“Readers who love lots of intrigue and historicals that sound properly historical will savor this one.” —NPR
“Matthews demonstrates that even a frothy Regency romp can carry rewarding emotional heft. Gentleman Jim is an utter delight.” —Historical Novel Society
“…superb...an exciting paean to Heyer and to Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo...” —Frolic Media
“Full of spirit and suspense, Gentleman Jim is a Regency romantic adventure that will hold you utterly in thrall.” —Austenesque Reviews
“Rollicking and romantic, passionate and intriguing, Matthews has delivered a gorgeous love story, rife with legendary romantic tension...Regency romance does not get any better than Gentleman Jim.” —Relz Reviewz
Author Bio:
USA Today bestselling author Mimi Matthews writes both historical non-fiction and traditional historical romances set in Victorian England. Her articles on nineteenth century history have been published on various academic and history sites, including the Victorian Web and the Journal of Victorian Culture, and are also syndicated weekly at BUST Magazine. In her other life, Mimi is an attorney. She resides in California with her family, which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, two Shelties, and two Siamese cats.
Shop the Somerset Stories series
Harriet: A Jane Austen Variation
Harriet is an intriguing and original "take" on Jane Austen's immortal Emma, by Publishers Weekly's 2021 BookLife Prize Quarterfinalist, Alice McVeigh.
Emma, a privileged young heiress, decides to mentor Harriet Smith, a pretty boarding-school pupil, and to matchmake her as eligibly as she can... But how is she to guess that Harriet has a secret?
Meanwhile, the brilliant, penniless Jane Fairfax consents to a clandestine engagement with Frank Churchill - though not daring to confess, even to him, that she is being relentlessly pursued by her best friend's husband.
Harriet sidelines Emma herself in favour of the ingenious Harriet and the fascinating Jane Fairfax. It is Emma - but an Emma with a surprisingly believable twist in its tail.
"A dynamic take on a revered classic. This is still Austen's Emma-but the story that unfolds through the recollections of these two 'side' characters feels remarkably fresh... With or without an understanding of Emma, Harriet contains a fully-formed narrative that should satisfy even the choosiest Austen fans... Readers will rarely find the words 'page-turner' and 'Jane Austen' in the same sentence, but McVeigh's impeccably written Harriet certainly fits the bill." (IndieReader)
"A highly engrossing novel that captures the spirit of Austen and celebrates all the best qualities of her work from new and innovative angles... The characters are vibrant and full of life - McVeigh hits the mark spot-on." (Readers Favorite editorial review)
"An enchanting recreation of Austen's world" (James Conroyd Martin)
"McVeigh puts a unique spin on this fresh take of one of Jane Austen's most popular works. The characters are vibrant and full of life. McVeigh hits the mark spot-on, capturing the essence of Jane Austen's work and providing a rare glimpse into the headspace of some of her most popular secondary characters. I can honestly say that I didn't foresee the twist towards the end, yet in hindsight, it felt satisfying. Any fan of character-driven novels should grab a copy. (Readers Favorite Editorial review)
Classic regency fiction in the tradition of Pride and Prejudice: Harriet will appeal to Jane Austen groupies, Bridgerton fans and Georgette Heyer lovers alike.
Hazelhurst: A Regency Romance
It started as a marriage of convenience, but falling in love has made it anything but convenient.
Fresh from the humiliating annulment of the love match she always wanted, Lady Anne Vincent meekly agrees to the marriage of convenience her father has arranged. She feels hopeful that this marriage can be one of cordial indifference, protecting her from the hurt she knows so well.
Tobias Cosgrove isn't meant for marriage, free spirit that he is. And yet, as the only son, marry he must. He is thus relieved when his father reveals his future wife to be the calm, collected Lady Anne Vincent, for he is confident she won't plague him with neediness or hysterics like so many of the other young women in society.
But when Lady Anne's past reappears on their doorstep, she and Tobias are forced to confront whether a marriage of convenience is the type of marriage they wish for after all.
Helen in Trouble
HELEN . . . IS SIXTEEN AND PREGNANT. IT IS 1963. ABORTION IS A CRIME. WHAT CAN SHE DO?
Author Wendy Sibbison offers an insightful, thought-provoking perspective in this coming-of-age novel; a poignant exploration of burgeoning womanhood, mother-daughter relations, family dynamics, and sexual awakenings rooted in the mores of an era that offers lessons for the present. Beautifully written, a meaningful read for mature readers of all ages and for book groups interested in the debates about Roe v Wade.
About the Author
Sibbison, Wendy: - Wendy Sibbison practiced law for 35 years. She lives in Western Massachusetts. This is her first novel.
High Wire in Nuala
Horns of Dilemma: The Brigandshaw Chronicles Book 7
With rumours swirling of his parentage, Frank Brigandshaw wants answers: Who put horns on his father's head?
Returning to England, Frank is heading down two paths. One to make them, the m nage trois a trifle uncomfortable and admit the truth. The other, to make money and lots of it. And so like father like son, it seems Frank will succeed until he meets Connie Whitaker.
Meantime, Frank's siblings are making their own way in a city that is recovering from the fallout of war. Amongst the jazz set and artists living in Chelsea, Beth falls in love with a man who doesn't love her; Dorian finds himself with a worrying dilemma and Kim sets off on his travels to India.
However, when they are all summoned to Hastings Court, everything the young Brigandshaws have come to love is about to unravel, threatened with collapse and truths are revealed.
With the flame of empire about to go out, along with crippling taxes, the enduring Brigandshaws strive to make their way in a new Britain in this next instalment of Peter Rimmer's historical fiction series, the seventh in the epic saga of the Brigandshaws, Horns of Dilemma.