Showing posts with label The Cornwall Adventures. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Cornwall Adventures. Show all posts

Monday, September 18, 2023

New News and All by Nancy M Bell

 


To find out more about Nancy click on the cover.

News, news, news. My latest novel Discarded released on September 1, 2023. It is part of BWL's Canadian Historical Mysteries Collection. I'm on a blog tour with Goddess Fish Promotions from September 11 to 22nd, you can find the links on my Facebook page each day for that day's post.

Come September 27 I'm off to London England to catch a cruise ship at Southampton on September 29. It's one we've been wanting to do for a long time, England, Scotland and Ireland. I'll be sure to take lots of pictures. While in Belfast we're going to connect with my husband's cousins on his mom's side. We haven't seen them since the 1990s, so very much looking forward to it.

I'm still working on Laurel's Choice. I put it aside to meet the deadline for Discarded but I'm working on it now and having lots of fun with it. Horses and three-day eventing in England. Right now Laurel, as part of her working student gig, is grooming for her boss at Badminton. What a crazy and amazing cross country course! I can't wait to share a few bits of it with my readers. Then Laurel herself will compete at a local event and well...you never know what might happen. And then, readers of the Cornwall Adventures will be familiar with Gort and Aisling, Laurel is the maid of honour at their wedding which also takes place in Laurel's Choice not too long after she gets back from Badminton. And I have to say I really love the cover of Laurel's Choice. In case you've missed it...here it is! The horse Laurel is grooming for and who she gets to ride sometimes is a grey horse call Blue, so the cover is perfect. Til next month, stay well, stay happy and get ready for Hallowe'en or Samhain whichever you celebrate.




Tuesday, July 18, 2023

Where it all Began by Nancy M Bell

 

To find out more about Nancy's books please click on the cover above.


Laurel's Quest was originally published by a now defunct Canadian publishing house in  2010. It was re-published in 2014 by BWL Publishing Inc. updated as Laurel's Quest with a new cover and some new text. It is my first published novel and is very dear to my heart. Laurel's Quest is currently being offered for free (as an ebook) at Amazon.com and .ca. I am thrilled to offer readers the chance to step into the magical world that exists just a step sideways from the World as We Know It. A world filled with magic and wonder and a few scary moments as well. Cornish Piskies, selkies, Morgrawr the sea monster along with a cast of intrepid friends who follow the clues to solve a riddle that may save a life. The story starts in southern Alberta but soon moves to Cornwall UK. Set against the beautiful and rugged country of the southwest Laurel's search takes her along the Michael and Mary earth energy lines that cross the country from Carn les Boels, an old hill fort in Cornwall, to East Anglia. Laurel's journey takes her Glastonbury Tor not once but twice before she comes face to face with Gwyn ap Nudd beneath the Tor in the crystal caves where Arthur is rumoured to be sleeping. Laurel's Quest is the first book in the Cornwall Adventures, A Step Beyond is the second and here we pick up one of the secondary character's story. Gort is one of Laurel's gang of seekers and in the second books follows his own journey of coming of age. The third book is Go Gently where we finally meet Laurel's Gramma Bella whose letters figure in Laurel's Quest. We get to know Laurel's father Colt better in Go Gently and understand better why his estranged from his mother, Laurel's beloved Gramma Bella. 

I am currently working on Laurel's Choice which is a stand alone book, but you can be sure the usual suspects will show up. Gramma Bella, Vear Du the selkie, her group of friends from her quest and there might even be a wedding in the future...you just never know. Below is an excerpt from Laurel's Quest.


This is where Laurel's get the first clue from the 'Obby 'Orse in Padstow on May Day. If you want to learn more about this age old tradition just google it. It's fascinating stuff. 


From Chapter Six  The 'Obby 'Orse Clue  Laurel's Quest Copyright 2015

 

“How am I going to know where to look for the clue once we get to Padstow?” Laurel frowned.

“Did the Lady give any indication where you would find the clue?” Aisling asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Think harder,” Coll growled.

“I am.”

“What did she say again? I don’t remember exactly,” Gort broke in quietly.

“She just said I would get the first clue on May Day in Padstow. She talked about the filly that wasn’t born yet and holding death in my hand.”

“So do we have to find a pregnant mare somewhere in Padstow? That’ll be easy,” Coll snorted.

“Quit being so negative,” Aisling admonished Coll. “I don’t think we’ll have to look too far. I think the clue will find us.”

“So we just go to Padstow, join in the festival, and wait and see what happens?” Gort asked.

“I think that’s best.” Aisling nodded.

“What about what I think?” Laurel broke in.

Coll sighed. “What do you think we should do, then?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I should have a plan of some kind.” Her frustration was plain in her tone.

“Let’s just wait and see. Maybe we’ll come up with something before we get there,” Aisling said.

The bright, clear May Day morning found their small group looking for a parking spot in Padstow. The town was crowded with tourists and locals, all vying for the best place to see the festivities. Those who weren’t actively involved in the festivities jostled for space on the edges of the narrow streets. Soon the ‘Oss would start his journey. Laurel was no closer to figuring out how to find the clue than she had been the night they talked about it in Emily’s parlor. She just hoped with all her heart she would recognize the clue when it was in front of her.

Sarie’s friend emerged through her back gate just as they parked in the tiny spot behind her cottage. Aisling greeted her Aunt Jane and introduced Laurel. The woman led them down a narrow back alley to emerge onto the main thoroughfare. The voice of the crowd swelled to a new level as the ‘Obby ‘Oss began to make his way through the narrow street. The girls craned their necks trying to catch their first glimpse of the ‘Obby ‘Oss in his bizarre costume.

The crowd hemmed them in. Sarie held tight to Laurel’s hand as the crowd vibrated with excitement as the ‘Obby ‘Oss drew near. She lifted herself up on her tiptoes as high as she could in order to catch a glimpse of the alien-looking creature with its large hoop depicting the head of a horse, and a scraggy tail hanging from the rear of it.

The traditional song rang high and loud as thousands of voices joined in celebration:

“Unite and Unite. Let us all unite. For summer is a cummin today, and wither we are going, we will all unite, in the merry morning of May.”

Periodically the ‘Obby ‘Oss lunged into the crowd and captured a young woman, prompting good-natured jesting and howls of laughter. At intervals the ‘Obby ‘Oss would falter, stagger and fall to the street where he lay motionless for a moment, when this happened the joyous song changed to a sad dirge. As soon as the ‘Obby ‘Oss rose and danced again, the song spun back to its joyous celebration. Laurel didn’t know where to look first; this was all so different than anything she ever experienced. Even Stampede in Calgary wasn’t this crazy. The song filled the air and rose from the stones of the street under her feet. It vibrated in her bones and eardrums.

There was a sudden break in the crowd; the ‘Obby ‘Oss was right in front of them. She watched entranced, as the ‘Oss made an exaggerated grab for Sarie, who waved him off, laughing. The strange hooped face of the creature paused, his painted eyes looked straight at her and the sound of the celebrations faded. It seemed only Laurel and the strange beast existed in a world somehow one step sideways from the world she knew. She couldn’t even feel Sarie’s hand on hers, and the words of the song, though faint still echoed in her ears.

The ‘Obby ‘Oss regarded her for a long minute before a voice echoed in her head. It was both soft and deep, young and old, gentle and intimidating, all at once and yet none of them at all. A part of her was afraid, but another part was braver than she would ever have imagined and allowed her to listen to the message.

 “Greetings, child who searches for answers. On this May Day, the ‘Obby ‘Oss grants you a boon. Neither husband nor child will I give you, but the answer to part of the mystery you seek to achieve your heart’s desire.”

Laurel started as the voice took on a deeper tone; she could hear the ringing of great brass bells underlying it as if they rung from the depths of the ocean.

“Find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians. You must remember…to gain entrance, you and your companions must be found worthy, and so I tell you that it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman for the Selkie guardian to admit you.”

“Thank you,” Laurel whispered.

Suddenly, the world came back into focus. Although Laurel felt like a lot of time had passed, it seemed only a tiny second elapsed to all those around her. Sarie was still waving the ‘Obby ‘Oss away and giggling like a girl.

“Go on with you, I’m too old, and she’s too young.”

The ‘Obby ‘Oss shook his hooped head at Sarie and bowed before he continued on his way. The May Song rose high and strong over the throng and slowed to the awful dirge as the ‘Oss stumbled and fell once more.

“Why does he do that?”

Sarie smiled. “Don’t let it bother you, girl. It symbolizes the death of winter and the birth of the spring. If winter doesn’t come, the summer never ends, and there can be no spring. It also mirrors mankind’s cycle of life: we are born, we die, but we live on in our children and our children’s children.”

 Laurel doubted if her mom was comforted by the thought of her daughter going on without her.

“Come on you lot, let’s go find some market stalls and some goodies to stuff your gobs with,” Sarie invited.

They shouted their agreement. The ‘Obby ‘Oss leaped to his feet again and cavorted down the street out of sight, though his song continued to echo in the air.

As the group made their way to the market stalls, Coll dropped back. “What happened back there? You looked all mazed for a minute, like you could see something the rest of us couldn’t.”

“The ‘Obby ‘Oss spoke to me,” she said.

“It never,” Coll exclaimed. “It’s not supposed to speak to anyone.”

“I don’t think it was the man inside the costume who talked to me. It sounded deep, like it was inside my head, but faraway at the same time. It was spooky.”

“Bloody Hell,” Coll exclaimed loudly.

“You mind your tongue, young man!” Sarie said over her shoulder. “You’ll have your Gramma down my throat for allowing you to behave like a ruffian.”  Jane and Emily laughed at her words.

“Sorry, Sarie,” Coll said, and then spoke in a quieter voice. “What did it say? Why couldn’t the rest of us hear it?”

“I don’t know why you couldn’t. I wish you were all there with me. It was creepy,”

“What do you mean there with you; you didn’t go anywhere. I was still hanging on to you and so was Sarie.” Coll looked confused.

“It was weird,” she paused, trying to find a way to describe it, “as if I took a step sideways or something. Like I was apart from everything somehow. All the noise faded, I couldn’t feel you or Sarie. All I could see was the painted face of the ‘Obby ‘Oss and hear that voice. But I could still hear the May Song faintly, all I could make out was unite, unite. It was freaking weird.”

“What did it say?” Coll asked impatiently. “Who would have guessed the ’Obby ‘Oss would talk to you!”

“Weird stuff, all in riddles. You know those stories your Gramma and Sarie tell at night in front of the fire where the faeries or piskies or whatever give the person the information they need, but they never tell it right out. The people in the story have to figure it out for themselves if they want to finish their quest or get out of the faery hill, or whatever.”

Coll danced a jig of delight on the cobbled street. “This is great, isn’t it just? We get to go questing like King Arthur’s knights. Gort’s going to be beside himself.”

“You don’t think I’m crazy, or making it up?”

“Naw, I believe you. We knew you were going to get a message here. You even had that faery struck look on your face for a moment when the ‘Oss stopped in front of you. You know, the one Sarie always makes as she describes how the person in the story would look.” Coll stopped talking long enough to make sure Sarie and the others weren’t too far ahead. “What did the bloody thing say,” he asked plaintively.

Laurel giggled at his tone. “Something about lizard tails and paths.” She trailed off and her eyes unfocused for a second. “In order to find the answer to my heart’s desire, I have to find the great lizard as it emerges from the foam and follow its path to the secret caverns of the crystal guardians.” She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea what it means.”

“Anything else?” Coll vibrated with excitement.

“There was something about gaining entrance to the secret caverns. Me and my companions have to be acceptable, I think he said ‘worthy,’ so the Selkie guardian will admit us. What the heck is a Selkie?” she asked crossly. “How am I supposed to figure this out when I don’t even know what the stupid things are?”

“That’s why you have companions. A Selkie is some magic kind of seal man.” Coll grinned. “Do you remember anything else?”

Laurel pushed aside her resentment and frustration at the riddles to try to remember the last piece of the riddle.

“He said it takes not the courage of a man, but the selfless sorrow of a woman to gain entrance.” She kicked at piece of litter. “I haven’t the slightest idea what that means either.”

Coll grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd. They could just see the top of Sarie’s head in front of them.

“Hurry up, we don’t want to get lost,” Coll said over his shoulder and then in a louder voice, “Sarie, Gramma, wait for us!”

Panting slightly, they caught up with their group just at the edge of the market stalls. Aisling and Gort looked at them questioningly; Coll winked at them.

“Just wait ‘til you hear the story we have to tell you later when we’re by ownselves.” Coll grinned at Gort. “You’re going to either love this, or think we’re bleedin’ kitey.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve anything illegal.” Gort muttered. 

Thursday, May 18, 2023

Cover Reveal for Laurel's Choice by Nancy M Bell

 


To see where Laurel's story begins please click on the cover.

Laurel's Choice ties up some loose ends that have threaded through the Laurel stories that have come before. Starting with The Cornwall Adventures: Laurel's Quest, A Step Sideways and Go Gently which took place mostly in Cornwall, UK. Then her story continued in The Alberta Adventures: Wild Horse Rescue, Dead Dogs Talk and Chance's Way. Laurel's Choice can stand alone on its own merits, but throughout the first 6 books Laurel has grown from a young teen into a young woman and there are two prominent men in her life, Coll Hazel one of the friends she meets in Laurel's Quest and who she has had a long distance relationship with ever since and Chance Cullen, rodeo cowboy and bull rider. 
Laurel returns to Cornwall to pursue a career in the horse industry, she's been accepted as a working student by Suzy Wish an Olympic Three Day Event competitor and coach. 

The Cornwall Adventures series delved into the magic and wonder that abounds in Cornwall while The Alberta Adventures became more of a rescue series, first the wild horses, then dogs from the dog fighting rings and finally, Chance working on saving himself.

In Laurel's Choice, which combines elements from both series, Laurel is back in Cornwall and so of course there will be magic and mythical creatures. Gramma Bella and Vear Du will be sure to show up at some point, not to mention Gwin Scawen and perhaps a friendly sea monster or two.

Horses and eventing will take a prominent place in the story, helping to keep things moving along. So if you love horses and magic with a bit of young love thrown in, watch for Laurel's Choice coming in September of 2023.

Thanks to everyone who has followed Laurel's journey so far. She and I are most grateful for your support. 

Until next month, stay well, stay happy. Enjoy the spring and the newly minted leaves and blooming flowers.    

Tuesday, May 18, 2021

Covid Tired by Nancy M Bell

To learn more about Nancy and her books click on the flyer above.


I'm Covid tired, are you? I really, really want to go somewhere, do something, but nope, can't. Infection numbers are rising like crazy in Alberta. So....I have turned my frustrations to good use. Chance's Way, which I blogged about last month, is coming along. The above flyer is a mock up, the final cover will have Chance in place of Laurel, but this gives you an idea of the concept.

It's kinda cool to see all the covers in the Laurel series together. Particularly, the two Arabella covers. For those unfamiliar with the series, Laurel's Gramma Bella, while she's not in the Cornwall Adventures until the last book, has set a number of things in motion before the first book in the series. Arabella's Secret  series explores how some things came to be and how Gramma Bella ended up in southern Alberta married to a rancher instead of staying close to home in Cornwall.

I'm still working on Chance's story as he grapples with his demons and struggles with the financial difficulties of keeping the family ranch going. His pride won't let him ask for help, but the boy is floundering. Colt Rowan watches with concern, but doesn't want to stick his nose in where it might not be wanted. Laurel and Chance seem to be mending the rifts in their relationship, at least as far as friendship is concerned. Her heart is still with Coll in Cornwall, but that's a long way away. 

Stay tuned for more updates next month!


www.nancymbell.ca

authornancymbell at Facebook

https://www.bookswelove.com/bell-nancy/     
 

Monday, June 18, 2018

Go Gently Book 3 in The Conrwall Adventures by Nancy M Bell

Click on the cover for buy links.

As promised here is the third book in The Cornwall Adventures. Laurel is worried when Gramma Bella disappears and heads to Cornwall to figure out what the heck is going on. She teams up with Coll, Gort and Aisling again. Gramma Bella is as impetuous as ever, much to Sairie and Laurel's chagrin. There's lots of Cornish magic and myth running through this story too. For those of you who wonder what happens afterward, I have good news. WIld Horse Rescue which is Book One in the Wild Rose Adventures finds Laurel back in Alberta with Coll visiting for the summer. Some readers have wondered which young man Laurel prefers: Coll or Chance. You might just find out in Wild Horse Rescue. Of course, young ladies sometimes change their minds.... Wild Horse Rescue releases in September 2018.


But back to Go Gently. Here is an excerpt to tempt and tease you....

Laurel Rowan paced the weathered front porch scanning the range road for the rooster trails of dust Chance’s truck would throw up. She heaved a sigh and leaned on the thick log railing letting the wind blow through her hair. Impatiently, she straightened up and whirled around. Snatching her large bag off the bench by the wall she rummaged for her cell phone. Chance was never late, why would he pick today of all days to not show up on time.
Her pony tail swished behind her as she stalked over to the post at the top of the stairs and leaned a hip against it. She glanced at the cell phone screen before starting the call to check how many bars were showing.
“I’m just turning in the lane,” Chance answered before the phone barely had a chance to ring.
The sun flashed off the windshield as the blue pickup came around the last bend at the top of the small coulee. Dust settled as he stopped in the yard. Laurel tossed her phone back in the bag and looped it over her shoulder before she jumped down the three shallow steps. Waving, she ran lightly across the grass toward him. Chance stepped out of the cab and removed his hat, slapping it on his thigh. The November sun slanted across the prairie, highlighting his strong features and intensifying the blue of his eyes.
“Where’s Carlene? I thought she was coming with us.” Laurel glanced at the empty cab.
“She changed her mind.” Chance shuffled his feet and dropped his gaze.
“What do you mean…changed her mind?” She pressed him for more information.
“Dang it, Laurel. I told her I didn’t want her to come.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
He mumbled something she didn’t catch, slapped his Stetson back on his head and climbed into the truck.
Laurel yanked open the passenger door, threw the bag onto the seat and swung up into the high cab. She fastened her seat belt and turned toward the boy behind the wheel. He’d stuck sunglasses on his face and she couldn’t read his expression.
“C’mon, spill. What’s up with you?”
“Ain’t nothin’, let it lie, will you.” Chance started the truck and slid it into gear.
“It is so something. You think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you? You and Carlene have a fight?” Laurel poked him in the arm with her finger.
“Leave off, I’m trying to drive.”
“You tell me right now or I’m getting out right here.” She made a show of reaching for the buckle of the seatbelt. Strong fingers closed over her hand, stopping her motions. Startled, Laurel looked down at the tanned hand that covered hers before meeting his gaze. The truck rolled to a stop as Chance engaged the clutch. She swallowed hard, discomforted by the intensity in his face.
“Don’t be an idiot.” A dark flush coloured his cheeks under the day old stubble. “Ever since you got back from England last year, you’ve been different somehow. I never know what you’re thinking any more…” His voice trailed off and he released her hand. Dipping his head so the brim of the Stetson threw his face into shadow, Chance released the clutch and allowed the pickup to gather speed.
“Oh, okay, I guess.” Laurel rolled the window down, using it as an excuse to look away from the boy she’d known all her life who was suddenly a stranger. “I thought Carlene wanted to come and meet Gramma Bella. I just know I’m going to find her today.”
“If we find her, there’ll be plenty of time for Carly to visit her with you. What does your dad think of all this, anyway?”
She hesitated before answering. “Dad doesn’t exactly know where I’m going today. He thinks we’re just going into Lethbridge for the day.”
“You think that’s wise, Laurie? Your dad’ll be madder than a wet hen when he finds out.”
“Don’t call me Laurie,” she protested. “You know I hate that name.”
“Okay, Laurel, what are you going to tell him when he finds out? And he will,” Chance continued when she opened her mouth to protest, “Mister Rowan is not a stupid man and you, missy, couldn’t keep a secret if you tried.”
“I don’t know, but Mom is on my side…and I can so keep a secret, so there.” She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
He snorted in disbelief. “Can not.”
“You still didn’t tell me why you came by yourself.”
“Leave it alone, Laurel.” Chance slowed at the end of the lane and glanced both ways before pulling out onto the paved highway.
“C ‘mon, spill it.” She poked him in the ribs hard enough to make him wince.
Flashing her an angry glance, he sighed and shook his head. “Fine. I told her not to come so I could spend some time with you. Alone.” His jaw clenched.
“What?” Laurel struggled to process his words and the meaning behind them.
“We used to hang out together, now it’s like you don’t have the time of day for me anymore.”
“That’s just plain stupid and you know it.” Heat rose in her face. “We spend tons of time together, we still belong to all the same clubs. I just don’t get what you’re so fired up about.”
“You used to be over at our place all the time. Seemed like I couldn’t turn around without trippin’ over you. Now I never see you unless you’re with Carly.”
“I guess maybe I just grew up a bit. You always acted like you were mad at me for trailing behind you. One of your friends called me your buckle bunny last spring. I’m nobody’s buckle bunny.”
“Yeah, I straightened Ty out about that. You never let a bit of name calling bother you before, though.”
Chance quit talking and concentrated on the road, but Laurel was pretty sure he still had something stuck in his craw.
“All you ever talk about to Carly about is that guy in Cornwall.
“He’s my friend!” she defended herself.
“Friends with benefits?”
“Are you freaking kidding me? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Get your mind out of the gutter, Chance Cosgrove.”
“The way you carry on when you get an email from him, you can’t blame a guy for thinking it’s more than just friends.”
“Shut up, Chance. Just shut up.”
Laurel scrunched down in the seat as far as the seatbelt would let her and refused to look across the cab at the driver. The vehicle slowed as they went through Lundbreck.
“Do you want to stop for anything? This is the last place before we head north into the mountains.”
Laurel shook her head, still refusing to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the rise and fall of his shoulders as he shrugged. Once out of Lundbreck he picked up speed again. At the junction of Highway 3 and 22 Chance turned north on 22. The road wound its way through the towering mountains, the poplar trees were bare of the brilliant gold leaves, leaving only stark branches showing against the blue green of the conifers. Usually, Laurel loved this drive but her annoyance with Chance soured the experience. It was the last time this year she’d be able to go this way before the National Parks closed the highway at Highwood House.
Chance seemed as disinclined to talk as she was. She plugged her mp3 player into the dock and set it to play to break the awkward silence. No luck with getting a radio or cell phone signal this deep in the wilderness.


* * *


Two and a half hours later Chance pulled the pickup into the parking lot by the Shell in Bragg Creek. “Where do we go from here?”
Laurel pulled the crumpled envelope out of her pocket and smoothed it out. The return address was a bit smudged, but it was still legible. “It’s on White Avenue, number one-thirty-two.”
“Do you know where that is? What street are we on now?” Chance craned his neck to read the street sign. “We’re at Balsam Avenue right now.”
“No idea, I should have brought a map. There’s the post office, let’s ask there.” Laurel opened the door and slid down out of the truck. “Are you coming?” She turned to look at Chance.
“Nah, I’ll just wait here.” He switched off the truck.
“Suit yourself.” Laurel shrugged and turned her collar up against the wind whipping through the tiny parking lot. She ignored the surge of irritation. Chance had a burr under his saddle, that was for sure. What was so difficult about coming with her to the post office? And what was with his acting jealous of Coll. Reaching her destination, she pulled open the door and banished all thoughts of Coll and Chance. Today was about finding Gramma Bella.
There was no one waiting so Laurel smiled at the lady who was sorting mail behind the counter.
“How can I help you?” The woman set the bundle of letters down and came to the counter.
“I need to know where White Avenue is and how to get there from here.”
“Where are you parked?”
“Over by the Shell station.”
“Go out onto Balsam and turn right, at the stop sign turn right again. Then take the first right, that’s White Avenue. What address are you looking for?”
“One-thirty-two. I think my gramma lives there.”
“What’s your grandmother’s name?” The woman peered at Laurel intently.
“Bella.” She shuffled her feet, unnerved by the directness of the post mistress’ stare.
“Humph, Bella never mentioned having a granddaughter. Fact is, the woman never talks about her family, come to think of it.”
“So, she does still live here?” A thrill of excitement spiraled through her as she waited for the response.
The woman nodded. “Her place is just outside of town. Follow White Avenue out past the old trading post and along the river. Just as you go up the hill, there’s a point of ground that sticks out, the driveway is on your right before the crest of the hill. Be careful turning in, people drive way too fast on that stretch of road.”
“Thanks,” Laurel called. She almost raced out the door, the ratty envelope clutched in her hand.
“I got directions,” she announced when she re-joined Chance.
“Where do we go from here?’ He turned on the ignition and slid the shifter into first gear, the clutch still depressed.
“Go out onto Balsam, which is right there, and then turn right at the stop sign.” She pointed at the busy corner.
The truck reversed and after Chance made the right turn, he glanced at Laurel. “Which way now?”
She consulted the notes she scrawled on the back of the envelope. “Take the first right, it should be White Avenue.”
They stopped at the four way stop and waited their turn. “Yeah, the sign says White Avenue. So far so good.” Chance made the turn after the large truck coming down highway 22 went through. “Look for street numbers, will you, Laurel.” The narrow road was hemmed in with tall spruce and fir and still looked a bit the worse for wear from the huge flood of June 2013. A number of damaged houses were up for sale.
They passed the Barbeque Steak House. “We’re at fifty. There was a sign on that restaurant we just passed.”
“Keep looking, I hope we’re going in the right direction,” Chance sounded doubtful.
“There was no other way to go, this road started at that four way stop.” Laurel continued to watch for street signs. Another restaurant was on the right. “Bavarian Inn, seventy-five White Avenue. The post office lady said to watch out for an old trading post, it must be further along.”
“Look, there’s the river.” Chance pointed ahead where the thick growth of trees thinned out.”
“There’s the trading post.” Laurel bounced with excitement as the pickup rounded a wide curve in the road. The land rose sharply upward on the left, the road ran beside the river on the right.
“This is where they filmed a lot of that old TV show, North of 60,” Chance remarked.
“I didn’t know that,” Laurel said. “Okay, when we get to that bit of hill up ahead, the driveway should be on the right part way up. Lady said we can’t miss it.”
Half way up the hill a gate stood open at the end of a short drive. Chance pulled in and let the engine idle. “Now what? Are you sure this is the place?”
“The address is right,” Laurel said.
Chance killed the engine and turned to look at her. “Do you want me to come with you or would you rather do this on your own?”
Laurel swallowed; her mouth suddenly dry. “What if she doesn’t remember me? Or doesn’t want to talk to me? Maybe we should just go home.”
“I didn’t drive almost three hours for you to turn tail and run, Laurel.” Chance glared at her. “C’mon, I’ll go with you”
Feeling like a hundred elephants were sitting on her chest, she got out of the truck and came around the front to join him.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Not really, but let’s do it anyway.” Laurel found it hard to get the words past the lump in her throat.
Three broad shallow steps led up to a small porch. Laurel raised her hand to knock, but hesitated. A hundred doubts racing through her thoughts. She half turned to run back to the truck, but then whirled back and knocked loudly on the red painted door.
Chance moved nearer until his shoulder touched hers. The contact was reassuring and helped calm her anxiety and steady the racing of her heart. They waited a moment or two, but there was no response. Laurel knocked again and stepped back a pace. After a few minutes of silence, she looked up at Chance and shrugged.
“She must be out.” Laurel’s voice wavered a bit.
“Maybe,” Chance agreed.

And a tiny bit more from a bit later in the story:

“What do you think, Chance? She’s kind of an odd duck. I wonder if I should call Sarie, or Coll. They should know if Gramma Bella is back in Penzance.” Laurel tucked a foot underneath her and half-turned toward Chance.
“Sure, go ahead and call Coll, if that’s what you want.” His lip curled and a frown darkened his face. “Why not call the girl you met over there, Ashleen, or something?”
“I could, I guess. I might call her anyway. What’s wrong with me calling Coll?”
“Nothing, I guess,” he muttered. “If your gramma really is in Cornwall, what are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know, this is getting more complicated by the minute. I was counting on her being home when we got there. I can’t tell Dad, he’ll go postal when he finds out I’ve even been looking for Gramma.”
“Can you talk to your mom, then? Will she understand better?” Chance took his eyes off the road long enough to glance over at her.
“Yeah, I’m gonna tell Mom as soon as I get home. She’ll know what to do.”
“You wanna stop and grab a sub or something in town before we head out?”
Laurel nodded and Chance pulled into the small plaza by the gas station. After a quick meal, they headed toward Pincher Creek. Chance seemed disinclined to talk, so Laurel was left alone with her thoughts.
It was dark by the time Chance dropped her off. She waved good-bye before taking the steps in one leap. The lights were on in the kitchen and her dad’s office. Laurel pussy-footed down the hall past the open door of the office. In the kitchen, Mom was chopping vegetables at the counter.
“Hey, Mom.” She grabbed a can of pop from the fridge and sat down at the table. “Can I help with anything?”
“Nope, I have everything under control. Did you find what you were looking for in Lethbridge? You were gone longer than usual. You and Carly lose track of time?” Anna Rowan pushed a lock of hair off her forehead with the back of her hand.
“No, actually, we didn’t go to Lethbridge.”
“Was there something in Medicine Hat you wanted?”
Laurel shook her head. “We didn’t go to the Hat, either. It was really weird, though. Carly didn’t come, it was just Chance and me.”
‘Is Carly sick or something?” Mom caught her gaze across the kitchen island.
“No, Chance asked her not to come. He said he wanted it to be just him and me. And he got all prickly every time I mentioned Coll’s name. What’s up with that?”
Anna laid the paring knife down and came to sit at the table beside Laurel. “Why do you think he’d do that?”
“Beats me, we’ve been friends forever, and the three of us always do things together.”
“I think Chance is interested in you, sweetie. Has he asked you to go out with him?”
“No! I mean, I like him and all, but not that way. It’d be like kissing my brother or something.” Laurel made a face and grimaced.
“Just keep it in mind, that maybe the boy sees you as more than a friend now that you’ve all grown up a bit.”
Laurel nodded and snagged a banana from the bowl on the table.
“So, if you didn’t go to Lethbridge or the Hat, where did the pair of you go?”
“Chance drove me up to Bragg Creek.” She watched her mom’s face carefully for her reaction.
“What did you find in Bragg Creek? What made you want to go there?” Anna frowned and got up to move back to the counter, avoiding looking directly as her daughter.
“I went looking for Gramma Bella, I know she’s not dead,” she blurted out.
“Your father and I never told you she was dead, where did ever get that idea?”
“Mom, look at me. You both let me believe she was dead, not just moved away. When I was visiting Sarie, I found a bunch of letters from Gramma Bella to her. The return address on the latest one was Bragg Creek.”
“I wish you’d mentioned this before and not gone haring off to find her on your own.”
“I didn’t think Dad would let me go if he knew where I was going. Mom, what did they fight about that upset things so badly that she moved out and nobody ever mentioned her again?”
“I’m afraid that’s something you need to ask your father about. Now tell me, did you get a chance to speak to Bella?”
“She wasn’t home. The neighbor lady said she went off to Cornwall in a big hurry about two weeks ago.”
“Cornwall? You’re sure the woman said she went to Cornwall, not London?”
Laurel nodded. “Ally, the next door neighbor, said Gramma Bella got a call from Sarie that someone was in trouble, and then she left in a big hurry.”
“Hmmm, I wonder…Bella vowed she’d never set foot back in Penzance. She believed the ruckus and embarrassment she endured when she left would never be forgotten. She never wanted to run into Daniel Treliving ever again.”
“Daniel Treliving? That’s Gort’s uncle. I don’t blame her, he was a real jack ass.”
“I didn’t realize you knew him, what was he like? Is he really as nasty as Bella made out/” Anna stopped stirring a pot on the stove and leaned a hip on the counter.
“I never really met him, but I did see him sometimes. He was Gort’s guardian, but he treated him like crap. Used him for a punching bag, so Gort would hideout at Sarie’s or Emily’s. But Gramma Bella doesn’t have to worry about seeing him, he’s dead now.”
“Are you sure? When did you find this out?”
“Coll emailed me about it, and so did Ash, and Gort too when he was feeling better. He’s living with Emily and Coll now.”
“That’s very interesting. I wonder who is in such trouble that Bella would throw caution to the wind and take off for England.
“Ally said it was Vear Du who was in trouble.”
Anna’s face went white and gripped the counter hard enough to turn her knuckles white. “Are you sure?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“As sure as I can be.” Laurel swallowed hard. “I know who he is, Mom. I know Vear Du is my grandfather. Is that what Dad and Gramma fought about? Is that why she moved away and I never saw her again.”
Anna nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek. “Since you’ve discovered that much, I’ll answer your questions as best as I can. But you should still talk with your dad about this. Your father was devastated when he found out the truth. All his life he believed D’Arcy was his dad, and in a way he was, in all the most important ways. It came as a real shock when he learned he was the son of some weird magical being.”
“Was he mad at Gramma for not telling him sooner? When did he figure it out?” Laurel tried to put herself in his place and couldn’t.
“He found out when you were pretty young, I thought he was going to bring the house down he was so angry.”
“Is that when you found out?”
Anna shook her head. “Bella told me before I married your father. She thought it wasn’t fair to let me marry him without know exactly what I was getting into. It took your dad a while to get over that too. Me knowing, and not telling him.”
“Mom, Aisling invited me to spend Christmas with her family, are you okay with that? I’ve been saving my money to pay for the plane fare since I got home last time. I didn’t know Ash was going to ask me to come for Christmas, though. Can I go? I really want to find Gramma Bella, too. If Vear Du is in trouble maybe Ash and I can help him somehow.”
“Let me talk to your father about all this and I’ll let you know what he says. Leave it with me for a bit, okay.”


That's all for now, but I will leave you with some lovely pictures of Cornwall with credit to Frances Watts who takes marvelous photos. Next month I'm planning to feature The Selkie's Song where you meet a young Bella and Sairie and of course the odious Daniel and the heroic and oh so handsome Vear Du, the Selkie.

This is Nanjizal Bay and the slit in the rock known as The Song of the Sea which plays a part in the story.


The following photos are taken by Frances Watts and are near and around Land's End, St. Buryan, Carn les Boels and the Cornish Coastal Path.


Friday, May 18, 2018

A Step Beyond Book 2 of The Cornwall Adventures by Nancy M Bell



A Step Beyond: Beyond the world we know lie alternate realities, layered like an onion. Shy and insecure Gort Treliving takes a step into the worlds beyond the fields we know and discovers some amazing things about himself. Not the least of which is finding himself riding with Arthur's fabled knights across the legendary land of Lyonesse in search of a kidnapped queen. A Step Beyond is a powerful story of coming of age, melding adventure with the inner journey Gort must take to find the courage to face the challenges before him.

Click on the cover for buy links and to find out more.

Some Reviews from happy readers:

A worthy sequel to Laurel's Miracle. ~ Tira Brandon Evans

It’s an outstanding read. Once you start, you can't stop. Looking forward to the next in the series ~ Lynne Anderson

And to tempt you further, here is short excerpt:


“Come with me for a while. Leave what is for a time, and travel with me to what was once,” GogMagog entreated him.
“Lead me to it.” Gort stepped away from the warm crystalline shoulder of the great stallion.
The farther they walked from the dank little shed and Uncle Daniel’s rage, the better he felt. The pain faded from his limbs, and strength flowed outward from the warmth in his chest.
GogMagog kept pace beside him. Rainbows of light flickered around the stallion and encompassed Gort in their radiance as well.
His steps became firmer and steadier as a golden peace flowed through him. His back straightened, and a smile broke across his face when Gog curved his huge head back toward him to lip his ear.
The darkness grew opaque and finally faded into a pearly grey; a diffuse nebulous light filled the sky. Tipping his head back, Gort was startled to see the ghostly shape of gulls winging through the mist.
The stallion stopped and shook moisture from his sleek body. Gort laid his hand on the thick neck and then pulled back quickly, holding it in front of his eyes.
Gort gazed in amazement as the large callused hand in front of him flexed its fingers. He turned and looked GogMagog in the eye, further amazed there was no need to look up to do so.
“What happened to me?” The voice sounded two tones deeper than it should.
“You are as you were once,” GogMagog said solemnly.
“Who am I supposed to be, though?” Gort fought down the panic rising in his throat; this wasn’t his body clothing his spirit. Feeling lost and strangely adrift, the boy-man turned to Gog for support.
“You are who you have always been.” Gog touched him gently with his muzzle.
At the touch of that strong soft nose, Gort let his panic slip away. Running his hands over his new and improved body, he stared down at his now humungous feet and strong calves, while his hands found the twisted cords of taut muscle in his thighs. Gort took a step forward and overbalanced as the long sword on his belt swung against him. The hilt fit snugly into his hand when he grasped it to steady himself.
Without stopping to think, Gort drew the lovely weapon from its scabbard. The metal hissed and sang as it pulled free. The blade cleaved the air in clean two-handed passes. The man gloried in the sight of his sinewy forearms and strong wrists, the large capable hands grasping the sword in a practiced grip. The air welcomed the bite of the blade, and shimmering rainbows of power danced on the tempered blue steel. The blade moved effortlessly, anticipating the desire of the one who wielded it.
“It’s like it knows what I’m thinking.”
“It is your sword. Of course it knows your wants.” GogMagog snorted gently down his neck.
“Who am I?” The warrior rested the point of the weapon on the toe of his heavy leather boot and regarded Gog over the cross of the hilt.
“You don’t remember, yet.” Gog regarded his heart friend with fathomless, starlit eyes.
Gort opened his mouth to reply and then promptly lost himself in those eyes.
With a swiftness and surety that shocked him, the knowledge entered the top of his head and filled out the forgotten corners of his body and soul.
“How did I lose this? Where did I lose myself?”
“You lost it by following the wrong path on your way to the mystery,” GogMagog answered.
“The mystery,” Gort said softly, “what mystery? Why did I take a wrong path? ”
“It is the mystery that binds us to the Beginnings. The one which lives in each of us and yet belongs to no one entity.” GogMagog lowered his head and rested his forehead against the man’s. “As to the why, we are not made perfect and so must sometimes wander away from the Light.”
“I should know, but it drifts like smoke and slips through my fingers,” Gort said in frustration.
“Give it time, Crystal Warrior.” GogMagog advised him and shook his mane so his bridle and bit jingled harshly. “Do you know how you are called in this life, or shall I remind you?” GogMagog inquired.
“I am a warrior, a knight, and my name is Gawain.”
His voice trailed off in wonderment. Images flooded his consciousness with the uttering of his name. In rapid succession, a company of large warhorses crossed his inner eye, each as magnificent as GogMagog, with knights in gleaming armour, pennants flying from their lances, a huge castle on a high hill exactly like the ones in all the fairy tales, a meeting place in a high vaulted chamber lit by torches, and a tall fair-haired man with the fierceness of eagles in his blue eyes. The face of his brother in this life, the mirror image of his own face, save for the broken front tooth that flashed as the man smiled, his face full of a fierce joy. Gaheris, my baby brother. Recognition swept through him like a flame.
Gort shook his head and leaned on GogMagog’s shoulder for a long moment. His legs threatened to fail him, and the ground was strangely mobile beneath his feet.
“Am I really that Gawain?” Gort asked GogMagog at a loss to see how it could be else wise.
“You are that Gawain.” GogMagog’s voice was tinged with laughter. “Sir Gawain, Knight of the Round Table, with your fealty sworn to the Great Bear, Arthur, High King of Britain. Brother to Gareth, Agravain and Gaheris. Son of Lot of Orkney and Queen Morgause, Arthur’s half-sister.”
“It doesn’t seem possible, too good to be true. I ride with King Arthur. He’s my liege lord, and I’m a knight, an actual knight of the Round Table.”
“You better get used to the idea, Sir Gawain.” Gog butted him with his great nose.
“It’ll take some getting used to.”
His sword whispered as it slid into the scabbard.
The knight turned to the stallion, and shook his head in wonder, past being surprised. The horse now sported a high backed saddle and elaborate tooled leather bridle. He gathered his reins up, set his left foot in the stirrup, and swung up into the saddle, being careful to settle the wonderful sword on the left side of the stallion. Gog moved restlessly under him as he loosened the reins slightly, and the big stallion moved off at a ground-covering trot.
“Where are we headed?” He thought to ask as the horse followed the track through gorse and heather.
“Where we must,” the stallion replied.
The man half formed another question and then let it drop. Time enough to sort through it all. He turned his face into the wind and inhaled the buttery coconut scent of the yellow gorse crushed beneath the huge hooves of his companion.
The sun burned off the last of the mists, and Gort found himself riding along the edge of a sharp cliff. Below him, the grasses billowed in the wind, and there was a far off glimpse of blue sea to the west. The stallion continued to move in a roughly southeast direction, letting the curve of the cliff dictate his progress. The stallion picked his course without any help from the rider.
“I suppose I should start thinking of myself as Sir Gawain now.”
“Yes, you should,” GogMagog agreed. “No one here will know you as Gort, except me of course.” GogMagog shook his head so the reins bounced on his neck.
“Where are we?” Gawain spoke to the pointed ears of his horse.
“We are close to the sacred mount, where the giants dwell.” Gog flicked his ears back at Gawain speaking into his mind.
“But where’s the sea? There should be water below the cliffs here, and all I see is land and forest.” Gawain looked at his surroundings in puzzlement.
“This is the land as it was, not as it is in your present time. We are almost in the land of Lyonnesse, the part of the kingdom that stretches from cliffs all the way out to the hills of Scillies.” GogMagog negotiated a tricky part of the descent down to the forest and farmlands beyond the cliff path.
“So, there really was a lost land beyond Land’s End? The legends are true,” Gawain whispered.
“You are looking at it this moment, and it is part of your duty to defend its inhabitants from harm, and to arbitrate their disputes,” GogMagog informed him breaking into a rolling canter as the stallion gained level ground.
“Do I live here as well?”
“We live at the castle on the Hill of Cadbury. One day it will be called Camelot, but not for a while yet,” Gog replied. “We are here on business as part of our circuit for the season.”
Gawain looked with interest at the neat farmsteads as they sped past. He glanced over his shoulder, in the distance the unmistakeable peak of St. Michael’s Mount stuck up out of a thick forest clinging to its lower slopes and blanketing the flat plain surrounding it.
Ahead of him, Gawain could make out the faint blue shapes of the hills that marked the Scillies. They were hazy with distance and disappeared from his view from time to time as the well-beaten dirt road they followed looped over the rolling farmland around them.
Something important niggled at the edges of his brain—something about an angry man and a dark shed. Gawain disregarded the annoying thoughts and concentrated on the pure joy of the horse beneath him and the strength flowing through his body.
There was time enough to worry about whether or not he could make the correct choice when it was needed to decide who was in the right between two complainants. The morning sun was warm on his face and the air cool enough he was comfortable in the linen undershirt, light surcoat, and pants.
Gawain slowed GogMagog to a walk and stopped in the shade of huge tree to allow a farmer to drive his cattle across the road and into the far pasture. The man raised his hand in greeting, and Gawain returned the salute.
“My goodwife has bread, cheese, and wine if you wish it, Sir Gawain,” the farmer hailed him.
“My thanks to you and your goodwife, Hal, but I have provision enough for my journey,” Gawain answered the man.
“How do I know his name is Hal?”
“You know because you are Sir Gawain, and this is your bailiwick. Relax and trust your responses. Everything will come to you as you need it to,” GogMagog advised him.
Gawain lifted his hand in farewell as the last of the milch cows entered the gate of the field on the other side of the road. They carried on for a distance, the knight not thinking of anything in particular and enjoying the spring morning.
Sooner than expected, they came to a small market square, nothing much, just a tiny inn which served as a roadhouse, and a few houses scattered around the junction of two narrow crossroads. GogMagog stopped in front of the inn without waiting for Gawain to signal him. The stallion turned his large head and surveyed Gawain with his dark eye.
“When did you change colour?” Gawain asked the stallion in surprise. For sure enough, GogMagog was no longer his shining crystal self, his coat was now a dark steely grey with a long silver mane liberally sprinkled with ebony hairs. His long full tail swept the ground behind him. The stallion’s lower legs were black, his muzzle and the tips of his ears were sable as well.
“This is how I appear in this time. I am still who I am, just as you are still Gort underneath.” GogMagog's mental voice held laughter, and he winked at Gawain.
“Takes some getting used to, this does,” Gawain told him. “Why are we stopping here?”
“This is your first stop. Give it a half day or so, and things will come back to you. Do you remember where we go from here?”
Gawain thought for a moment and then smiled. “There is an inn another half day’s ride from here where I usually spend the night. Good stable for you, and soft bed for me. The Hoe and Harrow, it’s called.”
“Very good, Sir Gawain, now, do get down off my back and get to work.” Gog heaved a huge sigh and lowered his head when a stable boy raced out to take the war horse’s reins from Gawain as the knight stepped down from the broad back.
The line of complainants was short, much to Gawain’s relief. Before the sun reached the zenith, they were on the road again and headed to the much larger and more sumptuous Hoe and Harrow.
Gawain turned the judgments just levied over in his mind and found himself more than pleased with his performance. He felt much more at home in this new body and had grown quite fond of GogMagog as a steel grey instead of his usual crystal self.
A sudden thought occurred to him and he laid his gauntleted hand on Gog’s shoulder in front of the high pommel.
“Do you have different name like me?” Gawain spoke out loud into the dust spangled sunlight.
“I am known as Ailim, which means silver fir, some call me Gringolet. It is actually keincaled, which is Welsh for handsome and hardy. The Welsh is mispronounced more often than not and I prefer Ailim. My name is the cause of great renown all over the realm. We are very fierce fighters, you and I.” Gog sighed lustily and snorted the rising road dust out of his large nostrils.
Gawain nodded absently and rested his right hand on his leather-covered thigh.
“Why is the pommel of this saddle so blasted high and the cantle, too? I feel like I’m stuck up here for good.” Gawain tried to settle himself more comfortably in the seat of the great saddle.
“Why, ‘tis to keep you from falling on your head when we joust.” Gog’s voice was thick with the horse equivalent of laughter.
“We joust?” Gawain asked faintly.
“To be sure, we are the champions of many tourneys. The Lady Nuina always gives you her scarf or ribbon to wear on your sleeve. Surely you remember the Lady Nuina?” Gog shook his head to dislodge the flies pestering his face.
Gawain closed his eyes and sought to put a face to the name. At long last, a face floated across his inner vision. Long dark hair caught up in a silvery net, and laughing eyes that shone for him alone dominated the lady’s radiant face. Ah, yes, he remembered the Lady Nuina.
“So I know how to joust?” Gawain was dubious.
“Yes, you great lunk head, you can joust. Just leave off worrying and follow your instincts when the time comes.” Ailim picked up his pace into a rolling canter. “Time’s a wasting, and I want my dinner sometime before sundown,” the horse told Gawain.


And from a little further into the story:
Gawain and the Lady Nuina raced down the narrow corridor with the knight counting off the doorways and passageways as they ran, depending on his survival skills to help him remember which one to open. He stopped, pulled on the latch and gulped mouthfuls of fresh clean air as the door swung open on the laundry yard. Leaving the door ajar behind him for Lancelot and the queen, Gawain sprinted for the cubbyhole and his gear.
The knight wrapped the Lady Nuina in his cloak and gave her one of his small throwing knives. She hid it the pocket of her skirt and gave him a glittering feral smile before she kirtled up her skirts and raced beside him through the kale yard. They skidded to a muddy halt at the back of the stable, and Gawain searched the interior for any sign of Alain or Ailim.
“We come.” Ailim’s mind voice was high with excitement. “Rose is with us, and Alain has managed to find gear for her.” Ailim was quite pleased with himself.
Gawain and the Lady Nuina dashed to the entrance of the stable that opened onto the courtyard. Everything was in chaos—horses raced wildly about rider-less and crazed; Arthur’s knights were everywhere with their bright swords flashing. The cobbles ran red with blood, and Gawain thrust the Lady Nuina behind him to shield her. Suddenly, Ailim appeared right beside them along with Alain and the two horses. The main gate stood ajar, and Gawain could see the gate keeper struggling to close it as Arthur’s men fought to open it. Gawain closed his eyes briefly as Gaheris ran the old man through with his sword. He pulled his mind back to the moment at hand and lifted the Lady Nuina onto the back of her palfrey. Thrusting Alain at his own chestnut lady, he caught Ailim’s reins as the page tossed them in his direction.
“Get the lady free of the castle and hide until I come for you. Guard her with your life, Alain,” Gawain commanded the lad.
“Aye, Sir Knight, have no fear, the lady will come to no harm in my keeping,” Alain’s eyes flashed in excitement at his first taste of battle. The lad looked as wild as the mare beneath him who rolled her eyes until the whites showed.
The lady in question wheeled her mount with expert hands and drew Gawain’s short sword holding it ready to use. “Aye, Sir Gawain, have no fear,” she repeated Alain’s words with a dark smile, “the lady is not defenceless.” The light of battle glittered in her eyes and bathed her face with an unholy joy.
Gawain would have fallen to his knees at her feet in reverence except for the small matter of the battle at his back. “Goddess keep you, Lady. I see the Morrigan’s hand on you this day and Epona at your side.” Gawain gave her his heart with his eyes.
“Later, Gawain, we will have later,” she promised as she wheeled her mare again and neatly leapt over a fallen body on the stones.
Gawain watched until they were safely out of the castle gate, the Lady Nuina’s cloak flying behind her as the mare took the makeshift barrier March’s men hastily erected across the gate in a graceful leap and soared out of sight.


I hope you'll fall in love with Gort aka Gawain and the Lady Nuina aka Ashling. YOu can follow the link in the cover at the beginning of the post to visit my author page at BWL Publishing Inc where you will find links to all the places where A Step Beyond is available. You will also fine Laurel's Quest the first book in The Cornwall Adventures and Go Gently, the last book in the series.

Coming this September a whole new series begins featuring Laurel and her friends. Set in lovely southern Alberta, Wild Horse Rescue deals with a subject very close to my heart.


Until next month, stay well, stay happy. Next month I'll be featuring the last book in The Conrwall Adventures Go Gently.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Flash Back February by Nancy M Bell


Laurel's Quest (click title for buy link) is my very first published novel. Originally published in 2010 under the title Laurel's Miracle and then re-released in 2014 under Laurel's Quest by my current publisher, BWL Publishing. This is how it came about:

A riding accident in 2005, forced me into early retirement, but I'm not one to stay still for long. The enforced curtailment of my career outside the home enabled her to take up her first love. In 2010 her first YA novel, Laurel’s Miracle was released, it was followed by the second book in her Cornwall Adventures series, A Step Sideways in 2011 which was a finalist in the OKRWA IDA awards. This title is now A Step Beyond. The third novel in the series is Go Gently. Nancy’s first romance novel, Christmas Storm was released in 2012 and the novel was a finalist in the 2012 OKWRA IDA awards. This is now Storm's Refuge with some additional story added.
Research for the novels takes up a great deal of her time. The Cornwall series is Urban Fantasy. The underlying structure of the plot rests on the influence the earth energy lines play in the story line. Earth Energy Lines are not to be confused with Ley Lines. While the two are related, they are very different in character. In September of 2013 my husband and I travelled to Cornwall, UK and had the opportunity to dowse the spot where the Earth Energy Lines enter Cornwall and form a node at Carn les Boel. The spot is a high rocky promontory which in unremarkable unless one is sensitive to the energy. This is the start of the now famous Michael and Mary lines discovered by John Michel late in the 20th century that cross SW England from Cornwall to East Anglia. In the process of the research, Nancy made many wonderful friends, one of which was Hamish Miller, a well-known dowser, speaker, and founding member of Parallel Community.

The story in a nutshell:

Join Laurel as she pursues for her quest amidst the magic of the Cornish countryside. She is aided by her new friends Coll, Gort, and Aisling and helped along in her quest by the creatures of legend and myth. Vear Du, the Selkie, Gwin Scawen, the Cornish Piskie, Belerion the fire salamander, Morgawr the flying sea serpent who does Vear Du a favour, and Cormoran, the last giant of Cornwall. They must battle the odds in the form of bullies and confusing clues. Will they emerge victorious? Will Laurel have the courage to solve the riddle and fulfill her quest a reality?

For you enjoyment here are some pictures from Cornwall, the most magical of lands. Arthur's Land.


Until next month, be well, be happy

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Everything is coming up roses Nancy M Bell


It's been an early spring here in southern Alberta. The roses are beginning to bloom, the delphiniums are almost there with just a few blue spikes already showing. We had some really hot weather in May and then some cold weather in June. But that's springtime in Alberta, I guess. Last weekend we drove up to Lake Louise in the Canadian Rockies and it snowed a bit while we were walking along the lake path. The lake was a very milky turquoise blue due to the snow melt, but still very lovely. The canoes were out in spite of the cool wet weather. Some of the trails were closed due to bear and wolf activity which is pretty common in the spring when the bears are just getting moving.

But back to the garden. I planted two new Echinacea plants, one is white bloom and the other a deep pink. They join the original one I planted a few years ago which gets a big seed head but no petals. Looks kinda funky, but I wanted to add a couple with actual blooms. This year I planted vegetables in containers on the front porch in the hopes that I can actually get some tomatoes to grow. It gets too cold at night as a rule, but I have then close to the house on the south side and sheltered, so I have got my fingers crossed.

Right now I have an adorable foster mommy cat with four kittens. She came in as a feral cat and was pretty hissy at first, but now she is so friendly and wants attention. The kittens are four weeks old and becoming more active. Two boys and two girls. The momma's name is Louisa, actually they named her Louie when she first came in as they thought she was a boy. There were a bunch of grey cats all looking the same. But ooops, no. Louie is a girl and pregnant! I brought her home and a week later she presented me with four babies. My husband loves the British show Doc Martin which is set in north Cornwall. Louisa is one of the characters, so we have named the kittens after people on the show. The boys are Martin - for Dr. Martin Ellingham played by Martin Clunes, and Bert for Bert Large played by Ian McNeice. The girls are Morwenna after Doc Martin's receptionist, and Ruth for Doc Martin's aunt. Life in our house is never dull.

I'm also fostering another cat at the moment. His name is Jackson. He came to us from Ponoka, AB, the victim of being hit by a car. Jackson had a broken pelvis and had to have his tail amputated. He is the most loving affectionate cat you could imagine. He spent 6 weeks on crate rest and has now been given the okay so he is roaming free with my other cats. He loves people, gets along with other cats and loves the dogs. He should get a good home very shortly. You always hate to see them go, but I can't keep them all. Knowing they are going to good homes helps a lot. The rescue is very careful about who adopts the animals which helps set the foster's mind at ease.

Last but not least, I am working on the third book in the Longview Romance series. Cale and Michelle are getting married at last, nothing can go wrong. Right? The second book in the Arabella's Secret series released recently. Arabella Dreams fills in some of the questions readers of the Cornwall Adventures series have asked about Laurel Rowan's Gramma Bella. I love the cover. Kudos to Michelle Lee for created the perfect cover.


Arabella Angarrick is heartbroken. Exiled from her beloved Cornwall, she must come to terms with life on the Canadian prairies and her arranged marriage to D’Arcy Rowan. She struggles to reconcile herself to life on a remote ranch with a man she barely knows. He knows he’s getting a two for one deal and Bella is thankful he is happy to welcome her unborn child into his home. D’Arcy is a kind man, but try as she might, Bella just can’t bring herself to love him. Her heart still yearns for Vear Du, the father of her baby. Will she ever stop dreaming of him?

Until next month, stay happy, stay safe!

Friday, March 18, 2016

Rain Forest Writers Retreat was Amazing! by Nancy M Bell

I just wanted to share with you all what a wonderful time I had at the Rain Forest Writers Retreat. It takes place at Lake Quinault, Washington state, the venue is the Rain Forest Resort Village. This beautiful resort is smack in the middle of the Olympia Rain Forest. Patrick Swinson organizes everything, there are three sessions which begin in late February. For the past two years I have been lucky enough to be in the third session with my amazing writing friend Sara Durham. This retreat is geared to writing, this year from Wednesday evening til Sunday at noon I wrote 30,000 words. The resort is basically closed at this time of year, so we have the whole place to ourselves. There are hotel rooms with lake view, there are self contained cabins for those lucky enough to snare one and magical scenery wherever you look.
The worlds largest Spruce tree lives here along with many other giant trees. There are hiking trails into the rain forest if you need to clear your head for a bit. Of course, it does rain, a lot. But that's okay, liquid sunshine, you know.


The University Book Store from Seattle comes every year and sets up a table with books by the attendees. A great chance to snap up some amazing books by people you actually know! There is a restaurant on site, The Salmon House and it serves spectacular meals. I recommend the salmon and the Merriman mushrooms, yum yum. The lounge is open all day for us crazy writers, from 6 am to far into the night. I usually write in my room, just cause I'm too lazy to unhook my laptop and lug it over to the lounge. Also, far less distractions for me, although I did stop to watch a bald eagle circle over the lake through the large picture window of my room.

I love this retreat, it's so amazing to be surrounded by nothing but other writers all busy tapping away on their keyboards. Of course, there is some fun and games too. Saturday soup and grilled cheese lunch in Cabin 6, followed by the Saturday night Cabin Party with complimentary and varied margaritas made with laughs and finesse. I'm not a drinker, but the night is always filled with laughter and conversation.


While I was at the retreat this year I worked on the next book in the Arabella's Secret series. Book One The Selkie's Song is available in ebook, Book Two Selkie Dreams will be available this spring. I'm really looking forward to telling the story of Laurel's Gramma Bella. A lot of readers of my YA series The Cornwall Adventures, wanted to know more about her grandmother and how she met the selkie in the first place, why did she leave Cornwall in the first place, how did she know Sarie, etc etc. Arabella's Secret seeks to answer those riddles and give the reader some insight into the how and why of things. The thing I love about writing is that my characters never fail to surprise me. They go off in directions I don't plan and some characters just show up on their own and work their way into the tale without me even thinking about it.

If you'd like to explore The Selkie's Song just click on the cover below for a buy link. Arabella and Sarie are waiting to welcome you, and the selkie Vear Du will no doubt be there as well.

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Do We Ever Really Grow Up" by Nancy M Bell

http://amzn.com/B00MJ1GNWC  


 Lately I've been thinking about old times when I was a kid. Not sure what's brought this tide of nostalgia sweeping over me. It got me to thinking about how no matter how old I get chronologically I can still revert back to the child I was in an instant. Sometimes it's the smell of moth balls that takes me back to opening up the cottage at the lake in the spring time. The memories are so vivid it seems like I should just be able to step through the veils and become part of the scene again. There's people living in my memory that I'd love to talk to again and walk down the old roads again.

Just this week I somehow came across a posting on Facebook and learned that a person I knew many years ago had passed away. I never knew him well because he was a bit older than me. But his cottage was on the same lake as ours and I kind of grew up with him in the peripheral circles of my friends. I knew who he was, he knew who I was, and we always smiled and waved at each other. I had the hugest crush on him for years. Even though I haven't been to the lake since the early 1980's and frankly haven't thought about this guy for literally years, the news of his death saddened me very much. I think somehow in a corner of my mind I believe that all those years of memories are still living and breathing somewhere out there in the ether. In my heart we will all be forever young and vibrant.

Silly, I know. Sometimes the urge to return to those places is so strong. Almost as if I believe if I go to the places that held us then, that somehow some vestige of beings will still exist there. All those summer nights we built a bonfire on the beach and sat on the big granite rock and sang songs. All people I still love and miss even though I haven't seen them in years. I still remember the white violets growing in the ditch by the gravel road where I used to walk with Gramma Breckon and her little dog Mitzi. She wasn't really my gramma, but she was part of my extended family.

It's not just people, either. All the horses I have ever known still live in my memories. Realistically, I know they are mostly dead and gone now, but if I close my eyes I can still see their dear faces and feel them under me as we ride down old trails with old friends who are no longer with us. Each horse is subtly different in their movement and the connection to me through the reins. In my heart I am eternally sixteen. Now if only I could be sixteen with the knowledge of the world I have now, what a difference that would make.

I'm not sure I really want to grow up and leave all that behind me. The magic I felt the first time I rode down the ravine in Scarborough under a canopy of newly minted spring leaves, the air around me all green and gold and speckled with sunlight. The ravine is still there but there's a parking lot for the subway where the barn used to stand. The river is all concreted and civilized, but the wildness still exists.

In those days I wrote poetry and scribbled stories in duo tang folders on binder paper. I still have them, though I cringe to read some of it now. White Lightning- about a horse of course. Trails of Life which wound the lives of an old cowboy, a wild stallion and an twisted pine tree together. Wrote that in Grade 7 I think. It might actually be worth dusting off and doing a major overhaul on. Or not... It would have helped my self esteem at the time to know I'd actually be a real live published author. Late last night I finished the first book in a new series. It will be my eighth published novel. I still remember the thrill when I got my first contract. Something I thought would never happen.

The new novel is called The Selkie's Song and is the first book in the Arabella's Secret series. It tells the story of the heroine in my The Cornwall Adventures series grandmother. Unlike the Laurel storied, this series in not YA Fantasy, but Paranormal Romance. I may at some time do a G rated version of the story for those younger readers. Watch for The Selkie's Song in September from Books We Love.

Until next month...Oh wait, I forgot to tell you. Next month at this time I will be (should be LOL) all packed and ready to go on a Hawaiian cruise! Fifteen days of pampering and sitting on the balcony and watching the waves go by. Time to get in some reading and relaxing. I'll tell you all about it in October. Come November it will be time to update you on the Surrey International Writers Conference and shenanigans I get up to there very year. Until then Salient Be well and may you be in Heaven an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

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