Showing posts with label #historical romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #historical romance. Show all posts

Sunday, April 21, 2024

Will a German Soldier Defy his Own Country? And Commit Sabotage? by Diane Scott Lewis

 


Click here to purchase.
Winner of Best Historical for 2023

How do I make a German officer during WWII sympathetic?

I make him a real person caught in a terrible war. He loathes Hitler's increasing madness. But how does he commit sabotage and escape the regime? Falling in love with an Englishwoman complicates his plans.

August von Gottlieb was nearly killed during Hitler's purge of enemies, when he tried to warn friends of the coming danger. While he healed, still in the army, his wife was diagnosed with cancer. He had children to feed and doctor's bills to pay. He rose in the ranks, and saw more and more of what a horrible madman Hitler was.

Now a widower and stationed in France, he's in charge of the southern region of Brittany. August tries to keep order, waiting for the secret war machine on its way to his port. A machine he hopes to destroy. The war can't go on like this with the slaughter of innocents.

An Englishwoman, with her own tragic past, is also trapped in this chaos, unable to return home after the German invasion. Norah must confront August to free her young cousin from arrest. He now watches her sketching birds in the woods. Is she a spy?

He requests she sketch his picture to find out more about her. The money he offers is too good for her to pass up. They come to know one another and an attraction neither of them wants develops.

A forbidden affair will turn Norah into a pariah, but her love for August, and knowing he's a decent man, keeps her steadfast.

The war machine is coming. August must finalize his plans, and find a way to slip off to Switzerland with Norah as his superiors breathe down his neck.

"A formidable and unforgettable tale of bravery, betrayal, and profound love. Where secrets and impossible choices can mean the difference between life and death. Truly a heart-wrenching and heart-pounding love story set amidst the chaos of war." History and Women


 Diane lives with one naughty dachshund in Western Pennsylvania

Thursday, September 21, 2023

Norah is caught forging, will August forgive? Outcast Artist in Bretagne by Diane Scott Lewis

 


To purchase, please click HERE

My turbulent couple caught up in WWII hide secrets from one another. He's a German officer who hates Hitler. She's an Englishwoman forging passes to help Jewish families escape France. Enjoy an excerpt when Norah is finally caught.

Norah stood tiptoe on a chair and pulled the documents from the attic, the narrow place she’d dusted the best she could. Giselle was coming over for coffee, and to look at what she had. The mayor’s wife had friends who could distribute paperwork and collect information. She had to trust her. Norah felt a burden lifting from her shoulders at no more sneaking around, no more deception.


Last night, as August slept beside her, she decided this was the best option.

She balanced and went to step down from the chair. A paper floated to the floor. The door unlocked and opened. She sucked in her breath.

August stood in the doorway. “What are you doing up there?” He was supposed to be gone, inspecting the airfield.

The chair seemed to shake with her jolt of emotions. She stepped off, the documents smashed to her chest. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “I’m cleaning up some old paperwork. I thought you’d be at Audierne.”

“The inspection was delayed.” He walked forward and picked up the paper from the floor. It was a sketch of her recreation of the Reichsadler, the Nazi eagle over a swastika, required on travel permits. He held it up. “What is this? Norah, mein Gott. You are forging, aren’t you?”



Her breath came in rasps. “Please. Think of the Jewish children.”

“You lied to me. I thought I could trust you.” The hurt in his face jabbed at her, nearly spinning her to the floor.

“August, I…” She had no viable excuse. “I didn’t exactly lie. I never admitted the truth.”

He took the documents from her shivering hands. “Do you know what would happen if Captain Schmidt discovered this? From you, my fiancĂ©e. You would face arrest, even torture. Colonel Burmester would be contacted to implicate me. I could be sent from here to Russia, or elsewhere. How would I find you or protect you? I thought you understood.”

“I’m sorry. I thought only of the children, not what could happen to you.” It made such sense when he spoke it. Her head swirled, knees weak.

He slapped the papers on the table, eyes wide and sharp. “What else have you been doing behind my back?”

“Nothing, I swear.” She leaned on the chair for support; icy fear shot through her veins. “I’ll be careful from now on.”

“You must stop at once.” His glare sliced through her, but pain shadowed it. “Do you hear me?”


She knew she was defeated, and she had planned to give up her work. She couldn’t put him in jeopardy. Her body sagged. She struggled to breathe. “I won’t do it anymore. I was quitting anyway.”

He raked a hand through his dark-gold hair, eyes flashing. “How can I believe you? Who else is involved?”

“I can’t reveal that.” Please don’t insist on it!

“If you’re found out, there’s no telling what will happen.” He gripped her shoulders, his fingers on her flesh painful. “Again, how can I trust you? I want so much to. I thought we had something special.”

“We do. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t doing this when we first grew close.” Her eyes dampened with tears. “That sounds worse, but I was convinced my actions would help people.”

“You deceived me.” He cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones, his expression miserable. Then he stepped away, shaking his head. “After I warned you, you continued.” He swept his hand toward the table, forehead creased. “Burn those documents and whatever else is up in the attic. Our lives are at stake.”

She nodded, straining to balance herself. “I will. I swear I won’t do it anymore. I want you safe from retribution. I was reckless.”

He stood tall, the commandant once more, as he reached for the doorknob. His flushed cheeks betrayed his upset. “Norah, I understand why you did it. But you should have told me before this. I cautioned you.” The disappointment on his face was obvious, the hurt in his eyes condemning her.

“I’ll destroy them, I promise.” She hated to do it, yet yearned to embrace him, to hold him close. Her pride, her confusion, kept her from begging that he stay. She must not collapse into a grasping female. “Forgive me.”


“I must return to my office. I’ve much to think about. The risks you took. You were dishonest, so heedless.” Words stern over an anxious voice, August was out the door, shutting it after him. A swift, stormy wind had blown over her, scattering her life like dried leaves.

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t admit to the truth.” Heart like a rock weighing down her chest, she bent to the hearth, blinking back tears. A sob erupted. She must bring him back to her, make him understand. They still loved one another, didn’t they? But to destroy all her hard work. She felt frozen in place, her world crumbling. It’s not fair! I was doing the right thing. She reached into a basket for the kindling August had split for her, as her soul felt cleaved in two.


Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

Monday, April 24, 2023

Writing Historical Novels by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 




https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

https://books2read.com/Romancing-the-Klondike

https://books2read.com/Rushing-the-Klondike

https://www.bookswelove.com/authors/canadian-historical-mysteries/ 

As a historical writer it is important to make sure that you use the words of the period you have set your book in. For example if your story is set in the 1500s you could use the word hugger-mugger when talking about a sneaky person who is acting in a secretive way and elflocks to describe messy hair. Jargoyles meant that a person was puzzled about something in the 1600s while in the 1700s a person who was out of sorts was grumpish. In the 1800s people would have felt curglaff when they jumped into cold water and a man going for a post dinner walk while smoking his pipe was lunting. In the early 1900s a person who was drunk was referred to as being fuzzled.

Of course, it is important when using those words that the writer somehow explains what they mean such as, if a man said he was going for an after lunch lunt, the person he was talking to could reply. “I don’t have my pipe and tobacco with me today.” I feel that writers who use terminology from a different era or words or phrases from a different language without clarification are trying to impress the reader with their vocabulary and intellect. Speaking as a reader, for me what they are really doing is making me angry and interrupting the flow of the story. I am jolted out of the lives of the characters and into my life as I try to process the meaning of what was written.

As a writer you want the reader to be so caught up in the story that they don’t want to put the book down, you don’t want them to throw the book across the room because they don’t understand what has been said or done.

Another important aspect of writing historical novels or even novels set in past decades is to make sure that you do have the characters using devices that hadn’t been invented yet.

The ball point pen came into use in the 1940’s so you can’t have someone signing papers with it in the 1920s. The Charleston dance was introduced in a movie in 1923 and caught on after that, so a story set before that time could not have party-goers dancing it. While the computer was invented during World War II, it didn’t come into commercial use until the 1950/60s and personal use until the 1970/80s. Don’t have a person make a phone call before March 7, 1876, which is when Alexander Graham Bell patented his telephone and don’t have someone send a text on a mobile phone in the 1970s.

It is important to do your research when writing a novel set in the past, no matter what the year.

More historical words:

In the 1590s beef-witted described something as being brainless or stupid.

In the 1640s callipygian described a beautifully shaped butt.

In the 1650s sluberdegullion meant an unkempt, drooling person.

In the 1950s two people making out in the back seat of a car were doing the back seat bingo.

 

Friday, March 24, 2023

Sable island by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 

 

 



 https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

https://books2read.com/Rushing-the-Klondike

https://books2read.com/Romancing-the-Klondike

Sable Island

I am a Canadian writer and all my mystery, historical, romance, and young adult novels are set in Canada. According to Statistics Canada, Canada has 52,455 islands and ranks fourth in the world for number of islands. However, it is a long ways behind Sweden that has 267,570 islands, Norway with its 239,057 islands, and Finland with 178,947.

Canada has three of the top ten largest islands in the world and all are in the northern territory of Nunavut. Baffin is Canada’s largest island at 507,451 sq km (195,928 sq mi) and the world’s fifth largest. Victoria comes in second in Canada at 217,291 sq km (83,897 sq mi). It is the world’s eighth largest. Ellesmere is third in Canada and tenth in the world at 196,236 sq km (75,767 sq mi). It is slightly smaller than Great Britain.

Canada also has the world’s largest fresh water island. Manitoulin Island is located within the boundaries of the province of Ontario on Lake Huron, one of the Five Great Lakes. The island is so large that it has over one hundred lakes on it.

One of the most famous Canadian islands is the crescent-shaped Sable Island, off the southeast coast of the province of Nova Scotia. It is believed to have been discovered by Portuguese explorer Joao Alvares Fagundes in 1520-1521. In 1598, a French nobleman, Troilus de la Roche de Mesgouz, tried to colonize the new world with convicts but they mutinied and, in punishment were put on the tree-less, stone-less Sable Island. A few managed to survive in mud huts until 1603, when they were returned to France.

Sable Island has over 350 bird species and 190 different plants but it is best known for its feral horses. The ancestors of the present day horses were seized by the British from the Acadians, a French-speaking group who settled in the New France colony of Arcadia. They were expelled between 1755 and 1764 after the English took over the colony. Their horses were purchased and some were taken to Sable Island in 1760 for grazing.

The Sable Island horses number between 400 and 550 and due to limited food supply on the island are small and stocky in stature. Although in the past, some of them were rounded up and taken to Nova Scotia for sale, today they are unmanaged and left to live their lives as wild animals.

In 2008, the Sable Island Horse became the official horse of Nova Scotia and in 2011, the Sable Island National park reserve was created to protect the horses and the island.

Tuesday, February 21, 2023

Apple Peels and Snails to Snare a Husband in the Eighteenth Century, by Diane Scott Lewis

 




To purchase my historical novels, click HERE

To celebrate February, the month of love, with Valentine's Day, I delved into the superstitions of the past when a village lass searched for her one true love.

Folklore abounds in the villages of England around the single girl’s search for a husband—as in the eighteenth century marriage was what most young women had to look forward to, or they’d be ridiculed and regulated to spinsters, farmed out as governesses, or forced to live on the charity of their family.

Most of these search-for-true-love customs revolved around the seasons.


 
At the ruined Abbey of Cerne Abbas in Dorsetshire, girls flocked around the wishing-well in all seasons. To obtain their heart’s desire, they’d pluck a leaf from a nearby laurel bush, make a cup of it, dip this in the well, then turn and face the church. The girl would then “wish” for presumably a man she already has in mind, but must keep this wish a secret or it wouldn’t come true.

Other customs included, in Somersetshire on May Day Eve or St. John’s Eve, a lass putting a snail on a pewter plate. As the snail slithered across the plate it would mark out the future husband’s initials.



On another ritual to this end, writer Daniel Defoe remarked by saying: “I hope that the next twenty-ninth of June, which is St. John the Baptist’s Day, I shall not see the pastures adjacent to the metropolis thronged as they were the last year with well-dressed young ladies crawling up and down upon their knees as if they were a parcel of weeders, when all the business is to hunt superstitiously after a coal under the root of a plantain to put under their heads that night that they may dream who should be their husbands.”

Throwing an apple peel over the left shoulder was also employed in the hopes the paring would fall into the shape of the future husband’s initials. When done on St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the girls would recite the following rhyme as they tossed the peel: St. Simon and St. Jude, on you I intrude, By this paring I hold to discover, without any delay please tell me this day, the first letter of him, my true lover.



On St. John’s Eve, his flower, the St. John’s Wort, would be hung over doors and windows to keep off evil spirits, and the girls who weren’t off searching for snails in the pastures, would be preparing the dumb cake. Two girls made the cake, two baked it, and two broke it. A third person would put the cake pieces under the pillows of the other six. This entire ritual must be performed in dead silence-or it would fail. The girls would then go to bed to dream of their future husbands.

On the eve of St. Mary Magdalene’s Day, a spring of rosemary would be dipped into a mixture of wine, rum, gin, vinegar, and water. The girls, who must be under twenty-one, fastened the sprigs to their gowns, drink three sips of the concoction, then would go to sleep in silence and dream of future husbands.




On Halloween, a girl going out alone might meet her true lover. One tale has it that a young servant-maid who went out for this purpose encountered her master coming home from market instead of a single boy. She ran home to tell her mistress, who was already ill. The mistress implored the maid to be kind to her children, then this wife died. Later on, the master did marry his serving-maid.

Myths and customs were long a part of village life when it came to match-making.


Source: English Country Life in the Eighteenth Century, by Rosamond Bayne-Powell, 1935.

Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund. 






Monday, November 21, 2022

Unusual and Forbidden Love Stories, by Diane Scott Lewis

 


Miss Grey's Shady Lover
Diane Scott Lewis has crafted a witty, short parody that made me titter at the author's pointed euphemisms and veiled sexual overtones. The characterization of Anya and Libidinous is spot-on for the time period. What an amusing romp ensues as this tale unfolds! (warning, quite erotic)
              ~ Angie Just Read for 
The Romance Reviews

The Defiant Lady Pencavel
"Readers should not take this story too seriously as with every line, Ms Scott Lewis pokes fun at late eighteenth century society and men in general. There is also a cheeky Cornish maid with an over the top accent who adds colour and humour. A very fun romp to help blow the cobwebs away." - 
Historical Novel Review

Buy HERE

I thought for fun I'd write two parodies, but many didn't understand that they were parodies and I wasn't trying to write serious stories. One on Fifty Shades, set in the 18th c., and the other, also 18th c., is a parody on historical romance novels. I still enjoyed the process.

I like the idea of forbidden love, a shy maid and her arrogant master, and two disparate people, betrothed but totally unsuitable for one another. They both want their freedom for different reasons. Could they ever find love? 

I poke fun at every trope there is.

In my current work in progress, Outcast Artist in Bretagne, I take it to a higher level. It's World War II, and a young Englishwoman-with a tragic secret-is stranded in France after the Germans invade. Her activities, sketching near the coast, brings her under the scrutiny of the German Commandant. 

A strange attraction ensues, an impossible situation, but August von Gottlieb is not the Nazi Norah fears he is. He, too, detests what Hitler is doing to Europe.

On the rocky shores of Brittany, a dangerous liaison develops, two people caught up in war, intrigue, and passion. 

She's shunned and threatened by the villagers. He is in danger of losing his position before he can accomplish what he needs to.

Sabotage, a secret weapon, and forged documents will threaten them and everyone around them in a fight for their lives.

Another tale of forbidden love, set back in history, my favorite genre. Due out in August 2023.


Diane lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty dachshund.

To find out more about her books: DianeScottLewis 





Wednesday, August 24, 2022

Hiking the Chilkoot Trail by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

 


 

https://www.bookswelove.com/donaldson-yarmey-joan/

https://books2read.com/Romancing-the-Klondike

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

https://books2read.com/Rushing-the-Klondike  

My husband and I hiked the trail in 1997, on the hundredth anniversary of the Klondike Gold Rush. We were in the Yukon and Alaska so I could research the state and territory for my travel book Backroads of Alaska and the Yukon. That hike and my two trips to Dawson City were what made it possible for me to write Romancing the Klondike, book three of the Canadian Historical Brides Collection. The sequel, Rushing the Klondike, is out this month.

     Many of the men and women who went to the Klondike in the first year starved and froze because they hadn't brought along enough supplies. To combat that, the North West Mounted Police decreed that the prospectors had to have 907 kg (2000 lbs) of  provisions in order to cross the border from Alaska into British Columbia and then onto the Yukon. The NWMP set up a scale to weigh each person's supplies before letting them climb the Chilkoot Pass.

     My husband and I each carried about 16kg (35 lbs) on our five day hike up to and over the pass. Besides our food, we carried a tent, sleeping bags, two changes of clothes, an extra pair of shoes in case the pair we were wearing got wet or to change into in camp to give our hiking shoes a breather.

     The Chilkoot Trail was called the `poor‑man's route'. It ran from Dyea to Bennett Lake following an old, first nations path. The men and women who travelled to the Klondike in hopes of getting rich had to haul their supplies up and over the summit. Some were able to hire indigenous peoples to help but many had to do it themselves. They would carry as much as 36kg (80 lbs) up the `Golden Stairs' (steps cut into the solid snow of the pass) each trip, then slide back down to their cache and begin again. Most made 40 trips to do so. Once a miner got onto the steps he didn't dare get off until the top. If fatigue forced him to step out he seldom managed to make it back on.

     Most of the people who started for the Klondike were Cheechakos, a native word for `greenhorn'. It was after a person had spent a winter in the north that he or she became known as a Sourdough.

     The 53 kilometre (33 mile) long Chilkoot Trail is called the `Longest Museum in the World'. There are 10 campsites along it so we had plenty to choose from. We wanted to make sure our daily hikes weren’t very long.

     The trail started out with the Taiya River to our left. We were continually climbing and descending beside it through a rainforest whose tall trees created a nice, cool shade. We had to watch for tree roots, stumps, and rocks and in places there was a drop-off so we made sure our packs were secure and didn't wobble. We crossed a number of bridges, made of metal, split logs, planks or boardwalks.

     At kilometer 8 (mile 5) we reached Finnegan's Point, the first campground on the trail. This was named after Pat Finnegan and his two sons who set up a ferry service here in 1897. Later they built a road through the damp, boggy areas and charged a toll. This worked only in the summer because the prospectors pulled their goods on sleds on the frozen ice in the winter. This point was also used as a cache where the stampeders left their first bundles of supplies while they went back to Dyea for the rest.

     4.8 kilometres (3 miles) from Finnegan's Point we reached Canyon City campsite our first stop. We set up our tent then cooked our supper. Once we had washed our dishes, we drained the water down the screened-in pipe for gray water and scrapped the small food particles off the screen into our garbage. This we hauled out with us. At the time we had to hoist our food and garbage up on the bear pole to keep it from attracting bears into the camp. We also made sure not to keep any food with us in our tent.

     To reach the actual site of Canyon City, we continued down the trail 0.8 kilometre (0.5 mile) past the camp until we reached a sign with the distances to places: Canyon City Shelter 0.5 mile; Dyea 8 miles: Sheep Camp Shelter 5 miles; Chilkoot Pass 8.5 miles.

     We followed the path to the left, crossed over the suspension bridge and came to a sign that stated: Canyon City Historical Site. We were now walking where Canyon City stood over 100 years ago. We passed an old, rusted, cook stove and come to a huge, rusted boiler. This 50 horsepower steam boiler was used to operate an aerial tramway between here and the Chilkoot Pass. It cost 16.5 cents per kilogram (7.5 cents per pound) to send goods over this tram. Few of the Klondikers could afford it.

     Stamped on the boiler was: Union Iron Works SF 1886.

     The next morning we headed to Pleasant Camp which was 4.5 kilometres (2.7 miles) from Canyon City. The climb out of the canyon between the two camps was thought to be the worst part of the trail by some stampeders. A little ways past the Pleasant Camp we crossed a suspension bridge over a series of cascades. And in 2 kilometres (1.2 miles) we arrived at Sheep Camp beside the Taiya River. This camp is the last stop before the Chilkoot Pass and a ranger gave a talk about the conditions of the pass at 7:00pm Alaska time. Other words of advice were to leave by at least 7am, drink 2 litres of water on the trail and expect to take 10 hours to reach Happy Camp.

     When we left Sheep Camp the next morning the ground was level for the first bit and we came across a building that looked almost like a train station. After we began climbing there was an old log building with glass windows, little patio, and cooking utensils hanging on the wall. We were climbing mainly on a path but sometimes over boulders and we left the trees and were in alpine meadows.

     The bears like to use the trail so we had to be on the lookout for them, since they own the trail. It’s best if one gets far off into the trees and let them have the right of way.

     It was a 6.8 kilometre (4.2 mile) climb to the Scales. This is where the prospectors who had hired professional indigenous packers had to reweigh their goods. The packers wanted more money, up to $2.20 per kilogram (1 dollar per pound) to carry the supplies up and over the pass. Consequently, many items were left behind and some still can be seen.

     From the Scales we could see the Chilkoot Pass and we crossed alpine tundra to reach the base. Past the Chilkoot is Peterson Pass, a longer but easier alternative to the Chilkoot which was used by some Klondikers.

     Those who travelled the trail in the winter climbed the 'Golden Stairs' cut in the ice and snow up the side of the pass. Those who came in the summer, when the snow was melted, had to traverse over the huge boulders and loose rock left from a slide. That was what we climbed on.

     The climb was steep and we had to lean forward as we went from solid rock to solid rock. If we straightened up the weight of our pack threatened to pull us over backwards. Other hikers walked up it as if they were on stairs. Near the top we reached a plateau. To our right was a cairn marking the border between Alaska and BC.

      When we reached the top we had climbed 823 metres (2700 feet) from Sheep Camp. At the summit was a shelter and outhouse. We stayed only long enough to use the outhouse and take pictures because it was still a 6.4 kilometre (4 mile) hike to Happy Camp.

     As we hiked down the Canadian side of the summit we had the most magnificent view of Crater Lake, the short purple, white, red, yellow, pink flowers of the alpine tundra, and the mountains. We didn’t walk on the tundra because it’s not easy for the flowers and grass to grow that far north. At Stone Crib there was a pile of rocks that anchored the cables for the aerial tramway on this side of the summit. Here also is a large saw blade from a saw mill that someone decided he didn't need any more.

     Happy Camp is on a river between Crater Lake and Long Lake. After spending the night we continued our hike and when we reached a sign pointing for Deep Lake we turned in that direction and climbed above Long Lake. We came over a rise and saw a lovely lake, a bridge over a river, trees, and a camp in the centre of the mountains. We crossed that bridge and arrived at Deep Lake Camp. A wagon road ran from here to Lindeman City and we could still see some old sleigh runners.

     As we left Deep Lake Camp we walked beside the lakeshore and came upon a metal boat frame. Then we left the lakeshore and followed along Deep Lake Gorge. The further down we went the more trees there were. It was very beautiful and peaceful as we walked through the tall pine trees and finally reached Lake Lindeman Camp (4.8 kilometres (3 miles) from Deep Lake Camp.

     Some Klondikers set up a tent city here and built boats during the winter for sailing across the lake. At the other end of the lake they portaged around the rapids between Lindeman and Bennett lakes. Others carried their supplies along frozen Lindeman Lake and built their boats at Bennett Lake.

     We visited the museum near the river and looked through the gold rush exhibits. A Rufous hummingbird flitted in front of me attracted by the red hoodie I was wearing.

     The next morning we passed Bare Loon Camp and made it to Bennett Lake. The largest tent city in the world was set up here during the winter of 1898. In the spring, the residents of this tent city built boats from the trees around the lake. Over 7100 crafts set sail down Bennett Lake, beginning the 900 kilometres (560 miles) journey to Dawson City. Records show that about 30,000 people travelled from Bennett Lake to Dawson City in 1898. Sadly, when they arrived they found out that the best claims had been staked by the prospectors who already lived in the north.

     Bennett grew after the railway reached it from Skagway in 1899 and it had warehouses, shipping offices and steamer docks. The St. Andrews Presbyterian Church was built in 1898 by volunteer workers and it is the only gold rush building still standing in Bennett. There is also a train station and a train that takes hikers back to Skagway.

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