Why Did I Write a Memoir, Arranging a Dream: A Memoir by J.Q. Rose

Arranging a Dream: a Memoir by J.Q. Rose

Official book launch January 1, 2021

Click here to pre-order now

Click here to discover more books by J.Q. Rose from BWL Publishing

Hello and welcome to the BWL Publishing Blog!

I have some breaking news for you! I am excited to announce my memoir, Arranging a Dream: A Memoir is officially one of BWL Publishing's newest published books. The official launch date is January 1, 2021, but with this new way of releasing books using the pre-order opportunity, the eBook is available now and will be delivered to your reading device on January 1. 

Arranging a Dream is a step into the new genre, Memoirs, for BWL Publishing. 

Here is the Back of the Book information to let you know what this "feel-good" story is all about:

In 1975, budding entrepreneurs Ted and Janet purchase a floral shop and greenhouses where they plan to grow their dream. Leaving friends and family behind in Illinois and losing the security of two paychecks, they transplant themselves, their one-year-old daughter, and all their belongings to Fremont, Michigan, where they know no one. 

 Will the retiring business owners nurture Ted and Janet as they struggle to develop a blooming business, or will they desert the inexperienced young couple to wither and die in their new environment?

 Most of all, can Ted and Janet grow together as they cultivate a loving marriage, juggle parenting with work, and root a thriving business?

 Follow this couple’s inspiring story, filled with the joy and triumphs and the obstacles and failures experienced as they travel along the turbulent path of turning dreams into reality.

I have written mysteries and romantic suspense to entertain readers. A memoir, also known as creative non-fiction, is so different from writing fiction where everything is made up. The writer can go hog-wild and write about alien worlds, space operas, contemporary romance and no one cares if it's true. 

A memoir tells the truth about real life. That is very difficult for a fiction writer!  A life story or biography covers a person's entire life, but a memoir is just a small piece of it. Think of all those life experiences as a delicious pumpkin pie. A memoir would be just a slice of it. 

I began writing my memoir thinking it would be for my kids. I wanted to encourage them to dream big for their lives. I chose to write about the first year we were in the flower business because leaving the security of family and friends and bringing our year-old daughter to a new home was challenging and life-changing for us. Our dream was to be entrepreneurs in the greenhouse business. 

We fell in love with the greenhouse operation attached to a flower shop in the charming town of Fremont, Michigan. Not only would we be growing plants, but also selling fresh flowers and everything that goes along with servicing customers during major events in their lives like weddings, anniversaries, new babies, illnesses and funerals.

I discovered the story had all the elements of fiction, Ted and I, the main characters, conflicts with the previous owners, and a beautiful setting in a small town in West Michigan.

 

"If you try, you might fail, but if you don't try, you'll never succeed."

I thought this story could inspire folks to pursue their dreams. To take a chance. That's when I decided to approach my publisher to see if she would consider publishing my memoir, and she said yes. So the book's official launch date from BWL Publishing is January 1, 2021. What a way to start the new year!

Memoir writing allows the writer to visit events in her life and see them through a new perspective--time. Life storytellers discover more about themselves during the journey. And that's what it is--a journey toward a new understanding. 

I hope you will try writing a few stories you remember about your life. Sharing the good old days with friends and family and getting their perspectives on what occurred so many years ago is fun and at times, eye-opening.  Believe me, each person will have a different recollection about past experiences and sometimes conflict with your memories. But since it's your story, you tell it the way you remember it! You are the author of your life.

November is National Life Writing Month

I offer workshops in life storytelling because I am a life story evangelist! I want to let you know November is National Life Writing Month. Take this opportunity to break out a journal or notebook and make some entries about your life. If you don't know how to begin, search online for "life story writing prompts" or "memoir prompts" to spark some memories. Have fun!

Arranging a Dream: A Memoir by J.Q. Rose
Click here to pre-order

About J.Q. Rose: 

Whether the story is fiction or non-fiction, J.Q. Rose is “focused on story.”  She offers readers chills, giggles and quirky characters woven within the pages of her mystery books. Her published mysteries are Deadly Undertaking, Terror on Sunshine Boulevard and Dangerous Sanctuary released by Books We Love Publishing. 

Author J.Q. Rose

Using her storytelling skills, she provides entertainment and information in articles featured in books, magazines, newspapers, and online magazines. J.Q. taught elementary school for several years and never lost the love for teaching passed down from her teacher grandmother and mother. She satisfies that aspect of her character by presenting workshops on Creative Writing and Writing Your Life Story. 

When J.Q.  isn’t writing, she enjoys photography, playing Pegs and Jokers board games, and traveling with her husband. They spend winters in Florida and summers up north with her four grandsons and granddaughter and their parents too.

Why I love writing scary villains - by Vijaya Schartz

September release MALAIKA'S SECRET on BWL Publishing site

I love colorful characters and I confess that the villains in my stories are just as interesting and fascinating as the hero and heroine. It’s not by accident. First, a hero or heroine can only be as heroic as the villain is dangerous. A weak villain presents no threat to the protagonist. Then, there is the liberating factor. 

When I started writing, I couldn’t imagine telling the story from the mind of a bad person. It seemed sinful, naughty at best. But while writing my first book, I accidently jumped into my villain’s head. As I descended into the dark abyss of my evil character’s psyche, viewing the world from his twisted mind, I had a life-changing revelation... I enjoyed it! 

Some memorable villains in the two Archangel books.

Was I a bad person? I pride myself in being spiritual and this new discovery was disturbing. According to what I learned as a writer, however, no one is totally good or totally bad. We are all nuances of light and dark, some darker than others. After dealing with the guilt, questioning my righteousness and my sanity, I realized that being able to understand sinful intents and the mechanisms and motivations of evil people was a good thing for a writer. 

Ancient Enemy series:
"Captain Kavak certainly ranks as one of the worst villains ever encountered!"
 ck2skwips&Kritiques

Ever since, I make it a point to develop my villains, and some of them are so evil, they will give you thrills and shivers. That’s the case for the villains of my September release, Malaika’s Secret. Admiral Mort Lowell was born on a dark moon of Tenebra II. Half Human and half Tenebran, he was rejected by both races as a child for his hybrid looks. Drawing support from a mysterious secret society, he quickly rose in the ranks of the Galactic Trade Alliance. 

Because of his white skin, black hair, and the black visor protecting his sensitive retinas, some call him a Vampire. Others call him a shark because of his sharp, pointed teeth. But those who fear him for his scary looks have no idea how dangerous and wicked the man is inside, or from where he draws his power. 

The paperback is available now, and the eBook is in pre-order, to be delivered on September 3rd. Order it today from your favorite online store HERE.

Special Agent Tyler Conrad works security undercover on the Byzantium Space Station and adheres to a strict moral code. When strange beings with wings are murdered, and a dangerous lion wanders the station’s indoor streets, Tyler’s investigation leads him to a mysterious woman, who could make him break all his rules and get them both killed.

Forbidden to love, the beautiful Malaika, guardian of the glowing crystal in the temple of the Formless One, is an illegal mind-reader who hides perilous secrets. She has seen the great evil coming to Byzantium but must hide her extraordinary abilities or perish with her people.

When Admiral Mort Lowell, a hybrid Tenebran nicknamed the Vampire, makes a surprise visit to Byzantium, Tyler knows something wicked is afoot…

The previous books in the Byzantium Space Station series are: BLACK DRAGON (Book 1) and AKIRA'S CHOICE (Book 2). Although each novel stands alone, this is the right order for the series. Find the links below my signature line.

 

Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
amazon - B&N - Smashwords - Kobo - FB 

Seven Aprils - My Favorite New BWL Release by Eileen O'Finlan

Click here for purchase information

Click here for Eileen O'Finlan's website

Click here for purchase information


American women serving on the front lines in wartime is not as new as one might think. Remember Molly Pitcher (most likely Mary Ludwig Hays McCauley) who took over for her husband when he fell at the Battle of Monmouth.  Or what about Deborah Sampson, the young farmwoman who disguised herself as a man and joined the Continental Army to fight in the American Revolution.  An article on the American Battlefield Trust website entitled “Female Soldiers in the Civil War” claims a conservative estimate of between 400 and 750 disguised female soldiers fighting on both sides.  A few also served as spies.  According to the article women had a variety of reasons for taking on the hardships of camp life and risking injury or death including patriotism, the desire to remain with loved ones, a sense of adventure, and the promise of a reliable income.

Eileen Charbonneau’s new release, Seven Aprils, draws the reader into the life of one young woman who disguises herself as a man to serve in the Union’s newly formed medical unit for reasons quite different and even more compelling than those listed above.  To save her own life, Tess becomes Tom Boyde, assistant to Dr. Ryder Cole, and later takes on a third role as Diana, Dr. Cole’s prostitute lover.  How she manages to keep all her personas separate, adroitly recover and tend to the wounded even in the midst of frontline battle, and just as skillfully satisfy Dr. Cole’s lust for her makes for an adventurous, addictive tale.

Charbonneau’s adept handling of the changes from Tess to Tom to Diana never leave the reader confused.  The story, thoroughly engaging and totally believable, is filled with heart stopping adventure and smokin' hot romance. If you’re looking for a fresh take on a Civil War novel, Seven Aprils more that fits the bill!

In this excerpt from Seven Aprils Tess, who has become Tom, now becomes Diana:

    Tess turned. Madame Lanier stood in one of the room’s three doorways. Dress and hoops gone, she was still imposing in her silk dressing down. Tess felt more trapped inside her uniform than when the boys first teased her for not joining them at the swimming hole.

    “Would you loosen my corset strings, love?”

     Tess swallowed. “Sure.”

     Madame Lanier’s dressing gown sang as it slid off her shoulders and to the ground. Tess released the back tie that held in the cinch at Madame Lanier’s waist. She watched the ties slip through their grommets as she waited the space of a few of the woman’s deep breaths. “Is that all right?”

    “Perfect.”

    Tess secured the ties in the new position.,”

    “You have done that many times before, cheri," Madame Lanier said. “Now. Would you not like to do the same?”

    “Ma’am?”

    “Shed your uniform for one night? Remember who you are underneath those handsome shades of blue?” The woman eased Tess down before the dressing table with a gentle press at her shoulders. “They suit you, the blues. Did you wear the color in your other life?”

    Tess took in a careful breath. “Wore mostly homespun, back then. Browns from walnut casings, yellows from onion skins. A little green cloth from sage.” She was babbling. The truth, of course, and in detail. “I do admire the shade of blue. Made a mix of milk and blue pokeberry for my sleeping place in the loft once. Never got to paint it, though.”

    “Why not?”

    “My pa said I was putting on airs. Said plain board’s good enough for the menfolk of the family, and it was good enough…for—for…”

    “For you?”

    “Yes, Ma’am, for me.”

    What was she doing, talking like a magpie to this woman, and almost giving herself clean away besides? She heard Ryder Cole’s laugh from the room beside Madame Lanier’s. Her head hurt. If they discovered her a woman, would the army think he knew all along? Would they blame him?

    “You are a chemist, Private Boyde, with the making of your paints! Perhaps you’d like to investigate my beauty concoctions?” Madame Lanier gave out a short, throaty laugh. “Purely in the interest of scientific study, of course?”

    “I’d like that fine, Ma’am,” Tess said, turning her attention to the lace-covered table.

    “Good. Sit.”

    She reached over Tess’s shoulder and picked up a brush with an ivory handle as fine as those on Doctor Cole’s French-made surgical instruments. “We will do only what you like tonight, I promise.”

    “Thank you,” Tess whispered, hearing the relieved crack in her voice’s low tone.

    “Your hair has a lovely natural curl. May I?”

    “Uh… all right.”

    The hostess began her task. Tess tried to lose herself in the cut glass bottles leaking their scents, but the deep massage of her scalp was too wonderful not to revel in. Her mother had brushed her hair like this, so long ago. She closed her eyes, remembering.

    “You have never seen yourself as beautiful, have you?”

    Her eyes opened. Tess stared at the reflection of a stranger. Slicked down, always-pulled-behind-the-ears strands were now soft waves framing a round, flushed face, a nose off-kilter since Laban let the handle on the pump up too fast when she was eight and broke it.

    “Beautiful?” Her laugh sounded like dry leaves before a storm. “What would the point of that be, Ma’am?”

    Madame Lanier’s brows slanted in amusement. “Well, it’s been the point of my own existence for as long as I remember.”

    “Oh. ‘Course. Beg pardon, Ma’am.”

    The light, throaty laugh came again. It was true. This woman was not going to force her to do anything. She was not full of meanness like the few predatory men that Ryder, Joe and Davy shielded her from at camp. Maybe Ryder was right, maybe everything would be all right if she could just relax in this strange, gaudy place.

    Madame Lanier laid down her brush. She swiped three fingers full of a substance that looked like butter from the lilac-scented jewel bottle. She brought it to Tess’s temple and began kneading it in, counterbalancing the throbbing there.

    “Better?” she whispered.

    “Yes.”

    The skilled hands anchored her jaw now, and continued the gentle massage of her cheekbone, sliding across the bridge of her imperfect nose. The massage continued around her ear, down her throat. Is this how Madame Lanier started with the men? Those jealous men who were angry at the lady’s choice of partner-of-the-evening? It’s a wonder this woman didn’t live in a castle with those men at her feet, Tess thought.

    “Can you see it yet?” Madame Lanier asked softly.

    Tess stared at their reflections. “See, Ma’am?”

    She kissed Tess’s cheek. “That every woman with the fire of purpose is beautiful.”

    “Woman?”

    “And I see your purpose as well as I see the affection you carry for your captain.” She frowned. “As if you haven’t got enough burdens, my darling girl.”

    Suddenly, the weight of the day crashed down, turning the bottles blurry as Tess struggled to take in gulps of air. The woman’s long, strong fingers unbuttoned, then lifted off coat, vest and blouse until she found Tess’s own corset: plain boned muslin, tied towards a different purpose. She loosened the strings.

    “Breathe easy now. I will not add to your burdens. You’re safe here. You’ll always be safe here, do you understand?”

    Tess looked up at the woman’s reflection. “Will I?” she whispered

    “Yes. Now, let’s get that uniform tucked away for a few hours, shall we? Then how about a few of my night-off girls and I help you into some silks and finery?”

    Soon Tess had what she’d always wanted, though she’d never known it before that moment—seven sisters dousing her in lilac water, powdering her shoulders, pulling her waist tight under corset ties. They graced her neck with amethysts, found ear bobs, painted her lips and cheeks. She shyly pulled her braid from its secret pocket for them to marvel at. Then they combed her shorn hair back and pinned the cascading fall to it, even planting silk flowers where they attached it.

   As her transformation continued, they told her about picnics along the Potomac on their days off, and going to the theater where goddesses on a gold chariot were pulled by a great mechanical lion with real smoke coming out of his nostrils. Encouraged, Tess told them about her mountains back home, and how cool they kept the evening breezes even at this summer time of year, and the white birch trees with mushrooms growing in their shade—mushrooms big enough to fry up like a steak.

    When the girl in the cinnamon colored dressing gown asked about Ryder and his scar, Tess even told them about the first time she’d laid eyes on her captain, his doomed horse and the panther. When she got to the panther’s death throes, the girl let out a shriek, followed by mad giggles from others to hush up.

    The door to the adjoining room swung open.

    Tess felt Madame Lanier’s hand take her shoulder in an iron grip. She looked up into the mirror and caught sight of Ryder Cole standing in the door frame. His eyes darted around for an instant, then landed square on her face.

    “Diana?”

    It was her turn to shriek.

For the love of a Barbarian - by Vijaya Schartz

DAMSEL OF THE HAWK just released in the medieval fantasy series Curse of the Lost Isle. The story is set in 1204, after the sacking of Constantinople by the Crusaders, and I had lots of fun with the research. My hero is one of the mysterious Kipchak warriors who served in the Byzantine emperor's personal guard. Savagely loyal, fearless, and deadly, the Kipchak offered their skills for gold, and Constantinople had plenty.

As barbarians go, the Kipchak are full of surprises for a westerner like me. Raised in France, I always considered the hordes from the east a bunch of uncivilized demons on little horses, eating raw meat, killing, and pillaging. Although some tribes were more violent than others, and despite the fact that many lived in tents, these barbarians of the steppes, when they settled, could build beautiful cities, temples and palaces. There is also a gap in centuries between Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan, who was on the rise at the time of the story.

The Kipchak also brought with them a number of amenities we still enjoy today. They didn't eat their meat raw, they grilled it, and many of us still like a good Mongolian Barbecue. They brought us medicine herbs and spices from the orient. They traded silk and precious gems as they controlled the roads between the continents. They enjoyed fermented drinks, made from goat milk, oats and barley, and they could drink great quantities of it. They could hold their liquor like no one else.

While the Crusaders used a crossbow and fired their bolts in volleys, the Kipchak used a small composite bow of wood, horn and sinew, with incredible precision. They could hit their mark from a great distance, with a single arrow, from the saddle of a galloping horse. The Kipchak's skills as riders reached the point of acrobatics. Their horses, small in comparison to the enormous destriers of the western knights, could travel great distances in very little time, even in mountainous terrain.

Always close to nature, the Kipchak raised horses, sheep and goats, and they loved and respected their animals, although they rarely named them. They even had a white dog deity named Kopec. Of course, that's what I named the hero's white sheepdog in the story.

But there was also gold in the Caucasus Mountains between the Caspian and the Black Sea, and the Kipchak weren't immune to the fascination of precious metals. The women wore headdresses and heavy necklaces made of gold coins, especially the khan's wives and concubines.

Their beauty was legendary. The term Caucasian comes from their look. Part Asian and part Viking (the Russ tribe that invaded from the north), they had golden skin and clear eyes, very little body hair, and the men kept their hair short under the turban. They bathed often and kept good personal hygiene, compared to the often smelly Crusaders.

I will miss my close relationship to these Kipchak warriors as I move on to writing the next book in this series, which will be set in Poitou and Aquitaine (France), and will feature Melusine the Fae, the infamous lady of Lusignan.

Here is my new release:
DAMSEL OF THE HAWK
Curse of the Lost Isle Book 7 (standalone)
from Books We Love Ltd
by Vijaya Schartz
in eBook and paperback
http://amzn.com/B01CH93SNM

1204 AD - Meliora, immortal Fae and legendary damsel of Hawk Castle, grants gold and wishes on Mount Ararat, but must forever remain chaste. When Spartak, a Kipchak warrior gravely wounded in Constantinople, requests sanctuary, she breaks the rule to save his life. The fierce, warrior prince stirs in her forbidden passions. Captivated, Spartak will not bow to superstition. Despite tribal opposition, he wants her as his queen. Should Meliora renounce true love, or  embrace it and trigger a sinister curse... and the wrath of the Goddess? Meanwhile, a thwarted knight and his greedy band of Crusaders have vowed to steal her Pagan gold and burn her at the stake...

HAPPY READING!

Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Swords, Romance with a Kick
http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Amazon - Barnes & Noble - All Romance eBooks  

Scottsdale, AZ, where the billionaires live - by Vijaya Schartz

Chaparral dog park in Scottsdale, where Talia and Kyle first meet

The city of Scottsdale, in Arizona near Phoenix, is to Phoenix what Beverly Hills is to L.A. That's where the rich and famous live and shop, play golf, attend horse shows, buy expensive foreign cars.

This is also the setting for my new release, a contemporary short novel titled ASLEEP in SCOTTSDALE.

North Scottsdale Desert Vistas

Xeriscape gardens, a marvel of water conservation

I live near Phoenix, and I had fun imagining my billionaire hero in familiar places, from the famous horse fountain, to the old town district, to the Fashion Square mall, and the Mayo Clinic, as well as fancy French restaurants.

The famous horse fountain of their first date

The old town district with art galleries and Native American artifacts

Nieman Marcus at the Fashion Square mall

Most fun was to imagine his mansion, an oasis in the desert, with tropical palms and a huge swimming pool. But I kept that for the cover. 

Asleep in Scottsdale
Contemporary novella
by Vijaya Schartz

Find it at the links below:
Amazon - Barnes & Noble - All Romance eBooks - Smashwords - iBooks - Kobo

When Talia runs over billionaire Kyle Dormant with her bicycle in the dog park, she considers their meeting a happy accident. He believes it is destiny, but her physician's mind rebels at such notions. Their budding romance comes to a grinding halt when Kyle won’t wake up from deep sleep... with no medical explanation. Baffled and deeply concerned, Talia digs into his recent past for a plausible cause. Instead, she uncovers dark family secrets. Convinced Kyle's condition was induced, and someone wants him dead, she is anxious to save him, but the closer she gets to the sordid truth… and a possible cure, the greater the risk to both their lives.

Vijaya Schartz
Blasters, Swords, Romance with a Kick
http://www.vijayaschartz.com

Of Puppies and Book Signings!

Hey everyone, hope you're enjoying your fall whatever the weather is throwing at you. Here in southern Alberta it has been a brilliant gold and blue few weeks. Now that the freak early snowstorm nonsense if over with. The poplars/aspens are golden torches on the mountainsides, pirate's gold against the blue green of the firs and spruce trees. And the sky is that clear Alberta blue that almost seems to burn across the heavens it's so intense.
I volunteer for an animal rescue in Calgary called Alberta Animal Rescue Crew Society, they are a no kill rescue who works closely with the Spay and Neuter Assistance Program(SNAP). Currently I am fostering a lovely momma dog with eleven puppies. They were three weeks old on Oct 13 and are just starting on soft food. Takes about 2 hours to get them all fed, mom fed and walked and the pen cleaned. What a joy they are, all with different personalities and colouring. A few a monster puppies while the majority are medium sized and a couple are quite small. I named them after black colour names because when they were born they all looked black. There is Ebony (F), Sable (F), Onyx (F), Jet (F), Obsidian (F), Midnight (M), Black Jack (M), Ink Spot (M), Brown Eyes (M), Noir (F), Tiger Eye (F)- she is turning out to be a golden brindle colour.

My upcoming release form Books We Love is Christmas Storm, a romance set in Longview, Alberta. The scene stealing dog in the book is based on a number of dogs who have touched my life over the years. The dog, Storm, is dedicated to a black momma dog who didn't live long enough to get rescued. I wish she had been as lucky as Storm. My last rescue dog is a black lab X and I called her Storm in this dog's memory. You'll have to forgive my un-techiness, I can't get the image to rotate properly. Sorry.

I am very excited to share that I am attending the Surrey International Writer's Conference in Surrey British Columbia this weekend. I leave on Thursday morning and am in Jack Whyte's Masters Class at 1:30. I love this class, it will be the fourth year I have participated. Each person submits 3 pages of their work that they would like some feed back on. Jack reads it to the class in his amazing Scottish accent and then there is discussion. The class is limited to 12 people so it is quite fun and a lot of us are regulars which makes it very dynamic. For the last two years I have worked the conference as a presenter,this year I am not presenting so I will have more time to play! There are great workshops and great presenters every year. Friday night is dress up costume night, the theme this year is Spies, Lies and Bad Guys. I am going as a spy, I'll share pictures next month! In the meantime here is my costumes from 2012 (Flapper) and 2013 (Evil Editor)

Saturday night is a massive book signing which is open to the public. If anyone is in the Vancouver/Lower Mainland please come by the Sheraton Guildford and say 'hi'. The book signing is in the Fraser ballroom at 5:30 pm. Some big name authors will be signing their books, Jack Whyte will have the next book in his Guardians of Scotland series available at the onsite Chapters store, Diana Gabaldon of Outlander fame will be in attendance, Anne Perry is another favorite. There are many more, for more information you can check out the conference website Surrey International Writers Conference

I'll share my conference experience with you next time, and keep you updated on the puppy progress. Once they are old enough, the babies will go to separate foster homes to learn about crate training and house training. Momma dog, Missy, will stay with me until she finds her forever home. AARCS has a very through adoption process, so I am confident everyone will find a good home.

Till next time...

Conferences and Horu's Chosen by Janet Lane Walters - New Release

Wasn't sure what I would write about since I'm undergoing a bit of a split in my personality. I want to shout out about my new release, Horu's Chosen and also talk a bit about conferences. So I've decided to do both.

I used to attend conference after conference and have been to some that are different. This weekend I'll be at New Jersey Romance Writer's conference and this is usually a fun time. Mainly because I get to see old friends and even make new ones. One of my old critique partners is going to be a featured speaker and I really will be glad to see her again. Two of my friends are finalists in a contest and that makes me happy for them. Would love to see them both win. They're competing in different genres so there's a chance.

This made me think. Why do you go to conferences? Do you want to learn new things? Do you want to see your friends? Do you just like to be part of a group? I've been to large conferences and one tends to get lost in the shuffle. Smaller conferences are more fun. One conference I've never wanted to attend is RT. Somehow this isn't my thing. One I really enjoyed was the EPIC conferences and the RWA ones where I've been a speaker. Also a science fiction conference that meets across the river from here. That was fun. Sold a bunch of books and met some new and interesting people.

Now for my second matter. Horu's Chosen was released. Though it was up for pre-sale, I have no idea what that meant or did. This story had an interesting start. When planning the trilogy, and writing the first book, I needed a hero for the second. A few lines in the first book gave me the hero. Seth, an undercover cop. Never realized he was in the first book. There's just a small few lines where he warns the heroine of the first book not to go home. Something in his eyes made her think he wasn't the homeless man he pretended to be. So he came into being, betrayed by his handler and a priest he had to flee and he found his way to another world and another ancient Egypt.

Horu's Chosen (An Alternate Egypt Book 2)
Seth, an undercover cop has been betrayed by his handler. To escape he calls a number on a flyer and is transported to an ancient Egypt he doesn’t understand. He must rescue the Daughter from the evil priests of Aken Re. Merin is the Daughter....
amazon.com

Introducing Bast's Warrior - Ancient Egypt #MFRWauthor #Suspense #BooksWeLove

1. Just released today. An alternate ancient Egypt with no pyramids or the Sphinx but with action and adventure with the avatars of the three gods worshipped aiding the hero and heroine.

   

   Bast's Warrior (An Alternate Egypt Book 1)

   www.amazon.com

   Tira flees a threat to her life and encounters two elderly women who offer her the chance to be sent to an alternate ancient Egypt with no thought of return. She has had a fascination with Egypt...

Just released, Bast's Warrior is the first book in a trilogy involving my love of ancient Egypt with a bit of a twist. There is a reason for making this an alternate world story. The other twist is while the story could be considered a time travel, it really isn't since the characters don't return to an ancient Egypt we know and have many artifacts from. The why for the change is "there were no camels in Egypt during the time I had targeted for the series." I so wanted camels meaning I had to find a place where they could exist. Enter an alternate world.

Tira is the modern heroine who is sent back to this world. The time is around the ending of the Hyksos, mysterious invaders who are never really identified in what is known about this ancient world. Because of my interest in Astrology, the means of sending her back is by casting her horoscope and the spinning of a giant horoscope wheel.

So Here's a look at the Heroine. Tira wanted three things in life and she had little chance of gaining any of them. She wanted to be financially independent. She wanted to go to Egypt and study the ancient ruins. And she wanted her sister to stop using drugs.

The last desire brought memories of this morning’s quarrel.  The money squirreled away to see them through the rest of the month was gone. “Luci, why?”

“You don’t understand,” Luci screamed.

True. She didn’t understand why her sister needed to escape into a drugged stupor instead of studying and working to step onto the road leading from the slums. Tira’s hands stung with the memory of slapping her sister. And the words she’d shouted as she slammed out of the apartment echoed in her thoughts. “I hate you. I wish you were dead.” A shudder rumbled through her body. She hadn’t meant those words. As soon as she reached the apartment she would tell Luci.

With a sigh she turned back to the museum display. The Egyptian artifacts awed her. For a short time she allowed the beauty of the objects to carry her into dreams of pyramids and temples, of gods and pharaohs and of digging in the earth to uncover treasures of the past.

The dream hovered beyond her grasp. Her chances of gaining a position on a dig in Egypt were slim. Positions were avidly sought by students who had chosen the right colleges and the right professors. Those choices had been beyond her financially. She sucked in a breath. Instead of adventure, when the summer ended, she would take her place in front of a classroom teaching history at an inner city high school.

A glance at her watch said dreamtime was over. She had to reach the apartment in time to change for her evening shift at a restaurant several blocks from the cramped fifth floor efficiency she shared with her older sister. Once again, flash moments from the morning’s quarrel exploded in Tira’s thoughts. She’d been so upset she’d missed her morning martial arts session at the local center.

Tira cast her dreaming self aside and donned the role of practical sister. She hurried to the exit and stepped from the past into a steamy August day. Heat shimmered from the sidewalk. The air hung heavy and filled with the odors of the city and the noises of traffic. She strode along the crowded area taking advantage of every opening.

Ten days to dream. Ten days to walk the halls of the museum. Ten days to study the artifacts that had become her lodestones. She breathed the aromas of real time, spices of cooking foods, metallic scents of passing traffic and the odors of people, some pleasant and some not.

Several blocks from the apartment building the crowds thinned. In an alley she glimpsed furtive movements in the dark shadows. She hurried past. On the corner across the street a group of gang members gathered. She sucked in a breath and held her head high. For all her twenty three years she’d avoided the gangs. As she strode past she heard the usual crude remarks about her body and her attitude.

Get a life, she wanted to scream.

When she saw the ambulance and two cop cars in front of the building where she lived she halted so abruptly she stumbled. A hand caught her arm. Tira saw the gray-streaked beard of one of the winos who slept in the doorways or the alley. “Get your hands off me.”

“Don’t go home,” he whispered. “Lose yourself in the crowd and keep your head down.”

She saw a keen intelligence in the man’s dark eyes. Who was he? He wasn’t as old as she had imagined either. “Why?”

“Your sister’s dead. Cops’ll be looking for you. They heard about the fight.”

Tira’s stomach clenched. She blinked away a rush of tears. Though hearing about her sister’s death wasn’t unexpected another dream shattered. There would be no rehab for Luci. “Junkies O.D. every day,” she said.

“She was murdered.”

Quite a way to start out. The hero Kashe has his own problems. Kashe of Mero sat on his bed in his chamber of the family compound. His head pounded. When he opened his eyes he saw the day had progressed into late afternoon. The bright light made him wince. He recalled the past night’s celebration for the retirement of the family’s arms master who had been his mentor and friend. From the Tuten he had learned the skills of a warrior. Last night Kashe had finally defeated his mentor with weapons and a capacity for beer.

“Kashe.” His father’s voice stabbed like a dagger.

He groaned and sat up. The drum in his head banged. Leave me alone, he wanted to shout. The Nomarch of Mero’s anger toward his middle son was nothing new. What did he want now?

As second son Kashe had been marked for the priesthood. He had no desire to become a priest. He found satisfaction in his role as a warrior. Yet, duty called for obedience.

If any other temple had been chosen he might have agreed. He had no taste for this newly risen cadre of men seeking to force their god into the circle of goddesses and gods of the Two Lands. Aken Re had been unknown until the invaders had arrived. The army of those men had been defeated so why did their priests linger?

The beaded curtain jangled adding cacophonic notes to the beating in his head. “Answer me.” The nomarch entered and halted at the foot of Kashe’s bed. “Rise and present yourself in the central hall. We have guests. Your older brother has news of importance.”

Kashe groaned. He and Pian were a year apart in age and generations in philosophy. In embracing the new religion, His brother had seen an advantage for bringing his ambitions to fruition. He believed the priests would smooth his path to the pharaoh’s chair.

Kashe sat on the edge of the bed and considered his brother and his plans. Pian was slender and shorter than Kashe. He fit the picture of an ideal pharaoh in appearance but not in character. He was cruel and selfish. His sense of justice and honor were lacking. He had no love for Kashe. 

“Throwback” was the mildest of the names Pian used as needles to jab his younger brother. Kashe had strengths his brother lacked. Every match on the training field had ended with Kashe as the victor.

He rose. He couldn’t help that in stature and build he resembled the Nubian ancestors his father and older brother chose to forget in their desire for power. If Pian became pharaoh the Nomarch of Mero would become his son’s chief advisor.

“Are you coming?” his father asked.

If he said no who knew what would happen. Kashe stretched. “As soon as I wash and dress.” Though he would rather have bathed he would make do here. He glanced in the polished metal mirror. His warrior’s braid was neat enough. He poured water from a pitcher into a basin and washed. After donning a fresh kilt he fitted wrist and arm bands and selected a collar necklace.

As he left the family sleeping quarters he braced for the evening meal, the main one of the day. He entered the central hall and hid a desire to duck behind one of the pillars. On the dais his parents sat with a pair of priests. Their gold medallions glittered in the torch light. His older brother stood before the men.

As Kashe neared the platform he noticed the robes were embroidered with gold-rayed discs representing their god. The pair were opposites. One was rotund, smiling and fluttering his hands while speaking. The other was lean with a hawk-like nose and a somber expression. Kashe noticed his younger brother lingered in the shadows near the dais. If anything was to be learned Namose would know.

The nomarch gestured. He strode past his sisters who were engaged in a board game and gossip. 

When Pian’s voice took on a tone both servile and arrogant Kashe grimaced.

“My lords, Oris and Hebu, beloved of Aken Re, has the daughter been found? I so desire to look in her face and claim her as my chief wife. The honor you offer humbles me.”

The rotund priest’s smile broadened. “As yet we have not found her, but the signs point to where she is hidden. When the auspicious hour arrives we will claim her.” He turned from Pian to the nomarch. “You know the price.”

The nomarch pointed to Kashe. “My lords of Aken Re, this is my middle son. He is skilled with weapons and has a vast knowledge of strategy. He will enter your temple as a priest.”

So welcome to my world. Horu's Chosen will be released next month and is up for pre-order. Toth's Priest is waiting for edits so there will be more about my fascination with ancient Egypt