Featured Author E.R. Yatscoff

Visit https://bookswelove.net/yatscoff-e-r/  to purchase E.R. Yatscoff books

 If any of you readers are somewhat tired of cops, lawyers, and PI novels I’d like to steer you toward something different—firefighter crime. BWL Publishing Inc. figured it was different enough and took on my firefighting crime series. A firefighter crime series certainly fills out their wide range of genres. FIRE DREAM, MAN ON FIRE, and next year’s FINAL RESPONSE are the three comprising the series. I like writing about fire officers as they are masters at chaos control. During my career I’ve found they can handle anything—that is until I get a hold of them. My recipe is simple: mix a courageous, competent, logical fire officer with elements of murder, various crimes, and voila…firefighter crime series novels.

In FIRE DREAM the first of the series, my protagonist captain’s public persona is that of a courageous hero due to an accidental photo that went national. His visit to his hometown triggers past memories and he is blindsided by an incident he took part in as a teenager. It’s a very large skeleton in his closet. The closet door opens wider. He’s trapped by his past and can barely understand the crimes swirling around him. Two strong female digging deep, are not at all satisfied by his obfuscation and heroic persona. Revealing his murderous past may solve the crimes but destroy his life.

The same protagonist, Vancouver Fire Captain Gerry Ormond is also featured in MAN ON FIRE #2 in the series, but now he’s a chief. The story has much more crime and some returning characters, notably the strong women as in FIRE DREAM. This time they are far less hostile to him but still driven. In MAN ON FIRE the new chief gets embroiled in embezzlement, murder, extortion, and heavily involved with the Russian Mafya. Oh yeah, plenty of crime from plenty of angles.

Now FINAL RESPONSE the 3^rd in the series is totally different. The idea came to me one frigid February afternoon while on duty. A blizzard whipped snow around my fire station and for all the world seemed the entire city was abandoned—no vehicles, no pedestrians. What if me and my crew were truly alone in an empty city? The story is a bit of speculative fiction and set in Edmonton during a 6-month brutal Polar Vortex. A cadre of firefighters are tasked to protect an ‘evacuated’ city from burning down. Soon they discover a gang of thieves looting the city and the criminals don’t want any witnesses. As if the brutal weather wasn’t enough. It’s the old saying “When your up to your ass in alligators, draining the swamp is not the first priority.”

FIRE DREAM is the first Canadian firefighter crime fiction ever. Why? There’s plenty of police/detective writersbecause police response begins at the outset, arrests are made, witnesses questioned, evidence is gathered, arrests made, and finally a trial. Firefighters respond to an emergency and hand off investigations to the police who have greater resources and experience. Fire crews return to station in order to prepare and resupply equipment used at a scene. Fire investigators in Canada, except for the Toronto Arson squad who can make arrests, are limited to finding the point of origin of a fire using sniffers and dogs. Many dispatches are ‘unknown’ which can be anything including various crimes. When people don’t know who to call for an emergency—any emergency—it’s firefighters who get the call.

My 32-year career wrapped up as a Station Officer where I could sometimes have as many as 50 firefighters under my command at a large incident. I’ve lived the life and it does reflect in my writing. Initially, in MAN ON FIRE you will read about the Incident Command System which is a standard command and control operation, utilized in North America. The first responding officer on scene takes command—even a junior captain—and controls/manages the incident.

Some years back my District Chief needed some members of the community to attend Reading Week at a nearby elementary school. I got a few hours off for it. At the school I sat at a table beside a nurse, CN rail engineer, and a veterinarian. I had my yellow helmet on the table and uniform shirt with shoulder flashes. The others wore their work clothes of their various disciplines. Each of us read a page from a popular book and then the kids asked us questions. At the end of it all, the teachers told me that the kids were quite surprised to see a firefighter there; they didn’t think firefighters could read.

I have written and sold travel articles, one which won a competition. I’ve published several young readers short stories and won a 2017 John Bilsland award for a non-fiction piece.

THE RUMRUNNER’S BOY a YA historical crime fiction was an Arthur Ellis Award Finalist. The story does have an interesting background. It’s unique because it’s the first YA fiction on the rumrunning era, however; more adults are enjoying it than young adults. My grandfather was a real rumrunner in the Detroit-Windsor area. My cousin and I would often talk about him although we never knew the man because he died when we were quite young. After rolling that family history around for a number of years, I began some research and discovered there is no fiction in Canada on the rumrunning era during U.S. Prohibition. Writing a decent story might just be the winner I need.

The book was almost finished but I felt it needed more and I couldn’t really say just what that was. I headed to Essex County, Ontario and an appointment with Captain Harvey Ryersee who piloted the ferry to Pelee Island from Kingsville. He invited me up on the bridge and I got a wealth of info from him. Every name he mentioned went into my story as did the names I garnered from the Port Dover Harbor Museum. I figured on keeping the memory alive of the men during that era. Pelee Island is the most southern point in Canada in the warm waters of Lake Erie. Islands dot this western end of Lake Erie stretching down to Ohio like stepping stones, all within sight of one another. One can understand why rumrunners prowled this area as there were plenty of places to hide and dodge the U.S. Coast Guard. Unfortunately, there is no written history from there on the liquor smuggling era.

I submitted it to the Crime Writers of Canada for an Arthur Ellis Award competition. I knew I was the outlander as many authors who enter this competition are bestsellers and well known. Along with some family members in Toronto, I attended the Crime Writers of Canada awards gala. Many top Canadian authors and publishers were there. My name and my book was even in lights on the stage backdrop. I met bestselling author Linwood Barclay (love his books) who was also a finalist in my category. We spoke during the early schmoozing period. He said I would likely win as I was the ‘outsider’ and anyhow, he’d already won last year. Well, he won again. At least I know I’m in good company.

Judge for yourself. My BWL publisher author page is https://bookswelove.net/yatscoff-e-r/ My book links are: https://www.books2read.com/Fire-Dream

Dazzling Diamonds by Victoria Chatham

 

 

 AVAILABLE HERE

For writers of romance, diamonds, or at least a diamond engagement ring, tend to have a place in their stories and in His Unexpected Muse my heroine inherits a whole cache of them. Carol Channing first sang the song ‘Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,’ in the 1949 show ‘Gentlemen Prefer Blondes’ by Jule Styne and Leo Robyn, but it was the iconic Marilyn Monroe who made the song so famous. So what is the fascination with diamonds?

As with so many roots, we can go back to the Greeks and Romans for the early mention of diamonds. Greeks thought they were the tears of the gods or splintered stars, and the philosopher Plato considered they contained celestial spirits. As early as the first century AD, Roman literature mentions that diamonds tipped Cupid’s arrows. Romans believed them to be pieces of their gods, valuing them more than gold to protect them from any harm. It became common practice for soldiers to wear them in battle. Diamonds then were of the rough, uncut variety, and it was bad luck to cut one as that would counteract its protective qualities. With the decline of the Roman Empire, the magic and mythology of diamonds faded. Other cultures mention diamonds, but never to the extent of the Romans.

There is a common conception that diamonds are formed from coal because they are both sourced from carbon. Intense heat and immense pressure deep in the earth’s mantle about 1 billion to 3.5 billion years ago caused the formation of diamonds. The movement of tectonic plates compressed buried organic material found in swamps and peat bogs, into coal. At 360 million to 290 million years old, a piece of coal is a mere child compared to a diamond.

Cullinan Diamond, Wikipedia.com

While India was the ancient source of diamonds, deposits today are located around the world in North and South America, Australia and especially South Africa, home of the massive Cullinan diamond found there in 1905, all 3,106 carats of it. When cut, parts of it were incorporated into the British Crown Jewels, which are housed in the Tower of London.

There are many famous diamonds, including the Kohinoor or Mountain of Light, the largest diamond ever found in India. The Orloff, the Hope Diamond, the Taylor-Burton, the Esperanza Diamond are just a few of the world’s famous diamonds. They come in a range of colours from green, blue, yellow and pink, with red being the rarest and most expensive and still found only in India.

Diamonds did not regain their popularity until the Renaissance when Ludwig von Berquen, a Dutch lapidary, invented the art of faceting on diamonds in 1475 to enhance their glitter and beauty. The first known diamond engagement ring was given to Mary of Burgundy by Archduke Maximilian of Austria in 1477. Through the 17^th and 18^th centuries, the wearing of diamonds as solitary stones in rings, pins, and pendants became popular. Fashions changed how diamonds were worn. Large diamond brooches were popular on tight bodices, and long drop earrings complemented a low neckline. During the Victorian era, etiquette demanded that young, unmarried women did not wear diamonds, and married women only showed them off at balls or court appearances.

image from Bluenile.com

The tradition of wearing a diamond engagement ring on the fourth finger of the left-hand stems from
the belief that for a diamond to release its full power, it must be worn on the heart, or left, side of the body. Diamonds now come in various cuts from bezel to princess, cushion to emerald, rose, radiant, pear, marquise. They are said to protect the wearer, are reputed to detect guilt or innocence, indicate good luck, and increase fertility. Whatever the cut, whatever the reason for wearing them, diamonds really can be a girl’s best friend.

 

    

Victoria Chatham

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My Book Club reads Her Vanquished Land by Diane Scott Lewis

Last month my Book Club drank wine at a winery in Western Pennsylvania and discussed my historical novel, Her Vanquished Land, which was that month's pick. I was honored when the Wine Lady suggested it when we made our year's list.

Here's the novel blurb:

In 1780, Rowena Marsh decodes messages for the British during the American Revolution. When the rebels overrun her home state of Pennsylvania, she flees with her family. Are the people loyal to England welcome anywhere in the burgeoning United States? Rowena struggles with possible defeat and permanent exile, plus her growing love for an enigmatic Welshman who may have little need for affection. The war might destroy both their lives.

But when I sat down to face the women present, I wondered if they'd liked it, disliked it, thought I was brilliant or a hack.
Here were the comments:

"I thought the story of the Loyalists and Patriots paralleled today's government situation. Stay in the system and fix it or change to a new system."

"You really painted the historical picture, everyday things, and the bigger picture of the war."

"Use of Welsh was well done."

"I loved the Welshman."

"Rowena was a strong, intelligent heroine, who also questioned the system and why the two factions were fighting."

"Made history come alive! And I loved the Welshman."

"The two aunts were opposites, one frivolous, the other steady; I liked how the frivolous aunt showed her bravery in the one instant she needed to, banging a thief on the head with a teapot."

"The history was well done and fit right into the story, not overwhelming it."

One woman, a head librarian, said she loved my cover, very striking.

When I asked for any negative comments:
One woman said she'd read another book where the author used long sentences, and coming to mine, the sentences seemed choppy. But once she got into the story, she liked the structure and the fast pace.

I hope they weren't being kind to not bruise my feelings, but my novel seemed a triumph. It was good to get so many outside opinions on a novel I labored over.

To purchase my novels, and my other BWL books: BWL

Find out more about me and my novels on my website: Dianescottlewis

Diane Scott Lewis lives in Western Pennsylvania with her husband and one naughty puppy.

My Grandmother, Maw by J.Q. Rose

 

Terror on Sunshine Boulevard by J.Q. Rose

Rescuing a naked woman lying in a geranium bed? Investigating mysterious murders? These are not the usual calls in a Florida retirement community for volunteer first responder Jim Hart.

Click here to check out more of J.Q.'s mysteries published by BWL Publishing.

Grandparents Day in the USA

Welcome to the Books We Love Insiders Blog where BWL Publishing authors offer insights, updates, excerpts, behind-the-scenes in writing their books and interesting topics for you to ponder.

Last Sunday in the US, we celebrated Grandparents Day. When it first became a national holiday in 1978, greeting card companies and florists got the credit (or the blame) for it. That is not the case. A thoughtful West Virginia woman who wanted to honor grandparents organized the first celebration in 1953 in her state. 

I was in the florist business in 1978 and we welcomed another holiday to promote flowers--and sales! It never really became a big observance. In fact, my kids and grandkids never realize it until AFTER the day! But they do remember me all year, so that's okay.

Today I am sharing a piece to honor my grandmother, Maw. She was the one who spurred me on to be a writer. Perhaps this writing will spark memories of a grandparent or of someone who took on that role for you. Take a few minutes to write down some notes or an entire essay about the memories you recall with your grandparent and share it with your family.  Perhaps this will inspire you to write more about your life and share it with friends and family members. You can do it!

My Grandmother, Maw by J.Q. Rose

My grandmother is the large lady in the middle with her husband (my grandpa who passed before I was born), sisters, brother and niece

Beulah Lee, yes, she’s my mother’s mother, was a schoolteacher. She loved reading and especially loved reading her Bible. She’s the one who pointed out many verses to me and directed me to the Lord’s Prayer in Matthew 6.

 Maw, as she was called by our family, was an intelligent woman who was stubborn as could be. When she made up her mind to do something, she did it and there was no stopping her. She and my father held loud “disagreements” quite a few times.

 She wasn’t exactly a warm, cuddly, mushy kind of grandma who made cookies for every visit. But she did love to sew and made several doll outfits for my beloved Ricky Jr doll on her foot pedal sewing machine.

We had a special connection and not just because we loved to shop. (When her social security check came in, she cashed it into small bills and stuffed it in her wallet. She delighted in showing me the stack of cash she had for us to go shopping.)

We both were readers. Her reading probably spurred my love of reading which in turn developed my desire to write stories for others to read. I began writing little stories when I was in second grade and developed a writer’s bump on my middle finger from writing constantly. (Anyone else get that bump?)

By seventh grade I decided to tackle writing my first novel. The storyline was about a horse and a girl due to my love of the book, Black Beauty. I wrote the entire book on lined yellow tablet paper and showed it to Maw. Taking those awful scribbles of sentences and typing them into a manuscript became her major project.

 Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement when she handed me the typed pages. I almost cried. I was overcome with the idea she had “published” my book for me. I was thankful for her taking the time to work on this manuscript.  She got a kick out of my reaction, but she also loved the story and encouraged me to write more stories for more people to enjoy. From that day forward, I knew I wanted to tell stories and have them published so I could share them with readers.

 I wish Maw were here now to be a part of this writing experience. Somehow I think she is with me with her blue eyes shimmering with pride.

####

Arranging a Dream by J.Q. Rose coming in January 2021

In the introduction about Grandparents Day, I mentioned I was in the florist business. If you are interested in what goes on behind-the-scenes in a floral shop and greenhouse operation, check out Arranging a Dream: A Memoir to be released in January 2021 from BWL Publishing. This is the story about pursuing our dream to be entrepreneurs in the floral industry. 

That challenging first year is recorded in the book-- the ups and downs, the doubt, the guilt, the funny, the sad, the joys and wins. Were we a success or a failure? Sorry, I can't tell you that--no spoilers here!

####

 Click here to visit JQ online. 

Happy Autumn Season! Be Safe. Be Well.

Favorite Things by Helen Henderson

Windmaster by Helen Henderson

Click the cover for purchase information

Greetings from Tennessee. I am Helen Henderson and pleased to be the newest contributor to the BWL Blog. Since it has been some time since I was a guest here, I thought I'd take the opportunity to introduce myself. A question often asked a writer is when did you first put pen to paper. I won't state the number of years but will just say I've been a storyteller of some shape or form for quite a while. Another authorial hat that is worth mentioning are the local histories and the collection of feature articles under my byline on a wide range of topics including military history and weapons,  archaeology, and antiques. Throw in some museum work and I blame my background not only for a focus on fantasy, but for making the worlds come alive.

Which brings me to the covers from the fantasy romance series, the Windmaster Novels. I love the impression of action and adventure they present. (Special thanks to Michelle Lee for creating them.) I have sailed (notice, I said sailed, not crewed) on a sailboat. And the desert temple inspired by Petra in Windmaster Legacy calls to the historic side of my soul.

There is another story set in the world of Windmaster, however I've stayed with Windmaster and Windmaster Legacy for two reasons. Both deal with the tales of Captain Ellspeth and the archmage, Lord Dal. Their adventures continue in October with the release of Windmaster Golem where a new generation takes over the task of saving the future of magic.

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

~Until next month, stay safe and read. Helen

Find out more about me and my novels at Journey to Worlds of Imagination.
Follow me online at Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter.
Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky and a feisty who have adopted her as one of their pack.

Featured Author S. L. Carlson

 

     This is S. L. Carlson, and I am pleased to be a BWL Publishing Inc. author. My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

    I have hiked mountains, worked farmlands, and swum in oceans, but best love the woodlands, lakes and rivers, where my settings take place. I have taught grades K-8, along with a multiple other jobs, but anything to do with outdoor adventures is me. While sitting alone in an autumn, I may or may not have been witness to magical creatures.

   War Unicorn: The Ring is the prequel to the three books of The War Unicorn Chronicles. In it, we learn that while removing a dead tree root, how Aldric (aka Rick) first encountered Neighbor, the war unicorn, in an enchanted ring:

 

He sat on the edge of the dug-out trench and kicked at the trunk with both feet. It wiggled, like his little sister Mercy’s, loose tooth. He stood and shoveled another load. Something clinked, and then glinted red in the shovelful of dirt. Aldric picked up the tiny silver box with a silver circle attached. He slipped his finger through the circle. It fit perfectly. Embedded on the lid were three red tear-shaped stones. He spit on it and rubbed the box-ring on his shirt. The gems sparkled in the fading sunlight. His family had never owned anything so grand. He wondered if people in a city like Nimrock wore jewelry like this. Perhaps he could go to there to trade it. The ring was legally theirs, for no one had owned this field before them, except for the king. Maybe they could buy another field with it.

Aldric stuck it in his pocket and pointed at the root. “You will come out.”

This was taking too much time. He flexed his biceps, after two days’ worth of muscle-building from this root, it was time for it to go. The quickest way would be to set the short trunk and root on fire. Unfortunately, the sky was empty of clouds to draw down lightning. That was really a good thing, because his father might cease any more spell-casting lessons if rain clouds suddenly started disappearing, a sure sign magic was afoot.

Fire. He clapped three times to get the attention of the natural elements around him. Little puffs of smoke floated away from between his hands. Calling out their rock family names, Aldric pointed to seven stones, his hand moving to the rhythm of his voice. He continued pointing and singing, directing them like a grand conductor of the choirs of old. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. The stones struck against each other. Tiny sparks flew from the encounters.

Aldric sang out in his off-key voice, “You’re going to burn. Ha-ha.”

Stones danced toward the tree root, clashing together and producing more sparks. The root finally caught fire. Aldric put the rocks back to sleep and smiled. He sat cross-legged by the crackling flames, enjoying the warmth on his face while the coolness of the earth soaking into his trousers.

A pulse beat within his pocket, like a heartbeat of a bird. He drew out the ring and held it to his ear, listening. He shook it. His own heartbeat quickened and then slowed to the same rhythm of the ring. He took out his knife and jimmied the lid, flipping it open on an unseen hinge.

Suddenly, the flanks of a white horse appeared. Aldric rolled into the dirt pile to escape the flying hooves. The animal ran about ten paces and then spun, lashing out with its powerful hind legs. She was a beautiful horse, with perfectly formed muscles, but if fire could flare from an animal’s eyes, Aldric felt certain it could come from this one. She looked angry enough to pull the tree root out with her teeth.

Something protruded from her forehead, a long thin branch. Was she hurt? It made her look like a unicorn from one of his mother’s hearth stories.

It’s okay, beauty.” Aldric made a reassuring clicking sound.  “I’ll get that out for you.” He waved his hand and sang a calming song. His cracking voice couldn’t calm a boulder, but he sang anyway.

As her front hooves touched the ground, she bounced back up, head down, branch pointing at Aldric. She charged at him.

Startled, he rolled out of the way. He looked over his shoulder for another assault, afraid the dangerous creature might run at his sisters near the house. But she was gone, vanished as quickly as she appeared. She wasn’t toward the river, or close to the north woods. He scanned the apple orchard near their house. Nothing unusual.

Aldric released his breath, and then breathed in softly as he listened to the land. His fire crackled and wind whispered through dried grass in the field. He could barely hear the Red River rapids in the distance. Perhaps his older sister, Sasha, saw the horse come her way. She spent a lot of time down there lately. Aldric listened harder. The breeze rustled leaves in the orchard, where Mercy and Baby Ann were singing to the trees. Their voices were worth listening to.

Something was missing. Birds. Birds always chirped and flew close to the orchard. Aldric would have thought the whole white horse incident was merely his imagination if not for the silence of the birds.

Then, just as quickly, the birds started up again.

Aldric blinked. “How peculiar.”

The red gems on the closed ring glinted from the orange blaze. It must have closed when he rolled away from the horse. Aldric opened the lid again. In another rush of wind, the white horse reappeared and kicked out with her hind legs. She leapt, barely clearing the flames at the last minute. She turned, snorted, and stomped large front hooves. Her ears lay flat against her head as she stared at him from the other side of the fire. The horn, he was sure it was a horn now, flickered orange. She stood still, breathing heavily, fire in her eyes. Or perhaps that was just the reflection. Aldric extended his arms and re-sang the calming song. The unicorn seemed to cringe. She stared at his finger with the box-ring.

Carefully watching the beast, he held a finger over the open ring top. As Aldric shut the lid, he heard a mournful cry.

 “Noo!”

The unicorn disappeared.

Aldric held the ring to his ear once more. He couldn’t hear the pulse, but he sensed it. Did the animal shrink and live inside the ring? He’d just take a peek.

As he lifted the lid, she appeared, ran the same ten paces as before, spun and kicked out. The mare glanced around, and then shot Aldric an irritated look. She trotted in a circle around the fire and him, bucking and shaking her head and mane. Her muscles rippled with power. The thin spiraled horn, not quite an arm’s length long, looked threatening. Aldric didn’t take his eyes off of the unicorn as she circled, then stopped. He wouldn’t give her a moment to disappear on him again. Aldric took a step closer. The creature retreated a step. She kept a steady distance from him, as if an invisible tether bound her.

 “You don’t want to be here, but you’re not running away.”

The unicorn looked left and right as if contemplating that very thing.

 “Here I am, thinking out loud as if you understand me. I think I shall call you ‘Flame.’”

The unicorn blew out between her lips.  “Bbburr. I think I shall call you ‘Stupid’,” she replied.

 

 

       To read more of Aldric and Neighbor’s adventures in battles and magic, be sure to check out my BWL Inc. Publisher Author Page at https://www.bookswelove.net/carlson-s-l

And for tidbits of unicorn fun, see my S. L. Carlson blog and website at https://authorslcarlson.wordpress.com