Happy Thanksgiving A Bit Early

 

 

The holiday season is almost upon us. My favorite time of year and it begins with Thanksgiving. Actually, in my house, it begins a week or so before.

Since we no longer host Christmas with my children – too many of them for our small house – the kids have taken over. However, we still do Thanksgiving dinner here – with a couple of the kids and the rest come over later for dessert – so I put up our tree and Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving.

When the kids were small, we used to put up the tree the day after Thanksgiving. Neighbors all told me we were nuts. Funny, how many trees and decorations I see on Thanksgiving, and even before now days. It warms my heart. Guess I wasn’t so crazy after all.

Anyway, as I said the holidays start with Thanksgiving. Of course, we have the traditional turkey and dressing (after the blessing – oh wait that’s a Christmas song) and then the other kids come over – as well as grandkids – and we have dessert. Usually more than we can possibly eat.

It’s been my tradition ever since my kids got married to give them something on Thanksgiving, usually a Christmas decoration of some sort. I was into ceramics for a while, so naturally they got ceramics, a Santa Claus ornament or statue. Then I was into woodworking and made them Santas, Christmas trees or other ornament. Eventually I was into red work embroidery and made them wall hangings of – who else – Santa Claus. I started quilting and yep, you guessed it, I made them table runners – no not of Santa Claus – and wall hangings (Santa of course). Eventually I started buying them ornaments.

My son and daughter in law begged me not to get them anything this year. They’re out of wall space and their tree is full of ornaments. I’ll have to see what I can come up with, because no way am I breaking that tradition. That’s part of the fun of the holiday season. Maybe I’ll be nice this year and look for Santa Claus candy, something consumable.

When I was younger, my mom started baking the day after Thanksgiving, making huge cans (potato chip cans and not the small ones) full of cookies. Back then everyone entertained and visited a lot during the holidays. Sadly, that practice seems to have stopped.  There wasn’t a weekend that went by without some aunt or uncle coming to visit. I loved those days. I don’t bake as much as I used to and certainly don’t start the day after Thanksgiving.

The first weekend in December, my daughters and I spent the days shopping. They used to help me pick out gifts for their children, but since their kids are all grown up now, (well most of them are, I still have a couple young ones) I don’t need to shop for them anymore. I’ve taken the lazy, safe route and give them cash. I’m sure they like it better. Once they’ve moved out or married, they join the ranks of the adult couples gifts, usually something homemade now since we’ve retired and money is tight.

Christmas Eve is spent with my siblings – two brothers and a sister. We’ve lost a sister and brother some years back and it’s not quite the same. Nieces and nephews used to join us, but that was back before most of them married. Now they have other families to share the day with and we’ve dwindled from a group of 37 down to 8 plus a couple nieces and nephews whose families are out of town.

I still love the holidays and look forward to them as much or more than any child. The hustle and bustle of getting ready, the family gatherings, and spending time with loved ones. I’m very blessed and thankful to have all my children and most of my grandchildren within twenty minutes of me. We miss the ones who can’t join us, but it’s still a lively group and growing by leaps and bounds. Not only are some of the grandchildren married or dating, they’re having children of their own. I dread the day when their parents decide it’s too much and they want their own families around them for the holiday. I know that day will come, maybe sooner than I think, and it’ll sadden me, but I do understand. We had to do it also as our kids grew and had families of their own. But for now, I’ll enjoy what God has so richly blessed me with. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Time to Love Again

 The man next door, his granddaughter and her sister’s ghost help bring Rose Asbury out of her seclusion. Fifty-eight year old, Rose Asbury knows people think she’s a recluse, but she doesn’t care. She just wants to be left alone. She doesn’t need anyone and no one needs her and that’s just fine. At least she didn’t until this year. For some reason this year is different. Suddenly she’s melancholy and discontent with her life..

And the man next door doesn't help matters. Every time he sees her, he insists on speaking to her. So her stomach tumbles every time she sees him, that doesn't mean anything. Hunger pains, nerves, she just wishes he'd leave her alone. Or does she? 

Featured Author Tricia McGill

BWL Author page:  https://bookswelove.net/mcgill-tricia/

I come from a large North London family and being the youngest of ten was encouraged to read and write from an early age. Never particularly interested in the sciences, I loved the English class simply for the chance it gave me to write short stories about anything and everything. Another favourite was Art, where I loved my teacher—probably because she chose one of my paintings to show in an exhibition where I received a commendation for my portrayal of Joseph and his coat of many colours. I pictured him lying beneath a tree while having his famous dream.

Because our mother was a skilled seamstress, who could work wonders with her skill, it followed that all females in our family were destined to work in the clothing industry. Pushed towards that trade, I fought against it, but eventually caved. I did enjoy my work as a pattern cutter in a fast-paced industry. One of my books, A Heart in Conflict is set in that scenario. I never did fall in love with my boss though. Thus, it wasn’t until I retired early due to spinal problems that I began to write in earnest. I joined BWL Publishing in 2013. I am so glad I made the move to this marvellous publishing house, where I joined a host of amazingly talented authors.

I write primarily Romance and my books cover a few sub-genres, being mainly Historicals, Contemporary and Time Travel. I am a sucker for a happy ending. I feel my life has been blessed, so perhaps that is why I always like my characters to have their happy ever after. My husband and I moved to Australia many moons ago. Three of my sisters were already happily ensconced here so I had no qualms about travelling across the world.

My husband Bill was the one who encouraged me to submit my first full-length novel to a publisher; in fact, he took my first draft along to a publishing house in Melbourne. The chief editor read my book and even sent me a long critique and words of encouragement I will never forget, even though she was a publisher of medical tomes. Turned out she thought it was romantic of him to approach her for my benefit. Sadly he passed away before my first book was published. I have great pride in my family saga Remnants of Dreams, which won the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of The Year award in 2003, then under the name of Traces of Dreams. Although fiction, this book was based on my mother’s life. She lived through two world wars, struggling through poverty and all that came along with life in the 30s, 40s, and onward and was one of the strongest woman I will ever know.

My Settlers Series is set in Australia in the early 1800s where woman had a similar struggle, with none of the necessities of life we happily enjoy today. Book one in this series started life as one scene set on the docks at Sydney Cove, and finally ended up as four books. Who knows if another will follow?

I have always loved Time-Travels and in truth would love a time travelling machine, but only one that ensures I could return to my easy life of washing machines, TVs and computers. My current work in progress is set in the midst of the London Blitz where a modern day woman from a beachside suburb outside Melbourne who is experiencing the beginning of the Covid-19 outbreak is tossed back in time and forced to endure London at its worst when bombs were dropping nightly and ruining the lives of the folk.

 

Here is a short excerpt from the first chapter of Mystic Mountains (Settlers Book 1):

Isabella wrapped her arms about her middle and shuddered, swallowing the bile that threatened to choke her. "I don't ever want to see the ocean again as long as I live, Gracie." Much as she might wish she were back in Stepney, she would never want to repeat that dreadful voyage. A violent storm lasting for nearly two days coming round the Cape had caused such wretchedness they'd feared they would all perish. No, she wouldn't care if she never saw the ocean again.

Gracie nudged Isabella as the wharf loomed before them. "Well, girl, 'ere we go, 'ow d'ya feel, eh?"

"As if a mess of worms are wriggling about inside me, that's how."

Even when evading the constables in the alleyways and back lanes of Stepney Isabella had always felt that one day things would improve. That certainty died on the day of her arrest.

 

Powerful Destiny:

Rolf stared as if struck, feeling suddenly as confused as the child, for her words were spoken in his native tongue. Then, as the moon drifted out from behind a cloud, Rolf let out a gasp.

The woman stood straight and proud, long hair as black as the night falling to her middle. A band around her forehead secured its flowing beauty. Her clothing was no different from that worn by any other Celtic female encountered in his past, but something about her bearing proclaimed that she was very different in some way. As she touched some sort of talisman at her belt, she muttered what could have been an incantation. Perhaps she was praying to her gods.

In all his life and many travels, never had he seen such a vision of loveliness. Then Rolf cursed beneath his breath. What was he thinking? This was a Celtic female, only fit for becoming a slave.

 

When Fate Decides, (Challenge the Heart Book 1):

As Tessa pulled the door open, the words of rebuke died on her lips. It most definitely wasn’t a salesman. The man who stood there, smiling, was one she’d never expected to see again in her lifetime.

“Mrs Browning. I don’t know if you remember me,” he said. Oh, how she remembered him, and that rich voice of his. “The name’s Jack Delaney. I did some work here a few years back for your husband.” When she continued to stare at him in shock, he added, “We built the games room and extra toilet and shower room.” He shrugged. “Another guy and me were here for a month or so? You’ve probably forgotten me.”

Forgotten him?

If there was one person Tessa would never be likely to forget, it was him. His voice sounded deeper, but still held that same undercurrent of sensuality that caused her toes to curl.

“I know it’s not exactly the done thing to turn up like this on your doorstep, but I’d like to speak to you about your late husband’s business.”

 Visit Tricia McGill Author page for book details and to purchase books. 

 https://bookswelove.net/mcgill-tricia/

 

Priscilla Brown goes walking

 We  know walking is excellent exercise, and I find it so not only for the body but for my contemporary romance writer's mind. I've found the senses come alive during a walk: sight, small, touch, hearing, taste, offer inspiration and suggest ideas. Several years ago when I lived by the sea in New South Wales, I loved strolling along the beach. Underfoot there's the tactile sensation of sand hard and damp where the tide has just receded, and soft close to the dunes where the water seldom reaches. The breeze carries the aroma of the ocean - lick lips and taste salt. Since this is a bay, there's no surf and the waves are not usually high. Paddling on the edge, cool wavelets wash over feet. During my excursions on the beach, I started to write in my head the novel which became Where the Heart Is. However, the final story is set not in temperate Australia but on an exquisite sub-tropical Caribbean island. https://books2read.com/Where-the-Heart-is

 

Moving inland to a rural area, I became an alpaca owner, and as I walked around the farm my senses received whole different influences: the scents of grass and
of warm animals, handling their smooth fleece, the dog barking to get them to move to another paddock, the breeze rustling through the windbreak eucalypt trees.Enjoying the curiosity and intelligence of these handsome friendly creatures meant that I had to put them in a novel, and Sealing the Deal took shape. https://books2read.com/Sealing-the-Deal

 

In my current semi-urban area, the senses are still present during my exercise walking around the tree-lined streets close to a railway line.There's the light wind hissing thought the foliage of the huge trees bordering the rail line, and the rattle of trains and hooting as they approach the station. The area has mostly quiet road traffic, and a lot of cockatoos screaming at each other. Right now in late spring blossom trees are shedding their white and pink flowers, and the scent of wattle pervades the air. My local walking has not yet brought forth a complete new story, but bits and pieces of characters, description, setting are gradually coming together. I have been known to sit on someone's garden wall to jot down in my ever-present notebook a particularly interesting and potentially important idea or thought or observation.

Enjoy your walking and your reading, best wishes, Priscilla 

 

https://bwlpublishing.ca 

https://bookswelove.net/brown-priscilla

https://priscillabrownauthor.com 

 

Featured Author Rita Karnopp

 

 I am a proud author of 19 books for BWL Publishing Inc. and I've been writing for most of my life.  As a young girl I created stories in my head . . . and they played out like a movie in my mind.  It was the perfect way to escape the hard farmhand work on my aunt and uncle’s farm.  Many years later I had an epiphany – maybe I could write a novel.  With two young children, I often made up stories for them on our way to the grocery store or even on the 3 hour drive to grandma's house.  So I did lots of research and started writing my first children's story.  After finishing my second story, the realization that the children's market was saturated became apparent from publisher comments.  A dear friend and New York best-selling author, Kat Martin, gave me the best advice I’ve ever received; “Write what you love to read.”  The next evening I started writing my Indian historical Whispering Sun.

The story line for Whispering Sun had been bouncing around inside my head for years.  After putting our daughter and son down to sleep, I sat at my kitchen table in front of my Select IBM typewriter (yep – typewriter) and started typing Whispering Sun, which still remains my best seller to-date.

To me there is nothing more exciting than watching my character’s story unfold on the page (screen) as I type as fast as I can to capture their world, words and actions.  These characters don’t always do or say what I think they should – but I never force them to change.  The pleasure of typing ‘The End’ leaves me with a sense of accomplishment and fills me with the revelation I created a book I’d enjoy reading.  Seeing the cover of my first book with my name on it was a dream come true.  I still get that immense rush each time a new book releases with my name on it.

It wasn’t easy.  I’d say that first book was the hardest book I ever wrote.  Why?  Because I didn’t know about pacing, protagonists and antagonists, nor about standard formatting and it goes on and on.  Characters had to develop and had to have reasons for their actions.  I had to be careful of wayward body parts, and I had to make sure the dialog flowed and sounded natural.  Then comes those nasty red-herrings and of course does every character have solutions to their problem?  I learned so much . . . maybe 80 percent of ‘how to write a novel’. . . that it was daunting.  I read an article where Dean Koontz said, “You’re only as good as your next novel.” I knew at that moment the learning to write better and better would always be my goal.

Can you imagine being deaf in 1863?  I felt Sarah Bryson’s anguish and fight for survival as she confronted wild animals, a massacre, ruthless mountain men, treacherous mountain storms, and even Crow Indians bent on revenge.

Whispering Sun captures a time when the Blackfeet are forced to see their way of life disappear. It's a story where it's possible for a white woman to decide she belongs with a loving people and a Blackfeet warrior. It's a story that shows how a half-breed can choose an alliance and find his place in a colliding world.

Nothing is more rewarding or inspires me more to continue writing than to receive a review from a reader - sharing they loved my book.  I was so pleased and touched by the below review for Whispering Sun.

Review: Rita Karnopp has composed both a creative and enduring tale of trials and tribulations that are, oh, too real, and leave an overwhelming impact on the reader. From betrayal, to finding love, she has written a masterpiece that is hard to put down. Cherokee, Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance

My books can be viewed and purchased by visiting my author page on my publisher's website https://bookswelove.net/karnopp-rita/

 

My Burford Ghost Story

 

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As a kid, I was traveling with Mom in UK, and staying in one of her favorite places, Burford, Oxfordshire. This is, BTW, 1961. She always stayed in black and white Tudor hotels if at all possible. We hadn't been in England for many days when we entered the interior courtyard of just such a place, driving in our green Morris wagon through the narrow made-for-carriages entryway. 

There was no double room available. After a bit of discussion, they put me upstairs on the 3rd floor which was right under the eaves of this venerable building. A steep stairway went up, and on the way the porter said they only put the young and spry up here.  

Then as now, I was history mad, so I scouted around, really enjoying the feel of the place, the dark beams, the crooked walls, the off-kilter floors, the heavy dark antiques which filled the hallways and public rooms. All this carved, blackened antiquity was new and delightful, the stuff of travel books, and now--I was actually here! After supper, I went up to bed to read, leaving Mom in the salon bar downstairs talking to other guests. 

 The toilet (a.k.a. “loo”) was down the hall, so I'd made a final trip before settling in for the night. There wasn't much light up there, just enough to see the stairwell opening. I knew there were only two other guests staying up on the floor besides me.  

The roof, with beams bare, slanted down over the bed, which was a formidable four poster with carved posts and broad box feet. It, my mother had said was "probably Jacobean." Even if it wasn't, it was making a credible effort to look even older. I remember the smell, too, of polish, of damp and of the ages since the house had been built. Clearly, this room wasn't used often. I finally fell asleep listening to footsteps below coming and going and a blurry mumbling sometimes interrupted by laughter seeping up from the floor below.

 I awoke in the night—and to my distress, I had to go to the toilet, which meant a walk across the hall. I groped around for the light and found my door key. With the key clutched tight, I descended from the high bed. It was very quiet now, just after midnight by the watch I'd set on the nightstand. 

I didn't have the suitcase which contained my bathrobe with me. Dressed only in a flannel nightgown, I didn't want anyone to see me, but when I opened the door, it was now entirely dark in the hallway. That pitiful dim light, I thought, must have gone out.

 Then, just as I finished locking the door behind me, I turned and saw the ghost. I knew enough English History to know this was a cavalier, a fine one, too, with long locks and a trimmed beard which came to a nice Charles I point.  He had high leather gloves and a hat with a red plume. His collar was of lace, and he had on a long waist coat, but no outer jacket. 

 Now, FYI, the English Civil War was not my preferred time period. No, at fifteen, I was an obsessive Ricardian, devouring Paul Murray Kendall's Richard III, and Josephine Tey's The Daughter of Time and historical novels set in the appropriate time period. The doings of the members of the House of York were as familiar to me as were those of my schoolmates. 

Since we'd begun to travel in the UK, if a thing wasn't medieval, well, it was barely worth looking at. In fact, I had been anticipating the next day, when Mom and I were to drive to see what remained of the home of Lord Lovell, who'd been King Richard’s dearest friend. His home was now a ruin beside the nearby River Windrush.

 

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The ghost put one hand on his hip. His lips moved and I understood what he said, although there was no actual auditory sensation involved. He said he was an ancestor of mine, who had come here to raise a company to fight for the King, and that he had been waiting for me for a very long time. The oddest thing about him was that he appeared to be almost up to his knees in the floor, no boots were visible.

 At this point, I got scared. Suddenly, I was cold, freezing! I wanted to run but I couldn't move, to shout, but the sound stuck in my throat. 

Then, it changed again. Although I was still standing in the hallway, standing in my nightgown, with that low-wattage electric light illuminating drab yellowish walls, not a single creature, living or dead, was there with me.

 The next morning over breakfast, I told the entire story to Mom, including the fact that the ghost had “stopped at the knees.” My mother got very excited, for she never sees things like that, and has always wanted to. She was terribly interested in what the ghost had said, because she said she had always had such a longing to have a cavalier in the family. I remember saying something annoyingly teenage like "if only he had been a medieval ghost."

 At this point, people at the next table were giving us looks. Then, the host, who’d been  saying good morning to other breakfasters, came by. He moved a chair over to our table and said, sotto voce, "Ah--don't-please--talk about that in the dining room. I'm terribly sorry your daughter was disturbed, but that—fellow--is quite a nuisance, you know. When he’s active we can barely use the third floor--especially that back guest room."

 We leaned heads together over the table and continued the conversation quietly. Our host went on to explain that he’d had a parapsychologist visit, an investigator who’d also, after staying upstairs for a few days, had had an encounter with the third floor ghost, though it hadn't spoken to him. Our host said that the investigator had explained that we only saw the ghost down to the knees because “he is standing on the old floor—the way it was before remodeling,” an event which had apparently taken place just after the last war.

 So that's one of my ghost stories, a thing which happened a long time ago. I have come to doubt this man truly was an ancestor, however. A branch of my mother's family had originally come from the Burford area, but they were probably weavers or something similar, not sword carrying gentlemen. Retelling this tonight, I wonder if this “ancestor” bit was the line the ghost used on all the history-struck teens he met.

 

Juliet Waldron

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Writing During Fire-Watch, Power-Outages and More! So, How's Your October? By Connie Vines

 I'm certain you've heard all about the terrible fires we are have in the states of  California, Oregon, Washington, and now in Colorado.

I reside in southern California and we have been on Fire-Watch for months.  While the current fire and suburban evacuation area is only 8 miles away, I don't foresee it reaching where I live.. The Santa Ana winds, with 80 mile wind gusts will, unfortunately, return again this weekend.

Power has been shutdown when the winds are gale force to ward off equipment failure which can, and has, led to a brush fires. I've been without electricity and and phone service for several days.  This is why my post blog post is going live at this odd hour of the day.

And here is my October Blog Post 

Even though I save my manuscripts in three different places on my computer, including the Cloud and Drive, when the power goes down not everything you've written is saved, slightly saved, or even recoverable.

After reality sets in. . .and the shock wears off, sort of. . .I devise a plan.  Not a particularly a good plan, I admit, but a plan, none-the-less.

1. Write a scene in cursive writing on a large note pad, college ruled.  

2. Skip lines so you can make adjustments, comments, etc.

3. Do not write on the back of the page because you will need to add additional notes.

4. Grab your sets of multi colored markers (and probably the taped crayons that belong to your grand children) to make stars or numbers and arrows that link all for your notes and additions together for easy (ha ha) reference.

5. Read each scene into your iPhone Note App.  Title your scene. 

6. Go on to the next scene. So on, and so forth, until you complete a chapter.

7. When the power resumes, run to the PC.  Set up a new doc in Word.  Type as quickly as possible while reading from you iPhone notes into this new document.  "For heaven sake woman, don't worry about spell check! Just type."

And so, this has been my October. Along with ash falling from the sky and landing on everything.

I know I am Blessed to be healthy and my home, and my family members homes, still intact. However, the air quality is horrendous. Opening a door or going outside means wearing goggles, heavy-duty face mask, a hat and clothing you will toss in the washer.  And care must be taken when walking outside.  Ash, leaves, tree branches, etc. are everywhere.

I always like to include a recipe for my readers.

Pumpkin Detox Smoothie

Pumpkin is rich in beta-carotene, lutein and zeaxanthin, which help protect our eyes and skin.

In a blender, combine 1/2 cup canned pumpkin puree, 1/2 cup milk of your choice (mine: Organic 2% milk), 1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt, 1 med. orange, peeled; 1/4 tsp. pumpkin pie spice; and a handful of ice. Blend until smooth. Serves 1.

Left over pumpkin puree can be saved in a air-tight container for 3 days in the refrigerator.  Or measured and frozen in 1/2 cup measurements.

Perfect for a Halloween Read!

Link to BWL Website and purchase links! to my books :-)

https://bookswelove.net/vines-connie/

My author website:https://connievines-author.com/

My Blog: https://mizging.blogspot.com/2020/09/intuitive-and-subtle-themes-in-my.html

SPECTACULAR FULL MOON THIS HALLOWEEN – by Vijaya Schartz

Find Vijaya's latest novels HERE

Nowadays, few pay attention to the cycles of the Moon, especially if they live in a city. But for others, including farmers and scientists, the Moon has always been a subject of wonder, and for good reason. The Moon affects our everyday lives in ways we do not always suspect. 

This year, Halloween falls on a full Moon, the Hunters Moon, which is also a blue Moon. It doesn’t mean the Moon will be blue, only that it's the second full Moon this month, a rare occurrence in itself. And according to the Farmer’s Almanac, we will next see a spectacular Halloween full Moon in the years 2039, 2058, 2077 and 2096. Mark your calendars. 

The first full Moon of October was the Harvest Moon on October 1st, the perfect time for a Harvest Festival. In the old days, for many centuries, and still in traditional farms following the Farmer’s Almanac, the Moon dictates the time of planting and Harvest. Using the natural cycles of dormancy, regeneration, blooming, ripening, etc. to their advantage. 

For many animals, particularly birds, the phases of the Moon are essential to navigate during migrations. Other species will time their reproduction to coincide with the lunar cycles. The corals time their spawning between October and December, right after a full Moon. The visual effect of this coordinated lunar timing is so dramatic that it can be seen from space. In Africa, Dung beetles navigate at night by the light of the Moon in a perfect straight line to their burrow. 

The Moon also regulates the ocean tides and influences women’s reproductive cycles. Women are more fecund (assuming a natural cycle) during the full Moon, and both men and women experience increased libido, which leads to fertility. Ancient Pagan festivals celebrated this fact during the full Moon. 

If you take the time, you’ll notice that important movable events (like some religious holidays) are scheduled on or as close to the full Moon as possible, when people have more energy. It’s not a coincidence. It’s also true of certain conventions and conferences who want to attract more people, and these auspicious dates are often booked far in advance.

My mother, who was a hairdresser, told me always to cut my hair a few days after the full Moon, because hair grows faster when the Moon is full, and if you wait, your haircut will look fresh longer. To this day, I still respect that rule. 

The Moon affects our circadian cycles as well. During the full Moon, people complain of not sleeping well and experience Increased energy. This wide-awake state is also responsible for full Moon madness in emergency rooms, and increased number of births in maternity wards – Even the babies want to come out and play. Ask any emergency doctor, maternity nurse, police officer, or EMT, and they will confirm this fact. 

So, this year, we are expecting an energy-filled Halloween night. As for the repercussions in our backyards, coyotes will howl, dogs will bark, and cats will roam longer than any other night. If you plan to take part in the fun, be safe and enjoy. 

             

But if you are looking forward to a good read with a cup of cocoa by the fire, here are a few suggestions:

Find it HERE

WHITE TIGER
Chronicles of Kassouk
by Vijaya Schartz
Sci-fi romance

$1.49 in kindle now HERE

On the frozen plains of Kassouk, where a few aliens rule a medieval Human world, Tora, Human warrior trained by tigers, seeks her father’s murderer. But what she finds at the point of her sword confuses her. How dare Dragomir, the handsome Mutant, question her bloodline and her loyalties? And could a new enemy control the savage hordes of the fringe?

Dragomir offers to help, but Humans and Mutants are forbidden to fraternize under penalty of death... Should Tora trust her mind, her instincts, or her heart?

In the vortex of war, treason and intrigue, among blizzards, avalanches and ambushes, Tora sets out to solve the mystery of her father’s death. When she unveils the secret of her birth, she realizes Dragomir is the key, and together, they must save their planet from the invaders and fulfill their destiny... if they can survive dire persecutions from those they mean to protect.

"...an exceptional tale that belongs in a place of honor on keeper shelves everywhere." Coffee Time Romance - 5-cups

"...this is one futuristic that you do not want to miss!" Fallen Angels Reviews - 5 angels - Recommended Read

"...kept me enthralled from the first page...a thrilling science fiction romance" Paranormal Romance Reviews

"I'm adding this to my 'keeper' shelf and on the 'to be re-read' list." The Road to Romance

Vijaya Schartz, author
Strong Heroines, Brave Heroes, cats
http://www.vijayaschartz.com
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