To the Ends of the Earth, and Back by June Gadsby

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Some people will go to the ends of the earth to achieve their dream. I was lucky enough to go there a few years ago with my husband on a business/pleasure trip.

 Where? That magical part of South America called Patagonia, which incorporates Argentina and Chile. It was more than just a holiday. It was one of the best experiences of my life that left me with unforgettable memories – and the inspiration to write the book: “To The Ends of the Earth”.

Although my book is set a century ago, nothing much has changed, except the slowly disappearing glaciers due to climate change and I’m so glad that I was there when they were still ice blue and beautiful. We stood on a platform, at a safe distance, and watched, breathlessly, great wedges of ice break off the main glaciers, crunching and groaning before plunging deep into the icy waters, then coming up again high into the air before joining the impressive icebergs.

The Perito Merino glacier is the most spectacular of all the glaciers and it was hard to come away from this incredible sight. But then, everything in Patagonia is breathtakingly beautiful. Such as the icebergs that form themselves into amazing shapes – one of which we named Hansel and Gretel’s house – not hard to see why. Then there are the incredibly alien Torres del Paine, towering fingers of rock pointing skywards. With every turn, we couldn’t prevent  gasps of belief.

Between stops, we travelled by coach over miles of empty green plains where, if we were lucky, we would see the odd sheep or two and guanacos grazing. We drove past a farm where their nearest neighbours were a hundred miles away. The silence was only broken by the cries of the huge Condors as they soared over our heads.

The town that claims the title “The End of the Earth” is Ushuaia, where the houses are still built on logs, ready to be moved at a moment’s notice. When you walk through the town it feels as though you are travelling back in time. And then you have the vast expanse of water that is the Beagle Channel, historically famous strait in the Tierra del Fuego archipelago at the southern tip of South America.

What writer of adventurous romance could possibly not be inspired to write a book set in such a magical place? I wrote “To the Ends of the Earth” and to this day it not only brings back wonderful memories, it is one of my own personal favourite stories. Here’s the blurb and I hope it inspires you to buy the book.

“Wild and beautiful, Gwyneth Johns is a Patagonian with a scandalous past that shocks the Victorian ladies of the small pioneering town in the Valdes Peninsula. She has sworn never to let any man get close, but her resolve is weakened by a handsome Spaniard, Miguel, who is not all he seems.

Then, new immigrants arrive from the north-east of England. Gentle giant Rob, his younger brother, Davy, and the hard-drinking, amoral Matt with his young wife. Gwyneth is called upon to teach them how to be gauchos. Reluctantly, she accepts the challenge.

Now, she risks losing her life and new-found love to the cold glaciers of the Andes…”

About Rosemary Morris

I’ve always had an extraordinary interest in written words. My mother described me seated in my pushchair, when I was two-and-a-half years old, holding up a book and reciting the story,
“Your little girl is reading!” an astonished lady exclaimed.
Mum laughed. “No, she isn’t. Rosemary’s memorised all her favourite stories.”
I can’t recall them, but I remember the colourful illustrations and the joy of sitting on my darling grandfather’s lap while he read to me.
By the age of four, I could read and make up stories. Everything around me was fodder for my imagination. At seven, in the days when children walked unaccompanied to school, I stopped by a lime tree at the end of the road. I pretended a wicked witch had cast a spell on a handsome prince. To honour him on my way to and from school I walked around him three times and curtsied.
“I am sorry for the mother of that abnormal child,” one of the neighbours said to Mum
After I came home that day, I received a lecture. On the next day I invented magic words to release the handsome prince.
When I studied history at school I was, to use a cliché, in seventh heaven.
I imagined Alfred burning the cakes, the Tudor Princess Elizabeth by Traitor’s Gate refusing to enter the Tower of London, gallant c-cavaliers with their plumed hats and lovelocks - much more appealing than the Roundheads. These and many others were food for my fertile imagination; so was historical fiction, which I still enjoy as well as biographies of those who lived in times past and historical non-fiction.
Eventually, I wrote romantic historical fact fiction and, after many years, achieved my ambition to be published.
Now, I spend almost as much time researching the past for my novels as writing.

Women’s Dress in Queen Anne Stuart’s reign -1702-1714
A brief description.

The Fontage, introduced by Mademoiselle Fontage at the French court of Louis X1V, was made of rows of stiffened muslin or lace supported by wire, and varied in height during the period.
Underlinen. A glimpse of this is revealed in an advertisement. Lost etc., a deal box containing 4 fine linen Holland shifts, 7 fine cambric handkerchiefs, 2 night rails (nightdresses) etc.,
False Hips and Hoops. To spread wide their under petticoats and petticoats (gowns) before c.1709 ladies wore false hips, subsequently these were replaced with compressible whalebone hoops.
Bodices were laced but left open in the front over very tight stays made from different materials often lined with flannel. Sir Richard Hoare of the Gold Bottle in Fleet Street offered the finder 12 guineas for a pair of stays with 8 diamond buckles and tabs. The bodices were worn low over the bosom which was often concealed by a tucker (a modesty piece).
Sleeves were loose. They reached the elbow and were worn over lace or muslin under sleeves that almost reached the wrist.
Gowns were divided down the front to reveal the petticoat. Both garments were sometimes made of very rich materials. E.g. stolen out of the house of Mr Peter Paggen in Love Lane near Eastcheap … one gown flowered with green and gold … one purple and gold gown …one scarlet and gold petticoat edged with silver…one yellow chintz gown and petticoat etc. These are part of a long list of stolen gowns and petticoats.
Stockings were made of thread or silk, the latter sometimes in bright colours. The little temptress (shop assistant) at the New Exchange asked…” Does not your lady want fine green silk stockings?”
Shoes were beautifully made of embroidered satin or silk or fine Morocco leather with high heels.
Hats did not fit over fashionable ladies’ fontages, however poorer women wore ‘flat caps’ and country women wore tall, broad brimmed hats (which are still part of the Welsh national costume).
Hoods when fontages were sufficiently lowered could be worn and were referred to by contemporary writers especially in the Spectator.
My favourite description is: I took notice of a little cluster of women sitting together in the prettiest coloured hoods that I ever saw. One of them was blue, another yellow and another philomot (Feuille-mort); the fourth was of a pink colour and the fifth was of a pale green. I looked with as much pleasure upon this little parti-coloured assembly and did not know at first whether it might be an embassy of Indian queens.
Note. Women also wore cloaks, furs and owned muffs.

Extract from The Captain and The Countess

At her morning levee, Kate, Countess of Sinclair glanced at her most persistent admirers, Mister Tyrell, both dashing and bold, and Mister Stafford, conservative and somewhat hesitant. As usual, they had arrived before her other admirers. Now they sat at their ease on gilt-legged chairs near her canopied bed.
Kate decided she could delay no longer. She rose to make her toilette behind a tall screen, still conscious of the rose-pink night robe she had ruffled around her shoulders with great care before Tyrell and Stafford arrived.
With her maid, Jessie’s help, after Kate removed her nightgown and night rail, she donned her under-linen, stays, and a bodice, cut lower than the current fashion and loosely laced in front to reveal gold buckles inset with pearls, which clasped her satin-covered stays so tightly that she could scarce draw breath. “Gentlemen, which petticoat shall I wear?” she asked, giggling deliberately and playing the part of an indecisive female. “Jessie, please show both of them to Mister Tyrell and Mister Stafford.”
Over the edge of the lacquered screen, Jessie dangled the full petticoats to be worn displayed beneath skirts parted down the front.
Kate stood on tiptoe. She peeped over the top of the screen, decorated with a painted blue and white pot containing tulips, passion flowers, lilies, roses, and sprigs of rosemary.
“Gentlemen, the cream petticoat is made of Luckhourie, a newly fashionable silk from India. The lavender one is of the finest quality Pudsay.”
“Stap me, they are uncommon plain,” said Mister Tyrell.
Kate knew he admired feminine apparel trimmed with folderols such as gold or silver lace, ruched ribbons, bows, and rosettes. She suppressed a chuckle in order not to offend him.
“My mother approves of modest attire,” Mister Stafford said.
Before she withdrew her head from their sight, Kate choked back her laughter. Stafford’s contemptuous glance at his rival did not escape her notice.
She doubted Mrs Stafford found much about her to praise, but she cared naught for Stafford’s mother, a creature with the languishing airs of a pseudo-invalid, who bound her son cruelly to her side. Indeed, the gentleman’s determined courtship surprised Kate. It proved he was not, as the saying went, completely under his mother’s thumb.
“Which one shall I wear?” Kate repeated. Although she had already decided to wear cream, she followed the custom of prolonging what amounted to “The Art of the Levee”.
First, Jessie retrieved the petticoats. Next, she dressed Kate in the Luckhourie one, a gown, and lace-edged apron.
Stafford spoke first. “I have no doubt her ladyship will favour the cream petticoat, which will enhance the natural delicacy of her appearance.”
Delicate? Heaven forbid. She did not want, her new acquaintance, Captain Howard, to consider her delicate. “’Pon my word, Stafford, I have no wish to give the impression of one who suffers from lung rot.”
Mister Tyrell laughed. “I am sure you don’t, Lady Sinclair. For my part, I beg you to wear the lavender. It will enhance the colour of your blue eyes.”
“I shall surprise both of you.” Kate ignored their petty war of words and wondered why she yearned to see Captain Howard.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels:
Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels
False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child.
Friday’s Child to be published in June 2019
Mediaeval Novel
Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove,net/authors/morris-rosemary

Alcoholic Liquor in Queen Anne Stuart’s Reign 1702 – 1714

About Rosemary Morris
I live in Hertfordshire, near inspirational countryside within easy access of London, which is useful when I want to visit places of historical interest in the capital city.
My historical romances, rich in facts, are written in my office, aka the former spare bedroom, furnished with a large waxed oak desk and an 8ft by 6 ft bookcase which contains my historical non-fiction for research, some of the classics, favourite novels and books of poetry.
To enhance my novels, I enjoy researching food and costume, politics and economics, social history, religion and other topics.
Although, as the saying goes, they did things differently in the past, emotions have not changed, but the characters in my novels are of their time, not 21st century people dressed in costume. Before I begin a new book, I name my main characters and fill in detailed character profiles. By the time I write the first sentence, I can visualise them and know the hero and heroine almost as well as I know my friends.

Alcoholic Liquor in Queen Anne Stuart’s Reign 1702 – 1714

The upper classes considered beer consumed by the middle and poor classes an inferior liquor. The price varied according to quality. A nipperkin of molasses ale cost a penny, and a pint of superior ale cost fivepence.
Beer was brewed in London and elsewhere. Bottles of north country pale ale sold for four shillings a dozen. Merchants exported ale and stout to the West Indies and imported spruce beer. Then as now, duty was paid on beer, vinegar, cider strong waters, mead (wine made by fermenting a solution with honey often with spices) and metheglin (spiced or medicated mead). The sum ranged from 6 shillings a barrel to 1d per gallon for metheglin.
Well-to-do people, who preferred wine, had a wide choice. In that hard drinking, patriotic age, one gentleman drank three bottles of French claret every night because it brought a great Custom to the Crown, but it should be noted that the bottles were smaller than they are today.
Despite the war with France that made imports of wine scarce the number. the cargo from enemies’ captured ships and smugglers supplied the country.
However, some customers thought it unpatriotic to drink French wine, so port became popular. A treaty was signed with Portugal agreeing that the Portuguese would import British cloth and the duty on Portuguese wine would be one third less than that on French wines.
There were numerous French wines from different parts of France, some of which are not known today. Prices varied. Ordinary claret from the barrel sold for between 4 and 6 shillings a gallon, good quality claret cost between 3 or 4 shillings and 10 shillings a bottle. Baskets or hampers of champagne contained between 10 dozen and 200 bottles which retailed at about 8 shillings each. A bottle of superior burgundy cost 7 shillings.
From Portugal came Red Viana was often substituted for port, and there was White Viana, Lisbon, Carcavella and other wines from Portugal. Amongst others Spain supplied Sherry, Malaga, Barcelona, Spanish and Portuguese wine were strengthened with stum (partly fermented wine) which made a person get drunk with Stum’d wine.
Muscadine. From Florence came rush covered flasks with oil in the necks - Chianti, Multapulchana and Canary, and Tockay was imported from Hungary as well as wines from Cyprus.
Not every foreign wine found favour. In Tunbridge Wells the following remark was made about Rhenish wine: Dam Rotgut Rhenish.
Retailers had to apply for a licence to sell wines. Brooks and Hellier, wine merchants, had branches in different parts of London and in one year paid 25,000 pounds customs duty.
This was an era during which ladies continued to make liqueurs and cordials in the still room. Scandal whispered that the gentler sex sampled their concoctions. After tasting them and drinking tea, by afternoon their eyes shone more brightly than their jewellery, and for fear of fainting they kept a bottle of brandy under their beds at night.
In the stillroom housewives made Ratafia of Apricots, Millefleurs, Orangiat, Bergamot, citron and citron water. Elderflower and other homemade wines were appreciated.
Cider, much stronger than most bottles sound in modern day supermarkets, was drunk. So was punch which gradually became popular.
Major Birds’ recipe for punch has survived.1 quart of brandy, or 2 quarts if you want it to be very strong, 2 quarts and a pint of spring water, 6 or 8 Lisbon lemons, half a pound of fine loaf sugar. (If I were tempted to try this drink I would substitute unwaxed lemons.)
The major wrote. Then you will find it to have a curious fine scent and flavour, and Drink and Taste as clean as Burgundy wine.
Another intoxicating liquor was Brunswick Mum. The name of this compound is supposed to be derived from its power of making men speechlessly drunk.

The clamorous crowd is hushed with mugs of mum,
Till all turn’d equal, send a general hum.
Anonymous.

I am not surprised that, in an age when intoxicants flowed in rivulets down throats, an antidote was needed. It was found in, the Essence of Prunes, Chymically prepar’d by a son of Monsieur Rochefort, a sworn Chymist of France. It gives English Spirits the smell and taste of Nantz Brandy; it prevents any liquor from intoxicating the brain.

Extract from Tangled Love
A tale of riches to rags to riches

“Lord above, my wits have gone begging? I’ve forgotten to say a visitor awaits you,” said Elsie, Richelda’s only servant who had served her mother.
Richelda wiped her face on her coarse apron. “Visitor?” She forced herself to her feet.
“Yes, a fine gentleman, Viscount Chesney by name, is waiting for you in the parlour.”
Heavens above, he must be the man whose identity she mistook for Lord Greaves when she pretended to be her maidservant.
A long male shadow fell across the dark oak floor before the parlour door closed. She caught her breath. Either Elsie had left the door ajar by mistake or her uninvited guest had opened it and eavesdropped.
After washing and changing, Richelda went down the broad flight of oak stairs. Looking at Elsie, she raised her eyebrows.
Elsie nodded her approval and pointed at the parlour door. “He’s still in there. I’ll fetch some elderflower wine.”
“No, come with me—” she began, but Elsie, with speed surprising in one of her size, bustled into a passage which led to the kitchen.
He will not recognise me, Richelda reassured herself. She mimicked her late mother’s graceful walk, entered the room, and coughed to attract attention.
Viscount Chesney turned away from the window. He focused on her intently. “Lady Richelda?”
She curtsied, wishing she also wore exquisitely cut black velvet and silk instead of a threadbare gown fashioned from one of her mother’s old ones. He bowed and extended a perfectly manicured hand.
Ashamed of her rough hands, she permitted him to draw her to her full height. “You have the advantage of knowing my name.” She looked into grey eyes reminiscent of still water on an overcast day.
“Lord Chesney at your service, my lady.”
“I am honoured to make your acquaintance, my lord. Please take a seat.”
He laughed. “Lady Richelda, although I did not introduce myself to you earlier, I hoped you would say you are pleased to renew your acquaintance with me.”
She tilted her chin. “You mistake me for someone else.”
“I do not. Your eyes and voice are unforgettable.”
“What can you mean?”
“Why are you pretending to misunderstand me?” he drawled. “Shall we sit? No, do not look at me so distrustfully. In my coach I did not avail myself of the opportunity to manhandle you earlier today. Word of a gentleman, there is no need to fear me either now or in future.”
Somewhat nervous despite his assurance, she sat opposite him. While she regained her composure, she put her feet side by side on a footstool.
“If you confess, I will not tell your aunt.”
“My aunt?”
“Yes, she wishes me to make your acquaintance.”
Her mother’s family shunned her. They feared being tainted by her late father’s politics. The viscount must have referred to Father’s only close relative, his sister, Lady Isobel.
“Aunt?” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, suspicious because she knew her mother, born into a family with slightly puritanical inclinations, despised Aunt Isobel’s frivolity.
He nodded.
“But my aunt—”
Burdened by a tray, Elsie entered the room. She put it down and served them with elderflower wine before she withdrew.
Chesney eyed his glass of wine with obvious mistrust. “Why did you sigh, Lady Richelda?”
She refrained from explaining she longed to eat something other than her daily fare of boiled puddings, flavoured with herbs, mixed with vegetables, and served with or without game birds or rabbits, which Elsie sometimes snared.
Bowstring taut, Richelda drank some pale wine. She looked at the viscount, whose posture depicted a man at ease. “Please taste this wine, my lord, although you might not be accustomed to home-brewed beverages, I think you will enjoy it.”
He sipped some. “An excellent tribute to Elsie’s skill. She made it, did she not?”
Richelda nodded.

Novels by Rosemary Morris

Early 18th Century novels:
Tangled Love, Far Beyond Rubies, The Captain and The Countess
Regency Novels
False Pretences, Sunday’s Child, Monday’s Child, Tuesday’s Child, Wednesday’s Child and Thursday’s Child.
Mediaeval Novel
Yvonne Lady of Cassio. The Lovages of Cassio Book One
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://bookswelove.net/authors/morris-rosemary

Secret Service, Spies, and Underhanded Dealings during 17th Century By Katherine Pym

 Buy Here

 ~*~*~*~

Per Violet Barbour, author of Henry Bennet, earl of Arlington, (published 1914), “The ministers of King Charles II were not chosen for their honesty…” 

Henry Bennett, Earl of Arlington

 This did not make Charles II a stupid man, but one who had gone through years of hardship. He was cautious. His life had often been imperiled.  Men had conspired against him, or tried to rule him.  It left its mark.  To watch for underhanded dealings during his reign, the king sought individuals who would meet toe-to-toe those who threatened him, and his court. 

King Charles II

On one hand Charles II filled his court with frivolity. He played, danced, and allowed his dogs to soil the palace. He and his brother, the Duke of York, loved the theatre, and supported their own troupes.  Charles II allowed women on stage.

On the other hand, Charles II inherited a land filled with uneasy, restless, and bitter malcontents whose very existence shattered with the fall of the Commonwealth.  Rarely opening up to anyone, the king did not trust easily.  He expected attempts on his life, or efforts to overthrow his monarchy. 

Death mask, Cromwell

During the Cromwell days, John Thurloe was the head of espionage. As Secretary of State under Cromwell, he sent out spies to cull out plots from within the Protectorate’s government. His spy network was extensive. He employed men – and women – who were, on the surface, stalwart royalists. His spies could be located in every English county, overseas, i.e., in Charles II’s exiled court, in the America’s, and the far Indies. 

Sir Samuel Moreland

Thurloe compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, had men tortured and killed. One such fellow, Samuel Morland, and assistant to Thurloe under Cromwell, confessed to witnessing a man ‘trepanned to death’ at Thurloe’s word.  (Dictionary.com states the following definition to trepan:  “a tool for cutting shallow holes by removing a core.”)  Not a nice way to go.  

Thurloe, Cromwell's spymaster

Thurloe orchestrated the Sir Richard Willis Plot, wherein the king and duke would be lured out of exile to the Sussex coast.  Once the brothers disembarked, they would be instantly murdered. 

This plot failed. 

Commonwealth spies infiltrated homes, churches, and businesses to destroy the royalist enemy, and under Charles II’s, his government did the same.  Their goal was to destroy nonconformists, or “fanaticks”. Depending who was in power, plots were a part of political life. 

After the Restoration, Thurloe was dismissed, but not executed for crimes against the monarchy (Charles I and II). He was let go for exchange of valuable Commonwealth government documents. 

During the king’s exile, Sir Edward Nicholas held the position of Secretary of State, but he was old, nearly age 70. Within two years of the Restoration, Charles II replaced him with Sir Henry Bennet, who took charge of the Crown’s espionage. October 15, 1662, he was appointed Secretary of State.  

Sir Joseph Williamson, Charles II spymaster

Joseph Williamson worked for Bennet as the undersecretary.  Williamson was born for this work. He took the bull by the horns and enhanced the processes Thurloe had begun.  Williamson built a brilliant spy network.  He allowed informers who, for money, turned on associates.  He burrowed spies into households, businesses, and churches.  He used grocers, doctors and surgeons, anyone who would send him notes against persons who were against the king. He had men overseas watching for any plots against the king. Informants were everywhere. 

His tools were numerous.  He loved ciphers, and cipher keys. Doctor John Wallis was an expert in this who worked under Thurloe and Bennet. The man could crack a code in nothing flat.  Williamson, known as Mr. Lee in the underworld, used the Grand Letter Office for ciphered messages to pass back and forth between the undersecretary’s office and the spies. He expected his spies to keep him informed by ciphered letters at the end of each day, and passed through the post office. 

Williamson obtained ambassador letters, had them opened and searched for underhanded deceit. He developed a system of local informers, letters and money crossing palms.  Under Thurloe, the secret service received £800 per year. Under Bennet, the money doubled. Most of the annual budget was spent on spies and keeping them alive. 

~*~*~*~

Many thanks to: Wikicommons, Public Domain &

Marshall, Alan, Intelligence and Espionage in the Reign of Charles II, 1660-1685, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1994.

A million words by J.S. Marlo

J. S. Marlo BWL Author Page

A few weeks back, I was in Calgary for When Words Collide. During the three-day conference, I attended many workshops and chatted with many authors, publishers, and readers. During an interesting conversation with a fellow author, she asked me how I started writing, where I learned the craft, how many books I wrote before I landed my first publishing contract. She had read somewhere that a writer should have written at least a million words before considering herself ready to write a decent book.

A million words? That sounded like a lot of words, so I reflected on the path I followed, the twisted path that led me to become a published author.

I scribbled as a teenager, but my real journey started fourteen years ago when I began writing stories for fun and posted them for free on the Internet for others to enjoy. In four years, I wrote twenty-nine stories. I cringe when I reread some of them. Most of the plots were good, but the writing was...awful, atrocious, brutal, especially in the early stories. By the time I wrote the twenty-ninth, I had improved by giant leaps and bounds. I felt ready to tackle my first "real" novel.

That first novel "Salvaged", which took nine months to write, must not have been too shabby since it won a writing contest and I was offered my first publishing contract. From there I ended up publishing many more novels, but it didn't stop that conversation about a million words from following me home this week. Had I been ready or simply lucky, or maybe a bit of both?

To answer that question, I decided to comb through these twenty-nine free stories. The shortest one was 1,013 words, and the longest 128,982 words. Four of them were above 100,000 words. They average 46,818 words per story for a grand total of...1,357,732 words. I was shocked I'd written way over one million words before I "started" writing for "real".

One of my former editors asked me once why I wasted four years writing stories for free. At the time, I didn't have an answer, except maybe "it was fun". Writing this post today made me realize I didn't waste my time writing these stories. Without knowing it, I was practicing my craft, testing what worked and didn't work, honing my skills, finding my voice...

Thanks to these 1,357,732 words scribbled for no other reason than pure enjoyment, I became an author.

Happy reading!

JS

 J. S. Marlo's Website

The Canadian Historical Brides series complete in September

With the release in September of Where the River Narrows (Quebec) BWL Publishing Inc. is celebrating the completion of our two year project to tell the stories of the Canadian women who as new Brides partnered in the settlement of Canada.  All books are available will be available in print and ebook in all online and brick and mortar locations.

Click covers below to purchase from your favorite online retailer, print copies will be available after September 15 in your favorite bookstore, it they don't have them in stock please ask your bookseller to obtain copies for you

 

January 2017 – Brides of Banff Springs (Alberta)  Author Victoria Chatham
 
In the Dirty Thirties jobs were hard to come by.  Having lost her father and her home in southern Alberta, Tilly McCormack is thrilled when her application for a position as a chambermaid at the prestigious Banff Springs Hotel, one of Canada’s great railway hotels, is accepted. Tilly loves her new life in the Rocky Mountain town and the people she meets there. Local trail guide Ryan Blake it quite taken with Tilly’s sparkling blue eyes and mischievous sense of humor.  His work with a guiding and outfitting company keeps him busy but he makes time for Tilly at every opportunity and he intends to make her his bride.  On the night he plans to propose to Tilly another bride-to-be, whose wedding is being held at the Hotel, disappears.
 
Tilly has an idea where she might have gone and together with Ryan sets out to search for her. Will they find the missing bride and will Tilly accept Ryan’s proposal?

March 2017 – His Brothers Bride (Ontario)  Author Nancy M. Bell
 
The youngest child of the local doctor and evangelical preacher, Annie Baldwin was expected to work hard and not protest. Life on a pioneer farm was tough so neighbors helped each other.  
 
George Richardson the underage Doctor Bernardo Boy, orphaned and shipped to Canada a few years earlier, is loaned to the Baldwins to help bring in the hay. Younger brother Peter Richardson was placed with another neighbor, so the brothers stayed in touch with each other. The Great War brought a lot of changes to life even in the back woods of Ontario. In spite of the differences in their social standing, George and Annie fell in love.  
 
When George departed for France they had an understanding and he promised to return to her when the war was over. Alas, fate had other ideas. After a long silence, Annie received the much anticipated letter. But it wasn’t from George, but from his brother, Peter. Also in the trenches of France. George was killed during the final push on August 8, 1918 at Marcelcave near Amiens. The two who loved him form a long distance bond via censored letters. When Peter is sent back to Canada, rather than return him to the east where he enlisted, he is discharged in Vancouver.  
 
Sick from mustard gas poisoning and penniless, Peter finds work at Fraser Mills. Once he could save enough money he planned to return to the small farm in the northern Ontario bush, but before he does, he sends Annie a box of chocolates in the mail. Inside the box he hid an engagement ring. Bound together by their love for George, they find solace in each other. Will it be enough to last?
 
 

May 2017 ~ Romancing the Klondike (Yukon) Author Joan Donaldson-Yarmey  
 
It is 1896 and nineteen-year-old Pearl Owens wants adventure just like her idols Anna Leonowens and Annie “Londonderry” Choen Kopchovsky. In the 1860s, Anna Leonowens taught the wives, concubines, and children of the King of Siam, while during the years 1894-1895, Annie “Londonderry” Choen Kopchovsky became the first woman to travel around the world on a bicycle. She was testing a woman’s ability to look after herself.
 
To fulfill her dream Pearl is on her to the Yukon River area with her cousin, Emma, to write articles and do illustrations about the woman and men who are looking for gold in the far north.
 
Sam Owens, Pearl’s cousin and Emma’s brother, has been searching for gold with two friends, Gordon and Donald, for five years without success. Gordon and Donald have decided their quest is futile and it is time to return home. But Sam wants to stay a while longer. Then they hear word of a new gold find on Rabbit Creek.
 
Over the next ten months, the lives of all five are changed due to love, gold, and tragedy.

June 2017 ~ Barkerville Beginnings (British Columbia) Author A.M. Westerling  
 Faced with financial ruin and the loss of her good name, Rose Chadwick decides to make a new start for herself and her young daughter Hannah in the rough and tumble gold rush town of Barkerville, British Columbia. However, making a new life is not so easy when it’s built on lies. And, long suppressed emotions within her are stirred when she meets a handsome young Englishman.

Viscount Harrison St. John knows he’s expected to marry well to bolster his family fortunes. Instead, he leaves England to pursue riches in the gold fields of a frontier town in the far off wilds of Canada. Soured on love because of a betrayal by his former fiancé, Harrison resists the attraction he has for Rose. Particularly considering she appears to be a happily married woman with a daughter of her own.

Will dark secrets from Rose’s past keep them apart? Or will they find love, happiness and a new life together in the bustling town of Barkerville?   

  

July 2017 – Pillars of Avalon (Newfoundland) Authors Katherine Pym and Jude Pittman

David and Sara Kirke live in a time of upheaval under the reign of King Charles I who gives, then takes. He gives David the nod of approval to range up and down the French Canadian shores, burning colonies and pillaging ships that are loaded with goods meant for the French. When King Louis of France shouts his outrage, King Charles reneges. He takes David’s prizes and returns them to the French, putting David and his family in dire straits.  
 
Undeterred, David and Sara will not be denied. After years, the king relents. He knights David and grants him the Province of Avalon (Ferryland), a large tract of land on the southeast coast of Newfoundland. There David and Sara build a prosperous plantation. They trade fish and fish oil with English, Europeans, and New England colonists. They thrive while England is torn in two by the civil wars.  
 
Soon, these troubles engulf his family. David is carried in chains back to England to stand trial. He leaves Sara to manage the plantation, a daunting task but with a strength that defies a stalwart man, she digs in and prospers, becoming the first female entrepreneur of North America.

September 2017 ~ Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies (Saskatchewan) Author Suzanne deMontigny

 French-Canadian soldier, Napoleon, proposes to Lea during WWI, promising golden fields of wheat as far as the eye can see. After the armistice, he sends money for her passage, and she journeys far from her family and the conveniences of a modern country to join him on a homestead in Saskatchewan. There, she works hard to build their dream of a prospering farm, clearing fields alongside her husband through several pregnancies and even after suffering a terrible loss.

When the stock market crashes in ’29, the prairies are stricken by a long and abysmal drought. Thrown into poverty, she struggles to survive in a world where work is scarce, death is abundant, and hope dwindles. Will she and her family survive the Great Depression?

 October 20, 2017

Elsie Nuefeld loves to sit on her porch and watch the children grow in the Mennonite community near Landmark, MB. Returning to the area after moving to Paraguay for a time, Elsie is happy to be living on the wild rose dotted prairie of south-eastern Manitoba. Her granddaughters are growing up and getting married, it's an exciting time. Secure in her long standing marriage to Ike, Elsie is content to observe the community from the sidelines and rejoice in the joys of the young ones. She often walks with her daughters and granddaughters through the graveyard abloom with wild roses and shares the stories of the ancestors sleeping there. It’s important, she feels, for the younger generation to feel connected to those who went before.

Elsie hopes when she joins those resting beneath the Landmark roses the tradition of honouring the memory of the forebearers continues.
 

 December 1, 2017
 Yaotl and Sascho splashed along the shores of the behchà, spears hefted, watching for the flash of fin to rise to the surface and sparkle in the sunlight. Tender feelings, barely discovered, flushed their faces. Waving their spears they laughed and teased one another with sprays of newly melted ice water.

In the distance, the warning about the kw'ahtıı sounds, but on this fatal day it goes unheard; Yaotl and Sascho fall into the hands of the Indian Agents. Transport to Fort Providence residential school is only the beginning of their ordeal, for the teachers believe it is their sworn duty to “kill the Indian inside.”

All attempts at escape are severely punished, but Yaotl and Sascho, along with two others, will try, beginning a journey of 900 Kilometers along the Mackenzie River. Like wild geese, brave hearts together, they are homeward bound.


In 1784, Englishwoman Amelia Latimer sails to the new colony of New Brunswick in faraway Canada. She’s to marry a man chosen by her soldier father. Amelia is repulsed by her betrothed, refuses to marry, then meets the handsome Acadian trader, Gilbert, a man beneath her in status. Gilbert must protect his mother who was attacked by an English soldier. He fights to hold on to their property, to keep it from the Loyalists who have flooded the colony, desperate men chased from the south after the American Revolution. In a land fraught with hardship, Amelia and Gilbert struggle to overcome prejudice, political upheaval, while forging a life in a remote country where events seek to destroy their love and lives.
Review: Score: 4.50 / 5 - Reviewer Top Pick

The year is 1784. Amelia sets sail to a new  colony in Canada. Amelia's father is choose a husband for her, but Amelia detests the man. But she has luck on her side. She meets Gilbert who is a trader and a handsome too. Gilbert is struggling to help his mother and save his property. Amanda and Gilbert are working together to end the prejudice and the wrongs of politics at the time. While doing this they are working hard in this rough country to make a good life and fall in love. They seek the strong to keep them going.
Historical romance readers will fall in love with both Amelia and Gilbert. "On A Stormy Primeval Shore" was a fabulous tale of life and hardship in historical Canada.

Link: https://www.nightowlreviews.com/v5/Reviews/Bemiown-reviews-On-A-Stormy-Primeval-Shore-New-Brunswick-by-Diane-Scott-Lewis-and-Nancy-M-Bell



Maggie Conrad’s husband of ten days is sent overseas in WW1 and never comes home. A second suitor is lost at sea in Nova Scotia’s August Gale. Turning thirty, and on her own, she resolves to make a life for her herself and her younger brother, Ivan.

Against her wishes, Ivan goes to work for the rum runners and operates a surf boat bringing shipments ashore. When war-veteran and Prohibition Preventative agent, John Murdock, arrives undercover in the area he is referred to Maggie for room and board.

With a rum runner and a man she suspects is a policeman living under her roof, Maggie must juggle law and justice, family loyalties and her growing attraction to John as she decides whether marriage might be in the cards for her after all.

When she was twelve, Grace Aitken’s parents were killed in a carriage accident in a London street and she became a ward of her father’s business partner, Herbert MacKinnon and his wife and led a comfortable, privileged, if restrictive life at their gothic mansion in Hampstead village.

When Grace was seventeen, her pious father-in-law convinced her that she owed him a debt of gratitude which could be expunged by marrying his son, Frederick; a kind, sensitive youth two years her senior. However, after five years of childless marriage – a fault placed squarely at Grace’s door, Frederick died after a bout of pneumonia.

Now 23 and Frederick’s widow, her in-laws assume she will take on the role of dependent housekeeper in a home where her semi-invalid mother-in-law and two aunts adhere to the view that Grace‘s “wicked ways” need to be corrected, despite the fact these “sins” are no more outrageous than going for walks without a maid, or reading a Women’s Suffrage pamphlet. 

Grace resigns herself to being an upper servant in her father in law’s house, when she discovers an inheritance from her parents has been kept in trust for her until her 21st Birthday. She concludes the MacKinnons have been lying to her and immediately formulates her escape and books passage to Halifax, Nova Scotia, on the SS Parisian from Liverpool On board she encounters Aoife [Eva] Doyle, an outspoken Irish housemaid travelling steerage, who is being sponsored as a mail-order bride for a farmer in Alberta. 

The ship reaches Halifax harbour, and while they await the arrival of a pilot boat, another ship enters the port and rams the SS Parisian and holes it, causing panic.  Grace's adventure takes another mysterious turn when after becoming acquainted with Lucy Maud Montgomery Grace finds herself destined for Prince Edward Island, the home of that charming and outspoken young woman.
Will Grace’s plans for a new life in a foreign land finish before it has begun, or will she survive and forge her own way?

Coming in September 2018
Where the River Narrows,
by Kathy Fischer Brown and Genevieve Montcombroux
Where the River Narrows,
by Kathy Fischer Brown and Genevieve Montcombroux
For many Loyalists during the American War for Independence, the perilous journey to Canada is just the beginning of a long and arduous struggle to find a new home and a new life amid the upheavals of war and separation, death and privation. For Elisabeth Van Alen, it also means finding new strength and the will to survive in a new country.
 Married to an educated Mohawk warrior, she is distraught when he has to go away shortly before the American rebels force her and her family out of their ancestral home. He will find her while she flees through the forest and, with their Mohawk friends, helps her reach Kanien’kehá:ka, the Mohawk territory in Quebec.
 Coming to a log cabin tucked away on a wooded island in Montreal is a great shock for Elisabeth after the life she had known in the comfortable house where she had been born. Undaunted, she takes on the tasks of pioneer women and keeps her family together while waiting anxiously to hear from her husband, Gerrit. Against his will, he has been recruited by the British Army for a special mission. She suffers losses and joys, upheavals and peacefulness. She begins to love her new country where being married to a Mohawk is regarding as normal.