Thursday, August 22, 2019

Writing Sisters of Prophecy by Jude Pittman and Gail Roughton

For book information and purchase details click the link below
http://bookswelove.net/authors/pittman-jude-mystery-romance/


Writing Sisters of Prophecy was an absolute delight.  First of all, we had my own ancestor (so legend says) Mother Shipton from 16th Century England, who delighted in scaring the pants off all the locals and of course the political elite.  Here's just a brief sample of her writings. See if you can decipher the meaning of this one into 21st Century terms.


These states will lock in fiercest strife, 
And seek to take each other's life. 
When north shall thus divide the south 
An eagle build in lion's mouth 
Then tax and blood and cruel war 
Shall come to every humble door.

Gail and I turned Mother Shipton into a time traveling, generation  hopping meddler who pops in and out of the 21st Century while her great, great, great.... granddaughters are trying to sort out their love lives.  Gail and I loved writing this book.  Here are a few samples of what happens in the lives of these modern Shipton women when 16th Century grandma stirs the pot.


Kitty-Kat, there’s a very special lady back in your family tree. A lady with the gift of prophecy. Her name was Ursula, but people called her Mother Shipton. She helped sick people and sad people. Legend says she foretold great wonders, lots of things that’ve come true.

Was she your grandmamma, Mimi?


Lord, no, child, she lived generations ago. Four hundred years ago, in a time when kings and queens ruled. And she’s actually on Poppy’s side of the family, not mine, but I’ve always loved the stories and I’ve always felt very close to her. And that gift of prophecy… it’s passed down through the years in the Shipton family, usually to the women, though not always. A gift from her, a legacy. A connection.

  

First there's Lillian.  She occupied a special place in the family hierarchy. Widowed at a young age, Lillian never remarried and when her older brother died leaving three year old Katherine an orphan, Lillian stepped in to help her mom who was still raising 3 year old Irene. Lillian devoted her life to the family, but she still managed a very successful career in the stock market, so successful that she took early retirement at 40 and thereafter became a full time family trouble-shooter.

     As a professional woman, Lillian had kept the Shipton name, and after she’d retired at forty—she spent her time as a roaming family trouble-shooter. How she always knew which family member needed her and when remained a mystery to all, especially since the Shiptons were a large and far-flung clan, spread over a large geographical area. Sometimes she wasn’t sure herself, but she’d learned long ago not to argue when that inner voice told her, You’re needed. Go.

   

Katherine grew up to become a gifted artist.  So it was that on the verge of marrying her soul mate, after a lucky escape from a very unsuitable fiance, she first encountered Mother. It all started when she decided to paint a portrait of her notorious ancestor as a gift to Mimi.



     Katherine bit her lip. Moment of truth. Time to stop stalling. Of course, it had just been coincidence that the picture talked to her—scratch that. She’d thought the picture talked to her at the precise time she’d seen Quentin for who and what he really was. And it was just coincidence she’d had that damn dream again the night before Quentin’s surprise call out of the blue. Because that hadn’t been a real surprise; she’d always known deep down he’d call. He couldn’t just let go. It wasn’t in him. Still and all, her Quentin epiphany came right after the portrait’s ventriloquist act. The lady in the tower said the portrait had more to tell her. She had to give it a try. 


     She jerked the tarp off the portrait. And waited. Nothing. Of course, nothing. She picked up a brush and loaded the bristles with cobalt blue. 


     With the first stroke, roaring filled the studio. Katherine dropped her paintbrush, slapped both hands to her ears. Well, she’d asked for it. And she’d gotten it. 


     “And about time it is, my girl. ‘Tis stubborn you are.” The same bent crone she remembered stood in front of Katherine’s easel.


     “Why are you here? Why did I see you before? And why am I seeing you now?”


     “You know why, child. In your heart, you know.”


     “What did you do to me last time? To make me cringe when Quentin touched me?”


     “‘Twas nothing I did. You did it yourself. You opened yourself to what you already knew was true. ‘Tis in your blood, ye canna escape it. I just helped a wee bit with the seeing of it.”


     “That had nothing to do with blood. I just finally started putting things together about Quentin.”


     Mother Shipton shook her head. “Stubborn. But then all young folk be stubborn, can’t complain, I was meself. 

 Then there's Irene.  She's engaged to her childhood sweetheart, who just happens to be the current world champion saddle bronc rider and star of the Calgary Stampede. Irene's in a pickle over some dreams she's been having and the young lady's romance is set to go on the rocks.  That's when Mother steps in with more delightful meddling when a friend of Irene's fiance Matt gets up to some dirty tricks.

     Mother floated over the line of motor homes that filled the area behind the barns looking for the one belonging to cowboy Chance Mayfair.


     Not a very nice young laddie, but perhaps after I’ve had a wee chat with him he’ll come up with a whole new change in attitude.


      Mother found the trailer, slid on inside the locked doors and pulled a chair up beside the man sprawled across the folded-out double bed, snoring loudly.


     “So, it’s Chance Mayfair I’ve the pleasure of speaking with today, is it now?” Mother put her mouth next to the young man’s ear and raised her voice to a pitch that would easily summon all the cows on Scotton Moor.


     “Hey! What the hell!” Startled out of a dead sleep, Chance leapt out of bed and towered over the old lady sitting in a chair beside his bed, grinning like a circus clown.


     “How’d you get into my trailer?” Chance bore down on the woman. “You better get the hell outta here or I’ll be calling security to come and drag you out.”


     “You mean like this?” Mother swooped out of the chair, flew across the room and landed on top of the television set in the far corner of the combination living and bedroom.


     “Hey!” Chance tossed his hands in the air. “How’d you do that! What are you doing in here? I may have had a couple of beers last night but I know damn well I didn’t ask no old woman to come on home with me.”


     “Oh, ye don’t like the way I look? Well, if’n that’s all that’s troublin’ you lad, why didn’t you say so? How about I just fix myself up a wee bit.”


     In the blink of an eye the old woman disappeared and a sleek black panther with glowing red eyes and a mouth full of gleaming white teeth crouched in her place.


     “No! Hey! What the hell! Stop it, back! Get away from me!” Chance jumped over the back of the chair where Mother’d previously sat, his face as white as the teeth of the panther.


     The giant black cat morphed into a tiger. “Well now. You don’t fancy that look either?” Mother turned from the tiger back into the old woman and floated down from the TV set to stand on the floor in front of the chair.


     “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”


     “In a manner of speaking. So, are you ready to listen to a few things I’ve got to tell you or do you want me to invite a few more of my friends to pay you a visit?”


     “No! I’m listening. I’m a real good listener. You just go right ahead with whatever it is you want to talk to me about.”


     “There, there, now that’s a sensible laddie. So, first of all, we’re going to have an understanding about the trick you pulled out there in the ring the other day.”


     “What trick?”


     “Did you hear me tell you that I wanted you to listen and not waste my time with any silly denials? As you’ve already figured, I’m one of the immortal kind, and I don’t need you to tell me what you did or didn’t do out there the other night. I know what you did. I know everything you did, and from now on I’m always going to know everything you do. Do you understand me now, or do you need me to call in a few more of my friends to help you clear the cobwebs outta that rather thick head you got perched on top of yer shoulders?”


     “No ma’am. I mean yes ma’am. I mean I understand and I won’t interrupt no more.”


     “Good, then let me tell you what you’re going to do from here on out.”


     Mother spoke for another twenty minutes, and finally, when she’d finished all she had to say, and just to make darn sure Chance Mayfair would have no illusions about who he was dealing with, she took time out to change into what most humans assumed a werewolf looked like. For good measure, she finished with an incredibly ghoulish eight-foot zombie.


     “Oh, it was powerful fun.” Mother laughed as she told Lillian all about it back in the apartment. “I suspect he most ‘probly had to change his drawers and his jeans once I left. I’ve been wanting to try out that Zombie ever since I watched that silly show on Katherine’s television set.”


And that's just a few of the highlights these entertaining characters get up to in Sisters of Prophecy.  I hope I've whet your appetite enough that you'll be tempted to give it a try.  Available from all your popular retailers in eBook and Print and from Audible as an audiobook.

Details here on Jude's BWL Author page.

Wednesday, August 21, 2019

A fight for America, Loyalists must choose or die, by Diane Scott Lewis

FREE on Kindle Unlimited for a short time.

Her Vanquished Land - a revolutionary Gone with the Wind.

In researching the American Revolution, I learned the plight of the loyalists who didn't want to separate from England. They didn't understand how a band of anarchists could form their own country, and desert the motherland. How could they be set adrift in this strange land, to make their own laws, and survive? The rebels were tired of over-taxation and no representation in British Parliament. The loyalists hoped for a compromise.

Eventually, the loyalists were forced to choose: join the rebels, escape or die. Spies abounded on both sides, double agents infiltrated each camp. Both Rebels and Loyalists believed in their cause. A terrible war, brutal bloodshed, resulted.

Many people were confused about which side to join.  My heroine, Rowena, ended up on the wrong side of the war, her family staunch loyalists, her brothers fighting as officers in the British army. She demanded to aid the loyalist cause and spy for the British.
As the rebels gained in battle, her livelihood and home confiscated, Rowena's family had to flee.



Blurb: In 1780, Loyalist Rowena Marsh insists on spying for the British during the American Revolution. As a girl, she must dress as a boy, plus endure devastation and murder as she decodes messages for a mysterious Welshman. The tide has turned in the rebels’ favor. General George Washington appears to be winning. The loyalists are bombarded by threats and lost battles. Rowena stays determined to aid the British cause and preserve her family as they’re chased from their Pennsylvania home.

She struggles with impending defeat and permanent exile, plus her growing love for the Welshman who may have little need for affection. Will the war destroy both their lives?

For further information on me and my books, please visit my website: www.dianescottlewis.org

Purchase Her Vanquished Land HERE

 
 Diane Scott Lewis grew up in California, traveled the world with the navy, edited for magazines and an on-line publisher. She lives with her husband in Pennsylvania.
 

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