Saturday, June 6, 2020

Some Selections from the BWL Genre Indexes

Visit our website https://bookswelove.net for details and purchase information

SELECTIONS FROM OUR GENRE INDEXES

FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION
   
 
       
 
  
HISTORICAL, TIME TRAVEL AND LITERARY FICTION
       

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE AND THRILLER
 

 CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE, HISTORICAL ROMANCE, ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
 
   

WESTERN HISTORICAL, HISTORICAL FICTION, CONTEMPORARY WESTERN

       
       
       

YOUNG ADULT AND JUVENILE  
       
       
     
  

Friday, June 5, 2020

Regency Libraries by Rosemary Morris


To learn more about Rosemary's work please click on the cover above.



Regency Libraries

I am very surprised by the facts I discovered when I researched libraries in the early 19th century for my new novel, Saturday’s Child. I falsely assumed members merely visited libraries to borrow books.
Toward the end of the eighteenth-century subscription libraries became fashionable. By the Regency era subscription libraries had become an important part of fashionable life. People gathered in communal rooms where they met, read newspapers and magazines, drank coffee while chatting and gossiping, or whiled away time in peace and quiet. Some provided collections of caricatures and prints to browse through on the premises or to take out on loan. The collections were bound into large loose-leaf books and laid out on round tables for people to view them at leisure.
Ladies read magazines, which to name a few, included the very popular Ladies Magazine, Gallery of Fashion and Le Beau Monde in which were coloured fashion plates. The Lady’s Monthly Museum published articles and biographies of famous women, prints and short stories. Gentlemen chose newspapers, The Gentleman’s Magazine, and other publications. Men and women enjoyed Ackerman’s extremely popular publication ‘The Repository of Arts, Literature, Literature, Commerce, Manufacturers, Fashions and Politics.’
It was common for families such as Jane Austen’s to join a library because new books were so expensive.
Libraries sold trinkets and Jane’s sister, Lydia, saw beautiful ornaments which made her quite wild in Brighton library.
In my novel, Saturday’s Child, to be published in July, the hero assures his mother she can buy whatever she needs to paint water colours at Motts, the library she had joined in Brighton.
If she had needed to, his mother could have consulted a guidebook, published by her subscription library, which included advertisements for accommodation.
I am jealous of Regency subscribers, who, in addition to borrowing novels enjoyed musical entertainments. My small local library only contains books, a few comfortable chairs arranged around a table, where people read newspapers and magazines, and a computer room.


Thursday, June 4, 2020

Pillars of Avalon by Katherine Pym


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 Now in Audio

Since it’s June, and the traditional wedding month, if we ever get through this pandemic, I thought I’d share an excerpt from Pillars of Avalon, the wedding vows between David & Sara. Humourous to say the least.  This is a story of love, struggle and passion. A good read for YA & Adults.

David and Sara Kirke were married in London 1630. It was not long after they settled in Newfoundland, now Newfoundland/Labrador. Their story is filled with adventure, very well researched. We found as much data on them from the limited resources as possible. 

~*~*~*~

Spangler took a deep breath and said, “Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God...”  

David’s chest deflated and his gut heaved. The very raising of her chin emasculated him, casting him into the hoary pit of impotence. She did that often and he wondered if women were born this way or if they learned it from their mothers. 

Lord above, but he pitied Sara’s father. Being married to a bloody harpy like Mother Andrews would be his undoing. 

“...an honourable estate instituted by God in paradise, in the time of man’s innocence...” Spangler said in a singsong manner. 

David wanted to scoff. Man’s innocence, my arse. Women’s cunning and their wicked ways unmanned men. In his weakness David would soon lustily bed Eve as Adam had taken the apple and eaten thereof. 

“…of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men, and therefore is not to be enterprised, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts…” 

Of course, he was a brute and a beast. He hungered for Twig, her softness, how her eyes brightened when he walked into a room. Their bundling showed she had the capacity to love him. She was open to do all things imaginable behind the bed curtains. He intended to try the sports expressed in chapbooks. All of them. 

“…but reverently, discretely, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God.”

David did not like those words. A woman must have whispered in the ear of whoever wrote that part of the Book of Common Prayer. Why should a man fear God when he created the physical body to enjoy the act of procreation? 

He scoffed in derision and Sara gave him a look. The minister paused in his reading. They turned to him with question, their regard on the verge of horror. Embarrassed, David’s neck heated. His ears buzzed and his knees wobbled. 

All he could do was shrug.  

Spangler cleared his throat. “Duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. One cause was the procreation of children, to be brought up in fear and nurture of the Lord, and praise of God…”

Why should he raise his sons to fear God? When a man struck out on his road, to do what his heart most desired, if it was honourable, then there should be no fear. He sliced a glance at Sara. So far, she hadn’t been overly reverent or spouted homilies. She did not judge with the Good Book in her hand. He nodded. They would do well together. 

“Secondly,” the minister continued, his voice falling into the monotone of words often said.
David frowned. Would this never end?

“It is ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication that such persons as be married, might live chastely in matrimony and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ’s body.” 

Those words should be stricken from the ceremony, David reflected sagely. The only reason a man would fornicate outside the marriage bed was a cold and stiff wife, which he would not have. He’d sell Sara in a public auction if she was thusly, and he snorted. 

Spangler tripped over his words and Sara faced him, her lips curled in a frown. David reared back, as if he would soon be pummelled by the two of them. Nervous coughs came from the congregation. He tried to look innocent of any wrongdoing. 

After several tense moments where he burst into a mighty sweat, Spangler flipped through the pages of his book, then said, “I require and charge you, as you will anywhere at the dread full day of judgement, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed,” he put his hand to his mouth and coughed, “that if either of you do know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, that ye confess it.” He gazed at David. 

Sara turned to him. 

He wanted to shout, “What have I done?” 

Still looking at David, Spangler said, “For be ye well assured that so many as be coupled together; otherwise then God would doeth allow you are not joined of God. Neither is your matrimony lawful.”  

Annoyance turned to anger. The man was a damned rogue who pointed an improper finger at him. 

“David Kirke, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her…”

Surely he would if she weren’t a crone and enjoyed tussling upon the counterpane. 

Spangler cleared his throat and Sara gave him a murderous regard. 

David could not fathom their discontent. “I will.” 

“Sara Andrews, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance, in the holy estate of matrimony? Will thou obey him and serve him…”

She would certainly obey him. If not, David knew he had the full right to beat her into proper submission. He gazed at her. She was so pretty with bright eyes and kissable lips. He could never lay a hand upon her, no matter how much she vexed him. 

“I will,” Sara said. 

~*~*~
The vows were taken from the Book of Common Prayer, 1549 edition


Wednesday, June 3, 2020

This is a Pandemic, Not a Writing Retreat by Diane Bator





Yay! My new Sugarwood Mystery book came out June 1st! (Click on the cover to order Drop Dead Cowboy!)

On June 10, I was supposed to be taking my oldest son Nick, who is turning 25 this month, out to Alberta and B.C. to spend time with my brother Darryl, who is turning 50. Pretty memorable milestones but we won't be celebrating the way we wanted to be. This year, I will have to send them both love from a distance. Of course we planned to see other family and drive through the Rockies from Edson to Osoyoos, but that will have to wait.

There are so many things we haven't been able to do over the past several months. Of all the things I've really noticed is that my creative process took a holiday for the first seven weeks. Hearing those great words "this is a pandemic, not a writing retreat" helped. As much as we're isolated and some of us alone (except for a couple of cats who are starting to get on my nerves!) we're all dealing with the same situation.

What does my creative process look like right now?

Since I struggled to write for so many weeks, I turned to a previous addiction. Counted Cross Stitch. I've done many over the years until my kids got older and I focused my time on writing more than other pursuits. This one is called Sandcastle Dreams and it was kind of fun to take pictures every time I worked on it and share them on Instagram. No one else knew what the picture would look like, which made it even more fun.

  

Lucky for me, I have another one squirreled away and will start that one soon.

As for writing, I've been working from home since mid-March so my days begin with a few phone calls and emails as well as a daily Zoom chat. After that, I started off staring at the walls feeling numb. Once the wave of numbness passed, I began to listen to writing and other videos. It gave me a sense of camaraderie to hear how other authors and playwrights felt the same way. Slowly, I regained my sense of self.

I discovered I can attend virtual meetings that I could never attend in person due to scheduling. I am even attending a Left Coast Crime event this Saturday that I wouldn't have attended. Though I talked to other writers and listened to their stories, I just couldn't get back to writing my own.

Then I took a bath.

Suddenly, this character took over the second book in my Glitter Bay series and I couldn't stop her! She wasn't my original main character, Laken, but her sister Sage who has become my protagonist for All that Shines. Within two weeks, I'm on Chapter 7 and still going.

Since my routine has been altered, I've decided to make my time work for me without putting as much pressure on myself as I used do. I get up when the cats tell me it's time to get out of bed--usually by seven o'clock--then have coffee and breakfast while they go back to sleep. I do my work in the morning while my older cat, part Siamese, walks around me meowing because he wants my full attention, or to go outside, or a treat...  After lunch, if it's not nearly 40 degrees Celsius and my shoes won't melt on the sidewalk, I'll take a brisk walk before I sit down to write, listen to a lecture or two, read a book, or work on my website or the newsletter I'm struggling to set up.

Currently, I'm reading before bed every night to take my mind off the day's events. I have a huge stack of books from writers I've met and work with so reviews are due when I'm done each one. That's not a bad thing. In times like these, we all need to help each other and give each other what support we can.

How are you all faring?
Are you reading, writing, or have you found other creative outlets to keep your hands busy?
I'd love to hear about it.
Whatever you're doing, stay out of trouble and have fun!

Diane Bator
https://bookswelove.net/bator-diane/


Tuesday, June 2, 2020

What's this world coming to? or The Saga of the Missing Shed




So, we ordered a shed online last month to be delivered May 1st. According to the website it would be delivered between 6AM and 8 PM and a phone call half hour before delivery.
In my humble opinion, I thought 6 AM was an insane time to be delivering anything, but especially with a truck that has a lift gate, and the use of a hand  pallet jack. Pulling that up a driveway would be extremely loud.
That being said, we never received a phone call, nor did we receive our shed. However the next morning at a little past 5 AM, I woke up and checked the status of our shed. It said delivered 11:51 PM on May 1st.
WHAT!!! who delivers anything at nine minutes to midnight? I clicked on the tracking option and it said delivered 10:44 PM on May 1st.
Now, I'm not a genius, but that's a whole hours difference in time. Which was it 10:44 (at which time I was still up and watching TV) I would have heard the truck out front and also the pallet jack coming up the driveway. Besides that, my husband pulled the car in the driveway at 9:00. They would have had to leave it behind the car. AND, they never called.
Needless to say, I was annoyed. I went outside, walked all around the car and of course it wasn't there.
I'm pretty sure no one stole it. It weighed 400#s was 6 feet long and 3 feet wide according to the website.
So, where was it?
Either they delivered it to the wrong house, in which case when you saw it,  wouldn't you either call Home Depot or come down the street to where it should have been delivered? I know I would have probably done both.
So,  I waited until 6 AM when the stores open and called the number on the website. I spoke with a real nice lady who put me on hold a couple times while she did some checking. Unfortunately, on one of the holds we got cut off.
So, I called back. Explained to the new person what happened, and he saw all her notes. He put me on hold, called the trucking company (who more than likely doesn't work on Saturday) and left them a message for them to call me directly.
If anyone has tried to call Home Depot during the day, you'll discover they are experiencing a high volume of calls and the hold could be 45 minutes. Unfortunately, the people I spoke with Saturday couldn't tell me which Home Depot the shed came from, but it wasn't from the store I ordered it..
Figuring the trucking company probably didn't work on Saturday, I waited until Monday to pursue the matter. I was awake again by 6 AM so called Home Depot again, explained the situation, which she had notes from the previous phone calls, but she said they'd have to wait until 9 AM to speak with the trucking company because that's what time they opened and that I should call back later.
I requested they call me back because I wasn't sitting on hold for 45 minutes or longer.
She insisted I call back, so I asked to speak to her supervisor. Who praise the Lord, gave me the name and phone number of the store that supposedly delivered it. She also gave me the manager's name and told me to speak directly with him. She said she spoke to him and he was going to contact the trucking company at 9:00.The reason they couldn't call me back is they have a call only line. True or not, I don't know.
Oh and he told her the shed was delivered at 11:15 (another different time).  She very nicely told him they don't deliver anything that late.
I waited until 11 to call the store since I hadn't heard from the manager. I mean how difficult is it to call a trucking company and speak to them about what happened to the shed. Of course he told me to wait until Monday and he'd call me after he talked with the trucking company.
11:30 AM Monday, May 4th, and I still hadn't heard from anyone.
If anyone has tried to call Home Depot during the day, you'll discover they are experiencing a high volume of calls and the hold could be 45 minutes.
So, I finally called the store, asked for him, and of course got put on hold for five minutes, then told he wasn't answering his phone.  But she took my number and said she'd have him call me.
Well he finally did.  Funny thing, he said he was talking to the trucking company as we spoke, but what was the order number of the shed. Seriously! If you're speaking to him, you must have the order number or why would you be speaking to him?
So,  they checked into what happened to the shed and if it got delivered to the wrong house.  Now how could they possibly know that, if they had my address and said it was delivered. How could they know which house it went to. Oh and my house numbers are quite large, so not easy to miss them.
The manager said they'd figure it out and get a shed out to me.
I had to call them back yet again to find out when they were getting the shed out to me. Finally it got delivered a couple of days later. Of course with all the rain we'd been having, there was no way to put the shed up.
Until Memorial Day weekend that is. My sons came to put it up and all was going well until they were almost done.
A piece was missing. the right corner  panel.  So, of course I called the store. Was told we'd have to bring the shed back and they'd give us another one. Seriously, I'm not kidding.
Yeah, like that was going to happen. She insisted that's what we'd have to do and I asked to speak to the manager. I explained it all again, told him we weren't taking it apart and bringing it back to the store - it weighed 400 lbs.  Not to mention they were almost done putting it together. Besides, what difference did it make if we brought the shed back with a missing part than if they gave us the part from another shed. Either way they'd have a shed with a missing part.  So, he put me on hold while he checked if they even had the shed. Several minutes later I got disconnected. Called back, got the manager again and he gave me to someone else. Nope, they didn't have that shed, besides it came from a different store so call them.
So call them I did and asked to speak to the manager, who I'd become quite friendly with since I'd spent so much time with him on the phone to begin with when the shed was missing. He said they had the shed, so I sent my sons to pick up the piece.
Well....the only shed they had was one for parts and, of course, the part we needed was gone.  They even let my sons check. Nope, that part was definitely gone. So they suggested we call another store, which I did. Meanwhile, my sons were on the way to store I was calling.
I, again, asked for the manager, explained the situation. He put me on hold, which I again got disconnected from after a long wait. Called back, got him again, and he apologized, but he was with a customer and didn't have time to check for the shed.  I told him my sons were on the way and they'd ask for him. By time we hung up, my sons were pulling in the parking lot.
Well, after checking, nope they didn't have the shed. The manager was nice enough to check with other stores in the area and that shed wasn't available within 100 miles of us.
So...I called my friendly manager back from the store that delivered it. He said he'd order the part from the manufacturer but he doubted they were open. It was Saturday after all. He promised to call them Tuesday morning, and would call me back then also. I did ask for something more off for my inconvenience - even though it wasn't their fault. But they did sell the shed, and I am inconvenienced.
So shed is partially up, missing one panel and door.  Looks pretty good even that way.
Tuesday morning, I again called because of course they didn't call me by 11:00. He said he contacted the manufacturer and the panel would be shipped, but due to Covid 19, it would probably take 3 to 4 weeks. And he agreed to send me a gift card for my inconvenience. Since it wasn't the stores fault, I couldn't ask for anything more. I wasn't out to gouge them after all. On the other hand, if the shed had been delivered as promised, we would have been putting it together that weekend and maybe, just maybe, one of the stores would still have had the shed in stock and we could have gotten the part. But nonetheless, it's a done deal and I can't do anything but wait for the part to come.
So that's what's happening in my world. As my mama used to say, "This too shall pass."

Excerpt from Geriatric Rebels:

Peeking around the corner into the dimly lit halls, Mike watched the pretty silver-haired lady slip into a dark room. What was she up to? He looked up and down the hall to make sure no one was around and followed her. Next thing he knew, he ran smack into her.
“Whoa,” she whispered. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“Maybe I should ask you that question,” Mike answered. “This isn’t your room.” A tiny little thing, she barely came up to his shoulders. She put her hands behind her back, and Mike chuckled. What was she hiding? “I’m night security,” he lied. “What’s behind your back?”
She lowered her head and brought out a water pitcher. “It was only a joke.”
Mike took her arm. “You better come with me.” He led her to the hall after a quick check to make sure it was still empty. “So you’re the one stealing the pitchers.” She shivered and for a moment he felt sorry for her. What a mean trick, but he couldn’t help himself. He pushed open the exit door.
“Where are we going?” Elsa stiffened and tried to pull away. “Where are you taking me?”
Her timid tone melted Mike. Time to confess. Damn, too late.
“Wait just a dog-gone minute.” She pulled away from him. “How do I know who you are? Where’s your uniform?  Show me some identification.”
Although she spoke in whispers, the tone of her voice showed Mike she wasn’t buying his act. Surprised by her sudden change of attitude, he stopped, raised his hands in surrender, and grinned at her.
“Who are you? Where do you think you’re taking me?” She glared at him with the lightest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that right now, he swore pierced into his. “You’re a burglar, aren’t you?” She tapped her foot and crossed her arms over her chest. “If you think for one minute, I’m going out that door with you, think again, buddy.”
Mike stifled a laugh, finding her amusing, obviously she didn’t trust him. Not that he blamed her, he did lie to her, and she didn’t know him from Adam. What did he expect?
“What were you doing in that room, buster, and if you don’t tell me who you are, I’m going to scream for help.”
“Okay, okay, quiet down.”  Hell, she meant business. “I was following you.” He tried to sound serious, but he couldn’t. He found the whole situation humorous. “My name is Mike Powell, room 110, but I don’t belong in this home.” He held out his hand toward her.
“Yeah, none of us belong here,” she scoffed. “Why were you following me?” Since she ignored his outstretched hand, Mike lowered it. “I was curious to see where you were going in the middle of the night.”
 “Humph.” Elsa tapped her foot. “So why are you here?”
“I fell and there wasn’t anyone to take care of me. My wife passed away three years ago, and I don’t have any children. So they threw me in here for therapy.”
“I never see you in therapy.”
 “That’s ’cause I don’t need it anymore.”
“Humph. So how come you’re still here?”
 “Nothing to go home to. I have more fun here. They don’t know I can get out of bed.”
 “And just how did you pull that off?”
Elsa seemed surprised to hear he had fooled the nurses into thinking he couldn’t get out of bed. “Simple, I refuse to get out of bed. Of course….” He combed his fingers through his thinning white hair and laughed. “They don’t know about my night time escapades.
“Ah, I know who you are. You’re that difficult man. I hear them talking about. You don’t eat, refuse to take your medicine, or even get out of bed. They call you the ‘Geriatric Rebel’.”
Mike chuckled. He liked the sound of her voice, musical, not raspy or whiny like the other women here. “So why are you here?” he asked. “You don’t seem like the typical resident.”
“Humph, kids are on vacation and don’t want to bother with me. I’m Elsa Logan, by the way.” Elsa turned away. “I better get back. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.” She left him standing in the hall.
A quiver of something familiar went through him as she disappeared down the hall and into her room.
                                                                               ***
Mike sighed as Doris’s soft hands slid over his forehead and soothed him. He liked her voice, soft, sweet, almost sing-songy. But no amount of cooing was going to make him get out of this bed. You would think after a month of trying, she’d give up. The others had.
“Come on, Mike, you know it’s not good to lay here like this.”
He squeezed his eyes closed ignoring her, wishing her away. “Just leave me alone!”
 “Okay, Mike, but you’re not doing yourself any good.” Doris left and closed the door.
Guilt gnawed at him the minute the words came out of his mouth. He shouldn’t have yelled at her like that, she was one of the few nurses in the home who bothered with him, and he savored the pampering. She’d been coaxing him to get up to socialize for a month. Sure, socialize, like half the residents here would even remember.
Except Elsa.
Elsa with her curly silver hair, quick temper, beautiful smile and bright blue eyes, he closed his eyes, remembering the previous night. Mike smiled at the memory. He couldn’t wait to see her again.
He napped off and on throughout the day to help pass the time. Finally, they dimmed the lights. Now was his chance. He sneaked into the hall, and there she was peeking out of her room. Was she looking for him? He hoped. “Hi, Elsa.” Strange, he felt shy with her. He’d never been shy a day in his life. Not with his wife, not with anyone. Never one to mind getting up in a crowd to speak, this shyness made him uncomfortable. “Want to go for a walk?”
 She gestured for him to lead the way. “Wait, how are we going to get back in?” Elsa stopped and pulled him back at the exit.
“Don’t worry, the door doesn’t lock. Look.” He went out, pulled the door closed and then pushed it open. “”Come on.” He led her out to the parking lot.
“How come the alarm didn’t go off?” “I disabled it and jimmied the lock.”
She stumbled as she hurried to keep up with him. “Do you think you could slow down a little?”
Mike waited for her to catch up.  “Sorry, I forget old people can’t keep up with me.” He took her hand. Something about her brought out his playful side, a side long forgotten.
“Who are you calling old, you blustery old fool?” She pulled her hand away, planted it on her hip, and glared at him.
This was definitely a woman to reckon with “You’re really pretty when you’re mad.”
 “Humph.” She furrowed her brow and stepped away from him. Uh, oh he had pushed her too far, but he couldn’t help teasing her, he felt so alive.
“I’ll show you mad.” Elsa swung her fist, just missing him.
“Hey, I was joking.” He grabbed her hand.  “Truce?” She pulled her hand away but gave him an agreeable nod. They stepped out into the parking lot and to a clump of trees. “This is my special place.” He led her beyond the trees to a small grassy area.  “It’s where I come when I want to get away from them.” He nodded toward the home.
Elsa sat on the grass next to him. “It’s like a million miles away from them isn’t it? It’s been a long time since I’ve been out in the evening. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Mike stroked the back of her hand, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. “Why do you steal the water pitchers?” He couldn’t help being curious about the soft-spoken, petite woman with the quick temper, who invoked feelings he hadn’t felt since his wife died
“Just for the fun of it- I get bored. Besides, I can’t sleep at night.” She shrugged, “I took the nurses’ lunches a couple of times,” he said, “but usually I just come out here.”
“That was you?” Elsa giggled. “They talked about it for weeks. Boy, were they mad.”
Mike liked the youthful sound of her laugh He suddenly felt young and mischievous. “Let’s go back and fill their coffeepot with ice.” He squeezed her hand as he helped her up.
Pushing the door open a crack, he looked down the hall. “Okay, coast is clear, come on.” He led Elsa to the break room, looked inside. Empty. He motioned her inside and followed her in. “Stand guard, while I fill the coffee pot.” Mike couldn’t help but laugh as he dumped a couple of containers of ice into the pot. “That should do it.”
They laughed so hard, he was afraid they’d get caught. Elsa shushed Mike as they walked to her room. He hugged her goodnight. Warmth surged through him like a tidal wave when she hugged him back. He hurried back to his room, feeling more alive than he had in years. Maybe I’ll get up tomorrow, he thought. He chuckled, remembering their conversation, ‘Geriatric Rebel’ they have no idea. He sighed before he fell asleep.
                                                            ***

For this and more of my books check out my page at  BWL Publishing


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