Friday, January 6, 2023
Sleep Over at the Library, Anyone? by Eileen O'Finlan
My experiences living on a converted liveaboard boat inspired the first chapter in The Immoral by Jay Lang
The Immoral
Jay Lang
Click this link to purchase book
http://bookswelove.net/lang-jay/
My
inspiration for this chapter came from my years living on my boat, a converted
liveaboard that I moored in Deep Cove, B.C. For the four and a half years I
called the boat my home, I saw more natural beauty in the magic of nature than
I ever saw while living on land. I really wanted to let readers see what I had.
I found it very comforting to go back into my memories and create the setting
to this chapter.
Chapter One
The sound was intentional,
unmistakable. I am not alone. I slowly rise from the narrow cot and tiptoe
through the small cabin, overwhelmed with the feeling of impending doom. With
each doorway I pass, my breathing stops and my heart pounds as I anticipate
someone lunging from the darkness. A sliver of light from the crescent moon
casts a dusty blue glow through the grimy windows and illuminates the front
door—freedom. Carefully, I glide forward. I’m almost there. Heart pounding and
legs weak, I reach out and touch the small round doorknob. I’ve made it. Then,
the floor creaks from behind and a wave of terror rushes over me. My back
tightens and I freeze, as though a cold hand has clutched the back of my neck.
Terrified, I turn to face my fate.
* * *
Semi-conscious, I open my eyes and
take a deep breath. The air is thick with ozone. I roll onto my side and look
out the window. Angry clouds churn above the small cove. Electricity fills the
pilothouse and the hair on my arm stands on end. Instinctively, I grab my phone
from the pillow and check for any texts. Nothing from Kara. I get out of bed, struggling
to keep my balance as the boat rocks. The wind whipping across the bay
generates swells that slap hard against the hull as I walk out onto the stern
to check the ropes and set down extra buoys between the dock and the boat. Hard
sprays of sea water sting my face as gusts of wind push against me. 4 Back
inside, I wipe my wet face on my sleeve and sit at the settee to catch my
breath. I glance at the clock and see that it’s 4 AM. Considering the storm
that’s brewing, there’s no way I’m going to get back to sleep.
Since I have to be up at 5:30 for
work, I decide to gather my things and drive to the 24-hour café in the
village, where I’ll hang out until my shift starts. I work as an emergency
dispatcher for the local police station. After thirty-seven calls and a
half-pot of coffee, all before lunch, I’m running on pure adrenaline and
caffeine. I can’t wait for the day to be over when I can climb onto my boat and
into my bed. About an hour before my shift ends, a call comes in from a woman,
requesting to speak with an officer. She sounds panicked. I ask her what the
nature of her complaint is. The woman tells me her teenage daughter, Molly, has
been missing for four days. She says she wasn’t worried until she went into
Molly’s laptop and found a conversation between her and an older man.
I was inspired to write about Molly
after learning about the overwhelming number of girls that are lured away from
the safety of their homes by online predators.
I quickly put her call through to an available
officer. A nauseous feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. I’ve only been
working at the police station for a year and although I never deal with the
people face-to-face, some of the calls stay with me long after my shift ends.
After I’ve signed out, I’m making my way to my locker when I hear my boss
calling my name.
Thursday, January 5, 2023
The Cinderella Princess. Anne Stuart Future Queen of England Part One by Rosemary Morris
At heart I am a historian. Before I
begin writing a #classi#historical#omance I research the background. I hope you
will enjoy this month’s insider blog based on my notes.
When Anne, Stuart was born on the 6th
February1665 neither her uncle, the second King Charles, nor her father, James,
heir to the throne, imagined she would become Queen. The king’s seven
illegitimate children proved his virility. There was every reason to believe he
and his queen Henrietta Maria who he married three years ago, would not have
legitimate heirs If they did not, James and Anne, the Duke and Duchess of York’s
son would succeed. Unfortunately, he only lived for six months.
Infant mortality was high. Fortunately, Anne
and her older sister, Mary, survived the Great Plague, which broke out in the
year of the Cinderella’s birth. The little princesses grew up in their nursery
but their brother James, a younger brother and two little sisters died. One can
imagine the effects of these deaths on a small girl suffering from poor health,
whose weak eyes watered constantly.
With the consent of Anne’s uncle, the king,
her parents sent the four-year-old to her grandmother, widow of the executed
first Charles, who now lived in France, to have her eyes treated.
A portrait of the Anne as a small girl
painted by an unknown artist at the French Court depicts a plump, adorable little
girl, dressed in brocade and playing with a King Charles spaniel. Yet her eyes,
set in an oval face with a mouth shaped in a perfect cupid’s bow, are wary.
* * *
Rosemary Morris’ #classic#historical#romance novels set in Queen Anne
Stuart’s reign – 1702 -1714
Far Beyond Rubies.
Tangled Love
The Captain and The Countess
The Viscount and The Orphan
With firmly closed bedroom doors, the reader can
relish the details of emerging romances.
* * *
To purchase my novels choose an online click onto
the book cover to choose an online bookstore at https:bwlpublishing.ca/morris-rosemary.
To
read the first three chapters please visit my website. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
Wednesday, January 4, 2023
To Curmudgeons by Julie Christen
Here's to all the curmudgeons in my life, including the one you will meet in Nokota Voices coming in April.
Check out my BWL Author page
To Curmudgeons by Julie Christen
I know a man who’s not what he seems.
On the outside, in fact, he looks downright mean.
His brow is all crinkled in the shape of a V.
His mouth is a grimace. He sure acts cranky.
Hands crammed in his pockets or crossed over his chest.
Stand-offish. Skeptical. Unimpressed.
Mad at the world? Just mad at you?
Mad about change and politics too.
A crabby old man, just mean to the bone.
Wishing that we would all leave him alone.
But …
Hidden in shadowy depths unseen
Lie stories of pain and places he’s been.
He loves with his whole heart. Mourns those he’s lost.
He’ll fight to the death for you - damn the cost.
His hands are gnarled, tender and strong
To pray, caress and work all day long.
Wisdom courses through his veins.
So much knowledge. Zero fame.
He’s been there, done that. Got the t-shirt and then some.
He’s a man with a story, not just a curmudgeon.
So next time you see him, maybe give him a chance
To prove he’s much more than you see at first glance.
Monday, January 2, 2023
Editing essentials by donalee Moulton
Editing essentials
Revising,
reworking, revitalizing
Great writers don’t need an editor. They demand one. What first-rate writers understand is that another pair of eyes or a fresh pair of eyes are essential to successful communication. This second looks brings a new perspective, the distance that only time (even a little time) can offer, and renewed energy to improve content.
Let’s try this exercise. You’ll need a piece of paper, 8.5” x 11” if possible. Now transform that flat piece of paper into the world’s most wonderful flying machine. The goal is to fly as far as possible. Take a few minutes to play with different designs, then stand up and launch your creation. How far did it go?
Now let’s rethink, or edit, the exercise. What did your flying machine look like? Something similar to a paper airplane?
Let’s review the instructions, the language. Nowhere did it say to build a paper airplane. It said a flying machine. The goal was distance. What would be an easier way to build a flying machine? What would get us great distance?
Crumpling the paper into a ball would.
That’s what editing does. As we write, whether for a reader or a listener, we dive in. Ideas flow. We create content. We think about our audience. We identify important points to make. We’re in the midst of our content, our characters, and our creativity.
When we edit, we take a step back. We come up for air. We have a different perspective – and a draft on which to overlay a fresh set of eyes. Even short pieces of writing should be edited. We need to think before we walk away. We need to give ourselves time to review and revise. To take one last read through (or think through). You’ll be surprised at what you missed or decide to revise.
Editing is essential to clear, concise, compelling writing. But editing isn’t just one thing. Just as pizza isn’t just one thing. There is deep dish pizza with red carnival spinach. Thin crust pepperoni and Bloomsdale spinach. New York-style pizza with Tyee spinach. Notice though that although the type of pizza is different there are common elements.
That’s also true when it comes to editing. There are three broad types: substantive editing, stylistic editing, and copyediting.
I thought we could spend a little time exploring these different types of editing in future blogs. Until then, I’d love to hear from you about your editing process, what drives you nuts, what makes your heart sing.
Sunday, January 1, 2023
Happy New Year from BWL Publishing Inc.
Wishing all of you health, happiness and prosperity in 2023.
Our new releases for 2023 reflect the optimism we at BWL feel about a brand new year.
Everything is perfect. Until Tessa is found dead.
Soon after, Sophie realizes her own studies have taken a backseat to Brandon’s strange lifestyle. She decides to escape from the web she’d not even noticed was entangling her. However, it isn’t until one horrific morning that she realizes how far he’d go to make her stay.
Saturday, December 31, 2022
Party Time by Priscilla Brown
Australian journalist Jasmine, stuck on a small Scottish island after a difficult assignment, finds herself learning reel dances at the local Hogmanay party. New Year's Eve had never been...so, well...so sexy...and is this stylishly kilted guy really who he says he is?
Find this contemporary romance at
https://books2read.com/Dancing-the-Reel
💖
As teenagers many years ago, my cousin Sally and I hated family parties. The worst were those at Christmas and New Year hosted alternately by my parents and by hers. Having survived the excesses of Christmas at one house, we metaphorically took deep breaths and braced the New Year scene at the other.
Our mothers would sit at the kitchen table, their gossiping accompanied by rapidly depleting bottles of white wine and quantities of strawberry jam tarts. If a reason had ever existed for these specific edibles, it was lost in the annals of long ago New Year's Eves. If we took our clothes off and danced on the table, we doubted they'd have noticed. Our fathers occupied the living room, hers thumping away on the piano and mine making excruciating noises on his violin. Lucky the houses in this street were detached, so unlikely the neighbours would have their ears assaulted, but even so, anyone outside would surely cringe at the volume of noise. But the 'oldies' were having fun.
For our 'fun,' and I don't remember how old we were, one year at my house Sally and I took from the wine rack a bottle of red wine which the parents probably thought they had hidden in a shoe cupboard, two glasses, and the few leftover mince pies. In my bedroom, we sat on the bed, disappointed there were no more pies, testing the wine while wondering how people could drink this disgusting stuff but nevertheless sipping away, and giggling over stupid boys in our respective high school classes. Neither of us felt at our best the next morning.
Chatting with friends about previous New Year's celebrations, mid-summer here in Australia, one described how his parents had hired a jumping castle to be installed in their large backyard for their extended family of children. Aged about ten, he and his twin brother had a fight while jumping, both fell off and each broke an arm. Another recalled how when teenagers their family joined with two others for a picnic in a park. She and a boy from another family ran a contest to see who could catch the most cicadas in ten minutes. Children nil, cicadas safe.
May 2023 be kind to you, with lots of good books to read. Stay safe. Priscilla.
https://priscillabrownauthor.com
Friday, December 30, 2022
Poodle Talk by Eden Monroe
For book details and purchase information visit Eden Monroe's BWL Author page.
The much-celebrated
poodle is the beloved national dog of France, but that’s not where the breed
originated. It all began in Germany, the name derived from the German word
Pudel or Pudlen. Duck dog, or Caniche, is what the breed is called in France.
That’s right,
despite their pampered, diva-like appearance, poodles were actually bred to be working
dogs. They’re superbly suited for their job as waterfowl retrievers, and their famous
puffball haircuts in fact serve a very important purpose for that type of work.
Their tight curly hair is meant to insulate them in cold water, but to promote
freedom of movement, the neck, legs and tail were shaved. Carefully crafted
pompoms remained, designed to protect their joints and torso (vital organs) in often
frigid water.
Nevertheless their
iconic cutaway hairdos are perfect catwalk coiffures and have become synonymous
with this handsome breed. There are three acceptable styles when appearing
before discerning dog show judges: continental clip, modified continental clip
and English saddle. There’s also the puppy clip for baby poodles debuting on
the show circuit.
Snowflakes, the
tiny star of the romantic suspense, Looking for Snowflakes, is a toy poodle who
has a thing or two to say about the sturdy stuff that poodles are made of. She
is a force to be reckoned with and her typically sweet personality not only
touches lives, but makes the most of whatever situation she happens to find
herself in:
“Just then the
back door opened and Luke Barker snuck in. He slipped a small package onto the
top shelf of the closet before announcing he was home early because the office
had closed.
Snowflakes was the
first one to the back door to greet him, her tiny pink tongue lolling in a
dazzling smile. And since there was no food in the kitchen, maybe this
good-looking young gentleman might have a treat or two up his sleeve. So she
sat back on her paws and giving it everything she had, pranced with her front
feet. To her bewilderment her performance didn’t seem to impress him, the man
just stared at her as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Next to arrive was
Sarah. ‘Daddy!’ she yelled as he picked her up and swung her around before
setting her back on the floor. ‘Look at my new baby dog! Her name is
Snowflakes.’
Danielle Barker
had now come to the back door as well, walking into the unblinking stare of her
husband, the look that said why is there
a dog here? We didn’t discuss this!
He first stared at
the dog and then at his daughter, before his gaze swung back to his wife. ‘Danielle,
have you got a minute?’”
Soft, white and
curly, Snowflakes is the star of the show although poodle lovers, unlike fanciers
of most breeds, have four sizes to choose from: standard, miniature, toy and
teacup, as well as a myriad of hypoallergenic coat colours.
Playful but
dignified, these dogs are friendly, devoted and keenly protective of their
people friends. Poodles of every size and colour have been the favourites of
some very well known pet owners: Elvis Presley, Elizabeth Taylor, Jackie
Kennedy, Lucille Ball, Marilyn Monroe, Katharine Hepburn, Walt Disney, Winston
Churchill and more, and all knew the joys of friendship with these versatile animals.
Poodles are recognized
as one of the most intelligent breeds in the world, and highly trainable. Just
a few of their outstanding abilities include excelling at performance sports, working
as guide and therapy dogs, and being natural entertainers are outstanding
circus performers. Also adept at truffle foraging, they were often used
together with Dachshunds who are low enough to the ground to easily dig out this
prized edible fungus.
And they have proven
themselves to have plenty of try too, a hallmark of their impressive ancestry over
the roughly 400 years since the breed first appeared. Remarkably, a team that
included standard poodles once competed in the grueling Iditarod Trail Sled Dog
Race, an Alaskan event covering roughly 1,000 miles from Anchorage to Nome. The
results were less than stellar for the poodles, but it was not the fault of
those valiant animals. That annual competition now permits “only dogs suitable
for arctic travel” (Alaskan Malamute, Siberian husky or a mixed breed like the
Alaskan husky) to compete, because the icy climate can eventually overwhelm
single-coated breeds like poodles who are not at all suited to such harsh
northern conditions.
Poodles have distinguished
themselves in other ways too, such as Montee from Idaho, the standard poodle
who tipped the scales at an amazing one hundred pounds, and novelist John
Steinbeck’s pal, Charles le Chien, was also a standard. Steinbeck and
Charley were inseparable companions as they toured thirty-four states together
in a pick-up truck on a 10,000 mile journey of discovery in 1960.
History also
remembers outstanding poodles such as Sancho. Found on his master’s grave
following the 1812 Battle of Salamanca in Spain (Peninsular war), he was
adopted by Lord Worcester and taken to live in London. And Boye, also a
standard poodle, was believed to belong to Prince Rupert of Rhine. During his Royalist
master’s incarceration and later on the field of battle, Boye remained
steadfast at Rupert’s side; a Royal mascot who held the honourary title of
“Sergent-Major-General.”
There have also
been famous miniature poodles: Aero, owned by Japanese figure skating star Mao
Asada appeared in commercials with the popular Olympian, and Edward, a TV
commercial celebrity and much-welcome fixture at A-list fashion shoots. Jinkee
a toy poodle and red like Aero and Edward, is a social media magnet with more
Instagram followers than her owner, food and travel journalist, Sofia Levin,
according to knowyourdoodles.com.
Poodles have been featured
on both the small and big screen; immortalized on canvas, and made their mark
in cartoons, including Cleo Diller, Penelope Poodle and did you know the
immortal Betty Boop was originally depicted as an anthropomorphic poodle?
And then of course
little Snowflakes from Stoney Creek has also been blessed with a generous
dusting of poodle magic in Looking for Snowflakes:
“It had been a
long day for Bob and as he neared the end of his deliveries he was looking
forward to his easy chair in the living room of the modest home he shared with
Sue. A quiet Christmas Eve in front of their lovely decorated tree. However
when he climbed in and pulled the last Christmas box toward him, he was
dismayed to see that its corner was torn. The foil was partially ripped away,
and some of the meal missing. He was perplexed. How on earth could such a thing
have happened? He certainly couldn’t deliver it in its present condition. Had
Sue dropped it by any chance when she was helping him carry their precious
cargo out to the van this morning? No, she’d never allow it to be loaded in
that condition.
He could see his
easy chair getting a little further away because this meal would have to be
replaced. He couldn’t disappoint the last senior on his list who was eagerly
awaiting his arrival. Sue would have to make up a new plate, but she could
easily do so because she’d simply take from their own Christmas dinner to
replenish the one that had been damaged. Vandalized? Good lord, were their rats
in here or something? And then he spied a little white curly leg protruding from
the back of the passenger seat. A dog had to be stretched out in back of the
seat, sleeping!
Climbing all the way inside was no
easy feat considering his painful arthritic hip. He pushed the curtain that
separated the cab from the cargo area, all the way to the side. Snowflakes
raised her head lazily, her eyes winking as she tried to come awake from a most
wonderful nap.
‘Well what do we
have here?’ he asked kindly. ‘I do believe I’ve picked up a passenger somewhere
along the line. Hungry were you girl?’
Snowflakes was
fully awake now and she cocked her head sideways and smiled her adorable little
smile. Her tiny pink tongue lolled as if to say I’m sorry I stole some of that
meal, but I just couldn’t resist. It was really good too by the way, my
compliments to the chef. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra sugar cookie
would you?”
Thursday, December 29, 2022
Fiat Lux - Carry the Light
Fiat Lux was the motto of my ("high school," to Americans) Queen's College in Bridgetown, Barbados. I remembered this recently when, while attempting to dust, I pulled out an old copy of The Oxford Book of Verse from the bookshelf and saw the motto on the cover. It was a school prize, for "good work in Form VI b" of which I'd been rather proud. I was a lonely ex-pat in those days and something of a "swot." Studying was how I filled my time as a "stranger in a strange land," while others were spending their free time with family and friends.
What is the definition of that "light"? I used to believe--this being a school gift, after all--that this "light" was knowledge, and while that's certainly a way of looking at this motto, I'm beginning to see that the "light" mentioned here is perhaps a much simpler concept. Maybe it's just as simple as one word--Hope.
Reading an article by Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, Elizabeth Kolbert, I was struck by this sentence: "Despair is unproductive. It's also a sin." Those two short sentences got me pondering, especially as I am someone who finds themselves often stuck in "the slough of despond," expecially after looking at the news.
Spalding Gray in his "Swimming to Cambodia" speaks of "the cloud of Evil" which continually circles the world, waiting for an opening in which to manifest This image struck me powerfully. When people give up, believing that reality is "hopeless" or "impossible" to change, that attitude simply throws the door open for the Darkness, destroying people, communities, societies--even planets.
What's is the opposite of despair, then? Hope, of course. In the words of the familiar little song:
"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine..."
~Bishop Desmond Tutu
Maybe that particular light is the one we all carry, the ability to care for others, to share what we have. It can be as simple as a phone call to an aging relative or looking in on a elderly neighbor, or volunteering at a shelter, planting a tree or a garden.
"There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for." ~JRR Tolkien
"In a time of destruction, create something." ~ Maxine Hong Kingston
Despair can be cast off through action, perhaps something as simple as cleaning, decluttering, writing a blog or a letter to the editor. Even if you feel defeated before you start and believe you aren't going to be able to make anything in your future better, you did take an action that can improve your immediate surroundings, or, at least, your state of mind.
If it's just seems too pointless to clean or cook or write another letter to your newspapers/political leaders, sit down and write a gratitude list. At first I scoffed at this practice, but consider. Perhaps you can find three things you are thankful for.
If you are in a house, under a roof, more or less warm and with internet access and time to read this--well there's three luxuries right there. On a more basic level, most of us also have friends or family, even if they are far away. Most of mine, especially since Covid, are far away and inaccessible for various reasons, except through the 'net. You might talk to a friend, neighbor, to your cat/dog/bird. Write a poem. Greet the sun, admire the clouds or the birds/squirrels at your feeder, the local Canada Geese who have never learned to migrate.
Happy New Year!
~~Juliet Waldron
https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=juliet+Waldron
Wednesday, December 28, 2022
How Cowboys say "I Love You" By Connie Vines #How Cowboys say I Love You, #Cowboy Romance, #Sexy Cowboys
For some, it's the cowboy hat and boots, a sexy smile, or how they look in tight jeans. Romance novels often portray them as mysterious and confident with a bad-boy streak. In movies, they are rugged, hard-working heroes who ride off into the sunset at the end of the day.
Who hasn’t done a little dream walking about the cowboys of yesteryear driving cattle across the plains, a lawman with a silver star pinned to his shirt, or today's rodeo cowboy, or the cattle rancher down the road and sighed? There’s something about a man in boots, denim, and a cowboy hat that makes a woman’s heart increase speed and her mouth dry, isn't there?
🤠 🐴
Is it their manners, sense of justice, or the fact they take off their hats and say, “Thank you, Ma’am”?
Or is it the swagger of the rodeo cowboy after he picks himself up off the ground? The easy way a rancher leans over the corral fence taking stock of his herd, with one foot resting on a rail.
There’s something about cowboys.
A cowboy doffs his hat and opens a door. They respect women.
When I lived in the Texas panhandle, I often heard the old saying: "Texas is hell on women and horses."
Fathers still teach their sons the way of the old West and remind them there was a time when women were few and far between. And it's still a privilege to have a female to cater to and cherish.
🥰💕
So, how does a woman know if a Cowboy is in love?
- An invitation to a Barn Dance.
- He Cooks dinner.
- Buys you a pair of cowgirl boots.
- A gift of Turquoise jewelry.
- Or the old-fashioned way. He gets down on one keen and proposes.
With a dangerous reputation for taking chances and tempting fate, Lynx Maddox has one goal in life -- to win the coveted Sliver Buckle Rodeo Championship.
But when he sets eyes on lovely Rachel Scott, he becomes determined to capture her heart as well.
"A worthy addition to anyone's book collection" Under the Covers Book
"A rare find. A must-read!" Book Museum
"Instant Action/Sizzling Attraction! This book kept pages turning, and a box of tissues close at hand."
Trouble is something hard-edged rancher, Brede Kristensen, knows all about. A widower with a rambunctious young daughter, a ranch to run, and an ornery cook who has just run off. Yet, amid a violent storm, he finds an injured woman.
A woman who can't recall her name or her past. But Brede vows to protect her from harm.
What he hadn't bargained for was her laughter and gentleness finding a way into the lonely corners of his heart.
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