Monday, September 26, 2011

Double Finalist in the EPIC Book Awards!

Woot!  I’m delighted to announce my double EPPIE finals with my Native American historical romance novel Red Bird’s Song and my nonfiction book about country life Shenandoah Watercolors.
For the complete list of finalists visit:

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Excerpt from Light Paranormal Romance Somewhere My Love (#3)

“A riveting blend of romance and intrigue with light paranormal tones that grab hold of you on page one and won’t let you go.” ~Reviewed by Jenni @ Romancing the Book
Lord, give him air. Julia had engulfed him in an irresistible tide. Her mouth…he must stop eyeing her enticing mouth. “Let’s see the gardens now.”
Like a soldier on drill, Will turned and walked swiftly out of the hall and into the passage that led to the front of the house. Julia practically had to sprint to keep pace with his ground-covering stride.
The gentleman in him took over on autopilot as he stopped in the worn flagstone foyer before the paneled entrance.  He pushed open the white door embellished by the carving of colonial craftsmen and beckoned to her.  “After you.”
“Thank you.” She walked across the threshold and onto the circular brick porch ringed with an iron railing.
The breeze had picked up with the approach of evening and lifted lengths of her long hair. Her already short skirt danced in the wind. The green-gold light spilled through the trees overhead and down across her blowing mane. His artist’s eye took in the glossy sheen of red, copper, and ginger reflecting the rays. As if this weren’t torment enough, Will glimpsed even more of her shapely legs, almost to her thighs with one gust.
Julia pushed the fabric back down, seemingly too absorbed in her surroundings even to notice. “Just smell that,” she sighed, inhaling deeply.
The warm fragrance from an avenue of ancient hedges filled the mild air. “Yes. I love the scent of Old English boxwood,” he said.
She flung her arms wide at the green expanse, knotted with herb gardens, and stretching down to the gently lapping river. “Magnificent!”
Will felt weak and emboldened in one, as if he wanted to lunge with a sword and stagger from a punishing blow.
An inner voice whispered, Julia’s back.~
***For the next two weeks, light paranormal romance Somewhere My Love is on sale for .99 at Amazon KindleThe Wild Rose PressAll Romance EbooksFictionwise….  After that, the price will remain at 2.99.

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Price Slashed On Murder Mystery/Ghost Story Romance Somewhere My Love!

For the next two weeks, light paranormal romance Somewhere My Love will be on sale for .99 at Amazon KindleThe Wild Rose PressAll Romance EbooksFictionwise….  After that, the price will be 2.99.
Star-crossed lovers, flashbacks to early 18th century Virginia, ghostly, murder mystery romance…
“As I read Somewhere My Love, I recalled the feelings I experienced the first time I read Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca long ago. Using deliciously eerie elements similar to that gothic romance, Beth Tressel has captured the haunting dangers, thrilling suspense and innocent passions that evoke the same tingly anticipation and heartfelt romance I so enjoyed then, and still do now.”
JoysannPublishers Weekly

Saturday, September 10, 2011

From Murder Mystery Ghost Story Somewhere My Love

"As I read Somewhere My Love, I recalled the feelings I experienced the first time I read Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca long ago. Using deliciously eerie elements similar to that gothic romance, Beth Trissel has captured the haunting dangers, thrilling suspense and innocent passions that evoke the same tingly anticipation and heartfelt romance I so enjoyed then, and still do now.
~ Joysann, Publishers Weekly
BLURB: Star-crossed lovers have a rare chance to reclaim the love cruelly denied them in the past, but can they grasp this brief window in time before it is too late? Newly arrived at Foxleigh, the gracious old Wentworth home in Virginia, British born Julia Morrow is excited at the prospect of a summer working as a guide in the stately house and herb garden.
She quickly discovers the historic plantation holds far more. She becomes obsessed with the portrait of handsome Cole Wentworth, killed in a quarrel over the lovely English lady, Julia Maury, two hundred years ago. Then she meets his double, William, the only remaining Wentworth heir. Somehow, Julia must persuade Will that their fates are entwined with those of Cole Wentworth and Julia Maury, and that the man who killed his ancestor has returned to enact the deadly cycle again, or she will lose him twice. The blade is about to fall.~

A cold finger laid its icy touch on Julia and ran down the length of her spine. “How did it happen?”
“He’s said to have been run through by the very man who made that mark on the door. A Mr. Cameron. Scottish fellow he was, back in…” Mrs. Hensley pursed her thin lips, blue eyes distant. “Ah, yes, 1806. Some fuss over a woman.”
“How dreadful. What about Mr. Cameron?”
“The friend of a neighbor, I believe. He escaped and was never found. No justice was ever done in the matter.”
Julia hesitated, then asked, “And the woman?”
“Heartbroken, poor thing. She returned to England. She was a guest of the Wentworth family and greatly enamored of Cole. All the young ladies were, but he had a particular fascination with this girl.”
“Why was she so special?”
“Apart from her legendary beauty? She had an angelic quality about her. Or so the story goes.”
An irrational jealousy twanged a jarring note in Julia. In the space of a few short minutes she’d fallen in love with the man in the portrait—typical of her impractical nature and unlikely to advance her nonexistent love life. And yet, she couldn’t help plunging into this sweet madness.
She tore her eyes from the painting. “Do you recall the lady’s name?”
Mrs. Hensley gave a little laugh. She tapped a finger to her furrowed forehead. “Isn’t that odd? It was Julia something…hmmmm.”
Was Mrs. Hensley teasing her? She had to know.
“I’ve got it. Julia Maury,” the guide continued and arched graying brows. “You’re from England, aren’t you, Miss Morrow? Tread with care here, my girl. We don’t want you stirring up any ghosts. Foxleigh has enough already.”
“No,” Julia said, reaching out to the dresser to steady herself. Without meaning to, she suspected she’d already stirred up some force beyond her understanding.
A man spoke from the hall. “Charlotte, I need to speak to you about the new staff. Ah—I see she’s arrived.”
Julia startled at the low, uncannily familiar voice and whirled around to find none other than Cole Wentworth poised in the doorway. Her jaw dropped and she stared up at him.

He was tall, all right, easily over six feet. The rational part of her knew this couldn’t possibly be Cole, but dear Lord, they were much alike, down to the small cleft in his chin, though the expression in his dark eyes was far less impassioned. He even appeared to be the same age as Cole in the portrait, in his late twenties. She’d had little experience with sensuality—strict education at home under tutors that her eccentric professor father had seen to—but this man awakened every sense latent within her.
Mrs. Hensley chuckled softly. “He’s not the ghost. Julia Morrow, meet William Wentworth, former attorney in Richmond, now manager of Foxleigh.
His name struck a familiar chord as Julia stood gaping at her new employer, not at all the impression she’d hoped to make. His thick wavy hair was shorter than that of the figure in the portrait and the hunting costume replaced by a burgundy shirt and Levis stretched across his muscular thighs. Instead of mahogany topped riding boots, he wore brown leather shoes.
He looked at her with a sardonic glint in his eyes.
“I trust you don’t intend a repeat of this performance each time we meet, Miss Morrow? It’s flattering, but somewhat unnerving. You’ll frighten the life from our visitors.”
*Somewhere My Love is available in digital download and print at The Wild Rose PressAmazonBarnes & Noble and other online booksellers.

** Beginning this Monday, September 12th, SOMEWHERE MY LOVE  (the eBook version) will go on sale for .99 cents for two weeks and then remain permanently reduced at 2.99, so get your copy soon.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

More About My New Historical Romance

If you like a good historical romance and aren’t set on its being ‘hot! hot! hot!’ (I do NOT write erotica) you might enjoy my new release, Into the Lion’s Heart.
Set in 1789 England, the story opens with the hero, Captain Dalton Evans (fought in the American Revolution) journeying to Dover to meet the ship carrying a distant cousin, Mademoiselle Sophia Devereux, who’s fleeing the French Revolution.  *Pause here to note all the research the revolution took, not to mention Georgian England in general, Cornwall in particular, rum smuggling, stage-coach travel and sailing in the late 18th century….you get the idea. But I digress. Back to Dalton who’s irked with his mission, not only because he finds it tedious, but he resents the French, partly as a result of their aid to the Americans during the war and some of the Frenchmen he fought during that lost cause.  Plus he thinks French aristocrats are arrogant.  However, the young woman he rescues from the sinking ship is nothing like he expects and rocks his world.
BLURB:  As the French Revolution rages, the English nobility offer sanctuary to many a refugee. Captain Dalton Evans arrives in Dover to meet a distant cousin, expecting to see a spoiled aristocrat. Instead, he’s conquered by the simplicity of his new charge. And his best friend Thomas Archer isn’t immune to her artless charm, either.
Cecile Beaumont didn’t choose to travel across the Channel. And she certainly didn’t expect that impersonating her own mistress would introduce her to a most mesmerizing man. Now she must play out the masquerade, or risk life, freedom – and her heart.~
EXCERPT from The Opening of CHAPTER ONE
October 1789 Dover Harbor, England, the King’s Arms
Glowering at everyone and no one in particular, Captain Dalton Evans uncoiled his taut body and leaned back into the tall, paneled chair. The mission foisted upon him grew ever more tedious, and he damn well wasn’t pleased about it. He could do with a bloody good gallop on his best hunter after days cooped up in that wretched coach, but the horse remained at Brevin Hall and he was confined to the King’s Arms.
Stretching long limbs cramped from the lengthy journey, he stared out leaded windows awash with rain. How long must he delay here, awaiting her arrival onThe White Rose?
He saw no break in the deluge lashing the diamond-shaped panes. The snug inn above the harbor provided a haven from the storm, but Dalton was primed for action—all those years fighting that endless war in America partly responsible for his keenness.  Damn it all, when would he let it go? Blasted Americans. Was there ever a more troublesome lot?
 Ah yes, the French. As if for one moment he could forget the insanity erupting across the channel or the reason for this—
Cor! You’ll drown yerself, drinking like a bleeding fish!”
The male hoot jerked Dalton back to the robust men holed up with him.
“Thought I might find you here brooding on your own.”
He looked around at the familiar voice. His longtime friend, Tom, destined to become Lord Archer, grinned and lowered his lanky limbs into the empty seat across the table from him.
Brown hair beaded with rain curled loosely at Tom’s shoulders in the carefree style typical of his easy manner, his elegant coat a beacon of gold in contrast to Dalton’s somber olive.
“You’re prompt, Archer,” Dalton said by way of welcome.
A look of satisfaction enhanced Tom’s dark Norman looks; his family claimed noble lineage back to William the Conqueror. “The horses made excellent time. Finest bays in four counties.”
Despite annoyance at his mission, a smile tugged at Dalton’s mouth. “The return journey should go more smoothly.”
“Undoubtedly. And you won’t have to endure a hired coach.”
“Another boon.” Dalton gestured at the serving girl, then swept his hand at the rustic gathering. “Our dining companions.”
Weathered seamen in short wool coats and baggy breeches slouched on high-backed benches along stout tables, their thick boots turned toward the fire in the massive hearth. Pungent pipe tobacco mingled with the pervasive odor of fish and men, while savory aromas seeped from the bustling kitchen.
Tom circled his gaze over the room. “Rough but amiable.”
“Not him.” Dalton jerked his chin at the lean figure in the corner in a black frock coat and wide-brimmed hat, hunched over his second bowl of stew and a crusty loaf. The continual darting of his eyes and the hunger in his manner not satisfied by the ample portions bespoke a man seeking more than food and shelter. “He’d shove a pistol in your gut along a dark highway.”~