Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Saturday, March 17, 2012
At long last Shenandoah Watercolors is out in print! My talented daughter Elise labored hours and hours to design the layout and incorporate her and my mom, Pat Churchman, and husband Dennis's beautiful photographs of the Shenandoah Valley and mountains. Also a few vintage images from times past.
A lovely coffee table sized book, Shenandoah Watercolors should be a joy to those who want to savor the images and linger with me in my beloved valley.
The book is available at Amazon, and I authorized other outlets for it as well but am not sure where it many show up for sale. The cost is as inexpensive as we could possibly make it for a book of this size with so many colored images. We won't get rich, that's for sure, but hope to share our love of the country, of our valley and the mountains, of family and all that's good. And God bless those who join us.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Book Reviewed by Erinne (author,reviewer)
"I simply adored INTO THE LION'S HEART by Beth Trissel. I'm not an avid reader of historical romances or even the simply sweet romances, but this tale kissed a delicate smile on my face and I have to admit, my heart melted. Not only was the writing superb and in context with the time and place, but the plot itself was very well done."
The connection I feel to the past and those who’ve gone before me is the ongoing inspiration behind my historical romances, including the time travels in my ‘Somewhere’ series.
I’ve done a great deal of research into family genealogy and come from well-documented English/Scots-Irish folk with a smidgen of French in the meld, a Norman knight who sailed with William the Conqueror. One family line goes directly back to Geoffrey Chaucer. And there’s a puritan line with involvement in the Salem Witch Trials—my apologies to Susannah Martin’s descendants–but that’s another story. Which I hope one day to write.
With Into the Lion’s Heart, I more deeply explored my British ancestry. This rich ancestry has me traveling all over the place like a vagrant spirit.
Back to the story: Set in 1789 England, Into the Lion's Heart 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.
During all the copious research, I discovered this is a fascinating time period on both sides of the channel. I’m already hooked on The Scarlet Pimpernel, having read all the books in that series several times and watched every film version (ask about my favorites) and am drawn to other novels and productions set in this era, such as the rich epic series, Poldark–read the books and own the Masterpiece Theater production.
As to the language ‘thing,’ my youngest daughter, Elise, who recently graduated summa cum laude with a double major in art and French, was a huge help with the sprinkling of French words and phrases. And she can debate with anyone who begs to differ with her translation, why she chose a particular verb or whatever. My French is weak, so I’m going with her and will just say it’s a beautiful language. I hope you enjoy the story.
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.~
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Daughter of the Stars: A Sweet Deal for A Sweet Romance: “Love Is The Beauty of the Soul”~Saint Augustine Excerpt from light paranormal romance novel Somewhere My Love: FREE March 7th at ...
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Excerpt from The Lady and the Warrior
May, 1783, the Virginia Frontier, the Allegheny Mountains
That terrified cry came from the stream. Zane didn’t have much time to reach her. And he was so close!
He slid the musket strap from his shoulder. Grasping the long firearm, he raced over the misty path. Like a buck taking flight, he dodged stones and sprang over fallen limbs. He skirted an enormous downed trunk capped with toadstools. Shouldering the musket again, he pushed through the underbrush.
Branches snagged his brown hunting shirt. Briars snatched at his leather breeches and wool leggings. He tore free. A tangle of vines lay between him and the woman. Taking the tomahawk slung at his side, he chopped his way through. Chest pounding, he arrived at the engorged stream.
With eyes honed to detect the barest hint of man or beast, he scanned the swift current. Woodland debris bobbed in the brown flood. No woman. She must be farther downstream.
He sprinted along the edge of the bank. Whoever this unfortunate female was, she was about to drown. Even without knowing her, it goaded him. And the urge to save her swelled inside like the muddy water overflowing its banks.
There! Zane spotted the young woman clinging to a branch as the torrent did its damnedest to rip her away.
“Hold on! I’m coming!”
Her head swiveled toward him, face white with fear and fatigue.
She managed the barest nod.
He laid his musket on the ground. Wedging his moccasins against the stones and roots, he sidestepped down the slick earth. Then reached out and grasped the branch she held to—testing its strength. The wood was firm beneath his hand.
So far, so good.
He leaned over the swirling water. Careful. One misstep and they’d both be swept away to a watery grave.
Desperate eyes met his, the hue of summer leaves and marbled with brown like the forest. Her fingers slipped.
Quick! He snagged her shoulder, digging in his fingers so her cloak wouldn’t come away in his hand. “I’ve got you!”
She clutched at him.
“Don’t! You’ll pull us both in!”
A look of misgiving flitted through her panicked gaze.
“Trust me. I’ll not you let go.”
*Images of stream and old family musket, powder horn, and hunting pouch by my mom, Pat Churchman