This Ghostly Christmas Romance Is an Anytime Read

Somewhere the Bells Ring, (The Wild Rose Press) a timeless love story that transcends the holiday theme alone, is getting some great reviews at Amazon.  And the price has recently been reduced there and everywhere.  A win, win.


“A very captivating read that was very hard to put down. The few characters that are in this story each have their own strength and personality that makes it easy to become connected with. I especially like the cook Ella. She reminded me of the matriarch of the family that ruled and everyone listened. I enjoyed reading this book because it has a little bit of everything I like. A clean romance, a touch of suspense and paranormal. If you believe in ghosts or think people are foolish that do, well I still think you will like this book. And as I stated at the beginning we all have a beginning and an end, and Bailey was not sure where hers began. After you read the story it will make you wonder, just where was her beginning. Another great book, Beth.” 

Miss Lynn’s Book ‘N More  (For the full review click the link)

"I fell in love with Ms. Trissel’s characters and look forward to the next delightful story ready with Kleenex box in hand. A must read for every romance fan." ~Reviewed by Robin at Romancing the Book 

Somewhere the Bells Ring (the Wild Rose Press) is set in the gracious old Virginia home place, circa 1816, in the Shenandoah Valley where my father was born and raised, and I grew up visiting during the holidays. Nostalgia over the late 1960s inspired the time period and the story opens during the tumultuous age of hippies, Vietnam, and some of the best darn rock music ever written.

From 1968, the story flashes back to an earlier era, 1918 and the end of World War I. Having a Marine Corps captain grandfather who distinguished himself in France during the thick of the fighting and then tragically died when my father was only three definitely influenced this story–dedicated to him. So if you enjoy an intriguing mystery with Gothic overtones and heart-tugging romance set in vintage America then Somewhere the Bells Ring is for you.  Oh, and did I mention the ghost?

Excerpt:

“Bailey.” He spoke softly, so as not to startle her.

She turned toward him. In her long, white nightgown, hair tumbled down around her, wearing that lost look, she bore an unnerving resemblance to the mysterious woman in Wilkie Collins’ classic mystery, The Woman in White. Eric fervently hoped the similarity ended there. As he recalled from the novel, that unfortunate lady had been unhinged.

Leaving the door ajar, he stepped inside. “We missed you at breakfast.”

She answered distractedly. “I wasn’t hungry.”

He limped to where she stood, the hitch in his leg a little less pronounced today. Maybe he was getting stronger. “Why are you here, looking for ghosts?”

“Or a door to the past.”

He tried to coax a smile to her trembling lips. “Did you check inside the wardrobe?”

“Eric, I’m being serious.”

“That’s what worries me.” Leaning on his cane with one arm, he closed his other around her shoulders and drew her against him. Such a natural act, and she accepted his embrace without pulling back.

She smelled of flowers from her perfume and wood smoke. “Mercy, child,” he said in his best imitation of Ella, “it’s as cold as a tomb in here.”

“It wasn’t last night.”~

“Where the Yarrow Grows There Is One Who Knows”~

“Faierie-Folks Are in Old Oaks.” Old Herbal Saying

My fascination with herbs and herbal lore is largely prompted by my absorption with all things historic and the thrill of seeing, touching, tasting, and above all smelling the same plants known by the ancients.  Herbs have changed little, if at all, over the centuries and offer us a connection with the past that precious little does in these modern days.  It’s pure intoxication to rub fragrant leaves between my fingers and savor the scent while pondering the wealth of lore behind these plants.  I hope my enthusiasm enriches your life with a deeper awareness of those people who dwelt on this earth long before us.   With such a vast trove of plants to delve into, I’ve only done posts on a handful of herbs, but am working along on adding more.

Regarding my resources, my favorite herbal ever, a massive two-part volume, is A Modern Herbal by Mrs. M. Grieve first published in 1931.  It’s not actually all that modern, but is in comparison to those of the ancient Greek and Roman naturalists, Pliny the Elder (Roman, 23 AD–August 25, 79 AD) Dioscorides (Greek, circa 40—90 AD) and Galen (Roman of Greek ethnicity AD 129-199/217 AD), or British herbalists John Gerard (1545–1612) and Nicholas Culpepper (1616-1654).

Interesting here to note that Pliny the Elder, whose 37 volume Natural History served as the basis of scientific knowledge for centuries, died on August 25, 79 A.D. while attempting the rescue by ship of a friend and his family from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius that destroyed the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum. The prevailing wind wouldn’t allow his ship to leave the shore. His subsequent collapse and death were attributed to toxic fumes.  Go figure.  His nephew, Pliny the younger, writer, historian, and Roman senator is also an important figure because of all the letters he left behind detailing events and persons.

Back to Maude Grieve and A Modern Herbal, apparently in the early twentieth century it wasn’t illegal to include instructions for growing and distilling opiates, but it is now so I won’t.  However, despite her quaintness or perhaps because of it, there’s a wealth of information in her herbal.

I’m also quite fond of Rodale’s Illustrated Encyclopedia of Herbs, by Rodale Press. I misplaced my original volume or foolishly lent it to someone, or perhaps it wasn’t mine to begin with and I returned it.  All I know is it could not be found and so I bought another.  Engrossing.

A little known volume I’ve found vastly useful regarding Native American plants and their historic uses is entitled Field Guide to Medicinal Wild Plants by Bradford Angier, published in 1978.  This invaluable book was given to me by my dear late grandmother.   My collection is a rather random acquisition and I'm adding all the time, but I’ve learned a lot.  OK, so those are my three faves out of all the herbals I’ve read, available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. I’ve also come across innumerable online sites that I refer and link to as they arise.

In preparation for writing my light paranormal romance, Somewhere My Lass, I did a lot of research on medieval hospitals and came across some fascinating sites.  For medicinal info on ancient British/Scottish practices found at the monastic hospital of Soutra outside of Edinburgh visit:  A Day In The Life Of A Medieval Hospital.

And try: http://www.redorbit.com/news/health/234047/getting_to_the_roots_of_soutras_old_cures/

For more on medieval hospitals in general visit: http://dodd.cmcvellore.ac.in/hom/10%20-%20Medieval%20Hospital.html

The Inspiration and History Behind NA Historical Romance Through the Fire

When I wrote award-winning historical romance novel Through the Fire I felt as though I’d been through the flames.  This adventure romance with a The Last of the Mohicans flavor was inspired by dreams, (including the opening) fed by years of intensive research, and a powerful draw to my colonial American roots.

My fascination with stirring tales of the colonial frontier and Eastern Woodland Indians is an early and abiding one. My English/Scot-Irish ancestors were among the first settlers of the Shenandoah Valley and had family members killed and captured by the Indians. Some individuals returned and left intriguing accounts of their captivity, while others disappeared without a trace. Whether they were killed or adopted into various tribes, we have no way of knowing.  On the Houston/Rowland side of the family, I have ties to Governor Sam Houston, President James Madison and Malcolm 1st of Scotland (that last one’s a stretch).

Family annals list early names like Beale, Jordan, Madison, and Hite (a German connection I discovered). A brief account of my grandmother (nine generations removed) Elizabeth Hite, says her sister Eleanor was taken captive and sister Susan killed, though not by which tribe though I suspect the Shawnee or Delaware as they were active in Western Virginia. The girls’ brother Jacob Hite, one of the biggest landowners in Berkeley County, West Virginia (Western Virginia in those days) was later killed by the Cherokee at his new home in South Carolina.  He sounds like quite a character and not an entirely stellar one.

Another ancestor, Mary Moore, is the subject of a book entitled The Captives of Abb’s Valley.  An admirable woman who lived to tell an amazing tale.  In a separate account, a Scots-Irish Moffett forebear captured as a child became a boyhood companion of the revered Shawnee Chief Tecumseh. When young Moffett grew up, he married into the tribe and had a son, but that’s the subject of a different novel, historical romance Red Bird’s Song.

A 18th century ancestor on the Churchman (English) side of the family was invited by the Shawnee/Delaware to help negotiate a treaty with the English because he was Quaker and more sympathetic to the tribes.  Many incidents that took place during the Indian Border Wars in Augusta County, Virginia, a vast track of land in 18th century America that spanned entire states, are unrecorded. 

Historian Joseph Waddell in his Annals of Augusta County says we know only a fraction of the drama that occurred during that dramatic era. People were too preoccupied trying to survive to write much about it.

I invite you back to a time forgotten by most.

Hear the primal howl of a wolf, the spill of a mountain stream. Are those distant war whoops? Welcome to the colonial frontier where the men fire muskets and wield tomahawks and the women are wildcats when threatened. The year is 1758, the height of the French and Indian War. Passions run deep in the raging battle to possess a continent, its wealth and furs. Both the French and English count powerful Indian tribes as their allies.

 

Rebecca Elliot is an English lady. In her attempt to escape a painful past, she unwittingly enters a dangerous world of rugged mountains, wild animals, and even wilder men. The rules are different here and she doesn’t know them.
 

Shoka is a half-Shawnee, half-French warrior, swift and sure like the hawk, and silent as the moon. He makes Rebecca his prisoner, but the last thing he wants is to lose his head and already shredded heart to another impossibly beautiful woman…this one with blindingly blue eyes and a blistering temper. With dark forces gathering against them, will Rebecca and Shoka fight together or be destroyed?

 

“Through the Fire is full of interesting characters, beautifully described scenery, and vivid action sequences. It is a must read for any fan of historical romance.” ~Poinsettia, Long and Short Reviews

***Available in print & ebook for any ereader or electronic device from The Wild Rose Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble and many other online booksellers.  Prices for Through the Fire and my other titles have recently been reduced.

 

“Ms. Trissel has captured the time period wonderfully. As Rebecca and Kate travel in the wilderness, though beautiful, many dangers lurk for the unsuspecting sisters. Away from the gentility they grew up around, the people they meet as they travel to their uncle in the wilderness are rougher and more focused on survival regardless of which side they belong. I love historical novels because they take me to times and places that I cannot visit and Through the Fire is no different. As I read I am transported back to the mid-1700’s on the American frontier as Britain and France maneuver to control the American continent. I can see how each side feels they are right and the other side the aggressor. I watch how the natives take sides based on promises made but not kept. I felt I was there through Ms. Trissel’s descriptions and settings. “

Shelia Reviewer for Two Lips  Rating:

Through the Fire made the 2009 Publisher’s Weekly BHB Reader’s Choice Best Books!

*Images of the Alleghenies taken by my mom, Pat Churchman

*Image of Alice and Hawkeye from The Last of the Mohicans film  *Image of Shoka and Rebecca are two separate istock images my talented brother John Churchman fused together.  I also purchased the white wolf at istock.

For Those Who Love the Country and Even Those Who Don't

 

Written in a month by month journal style, Shenandoah Watercolors features rural life in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.  I  enrolled the book in the kindle lending program where you can borrow it for free at this Amazon link.

Shenandoah Watercolors is a 2012 finalist in the nonfiction category of the EPIC Ebook Awards, ‘Kind of a big deal’ in the publishing world.  Winners to be announced in March.  My American romance Red Bird’s Song is a finalist in the historical romance category.  Fingers crossed for a win!

Back to Shenandoah Watercolors:

“This is perhaps the most beautifully written memoir I’ve ever read. Its lovely and languid descriptions of the picturesque valley, the farm and gardens are equaled only by the charming and funny descriptions of the antics (and conversations!) of the farm animals. What a joy this is to read.”

~Amazon Reviewer C. G.  King

January Excerpt from Shenandoah Watercolors:

“The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil.” ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins

Pale streaks of mauve feather the western sky above the frozen pond and the golden glow of the sun illuminates the ice as it sinks below the ridges.

The hardcore group of hockey players who’ve been here for hours still whack the puck around the smooth space cleared of snow and a lone couple circle together in one corner, reluctant to leave.

The frigid twilight breeze rustles the dry leaves that cling to the bare branches of the maple and I caught my breath as I trotted Mia past the wintry scene of skaters, timeless in its way. It seems as though the ice will last on and on, but we rarely have more than a week when the pond is frozen hard enough for skating. Weather in the Shenandoah Valley swings back and forth between north and south as though it can’t quite decide which we are.

Considering that my brother John said it was twenty degrees below zero in Vermont, I’d say we qualify as the South, just on the Northern fringes. Our sentiments are decidedly Southern.

Unlike the dedicated skaters, I scurried back inside. If it weren’t for the need to exercise my plump little dog and idle self I’d just lie on the couch like a slug. I’m well into my winter hibernation mode. Every fall I swear this lethargy won’t overcome me, but inevitably it does. Ernest Miggleton remains immune. He’s one pesky kitten since we took the tree down and climbs into the cabinets, raids the trash, steals Elise’s new fuzzy socks, her fluffy dog toy, and annoys the heck out of the big kitties. But all this sport pales in comparison to the daily assaults he launched on that enticing pine, resplendent with baubles hung just for his amusement.

Elise pointed out how seriously bored Ernest was yesterday as he perched eagerly beside her printer waiting for it to whir and buzz magically to life. She’d just finished printing a paper for ninth grade English lit and he was enthralled. Every time she gathered him up he wriggled to get back into position, not wanting to miss anything. So she printed another page, but that only feeds his fetish.

We’re endeavoring to find the little fellow a hobby. He has expressed interest in bird watching, the nurture of mice, and collecting kewl stuff.~

*Our latest kitten rescue is our Siamese mix, Pavel, picture by daughter Elise. *Snow covered Nandina berries photograph by my mom Pat Churchman. *Sunset over the frozen lake I bought from istock because I don’t have a good one on hand and out pond isn’t currently frozen.

*My brother John Churchman is an amazing photographer gaining much long overdo recognition.  For his scenic, artistic images visit: Brickhouse Studios

Super Review for Somewhere the Bells Ring

From Romancing the Book:

For the full review please visit their site.

 

“Ms. Trissel captivates her reader from the moment you start reading the first page. She has written a compelling love story that spans some fifty plus years and keeps you entertained every step of the way with the story within a story…

I fell in love with Ms. Trissel’s characters and look forward to the next delightful story ready with Kleenex box in hand. A must read for every romance fan.”

~Reviewed by Robin

 

Hark the Harry Angels Sing

Back when my all grown up with children of his own son was ‘wee little,’ as the country folk around here say, he thought we were singing about ‘Harry’ angels.      Another child assumed the angel’s name was Harold.  Perfectly understandable.   The lyrics are rather unfathomable to children.  Even for some adults. I’ve also heard of a child who mistook ‘sleep in heavenly peace’ for ‘sleep in heavenly peas,’  which makes sense with the emphasis on eating your vegetables.

Last Christmas, my then three-yr-old grandson Colin  freaked out and was hiding his toys because he was afraid Santa Claus snuck into your house on Christmas Eve and took all of your stuff.  We think this misapprehension came about as a result of watching the cartoon version of ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas.’    Colin also didn’t like the idea of some strange dude who ‘sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake’ watching him.  Like Santa was a creepy stalker.  His weary parents in their efforts to reassure him (and get any sleep) said they would  post a note on the mailbox advising Santa to leave the goods in the driveway.   Colin accepted this but was still rather leery.

He was also really put out when told that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday and insisted ‘that’s not fair!’  When asked why, he said because Jesus gets the best birthday of all.   I’ve never heard  this take before.  But Colin is the same kid who tried to boost his one-yr-old baby sister up onto the picnic table on their deck with the ultimate aim of giving her an even higher boost onto the roof of the house so she could retrieve the action figure toy he’d flung up there.  After all, the baby couldn’t boost him up there, and his mother had warned him if he threw the toy on the roof, it was gone.  So he schemed a way but was intercepted.  Drats, foiled again.

Recently Colin was overhead singing Away in the Mangerto himself with an alteration.  Instead of ‘The little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay’ he subbed in ‘batman asleep in the hay.’  He loves action heroes, but this version may come as a surprise during the Children’s Christmas Program next week at church.

Also, at the top of his Christmas list is a ‘real Spiderman’ action figure who shoots out ‘real webs.’  None of that fake silly string stuff like last year.   And his little four-yr-old cousin, my granddaughter Emma, asked me some time ago for a ‘real’ baby dinosaur.   I hate to squash dreams, but pointed out the possible difficulty I foresaw in locating one.  In a dramatic gesture, she threw her hands up and said I had all the way ’til Christmas to find one–that she wasn’t expecting it right away.

Well, Christmas is almost upon us and I’m still short one newly hatched dinosaur and a Spiderman who shoots out real webs.  I suspect this request of Colin’s stems from his desire to swing from them and ‘fwy’ as he pronounces it.  An impossibility for small boys that we’ve failed to persuade him of.  He suggested his mother make him some wings so he could soar off the deck.   I think Santa needs to bring him a large net.

If you know of any real baby dinosaurs, let me know.  I haven’t given up.

Christmas is Coming

Some cherished holiday traditions are upheld, some fall by the wayside. Others are added. One that continues from my childhood is making sugar cook­ies.  Ages ago, when my kids were small, I began this each year, young, fresh, my mind filled with visions of lovely cookies and sweet children’s faces bent over them with pleasure, then reality hit. My two oldest punched each other and fought over turns at rolling out dough that never rolled as it should and stuck to the cookie cutters.  Tempers flared as once again the angel wouldn’t let go and fell apart.

Finally we had sheets filled with an assortment of Christmas figures lavishly cov­ered with a blizzard of cookie sprinkles that rained all over the floor and crunched under foot. Few actually adhered to the cookies, and those that did had to be pressed on with sticky little hands. When the cookies were removed from the oven, parts of them had billowed up in the baking process, while those that had been pressed almost flat by fingers mashing in the sprinkles were crispy brown. There was no resemblance whatsoever between our cre­ations and those perfect replicas in the magazines. Our baking sessions invariably ended with a tired old hag, two grinches, and cookies that only a very undiscerning individual would eat, say a child or a dog. The idea of sharing them with neighbors was dropped, but we loved doing it and rushed at it every year with a happy cry.

Nowadays,  my art major daughter heads up this tradition.  She’s adept at it and has taken a fancy to the old time ginger cut outs from my favorite colonial American recipe. No more brawls in the kitchen over cookie making until the grandchildren take part.  If I’m smart I’ll let their mom’s bake the cookies with them, or the other grandmas.

A brief word about my new Christmas romance, Somewhere the Bells Ring:

‘Caught with pot in her dorm room, Bailey Randolph is exiled to a relative's ancestral home in Virginia to straighten herself out. Spending Christmas 1968 at Maple Hill is a dismal prospect until a ghost appears requesting her help, and her girlhood crush, Eric Burke, returns from Vietnam.’

So, if you enjoy an intriguing mystery with Gothic overtones and heart-tugging romance set in vintage America then Somewhere the Bells Ring is for you.  And did I mention the ghost?

~ Available in various ebook formats at The Wild Rose Press,  Amazon Kindle, All Romance Ebooks, Barnes & Noble’s Nookbook & other online booksellers.

For more on me, my wordpress blog is the happening place: http://bethtrissel.wordpress.com/