Friday, January 4, 2013
CELTIC ROSE WRITERS AND FRIENDS
Once again this weekend my blog will be open to Celtic and historical writers, to post promotion or chat in the Comments section of this post. By all means, introduce yourselves and leave us some blurbs, excerpts and links. If someone is looking for a read, feel free to browse. No pressure. If you want a closer look at a book, just copy and paste the buy link in your browser. Authors, show us your stuff! :) Readers, feel free to comment and let us know what you're looking for.
Running Over Rainbows
Of unicorns and Welsh mountain ponies . . .
Can a young girl and a sixty-something woman have something in common--say, a white unicorn in the form of a wild mountain pony?
Can a young girl and a sixty-something woman have something in common--say, a white unicorn in the form of a wild mountain pony?
Bil and Bon Franks are thunderstruck at our good fortune of having a four-book saga be accepted by MuseItUp Publishing.
Thanks, Miriam Newman, for letting us introduce our first book here on your beautiful site; and for overlooking the niggling little fact that the setting is not “celtic.” Later, yes . . . everyone ends up in St. Patrick’s Ireland.
The centuries old Roman fort of Deva Victrix |
The time is roughly 429 AD. The place, Britannia on the eve of Roman retreat. A 15-year old girl is sent by her mother to stay for six months with her great-aunt Marrie. She has traveled from the area around the Roman fort Deva Victrix (modern Liverpool) west to the province of Lindum (present day Lincoln).
The crumblng remains of Roman Lincoln (Lindum) |
The girl is a hellion, plain and simple. She’s been a tomboy all her life, especially since the death of her father five years before. Her mother has allowed her to run virtually wild on their ancestral estate. Now, however, she has drawn in the reins in an ancient call to tradition: her daughter Caylith must learn how to become a woman. A landed woman, a woman of influence and means, a woman who will know how to choose a proper mate when the time is right.
So great-aunt Marrie, the aunt of her dead Roman father, is to take the teen into her Roman manor and teach her, among other subjects, money, manners, and proper marriage.
But Caylith has other goals in mind. While her elderly aunt is outdoors where the spirited teen longs to be, she is festering to be free of the linen-storage room where Marrie keeps her busy counting supper towels.
The mischievous redhead cannot be held captive for too long and soon discovers two of her aunt’s long-held secrets.
The book is as much about the elderly Marrie as it is about Caylith. She, too, is a redhead; and she, too, has a certain streak--but she keeps it carefully hidden from everyone. When Caylith begins to discover her secrets, the novel explores the convergence of old and young, reality and magic.
On Christmas Eve, Aunt Marrie schedules a formal dinner for Caylith to show off her newly taught life skills, but Caylith is nowhere to be found. Has she run off to chase a unicorn . . . or will she manage to save the day, despite still being untamed by her well-meaning aunt?
Our book will debut January 18. Meanwhile, MuseItUp Publishing has given us an early-order buy link with a promise of 20% discount, at this link: http://bit.ly/Z93TBf
Next time we're invited back, we'll publish a short excerpt from the book. We promise, it will appeal to readers from the 'tweens to the twilight years!
The sagas of THE TWILIGHT OF MAGIC
Labels:
BilBon Franks,
Britannia in 5th century,
coming of age novel,
Deva Victrix,
historical fantasy,
Lindum,
Roman Britannia,
Running Over Rainbows novel,
Twilight of Magic,
young adult-adult novel
Friday, December 28, 2012
HOGMANAY by Nancy Lee Badger
Hogamanay celebration in Edinburgh, Scotland |
While researching my Highland Games Through Time series, I filled binders with oodles of neat facts. I thought I would share a few things I learned about Hogmanay.
My
books take place in both modern day New England as well as sixteenth century
Scotland. Hogmanay (also spelled Hogamany or Hogamanay) is the Scots term for the last day of the year, the day we
all now celebrate as New Year’ Eve. Like
many of us lucky enough to have the following day ‘off’, Hogmanay also includes
celebrating all the way through the next day and, sometimes, through January 2nd.
When
I looked deeper into the origin of Hogmanay, I found that many scholars believe
that the holiday has its roots in ancient times when the Nordic tribes acknowledged
the Winter Solstice, the Vikings enjoyed the Yule, and Scots celebrated
Samhain.
One
of the first things I ever read was a folk tale that mentioned the first guest
who walked across your home’s threshold after midnight on the last day of the
year. Some call this first-footing. Since hubby and I usually head to bed once
the ball drops in New York City (watched from our North Carolina home, where
the split screen also shows the NC Acorn drop) we rarely think about whom the
first person is that enters our home in the New Year. This year I will take
note!
I
am still confused about what this first-footing person does for us. Further
research says that the Scots exchange certain gifts, and what I read made me
laugh. These gifts include salt, coal, shortbread (yum), and fruit cake (yuck).
Then
I came across an interesting tidbit that mentioned another gift the Scots share
with their neighbors on Hogmanay…whisky! Now, that is a Scottish tradition
worth continuing!
Happy
Hogmanay!
Nancy
Lee Badger
More About the
Author
Nancy Lee Badger
loves chocolate-chip shortbread, wool
plaids wrapped around the trim waist of a Scottish Highlander, the clang of
dirks and broadswords, and the sound of bagpipes in the air. After growing up
in Huntington, New York, and raising two handsome sons in New Hampshire, Nancy
moved to North Carolina where she writes full-time. Nancy is a member of
Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers,
Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, and the Celtic Heart
Romance Writers. Nancy and her family volunteer each fall at the New Hampshire
Highland Games and she is a proud Army Mom.
Find out more at:
Latest Release: My
Banished Highlander
Series:
Book #2 of the Highland Games Through Time
Genre:
Scottish Time Travel Romance
Length:
82,000 word Novel
Buy Links:
Also
available in PRINT!
Thursday, December 27, 2012
A Celtic Holiday
A Special Celtic Holiday Greeting
from Bil & Bon Franks
New CRW Members
To all our new friends at the beautiful Celtic Rose Writers site: we wish you joy of the season, and tremendous success in your writing endeavors this coming year.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
THE HIGHLAND SERIES BY B. J. SCOTT
I'm very excited to have author B.J. Scott with us today talking about her great Highland series. Before I let her take it away, I'll just mention that one extremely lucky commenter will win a copy of her new release, Highland Quest, so please don't forget to leave your email address with your comment. And do NOT miss the trailers. That's all I'll say!
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HIGHLAND
QUEST Book 2 of the Highlander Series.
Blurb:
No longer
content in the shadows of his older brothers, Bryce Fraser rejoins the fight
for Scottish independence, but arrives too late to inform his fellow patriots
of a surprise ambush. Seriously wounded and left for dead, Bryce awakens to
find Fallon MacCrery tending his wounds, a twist of fate that rekindles passion
and desire he’d vowed to forget.
Gifted with
second sight and having lost everyone she ever held dear, Fallon believes her
ability and her love are curses that if
pursued will mean Bryce’s demise. But when she learns the English army plans to
destroy the Bruce and his followers, she risks all to warn them, even her
heart.
Can their
unspoken love stand the test in a time of uncertainty and war, or will the
plans of their enemy, a traitorous laird from a rival clan keep them apart
forever?
Author Bio
With a passion for historical romance, history in general, and anything
Celtic, B.J. always has an exciting work in progress. Each story offers a blend
of romance, adventure, suspense, and, where appropriate, a dab of comic relief.
Carefully researched historical facts are woven into each manuscript, providing
a backdrop from which steamy romance, gripping plots, and vivid characters—dashing
alpha heroes and resourceful, beguiling heroines you can’t help but
admire—spring to life. A PAN member of RWA, World Romance Writers, Celtic
Hearts Romance Writers, and Savvy Authors, B.J. also writes contemporary,
paranormal, time travel, and romantic suspense.
C.S. Lewis first captivated B. J.’s imagination in the fourth grade, and
her desire to write sprang from there. Following a career in nursing and child
and youth work, B.J. married her knight-in-shining-armor, and he whisked her
away to his castle by the sea. In reality, they share their century-old home in
a small Canadian town on the shore of Lake Erie with four dogs and a cat. When
she is not working at her childcare job, on her small business, or writing, you
will find her reading, doing a variety of hand crafts, camping, or antique
hunting.
Excerpt
Loch Ryan
Scotland, 1307
“Wa . . .
water,” Bryce mumbled, but there was no one there to listen.
His throat was parched and he ran his tongue
over dry, cracked lips, but his action offered no relief. An entire loch lay
only a few feet away, but he couldn’t muster the strength to drag himself to
the bank and quench his thirst.
“Cold . .
. so cold.”
Despite the sun beating down on him, he’d
swear he was encased in ice. His life’s blood seeped from his wounds, soaking
the ground beneath him. He tried to raise his head, but the excruciating pain
radiating across his chest stole his breath away.
Was this
what it felt like to die? If so, he prayed the Almighty would be merciful and
take him now.
Bryce
moaned, a shift in his position bringing on another nauseating wave of agony.
He sucked in a short, sharp, gulp of air and stretched his arm out as
far as he could, his fingers grappling in the dirt.
If only I
could reach my sword.
Beads of
perspiration dampened his brow. As the strength slowly drained from his body,
drawing a simple breath became more difficult. The end grew near. No time to
make amends for sins of the past, and he had committed his share.
Regrets?
He had those, too. “Fallon.” He whispered her name then heaved a ragged sigh.
He could see her beautiful face, her soft, porcelain-like skin with just a
sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Raven tresses hanging loose in a riot
of curls down her back. Her petite, slender body had just the right curves to
drive a man wild with desire. Mysterious sapphire eyes that held him captive
and a heart-shaped mouth he’d never tire of kissing. If he had one wish before
he died, it would be to hold her in his arms one more time, to find himself nestled
between her thighs, making love until neither of them could take anymore.
But he’d
missed his chance when she left Fraser Castle after his brother’s wedding,
returning with her clan to their home in the borderlands. Determined not to
allow Fallon, or any woman, to breach the protective wall he’d built around his
heart, he’d let her go.
A restless
spirit, he longed for adventure. While he admired his two older brothers, he
was tired of living in their shadows. Alasdair had turned down the position of
Laird when their father and older brother were killed at Berwick on Tweed.
Connor, the next in line, had accepted the responsibility and did the Clan
proud. He was happily married and Bryce was certain his wee son, Andrew, would
be raised to follow in his father’s footsteps.
Bryce held no land or title. Until he had made
a name for himself and earned these things, he had nothing to offer a wife. But
marriage and family were not part of his immediate plans. He loved women, all
women. Be they large, small, short, tall, fair, or plain, it made no difference
as long as they were willing to warm his bed, and expected no long-term
commitment in return.
A rogue
many would say, but he made no secret of his intentions. So far, this way of
life had served him well, and should he die in battle, he’d leave no one behind
to mourn his loss.
When he
was a lad of sixteen, he’d made the mistake of falling for the daughter of the
village smithy. Totally enamored with each other, they’d vowed their eternal
love and he believed they’d marry some day.
He
swallowed hard at the ball of emotion rising in his throat, and clenched his
teeth against the sudden ache gripping his heart. He’d heard when a man is
about to die, his life experiences flash before his eyes. But some memories were
far too painful to revisit.
He balled
his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t want to
think about the past and didn’t want a woman in his life. While Fallon was the
only lass who had tempted him to stray from his chosen path, she was better off
without him. Or so he’d told himself when he returned from a morning ride to
learn she’d left Fraser Castle without saying goodbye.
Clinging
to the memory of their brief time together, Bryce closed his eyes and waited
for death to take him. But distant voices and the sound of approaching footfall
alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone.
“Over
here,” a man shouted. “I think this one is still breathing.”
“Aye, he’s
alive, but for how long? The lad has lost a lot of blood,” another man
commented and clucked his tongue.
Hovering
on the edge of consciousness, Bryce heard the conversation going on between two
men, maybe more. He tried to open his eyes, but the lids proved too heavy.
Judging by
the familiar burr, these men were Scottish, but so were the traitorous bastards
who had attacked them.
For a
sennight, he’d ridden day and night. However in the end, he was too late to
warn the Bruce’s brothers and their small group of Irish and Scottish islanders
of the impending threat. Rushing headlong into an ambush and outnumbered
four to one, their fate was sealed.
This
wasn’t the first time the MacDougall Clan sided with the English. Staunch
supporters of John Comyn’s bid for the Scottish crown, they’d turned their
swords and their loyalty against their countrymen when Comyn was murdered at
Grey Fryer’s Abbey and Robert the Bruce was accused of the deed.
After the
massacre at Methven—the last major battle fought between the English and the
Bruce before he went into hiding—the buggers lay in wait, attacking the
Scottish survivors as they tried to make their way to the Argyle Mountains to
regroup. The battle of Dail Righ would forever be a stain on the
MacDougall clan’s name, and a battle Bryce would long remember.
Nor would
he forget their leader. Today he’d had the long-awaited chance to make good on
his oath to see the blackguard pay for his treasonous acts, but he’d failed.
Instead, he’d found himself on the receiving end of Dungal’s sword.
“I canna
believe Scots would kill Scots. These poor fellows dinna have a prayer of
making it to shore unharmed,” the first man said.
“Aye, the
ship was run aground and there must be at least fifty dead men on the bank of
the loch. There appears to be a mix of Irish and Scots, but nary an English soldier
or a MacDougall plaid among them.” The man speaking nudged Bryce’s shoulder
with the toe of his boot. “This appears to be the only one alive.”
A dizzying
wave of excruciating pain shot through Bryce’s chest as he was rolled onto to
his side.
“What do
you plan to do with this fellow, Donald?” the second man asked. “We canna just
leave him here to bleed to death.”
“We’ll
take him with us. My niece has some knowledge of healing. She cared for my wife
when she had the pox . . . rest her soul.” Donald paused for a moment before he
continued. “After Mairi died, the lass decided to stay on for a while. Mayhap
there is something she can do for him. Best we make haste. I dinna want to be
here if the bastards return.”
“I’ll be
surprised if he survives the journey. But we can always bury him along the way
if need be,” the second man responded.
Strong
hands slid beneath Bryce’s shoulders, raising him to a sitting position, then
someone grabbed his legs. A few garbled words of protest were all he could
manage before darkness closed around him.
Web site www.authorbjscott.com
Book trailer for Highland Quest http://youtu.be/P-T5WWSFBGI
Highland Legacy On sale from Dec11th to Dec 25th for $2.99
Highland Legacy, book one in the Highlander series. An Amazon best seller
in historical romance and finalist in the Oklahoma RWA International Digital
Awards 2012. Is available in print and e-book
Trailer
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Playing For Keeps, Book III of The Claddagh Series
Hello everyone, I’m Cynthia Owens and I’m thrilled
to announced that Playing For Keeps,
Book III of The Claddagh Series, has just been released from Highland Press!
Miriam, thanks so much for allowing me to visit the Celtic Rose!
It started with Rory O’Brien and Siobhán Desmond of In Sunshine or in Shdow. Gambler and
survivor. Landlord and tenant. A love that couldn’t be denied. It continued
with Coming Home, when Ashleen
O’Brien showed an Irish-American war hero that you can find a home and a family
in the most unlikely place.
And now there’s Playing
For Keeps, Katie’s story. This
half-Irish beauty has finally returned to Baltimore to visit the family she
barely remembers.
She
was a descendent of the kings of Ireland ~ but in Baltimore, Katie O’Brien is
just “Irish.”
Lucas
was the despised younger son ~ a dreamer whose negligence had caused a family
tragedy. He’s left his family’s home to prove that he can make something of
himself ~ something he wants to be.
Excerpt
Prologue
Philadelphia, 1850
Luke stared in silent horror as glowing red flames
devoured the warehouse.
What have you done this time?
The words resounded through Luke’s brain, condemning and
inevitable, in his father’s disapproving tones.
What had he done? He’d secured the warehouses. He had, he
was sure of it. He’d made certain all the forges were out.
Hadn’t he? Or had his head been too full of the play he’d
been studying in secret, the characters he was determined to flesh out, the
pages he’d obsessively filled with his own dreams and interpretations?
Clanging bells and pounding hooves hammered in his ears.
Thank you, God.
But as quickly as relief flared, terror chased close on
its heels.
Dear God, was anyone still inside? Tobias, his father’s
most trusted clerk—surely he’d left long ago. And the two young men Matt hired
last month—hadn’t they spoken of going to The Dancing Horse to spend their
first pay packets?
He struggled for breath, the acrid smell of burning wood
and molten steel tearing at his throat.
Bleak realization swept through him. It was his fault. It
had to be. But it was an accident…
Matthew. Matt would take care of everything. Matt always
cleaned up his little brother’s messes, covered up Luke’s many shortcomings.
“Mr. Lucas? Mr. Lucas!”
Dazed, Luke stared in disbelief at the normally
impeccable clerk. Tobias had lost his coat, his once pristine white linen shirt
was torn and covered with soot. Luke’s gut clenched as he took in the other
man’s wild hair, the bloody gash slashed cruelly across one cheek.
“Mr. Lucas!”
Luke grabbed Tobias’s arm, his head thudding, his fingers
gripping convulsively. Fear struck ice cold in his heart. His entire body
shaking, he ran his dry tongue over his ash-covered lips.
“Tobias, where’s Matt?”
The clerk gazed at Luke, pity darkening his eyes. Tears
trailed slowly down his soot-blackened face.
“Mr. Matthew’s dead, sir.”
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