LINDA SWIFT--GUEST AUTHOR

Please welcome Linda Swift, guest author, as she reveals her newest release titled This Time Forever, a Civil War novel.
Posted by Celia Yeary
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To quote the famous lines of Sir Walter Scott,  "Breathes there the man with soul so dead"… Or "Southern author who has no Civil War book in her head."

I have always known I would one day write a story about this fascinating war when brothers fought brothers and a whole way of life disappeared forever.

 Gone with the Wind remains my all-time favorite book and movie (and not because Clark Gable played Rhett Butler although that was a plus). And later the TV mini-series North and South  took  permanent first place for TV shows.

My story was a long time in the making and it has had a difficult journey thus far. Kentucky is a border state and I had to live in Alabama and Tennessee before I absorbed true Southern culture. Then I spent time in New York State and experienced a different way of life.

Somewhere along the way, Philip Burke appeared.
In the same way, Clarissa came to live in my head.

Philip was a good man, but he was conflicted. He wanted to be something his family opposed but he did not want to oppose his family. Fighting a war was not in his plans but his conscience would not let him do otherwise. He believed himself to be in love with a "suitable" woman and asked her to marry him. Then fate brought him to Whitehaven and Clarissa and his first word to her foretold his future.

 Clarissa was a true Southern belle, beautiful and genteel but underneath had the courage and determination of a "steel magnolia" to quote this overused cliché.  She had married of necessity and had no idea what passion was until Philip defined it. She, too, was conflicted. She had a mother's deep devotion to her children, but revulsion for a husband who used and abused her. Then she was confronted with desire and denial and guilt. At times, I wanted her to be more aggressive and independent than she was, but the restraints of the times held her back and I couldn’t rewrite history.

 

There were certain poignant sections of history that I made great effort to include such as the Christmas Eve when both armies were facing, ready for battle, but joined each other singing Christmas carols and patriotic songs. Who could not read that and weep?

 And who  could  not weep when they got a rejection letter after such a marathon writing frenzy? And only because it was "more story" than this publisher was currently accepting. More rejections followed but finally an acceptance and publication in the first year of the CW Sesquicentennial. I am embarrassed to say that I did not promote it as it deserved and it went largely unnoticed.

THREE ACTORS IN THE FILM
CLARISSA'S WAR-ADAPTED FROM THE NOVEL
THIS TIME FOREVER



 Now in the last year of the Sesquicentennial it is being released again,

and this time I hope to do it justice.

And since a short film titled Clarissa's War has been adapted from the book and is being filmed this autumn in Nashville, TN by Reel Cool Films,

I think This Time Forever is finally going to fulfill its destiny.

 

~~*~~LINDA SWIFT - BIO

     Linda Swift divides her time between her native state of Kentucky and Florida. She is an award winning author of published poetry, articles, short stories, and a TV play. Linda holds an Education Specialist Degree from Murray State University with post-graduate work from U. of Alabama and was a teacher, counselor, and psychometric in public schools in three states. She credits her husband and adult children for providing encouragement and technical support necessary for survival in the cyberspace world. 

Linda's first two books were published by Kensington. She currently has thirteen e-books (and print) available from Amazon and other distributors. This Time Forever was released Oct. 1st and a short film titled Clarissa's War is being adapted from the book by Reel Cool Films of Nashville, Tennessee.

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Blurb:

The Civil War brought casualties beyond the bloody battlefields as North fought South. Philip Burke, against his family's wishes, volunteered to defend the Union and became a prisoner of war who bartered his medical expertise to remain out of prison. When the Union Army invaded Tennessee, Clarissa Wakefield's antebellum mansion became a Confederate hospital.  Philip was placed in charge and against propriety she volunteered to stay on and help nurse the wounded. Clarissa's husband was a Confederate soldier and Philip's fiancée waited for him in Oswego but the fire between them soon raged out of control.
As the opposing armies fought for possession of Chattanooga, Clarissa and Philip faced their own battle. Caught in the passions of war and love, with hurt inevitable either way, would they be faithful to their vows or listen to their hearts?

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Excerpt: Philip and Clarissa meet

            Clarissa made a slight curtsey to the lieutenant as he took her proffered hand and bowed politely.

             "My pleasure, madam."

            Then she extended her hand part way toward the captain before she saw that he wore a faded Federal uniform. She stopped and glanced uncertainly at Lieutenant Johnson.

            "Captain Burke is a Confederate prisoner, ma'am," he told her, "but you have nothing to fear. He is also a surgeon and will be in charge of the hospital here."

            "Oh, I see." Unsure what protocol dictated, again she tentatively extended her hand. It was taken with a touch so gentle she would not have felt it except for the tremor that passed between them at the contact, causing her to look up into the most penetrating eyes she had ever seen.

            For a long moment they stood, warm brown eyes lost in the depths of cool deep blue, then the captain made a visible effort to break the spell and spoke softly. "Charmed."

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The print and ebook are now available at Amazon and Smashwords.

 http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=This+Time+Forever+by+Linda+Swift

 http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=This+Time+Forever+by+Linda+Swift

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 Linda Swift
"Tales That Touch The Heart"
My Facebook Page
My Amazon Page
My Website

Social Etiquette in the 1800s

As a writer, I’m usually leery of challenging myself, but there are times when it turns out to be fun. And I don’t merely mean making the leap from historical writing to contemporary and back again.  I’m talking about moving outside of my comfort zone.  To put it quite simply: my heroes have always been cowboys. *G*  Well, cowboys, gunfighters, lawmen, bounty hunters—in other words, men who don’t have “purty” manners and are basically take-me-as-I-am kind of guys.  And pairing them with a heroine who will at least pretend to be offended when he cusses, spits or smokes is a lot of fun.  But lately my heroes have been moving in another direction, and I find myself writing about men who either need to fit in with polite society, or who already belong to it. 

And that’s what has led me (kicking and screaming!) out of my comfort zone into the cold, frightening land of the unknown, LOL.  Sure I knew the basic customs of the era, but I’ve never written a character that had to—or wanted to-- adhere to them.  Some I already knew and have had fun deliberately ignoring in past stories. Others were no-brainers (ex: it’s bad manners to pick one’s teeth at the table. LOL. I’ll bet even my most trail-weary cowboy knows that one!) But they were all fun and chock full of "what if's" for having one character or another break the rules.  

Here are some of the more interesting tid bits my research has turned up:

It was not considered appropriate for a young man to approach a young lady. Even if they had already met, he must still be introduced by a mutual friend a second time before he can speak to her freely.

In any stage of courtship, the couple always walked apart - the only contact allowed was for him to offer her his hand over rough spots while walking.

Women never rode alone in a closed carriage with a man who was not a relative. (oooh isn't that what made Rhett Butler so scandalous?)

Women did not call on an unmarried gentleman at his home.

Men could not be received into the home if a woman was there alone, a family member must be present at all times.

A true gentleman always tips his hat when greeting a lady, opens doors and always walks on the outside.  (Sigh.)

When introduced to a man, a lady should never offer her hand, merely bow politely and say “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

A gentleman may delicately kiss a lady’s hand, forehead or at most, her cheek. (I suspect even my most noble heroes’ have broken this rule a time or two. *G*)

A lady should never be neglected.  A gentlemen should help her with her cloak, shawl or any other outer garment she may wish to remove. (A safe bet to say my heroes are quite capable in this area.)

When ascending a staircase with a lady, a gentleman is to go at her side or before her. 

Happy Writing! 

A Civil War Love Story--THIS TIME FOREVER--LASR Five Star Book of the Week-by Linda Swift

 If you haven't met Linda Swift, now is your chance. I consider her one of the best "classic romance authors" in the business. She has a long history of publication when Kensington was her publisher. Now, she's discovered small presses and is enjoying a resurgence of creativity. Meet her in her own words.

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A four-year commemoration of the American Civil War Sesquicentennial has begun. And with an existing plethora of Civil War books, both fact and fiction, why should I feel compelled to write another one? Hasn't Margaret Mitchell said it all? Since reading Gone With The Wind, I have been fascinated with this period in our nation's history. The magnificent plantations, southern belles in their exquisite gowns, not to mention Rhett Butler, are the stuff dreams are made of.

SOUTHERN PLANTATION HOME, PERHAPS LIKE WHITEHAVEN 

I was born in the border state of Kentucky. I attended university in South Alabama. And I lived for a few years in Chattanooga, Tennessee with its hallowed battlegrounds at Chickamauga Creek, Missionary Ridge, and Lookout Mountain. Swept up in the tragic history of this location, I wanted to tell a story of my own. Although the setting of the book is mainly Chattanooga, I have also included Oswego, New York and a family loyal to the Union.

I usually dedicate my books to  my husband but I have dedicated This Time Forever to three other people. First, my deceased mother, who loved all things related to the "old South." Then to my late cousin, a professional educator, who was terribly worried about my "wasted mind" when I began writing romance books. I think the research required for this story proves that my brain cells are still intact. And last, to a dear friend's son, a Chattanooga newspaper photographer who died from a staph infection following elective surgery. It saddens me to know that these three who would have enjoyed this story best of all I've written, will not have that opportunity.

My dedication is: "I wish you could have read this book."

AUTHOR LINDA SWIFT

And now I extend the invitation to you. If you only read one new book about the Civil War this year, I hope you will read this one. I will take you behind the battles into the hearts of both Yankees and Rebels as they live and die for the cause they believe in.

THIS TIME FOREVER is available from:

http://www.champagnebooks.com

and  

http://www.amazon.com/This-Time-Forever-ebook/dp/B005A90G1E/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1310999208&sr=1-6 

  Or you may find out more about it from my website at

www.lindaswift.net

Blurb:

The Civil War brought casualties beyond the bloody battlefields as North fought South. Philip Burke, against his family's wishes, volunteered to defend the Union and became a prisoner of war who bartered his medical expertise to remain out of prison. When the Union Army invaded Tennessee, Clarissa Wakefield's antebellum mansion became a Confederate hospital.  Philip was placed in charge and against propriety she volunteered to stay on and help nurse the wounded. Clarissa's husband was a Confederate soldier and Philip's fiancée waited for him in Oswego but the fire between them soon raged out of control. As the opposing armies fought for possession of Chattanooga, Clarissa and Philip faced their own battle. Caught in the passions of war and love, with hurt inevitable either way, would they be faithful to their vows or listen to their hearts?

Excerpt:

Tip-toeing past the snoring guard, Clarissa stepped onto the moonlit veranda and made her way toward a wicker chair facing the river. It was only as she sat down that she saw the glow of Philip Burke’s pipe.

“Oh, excuse me, I thought—”

“That you would be alone? I was just finishing my pipe.”

 He made a move to stand but she said quickly, “Please don’t go. It is I who have intruded.”

“I scarcely think so. This is your home after all, Mrs. Wakefield.” He settled back in his chair and took another puff.

“Let’s not belabor such a trivial matter, Captain Burke. I’m glad of someone to talk to.”

“Then I’ll stay for a while longer with your permission.”

“Yes, do. The quiet seems eerie. As if we’re suspended in motion,

waiting for something to happen.”

“Waiting for all hell to break loose.” He didn’t appear to notice his offensive language and she forgot it with his next words. “I’ve experienced this before. It’s the lull before the battle.”

“Do you really think so?”

“It’s inevitable, with the Army of the Tennessee on the march and the Army of the Cumberland right on their heels.”

“Perhaps General Bragg will just go on to Atlanta.”

“With thousands of battle-ready troops at his command?” Philip asked drily. “Not likely.”

“When do you think it will begin?” Clarissa asked with dread.

“Perhaps tomorrow. If not tomorrow, soon.”

Clarissa shivered. “I wish my son was back at Fleur-de-Lis. What if the Union…?”

“Have you forgotten I am a Union officer? You and yours will be safe as long as I’m here.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Clarissa silently regarded the man who sat near her, his features highlighted each time he drew on the coals of his pipe. It was difficult for her to remember that he was a prisoner but that must have been the thought

uppermost in his mind all these months.

The night sounds of early autumn filled the silence—dry flies and tree frogs and raucous insects too numerous to be identified. Clarissa became aware of Philip’s eyes on her and a warm sensation began in the pit of her

stomach and spread to her breasts and thighs. She watched his slender hand as he knocked the ashes from his pipe and imagined the hand touching her.

She felt her heart flutter and said with a catch in her voice, “I should go in now. It’s getting quite late.”

He stood at the same time she did and they were only inches apart.

Clarissa felt his warm breath on her face and dared not look up.

Her hair was luminescent silver flowing about her shoulders in the moon glow. Philip reached out to touch it and willed himself to stop. But his hands with a will of their own moved to her shoulders and she raised her

head and met his eyes.

In a dream-like motion they closed the space between them as their mouths slowly met and with a long-repressed hunger they sated themselves. Their bodies melded, soft against hard, silk against wool, and a fire blazed between them that blotted out all else except their awareness of each other.

He brought his hand to the back of her head and wove his slender fingers into her silken tresses; the kiss deepened as his tongue became a licking flame in her mouth. When the kiss finally ended, the flame licked the hollow of her throat and the rise of her breast as he pushed aside the fabric of her gown. Fire burned against her flesh in every place his tongue touched and she arched against him, eager to be consumed by it.

“Clarissa, my beautiful Clarissa,” he whispered. “No matter how hard I fight this, I can’t stop wanting you. There’s never an hour that you’re not in my thoughts. I am obsessed by you.”

She moved her hands from his chest to caress the sides of his face and he groaned with pleasure. “And I you.”

He cupped her against him and she linked her arms at the back of his neck as he bent his head to take her mouth again with greater intensity. “I tell myself that you are married but it doesn’t matter in what I feel. And I think you feel it, too.”

“Yes, oh yes,” she whispered.

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Thank you, Linda. Guests—please leave a message to be eligible to WIN a pdf copy of THIS TIME FOREVER.

Celia

JASON'S ANGEL from A HISTORICAL COLLECTION

Hi everyone! I just wanted to share with you all what a great month May has been for me! I have had two short stories released this month with Victory Tales Press. Today I wanted to tell you about the one that appears in A HISTORICAL COLLECTION, an anthology that I’m in along with Karen Michelle Nutt (The Devil’s Wolf), Kate Kindle (A Tale From the Red Chest), and Miriam Newman (Deirdre). These stories all take place in different historical settings and time periods. My story, Jason’s Angel, is set in the final days of the War Between the States.

Writing Jason’s Angel wasn’t easy. My conundrum was the fact that for me, the Civil War was such a tragic time in our history that I wasn’t sure if I could see that my characters reached their “Happily Ever After” ending that I wanted them to have. The only way I could see to do that in this case was to make Sabrina Patrick’s compassion so great that she saw beyond all boundaries of gray or blue, and didn’t think of the hero, Jason McCain, as the enemy, but first as a wounded man who needed her help.

Since Jason and another fellow Union soldier had been captured and are being held in the hospital where Sabrina volunteers, she knows that they will both die of their wounds if she doesn’t do something more than let nature run its course in those deplorable conditions. There is nothing she can do but bring them home, away from the inhumane treatment they are receiving from their guard and even from some of the hospital staff. No one is more surprised than her Aunt Emmaline, who is none to happy with Sabrina’s decision.

The only thing that could make matters worse is to find out that not only is Jason wearing Yankee Blue, he’s a southern boy, born and bred in Georgia—only a few miles from where Sabrina’s home is situated. What could make him fight for the Union? As Sabrina finds out more about Jason’s devastating past, she begins to understand. Because he is half Cherokee, his family has been shunned, and unimaginable tragedy has followed. Can his restless soul find peace in Sabrina’s sweet love for him?

I will leave you with a blurb and excerpt from JASON’S ANGEL. To order A HISTORICAL COLLECTION, go to the Victory Tales Press store here:
http://victorytalespress.yolasite.com/online-store.php

or to my Amazon author page here:
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B002JV8GUE

If you would like to read about the other exciting stories in this anthology, or any of the other anthologies that Victory Tales Press offers, here’s the link
http://victorytalespress.yolasite.com/online-store.php

I WILL BE GIVING AWAY PDF COPIES OF A HISTORICAL COLLECTION TO TWO COMMENTERS TODAY! Please leave a comment when you stop by to read the blog along with your e-mail address and you will be automatically entered for the drawing.
Jason 's Angel by Cheryl Pierson

Two wounded Union soldiers will die without proper treatment. Sabrina Patrick realizes they won't get it at the Confederate army hospital where she helps nurse wounded men. She does the unthinkable and takes them to her home.
Jason McCain’s pain is eased by the feel of clean sheets, a soft bed, and a touch that surely must belong to an angel. But what reason could an angel have for bringing him and his brother here?

FROM JASON'S ANGEL:

Sabrina nodded. “Is there something else, Aunt Emma?”

“You’ve been acting mighty peculiar, Sabrina. Did something happen between you and Jason?” The kindness and assurance of understanding, no matter what, in her aunt’s tone undid what little resolve Sabrina had left. She had been on pins and needles since Jason had kissed her. And she’d thought of nothing else. But she’d been careful to avoid being in a similar position again since that day, and when she’d brought up his meals there had been only polite conversation between them.

Once, she’d thought she’d caught a glint of a deviling reminder in his eyes, but he’d looked past her after a moment and she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t even tell Desi. Desi would have gotten the greatest bit of fun from that knowledge—and she was unpredictable.

For all Sabrina knew, had she confided in Desi, her younger sister might have decided to take matters into her own hands and tell Jason that Sabrina liked it. Which she had. Or that Sabrina wished with all her heart he would kiss her again. Which she did. She might even tell him of that indescribable rush of wind and heat and wonder that moved over her entire body when their lips had met—a feeling that she was still trying to figure out how to put into words herself.

But Desiree would certainly have no trouble telling Jason what Sabrina had felt like—she was never at a loss for words. And that’s why Sabrina could never tell her—not until she grew up a little.

How wonderful it would be to unburden herself to Aunt Emmaline. And how utterly shameful.

“He…he kissed me,” she blurted. The familiar heat burned her cheeks.

But Aunt Emmaline only smiled, and Sabrina watched her face transform into a reminder of the beauty she must have been as a young woman.

“Is…that all?”

Sabrina took a deep breath. This was harder than she had imagined it might be. “No. I—Aunt Emma, I kissed him back.”

Aunt Emma didn’t answer for a moment. Finally, she took Sabrina’s hand in hers until Sabrina met her eyes. “Sabrina, when I was young—younger than you, though not quite as featherheaded as Desi—there was a young man in my life. He kissed me one time—and I kissed him back. I’ve often wished through the years, that I’d allowed myself a second kiss. Things…might have worked out very differently if I had.”

“Aunt Emma—are you saying—”

The older woman squeezed Sabrina’s hand gently. “I’m saying follow your heart. He’s a lonely soul, your Jason. He’s searching for a place in the world. And this world is changing, dear. He may never find it without your help. I’ve often wondered why you brought home two Yankees. I’ve done a little digging of my own, as well. These boys are Georgia born and bred. Mrs. Davenport knows of their family, the McCains from over near Allen’s Ridge.”

Sabrina was quiet, wondering how much of the family history her aunt had uncovered.

“I…learned quite a bit, Sabrina,” she said gently.

Apparently, though, she wasn’t going to share any details.

“Mrs. Davenport is a fount of information. Those men have been through hell, and not just the last years while the war has been raging.”

Sabrina nodded, her throat tight. What must Jason believe, after what he had told her? That she was keeping her distance because he’d opened his heart to her? Or, because he was, as he said, “a half breed”?

She had to go to him.