Showing posts with label the wild rose press. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the wild rose press. Show all posts

Sunday, November 16, 2014

The Merrie Monarch ~Tanya Hanson

Last spring, The Wild Rose Press asked me to participate in a multi-author Christmas series based on
The Twelve Days of Christmas. I got Four Calling Birds. Happens I was in Oahu relaxing at my sis’s when I got The Inspiration for The Christmas Room.

I’d set my western historical holiday romance right there! In Honolulu.

What? How was that gonna work?

Despite Hawaii’s great “paniolo” (cowboy and ranching) culture, I went with an American cowboy, from the Lake Tahoe area. Rooney Lind sails the Pacific on a quest to fulfill a deathbed promise. He’s vowed to find the woman his late cousin wronged long ago in California. Well, of course heroine Martita Akala turns out to be who Rooney’s own heart has been looking for all along.

Anyway, on our trip, we visited the Iolani Palace, built by King David Kalakaua in 1883. It’s only royal palace on American soil.


Although King Kalakaua was courtly in demeanor and fashionable in European styles, he returned to the Hawaiian peoples many of the cultural practices forcibly quashed by American missionaries, such as hula, the Hawaiian language, and luau. (Amazingly, lei-making had never been eliminated.)

Highly-educated and modern thinking, he installed flush plumbing and electric lighting in his palace three years before the White House. And he made sure Honolulu had street lights. 

These facts helped me set the story in December 1890.

Sadly, Kalakaua died just a month later.

You may have heard of the great Kamehameha line of Hawaiian royalty. Well, it had died out, but David was descended from favored court supporters. Another plus...his mother’s ancestors included great Kona chieftains. After serving in King Kamehamea 1V’s legislature for 13 years, Kalakaua won the election over dowager queen Emma in 1874.

He is the first reigning monarch ever to visit the United States. His 1881 world tour saw him meet many heads of state. In 1887, he sent both his sister and his wife, Queen Kapiolani, to London as his representatives at Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.

While the sugar business in Hawaii flourished, unfortunately so did corruption. British and American business interests wanted more control, and Kalakaua was forced from power in 1887. He remained nothing but a figurehead after forcibly signing “The Bayonet Constitution.”

He and Kapiolani did not have children, so he named his sister Lili ‘uokalani as his heir and regent. (Her story is powerful and tragic. I’ll tell about her, and more about the Iolani Palace, next time.)
photo by D. Ramey Logan 2011. Used with permission
After a devastating legislative session in 1890, King David Kalakaua sailed to San Francisco to regain his health and spirit. However, he died there, on January 1891, ironically at the Palace Hotel. The last reigning king of Hawaii, today he is feted as The Merrie Monarch.

Honestly, the history of the kingdom of Hawaii is as tragic as the mainland's treatment of our First Nations. 

Excerpt:

“Oh, so cold,” he moaned now. “Blizzard. Oh, the wind So cold...”

“No blizzard. Nothing but the tradewinds, cowboy.” She touched his cheek, reckoning him in shock. Worry pounded through her veins. She could cook him a good meal, but she wasn’t a nurse. She relaxed a little. Nalani would know. Squeezing water from a rag in a nearby bowl, Martita dabbed his cheeks with the cool cloth.

“Cowboy?” Like her gesture was an electric shock, he tossed her hands away. His lids popped open. Staring at her--eyes dark blue as a midnight without stars. “What happened? Where am I?”

“You had... an accident.” She shuddered, recalled his arm hanging from its socket. Like an undone button at the end of a long thread.

“Eh?”

“You...you got knocked from your horse in the surf,” she told him. “Getting your beeves to the steamer.” Honolulu had no deep water wharf. Paniolo had to tie cows by the head to the gunwales of small longboats and drag them through the water to load them to larger boats and steam ships.

Confusion wrinkled his brow. “What?

“Your arm got caught in the reins.” She wiped his face gently. “The waves knocked you both about pretty hard. But Doc Howe says he got your arm set back into your shoulder socket correctly."

“Where...where am I?”

“My boarding house. Honolulu,” she added, just in case. “You’ll be sore for a while, and you need rest and quiet. Your foreman paid my rate to have you rest here a few days.”

“A few days?” He paled, groaned, struggled to sit. “I got a job. I got things to do.”



Friday, May 16, 2014

White Horses ~Tanya Hanson

Now, how about some white horses!

Just like in the school room--I'm a  teacher, I can't really have favorites, but these three glorious horses from the rescue where I volunteer totally captivate me. That's Bridge, above, and Hart, below. They are both Arabians. And Hart absolutely glows in the sun. Hart is our Houdini-Einstein, a smart mischief-maker. Bridge finally gets to be a "horse" and play with other horses after a life as a breeding stallion spent mostly in a small stall. Look at his adorable elfin ears!

The pretty lady, below, is Pearl, a cremello perlino. She has the most beautiful blue eyes! And I get to walk her sometimes--like me, she has a few pounds to lose.  She actually "became" my hero's horse in my story Covenant, for the Wishing for a Cowboy anthology, and I'd adopt her in a heartbeat if I didn't live on a suburban cul-de-sac.

I am showing off these three beauties today because all my covers for the Lawmen and Outlaws series feature white horses, too. Since I just got the galley edits for Book Three, Outlaw in Love. I have to share the gorgeous cover, below. Galley edits means my last chance to change or fix anything before final publication. (OIL, as my fabulous editor and I call it, will release later this year.)

 Outlaw Bride, came out last summer.

                                                        http://tinyurl.com/by5r566
Book One, Christmas for Ransom, came out Christmas 2012, a real cuddle-up snowbound romance.

                                                          http://tinyurl.com/by5r566
All three books deal with members of the Ahab Perkins gang...outlaws who really aren’t bad to the bone. Each one will steal a piece of your heart as he/she gets redeemed. (Yes, one's a girl.)  And while doing edits for Outlaw in Love, my editor thinks a fourth bad boy from the stories needs to find his soul...hmmmmm.  Let’s see how we might save “Rattler” Rawtelle!)
Please let me hear some ideas on how to fix up an outlaw!
BLURB for Outlaw Bride, available now: 
She survived her own hanging. 
     Left to die by her outlaw brother and his gang, Jessy Belle Perkins gets a second chance at life..and runs. She doesn't count on being rescued by handsome Cleeland Redd, a former cavalry scout who is nothing like the rank, filthy outlaws she's accustomed to. But can she trust him with the truth about who she is?
    When Redd leaves her at a rundown convent, she realizes that if her outlaw brother returns for the pearls hidden in the hem of her dress, the man she loves and the nuns who have given her shelter will be in grave danger.
     He stole her heart.
     Still mourning his late wife, Cleeland Redd guards his heart against the suspicious but lovely woman he finds lost and unable to speak. When he learns her secret, he decides a fake marriage will be just the thing to draw Jessy Belle's brother into a trap. But if he puts her brother behind bars, he might lose Jessy Belle for good--and forever destroy the hope of their pretend marriage turning into the real thing.
BLURB for Christmas for Ransom, available now:  
Meet a good-hearted outlaw and the woman who gives him her heart...before she realizes it’s HER horses he stole!   Member of the notorious Ahab Perkins gang,  “Canyon” Jack Ransom promised his beloved gram-maw on her death bed long ago that he’d learn to read. After growing a conscience and leaving his past behind,  he hires Texas schoolmarm Eliza Willows to do the deed while she, unbeknownst he’s the crook, hires him in return to “track” the thief of her granny’s prized Morgans.  Falling in love with each other is fast and furious but real...and the two getting snowbound at Christmas while gun-battling Ahab and the gang only adds to the fun!
BLURB for Outlaw in Love, coming mid-2014:
On the run from his gang, having robbed his own sister, outlaw Ahab Perkins has no place to go but good. He’d give his heart to Teresa in a single beat...if the beautiful woman in gray weren’t a...nun.
Unbeknownst, Teresa Avila is as wanted as Ahab, hiding out in disguise at a rundown mission. After her crimes and her evil stepfather’s abuse, she’s convinced she’s not good enough for any man, not even the outlaw she’s falling for.
Enter a burned-out homestead, an abandoned little girl and a kindly sheriff...and both find love as they guide their souls out of darkness.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Atlanta, RWA, Margaret Mitchell, oh my! ~Tanya Hanson

Okay, I made it home from RWA in Atlanta without melting. I’d been warned about the humidity, but it wasn’t so bad. Honest. And I even managed a bit of sightseeing. I mean, any self-respecting romance writer simply must visit the Margaret Mitchell House.

Actually it was in a small, first floor apartment inside this house where Margaret decided to “try writing a book” while healing up from a foot injury that kept her from her newspaper reporter job.

Hmmm. Try writing a book? The book of all fiction books? The first book I tried writing is, well, I think it’s stuffed in the attic somewhere. Those were the days when that dinosaur called “the typewriter” didn’t save or print anything. No matter, the tale is garbage. But Margaret’s typewriter can be worshipped today in the apartment. It might be a reasonable facsimile thereof, though. Nonetheless, the miracle machine produced her One and Only Book. Sheesh.

She wrote the last chapter first. When a publisher visited, wanting to see her work, she first refused. Then gathered up the manilla envelopes stuffed throughout the place, each one holding a chapter.

Talk about a pantser. Oh, a pantser who never got rejected. Sheesh some more.

Supposedly some parts of the book are autobiographical. A suitor with the initials C.H. did die in the war. (WWI)  She married one man while in love with another, hubby’s best friend. (No matter, it all worked out.) She didn’t have kids because, well, Scarlett didn’t think much of motherhood either. Remember her little unwanted Wade and Ella? I always thought SO MUCH of Rhett for liking those kids.

Of course I was unable to resist purchasing the massive hardback copy as a souvenir. I think it added six pounds to my luggage weight, but the airport didn’t say a thing.

Oh, the day I visited was a first-rate, hot Atlanta day. Therefore, I also purchased a MM bottle of water proudly wearing the taglline “I’ll Never be Thirsty Again.”

Good times.

All right, today you must answer this gut-wrenching question in order to get in a name draw for a PDF or Kindle copy of my latest release, Midnight Bride. Who’s your LEAST favorite character in GWTW? (If I’d said favorite, y’all would pick Melanie. I decided to kick things up a notch.) And please tell me why.

Now, about Midnight Bride. This is a couple who does give a damn about each other. Forced to marry or else lose the ranch they both think they own, Jed and Carrie fight off falling in love while she searches for her late granddaddy’s will. Hoping to prove her bridegroom is an imposter. And of course deep down, she doesn’t want any such thing...  

Sigh.


Excerpt
   He stood in the doorway, hatless just like he’d been in the mercantile. And just as breathtaking.  In one hand he held a bunch of Miss Mattie Price’s iceberg roses tied with a lavender bow.
     From the other hand hung a hatbox from Gosling’s Mercantile. The lilac shawl she had admired was draped over his forearm.
     Without a word, he walked over to her and laid the shawl gently across her shoulders. She had stopped breathing. His eyes locked with hers, and while she couldn’t read the message in his gaze, she found she couldn’t turn her own away. When he held the flowers to her determinedly, she had no choice but to take them.
     “Take off that mourning bonnet,” he told her in such a way that it didn’t seem like an order. While she did so, he opened the hatbox.
     Within a half minute, the beautiful purple chapeau she had fingered lovingly not fifteen minutes ago rested on her head. He tied the bow jauntily under her chin, then all but snapped his heels together as he stood in front of her. 
     “I’m Jed Jones,” he announced. “Your bridegroom.” 
     Carrie’s lips opened but no words came out. Not knowing what to say or what else to do, she untied the bonnet’s bow.  He never stopped looking at her. From the corner of her eye, she could see the older men in half-standing postures like they hoped to escape any second. However, she knew them well, knew they wouldn’t leave her all alone.
     Suddenly she found her voice, willing it not to tremble.      
     “My bridegroom? I beg your pardon. What on earth are you saying?” She turned toward the judge. “Is this about that ‘notorious’ authentic document?
     Judge Jacobson was nodding, somewhat defeated, while the sheriff pulled at his scrawny beard.
     When neither spoke, her supposed bridegroom took up the call.
     “It’s true, Miss Zacaria Smith. If you don’t marry me by midnight tonight, the Lazy J-Z will be deeded to the Mother of Mercy Orphanage outside San Antone.”
     Then he took her hand, placing his lips against the inside of her wrist.

http://tinyurl.com/m9p63sj      Amazon

http://tinyurl.com/k8knsw5       The Wild Rose Press


Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Numbers--Tanya Hanson

I do have a new release (Midnight Bride), but I'll regale you with that next time. You see, I'm on my way to Atlanta, GA for the Romance Writers of America's national conference. My very first time South...unless one count's DisneyWorld which I really don't. One of my scheduled outings is a visit Thursday night to the Margaret Mitchell House where some great-big-name romance authors are doing an evening reading!

So...that immediately reminded me of Gone With the Wind. Then came to mind other Civil War stuff that has fascinated me, such as the Jimmie Stewart classic movie Shenandoah.  (I just read that Sam Elliott fell in love with Katharine Ross the first time he saw this movie!)  Recent visits to Gettysburg and Harpers Ferry reinforced its allure. Peeking through a flea market find (Civil War Trivia and Fact Book by Webb Garrison) pointed out some wonderful tidbits that I thought inquiring minds might want to know.

1.  Only 28 percent of the 30,500 miles of railroads in 1860 lay in Confederate territory.
  
2.  The two warring capitals, Washington DC and Richmond, VA, are only 100 miles apart. 

3.  Seven states had announced their secession at the time of Abraham Lincoln’s inauguration. (Can you name them?**  See below.)

4.  86 percent of the United States’ manufacturing firms were located in the North.

5.  38 percent of the Confederacy’s population were slaves.

6. Diarrhea, including dysentery, was the most common ailment in the camps and claimed the lives of 44,000 Union soldiers.

7.  More than 68 American Revolutions could have been financed for the estimated cost of the Civil War.




8.  During the years of the conflict, 2,778,304 men were enlisted in all the branches of the Union forces.



9.  Four states were classified as “border states”, meaning they remained in the Union but had strong ties to the South. (Can you name them?*** See below.)

10. New Orleans was the Confederacy’s largest city, with an 1860 census of 168,000.

11. New York, with its 1860 population exceeding 800,000, was the North’s largest city.

12. Due to inflation in the Confederacy, the price of a pound of tea was $10.00 by the end of 1862.

13.  On New Year’s Day 1865, 55 percent of the Confederate fighting forces was listed as AWOL.

14. The tallest man in the Union forces was Captain Van Buskirk of the 27th Indiana.  Six feet, ten and one-half inches.


15.  The shorted man in the Union forces was a private in the 192nd Ohio.  Three feet, four inches.

16.  There were 33 states in the Union in 1860.

17.  In 1861, a Union soldier’s monthly salary was $13.

18.  As president of the United States, Abe Lincoln’s annual salary was $25,000.

19.  About 200,000 blacks eventually served in the Union army and navy.



20.  Union regiment, the First Minnesota, lost 82 percent at Gettysburg, the highest percentage of one-battle casualties.


21. By the war’s end, 12,912 graves had been filled at infamous Andersonville Prison. (total deaths is believed much higher.) 


22.  When Harper’s Ferry fell to Stonewall Jackson, he seized 73 cannon and 13,000 small arms from the arsenal there. And 10,000 prisoners.

23. Thirty six (36) horses were needed to pull the six guns of a standard field battery, three pairs in tandem per gun.

24.  Six Confederate generals were killed at Gettysburg.

25.  Black troops participates in 450 battles and skirmishes.

26.  The most popular handgun in the North with about 200,000 manufactured between 1860-1872 was the Colt Army and Navy revolver.

27.  The weight of a shell thrown by a 13-inch mortar (the largest in use then) was 220 pounds.

28.  Three of the 2,300 Federal chaplains, received the Congressional Medal of Honor.

I hope you didn’t mind a history lesson today! Which fact did you find the most interesting?

** South Carolina; Mississippi; Florida; Alabama; Georgia; Louisiana, and Texas.


*** Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Introducing Jack Ransom ~Tanya Hanson w/a Miss Prinsella Primm


Miss Prinsella Primm of Culdesac County, California, will be guest-blogging for Miss Tanya Hanson for the foreseeable future. As a lifestyle editor for the Culdesac County Current, (how she does love the alliteration!), Miss Primm will be presenting charming  interviews of heroes and heroines, lawmen and outlaws, ranchers and horsemen, cowpokes and country girls.

Her first subject is outlaw Jack Ransom. (hubba hubba)



September 16, 1880

Miss Primm, primly:  Mr. Ransom, although I do detect a glint of naughtiness in your eyes, I also sense a good heart beneath the bulging muscles of your chest. So how is it you sank so low as to become a notorious outlaw?

Jack, fingering his pocket for his flask:  How is it, Miss Primm, you rose up to become a newspaperwoman?

Miss Primm, more primly:  My dear Mr. Ransom, journalism is not  naughty word. It is a most honorable profession. Unlike yours. And this interview is about you, not me. So for our readers’ sake, how did your career path as an outlaw come about?

Jack, eyes downcast:  When my gram-maw died, I lost my direction. She raised me up, and with her gone, I discovered I was good at something bad: stealing horses.

Miss Primm, shuddering:  Goodness gracious, I believe your grandmother must be looking down in horror at your disgraceful behavior.

Jack, cheeks that bear three days-stubble turning red:   I reckon you’re correct, ma’am. I loved her so. That’s why I decided to mend my evil ways and honor one of her deathbed requests. Jacky, learn to read.

Miss Primm, holding up two fingers.  Would you mind sharing the other?

Jack, forehead wrinkling like a piece of paper:  Share what, ma’am? A book? I got either the Good Book or some Walt Whitman. I find I admire poetry.

Miss Primm, lips pursed No. Not books. The other request.

Jack, redder yet:  Oh, that. To live a righteous life. As you see, that trail never got blazed.  

Miss Primm, glaring with disapproval:  Who coached you in this dreadful life-altering decision?

Jack, with a wicked yet disarming grin:   That would be Ahab Perkins, leader of the pack. We met up at approximately age thirteen. No folks, no home. No nothing. So we picked up a few more hooligans along the way. Truth is, our gang got along so good for a time we might have been a Boy Scout troop.

Miss Primm, peering over her spectacles:  Try again, Mr. Ransom. Boy Scouting won’t originate for twenty years. Besides, horse stealing would be anathema to the Scout slogan Do a Good Turn Daily.

Jack, his whiskey-colored eyes widening:  Mighty big word there, ma’am.

Miss Primm, wearing a schoolmarm frown:  Why, I thought you had honored that deathbed vow and learned to read.

Jack, eyelids lowering like they might do when he slept:  Did so. Hiring a tutor is how I met my Eliza. She’s the schoolteacher in Pleasure Stakes, Texas.

Miss Primm, somewhat jealous:  Your Eliza?

Jack, proud as punch:  Yep. My lady love, Y’all will be reading her interview next month. She’s quite a gal, my Eliza. You see, she had no notion whatsoever it was me who thieved her granny’s horses last Thanksgiving night...  For that matter, neither did I.

Miss Primm, profoundly jealous, disheartened and ready to close out the interview:  Well, I hope you did all your homework for your schoolmarm.

Jack, triumphant:  That I did, ma’am. Eliza and me, we’ll have a good life with me gone all reformed. Miss Primm, I surely do thank you for your time today.

He leans across her battered desk and kisses her soft spinster cheek. Her face flames in pure delight as he saunters out of the Current office, his backside swaying over his boot heels in just the right way
Available November 26, 2012, The Wild Rose Press

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

THE "LOOK" CHALLENGE by Cheryl Pierson


“Look” is one of those words for which writers are always on the lookout. Like other words related to the senses, “look” can distance readers from the point-of-view character’s experience, so we try to use it with caution. The Look Challenge is a game writers play to remind us to keep an eye out for the overused word and replace it with something more evocative when appropriate. The rules of the Look Challenge require us to find the first occurrence of “look” in one of our works in progress, and then post that sentence and the surrounding paragraph(s).

The Look Challenge is only a beginning for us to try to find our overused words as

writers—and kind of a fun game to play. I have to say, it is a word I have to be careful of in my writing because I do tend to use a lot of facial expressions when I describe my characters, and for me, the characters’ eyes are so important! You can also use this challenge for other sensory words (heard, felt, etc.) that "distance" the reader from the character.

Just for fun, I’ve gone back into some of my current soon-to-be released galleys and WIP manuscripts and checked for the first showing of the word “look”, or any of its variations. I’ll share some of those with you now, and writers, please feel free to do the same in your comments! I’m always curious about how others are doing with these same issues we all have and how they “fix” them!


Here’s mine from Gabriel’s Law, one of my western historical WIPs that placed third in the SARA MERRITT contest a couple of years ago. Half-breed gunfighter Brandon Gabriel is being attacked by the men of the town who hired him to get rid of a gang. Now that the gang is gone, they don’t want to pay him. This is the first occurrence of “LOOK” and I was pretty proud that it didn’t show up until page 3-4.

He shook away the memory as the whip found its mark again, this time across his neck and shoulders. Smith roared in pain as the backlash caught him on the cheek. But Brandon made no sound. His harsh training had been equal in both worlds, Comanche and Anglo. He clenched his teeth and bit back his groan of pain.

They converged on him, and he was almost thankful. At least, they were finished with the whip. Now, it would only be a matter of time. Still, he fought as they tried to grasp his arms. They struggled for several minutes before subduing him, four of them holding his arms pinned behind his back, forcing him to stand.

Arnold Smith’s florid features swam into his view, redder than usual...he was looking at him through a haze of his own blood.

“You understand, don’t you, Gabriel?” Smith asked. “It’s just business.”



This snippet is from my upcoming October 2012 release, TEMPTATION’S TOUCH. It’s a contemporary romantic suspense. Recently divorced Kendi Morgan rushes out in the darkness to give some high school kids who constantly party on her land a piece of her mind. Only, instead of the teenagers, she finds that she has instead come upon two men murdering a third. In horrified silence, she watches, unable to do anything about what she sees…until the killers drive away and she realizes that the victim may not be dead after all. This didn’t show up until page 7! Doing better!

For an instant, she hesitated about shining the light higher, onto his face. If the murderer had shot him in the head, she wasn’t sure she could look at that. But she had to know if he was dead.

“What else could he be, Kendi?” she whispered to the wind.

Her lips compressed tightly. She took another hesitant step forward, shivering from cold and nerves.

Lightning flared, followed by a roar of thunder, and Kendi flinched. In the sudden brightness, she thought she had seen the man move. But that was impossible. He was dead. She had helped kill him by not diverting the attention of the two goons who had murdered him. That, she would never forget as long as she lived.


This last snippet is from my holiday novella A NIGHT FOR MIRACLES that will be re-released with a new publisher, WESTERN TRAIL BLAZER, this fall.

When widow Angela Bentley takes in injured ex-gunhawk Nick Dalton and three orphans on Christmas Eve, she is determined only to lend a hand where needed. But when the children drag in a small, scraggly Christmas tree, Angela finds herself wanting to create a memorable holiday for them. Can these visitors become the family she longs for? For those who believe in miracles, anything is possible--even true love, in the most unlikely circumstances.

The girl’s shy expression had turned to one of hopeful expectation, her cornflower blue eyes lighting with genuine joy. Angela gave her a nod, her gaze returning to settle on the man. In the striking depths of his sapphire eyes, Angela saw a personal agony with which she was familiar, a pain completely separate from the physical wound he had suffered.

A wound to his soul.

It drew her to him in spite of her intention to remain aloof. She placed a steadying hand on his side. He muffled a groan and stiffened at her gentle touch. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. He looked to be in much worse shape than she had first thought. When Angela drew her hand away, it was smudged red-brown in the fading light, and sticky with his blood. He took a shallow breath, raspy and ragged.

The older boy looked at her, eyes wide.

“Let’s get him inside,” she said, hiding most of her alarm. The stranger slid from the saddle with a harsh groan.


I hope you all have enjoyed my “LOOK” Challenge snippets. I had fun with this, and

will continue to be on the “LOOKOUT” for more instances of using “LOOK.” Please feel free to join me in posting your snippets from a current WIP or recent release. Give us a LOOK at how you use LOOK. LOL

GABRIEL’S LAW will (hopefully) be available in 2013.

TEMPTATION’S TOUCH will be available October 24, 2012 in both print and e-book format.

A NIGHT FOR MIRACLES will be available in time for the holidays this year as well.

For all my short stories, novellas, novels and other works in anthologies and collections, please click here:
https://www.amazon.com/author/cherylpierson

Saturday, July 28, 2012

FIRE EYES--PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE by Cheryl Pierson


Fire Eyes is always going to be the “book of my heart”—most special to me for several reasons. By the end of my writing career, it may not be said that it’s my best work, but it will always remain the most memorable, because it was my first one.

I know e-books are the wave of the future, but I’m old fashioned. I love to hold a real book in my hands and read from paper. And when that first box of print books arrived at my doorstep, I was elated. I can’t tell you how long I sat and fondled the books as I took them out of the box. BEAUTIFUL! My husband wondered if I was going to “rub the paint off” the covers. But there is nothing to compare with receiving your first box of YOUR OWN BOOK and opening it up—the smell, the feel , the excitement of finally bringing your story to life for others to enjoy.

Writing Fire Eyes happened by accident. I had written a much longer “saga” type novel, Brandon’s Gold, and had queried for it. I received several letters of interest back from agents, finally settling on one that I thought would be a good fit for me and for my book. His first question to me was, “Do you have anything shorter?” Through other responses received from my queries, I knew that Brandon’s Gold was far too long for a first novel; far too long to be commercially viable, so I wasn’t surprised.

I had already started working on another novel after finishing Brandon’s Gold. But halfway through that second novel, the idea for Fire Eyes occurred to me. I set my WIP aside and started writing Fire Eyes instead.

The story of Marshal Kaed Turner and Jessica Monroe unfolded quickly, but as I wrote it, I couldn’t keep from developing subplots that I feared would eventually make it too long, as well. Finally, I gave myself permission to just write the story and get it polished enough to send it out.


Eventually, Fire Eyes was contracted through The Wild Rose Press. I had a wonderful editor there, Helen Andrew, who literally made my dream come true. We worked on that manuscript and cut and edited until I sometimes wanted to cry. She really explained in detail why certain things couldn’t stand and had to go or be changed. But the end result was wonderful, and it couldn’t have happened without her. A lot of very hard work had gone into that story, not just from my perspective, but also from many other people who were involved in one way or another.

Fire Eyes was a 2010 Epic Award Finalist, and received many wonderful reviews, including a 4 star review from Romantic Times Magazine. It also received the “Reviewers Top Pick” award from PNR reviewer Karen M. Nutt.

Three years later, in April of this year, I asked for my rights back to Fire Eyes. I loved that story, but I wanted to put it out the way I had written it in the beginning. It was a great story, even with the edits, to be brought out in the TWRP romance line. But part of what ‘had to go’ for the TWRP guidelines was important to the story, in my mind. There were company guidelines to be followed when Helen and I had worked so hard three years ago to make it ‘fit’, and neither of us could change that. So we’d worked together to find a way to take out the parts that made it more “western” than “romance” and still came out with a fine story.

But I wanted to put it back together again, like I’d intended. I submitted the story to another small publisher who has an imprint for westerns and western romances, WESTERN TRAIL BLAZER. I was able to re-edit the book and add in much of what I’d had to take out or rewrite in the first version. It was released again, May 15, just three years shy of my first release date, with a brand new Jimmy Thomas cowboy cover and lots of renewed interest.

The e-book version is available now at Amazon, Lulu, Monkeybars, Barnes and Noble,

Sony and Apple, as well as many other e-book retailers.

Here are the links for Smashwords and Amazon:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/162817
http://www.amazon.com/Fire-Eyes-ebook/dp/B0083JYET8

The print version is also available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble, among other retailers. I’m very happy about breathing new life into this wonderful story. I’ve ordered my print copies, and I sat on the floor and ‘rubbed the paint off’ again when they arrived. And I’m so very grateful that I’ve had two chances to get my story out there—another thrill, a second time around!

Future plans for Fire Eyes? Evidently, many of my secondary characters in that story have piqued interest and requests for those characters to have their own stories. One of the younger deputy marshals, Travis Morgan, intrigued me so much I felt the same way! He needs his own story…and he’s going to get it. In Fire Eyes, Travis has been mentored by Kaed Turner, the main character of the story. He’s learned a lot during the time he’s been riding with Kaed, but he’s still relatively young and pretty arrogant.

The more I thought about Travis, the more I wondered about where he’d come from and why he’d decided to become a U.S. Federal Deputy Marshal in the first place—it was a thankless job; dangerous, and not well-paying. Why would he do it? And what would ever make him give it up, once it became the way of life he was familiar with?

A WOMAN, OF COURSE! And one that he never suspects will steal his heart. That’s what will be coming up in the sequel to Fire Eyes. I’ve also written another book, Gabriel’s Law, that I’m still looking for a publisher for, that has Travis as a character as a young boy, so we can see where he came from and gain a bit of insight into his character and the man he becomes later on.

Thanks to everyone who stopped by today to read. Please don’t forget to comment! I’ll leave you with a blurb and excerpt from Fire Eyes:

BLURB:
Marshal Kaed Turner is given a rare second chance at love with the mysterious woman the Choctaw call “Fire Eyes.” But can he quiet the ghosts from his past and protect the love that was stolen from him once before? There’s only one way: Kill outlaw Andrew Fallon, along with the murdering band of men he leads.

EXCERPT FROM FIRE EYES:
THE SET UP: Marshal Kaed Turner has been deposited on widow Jessica Monroe's front porch by a band of Choctaw Indians with orders from the chieftain: "Do not let him die." But can she save him? He's been severely beaten by a band of renegades that run the borderlands between Arkansas and Indian Territory. The last man they brought to her doorstep died. What will become of Marshal Turner? Can she save him?

FROM FIRE EYES:
The bath could be put off no longer. Kaed lay quietly, watching Jessica's nervousness.
"Jessi." When she looked at him, his bones liquefied. She wanted him. All question of how the night would end were answered as their eyes met and held over an achingly sweet moment.

Jessica sank her teeth into her lower lip, her fingers moving to the tiny row of buttons at the front of her day dress. She slowly began to work them open. "Kaed, would you, um, I mean, well, I need to get my bath now."

"I suppose that means I need to at least turn my head." His mouth was dry. It was hot in the cabin all of a sudden.

"Uh-huh." She kept right on unbuttoning the buttons, caught in his gaze. "And close your eyes."

Yeah, well it wouldn't matter if he did. He'd still see the picture she burned in his mind as she stood there opening those buttonholes.

Her fingers hesitated at the button just above the rich swell of her breasts. Kaed wet his lips, not turning his head or closing his eyes.

"Kaed?" Her voice was a husky whisper. That made him close his eyes. The sound of his name on her lips had him imagining doing all the things that a man did with a woman. All the things that were soon to come.

God. The heat was unbearable.

"Huh?" He slitted his still-swollen eyes open and saw she had released that button and moved down to the next one. He gritted his teeth.

"Turn…your…head." A teasing smile played about her mouth, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, what he was imagining.

Turning away would be a good thing right about now. If he could only persuade his neck to cooperate.

"Yeah. Okay." He turned his face toward the window. Sort of.

"I'm trusting you."

Kaed sighed, frustrated. "I know." It was the one thing she might've said that would have kept him true to his word, that part about trusting. He couldn't betray that. "I've gotta move slow. Hurts."

"Don't—" The dress whispered to the floor.

"I won't," he gritted, the words bitter in his mouth.


OH MY! I wonder what happens after that bath?
Please leave a comment. I love to hear from readers and other writers! For all my books and short stories, go to:
Cheryl's Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/cherylpierson

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

WHERE WRITERS GET IDEAS

By Caroline Clemmons



Every author is asked a gazillion times where he/she gets ideas for all his/her stories. People who aren’t writers--ie, normal people--don’t have all these people in their head talking to them. No, writers (at least most of us) aren’t schizophrenics and don’t have disassociative disorder. We have muses.

Muse at work
Muses are wonderful. Yep, and those muses consist of characters who talk to us until we write their story to get them to shut up. Not that we EVER want them to stop talking! Just the loudest ones, the ones who demand their story now, which is why we translate their epic from our muse to the computer as fast as possible. If you’ve ever wondered why an author slips in stories between releases of a series, that may be one reason.

Yesterday, Lauri Robinson said in her excellent post that writers are always writing, even when we are doing totally unrelated tasks. At the same time, we are always acquiring new ideas. Everything we see or hear becomes a “what if” kernel for a story plot.

For instance, on Thursday my friend told me her son, who is working in another state while his wife and daughter remain here, was very ill and had been to the ER. All the time she was relating her son’s experience, the friend part of me deeply sympathized with her. The writer part of me, though, was thinking, "Hey, what a great story idea! This would make such a good book if the heroines were....”

Muses sprinkle
fairy dust ideas
Don’t think I’m callous. I really do sympathize not only with a mother worried about her son, but with the ailing son stuck many states away from home. Terrible situation, but that’s what makes a great story. While sympathizing with her, the situation ignites my muse.

Even when we stare off into the distance, we are writing. This is hard on family members, who sometimes may think we’re not paying attention to the conversation. (We’re probably not.) My husband once asked me what I was staring at each day when I looked at our hay meadow from the breakfast room window. The answer is nothing. It’s just a pleasant scene to observe while I’m thinking, but sometimes I see only what's in my head, not anything real. One of my favorite cartoon comics is an old Shoe strip which shows him with his feet on his messy desk while staring off into space for a couple of frames. He almost looks as if he could be dozing. His nephew comes by and says something to him. Shoe snaps, “Can’t you see I’m writing?”
Fortunately, my husband is a true Hero and realizes my blank stares or semi-doze
states equate working out plots.

Staring into space
can be writing
Author Meg Chittendon said, “Many people hear voices when no one is there. Some of them are called mad and are shut up in rooms where they stare at walls all day. Others are called writers and they do pretty much the same thing.”

And we are simply incurable. There is no 12-Step Program for writers. That’s all right with me. There’s nothing I’d rather do than write. Although, I really enjoy having people read my books, especially if they have kind things to say.

One idea source I haven't experienced, but which many others have, is dreams. Some authors have entire books come to them in dreams. Others dream initial ideas. I just sleep. If I've been worrying because a scene doesn't feel right, then sometimes when I awake the next morning, the idea comes to me of what's needed to correct the scene. That's as much as I can claim.

Except for years in Southern California from ten months to age seven, I grew up in Texas. My husband and I live on a small acreage in rural North Central Texas. As early as I can remember, my father talked about his ancestors moving from Georgia to Texas in the 1800's. His stories fueled a love of history, especially Texas history. You can understand why each of my books is primarily set in Texas. In the event you are interested, and I hope you are, here are links to all my books, not just the romances.

Each is available from Amazon at .
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=caroline+clemmons&sprefix=Caroline+Clemmons
Those labeled with TWRP are also available from The Wild Rose Press at
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=index&manufacturers_id=638
My page at Smashwords is https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/CarolineClemmons

ALMOST HOME - contemporary mystery Amazon, Smashwords
BE MY GUEST contemporary romance Amazon, Smashwords
BRAZOS BRIDE historical romance Book One, Men of Stone Mountain trilogy, Amazon
DIGGING FOR DEATH cozy mystery, book one of Heather Cameron series
Amazon
HAPPY IS THE BRIDE historical novella, Amazon, Smashwords
HOME, SWEET TEXAS HOME contemporary romance TWRP
LONG WAY HOME historical novella, Amazon, Smashwords
OUT OF THE BLUE contemporary time travel romantic suspense TWRP
SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME historical novella TWRP
SNOWFIRES contemporary romance, Amazon, Smashwords
THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND historical romance, Book Two, Kincaids
Amazon, Smashwords
THE MOST UNSUITABLE WIFE historical romance, Book One, Kincaids
Amazon, Smashwords
THE TEXAN’S IRISH BRIDE historical romance TWRP

Thanks for stopping by!
Me with cup of tea, and my cat Bailey
wanting to be petted

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

STETSON , THE BOSS OF THE PLAINS


By Gini Rifkin

Gini Rifkin, Author

          I was delighted when Caroline invited me to quest blog on Sweethearts of the West. Although I have published two Medievals and two Victorians, my first western novella, SPECIAL DELIVERY, was released in May, and I’m thrilled to be heading into cowboy country.

       Brushing up on history of the American West, I felt it was essential to study the Stetson phenomenon. I needed to know if geographically my hero would have access to purchasing one of these hats, and if they were common or even in existence in the time period I chose for my story. I’m a stickler for detail regardless of the era, spend hours researching, and hope the end result is a story that feels real and offers a painless subliminal learning experience.

Here’s what I discovered about……..

                                   THE HAT THAT WON THE WEST

A cowboy without his hat is
simply a man on a horse.

       The concept of a broad-brimmed hat with a high crown worn by a rider on horseback can be seen as far back as the Mongolian horsemen of the 13th century. A tall crown provided insulation, the wide brim, shade. In hot, sunny climates, hats evolved to have extremely wide brims, such as the sombrero of Mexico.

        Before John Batterson Stetson created the “The Boss of the Plains”, men who drove cattle and worked the range sported any number of hat styles. They generally wore whatever headgear was required at their previous profession so it wasn’t unusual to see them in a sailor hat, a beret, derbies, Civil War paraphernalia, and even top hats. None of these were very useful out on the prairie. And luckily this was soon to change and a legend was about to be born.  

A cowboy and his horse are partners


         John Batterson Stetson started his life in East Orange, New Jersey in 1830. His father, Stephen Stetson, was a successful hatter and taught his children the hatting trade. But having developed tuberculosis as a young man, a doctor advised John B. to move west and in 1859 he struck out for St. Joseph, Missouri.

      While there, he tried to join the Union Army in the early 1860’s but was rejected do to his poor health. Undefeated he worked as a bricklayer which went fairly well until the river flooded and washed his business away. At loose ends, he joined a group heading west to the gold fields of Colorado.

      This didn’t “pan out” but during his stay in the mountains, he fashioned a head covering from beaver hides. After a mule driver paid him a $5 gold piece for the hat right off his head, Mr. Stetson, being no fool, decided to refine, manufacture and sell this type of product.

       By 1865 he was back in Philadelphia working in the hat manufacturing trade. A year later the “Boss of the Plains” came into being, and after that, came the front creased Carlsbad, destined to become “the” cowboy style. The Stetson® hat has captured the essence of the west, has become an American icon, and is now an indelible part of western history.
                                                 
 The Stetson®

           The rugged individualism of the West was perfectly represented by a hat that could be shaped differently by each wearer—a punched-in crown, a bended brim, a braided leather band—all were different ways to make a Stetson® one’s own.

         By 1886, Stetson owned the world’s biggest hat factory. Situated in Philadelphia it employed nearly 4,000 workers. And by 1906, the factory was putting out about 2 million hats a year. John B. transformed hat making from a manual to a mechanized industry by introducing iron cutting and shaping machines, and by improving quality control. He was also among the first U.S. tycoons to offer benefits to reward workers for hard work. He dispensed free health care to employees and gave shares in his company to valued workers. As a philanthropist, he founded Stetson University in Deland, Florida, and built a Philadelphia hospital.

Stetson's Hat Factory

             Inside the cowboy hat is a memorial bow to past hatters, who developed brain damage from treating felt with toxic mercury (which gave rise to the expression "Mad as a Hatter"). The bow on the inside hatband at the rear of the hat resembles a Skull and crossbones. Early hatters used mercury in the making of their felt. Their bodies absorbed mercury, and after several years of making hats, the hatters developed violent and uncontrollable muscle twitching. The ignorance of the times caused people to attribute these strange gyrations to madness, not mercury.

Other Hat Types offered by Stetson


                    SINGING COWBOYS IN TEN GALLON HATS


         In the 19th century and first half of the 20th century, a hat was an indispensable item in every man’s wardrobe. Stetson focused on expensive, high-quality hats that represented both a real investment for the working cowboy and a statement of success for the city dweller.

       Early on, Stetson® hats became associated with legends of the West, including “Buffalo Bill” Cody, Calamity Jane, Will Rogers, and Annie Oakley. It is said that George Custer rode into the Battle of Little Big Horn wearing a Stetson®. Later on, Western movie cowboys were quick to adopt the Stetson®. Many were drawn to the largest most flamboyant styles available. Tom Mix, an early-20th century movie star, wore a ten gallon hat (my Mom rode in his car).

Tom Mix in a Ten Gallon Stetson

      Texans were known for their preference for the "Ten Gallon," model, possibly so named for its enormous crown which at least appeared to be able to hold ten gallons were it to be dipped into a stream and used as a pail. An early Stetson® advertising image, a cowboy dipping his hat into a stream to provide water for his horse, symbolized the Cowboy hat as an essential part of a stockman’s gear.

         According to Win Blevins' DICTIONARY OF THE AMERICAN WEST (p388), the term "ten-gallon" has nothing to do with the hat’s liquid capacity, but derives from the Spanish word galón (braid), ten indicating the number of braids used as a hat band.
 
A cowboy was seldom without his hat

         The first American law-enforcement agency to adopt Stetson’s western hat as part of their uniform was the Texas Rangers. In the Second Boer War, the flat brimmed Stetson® became the standard issue of the second Canadian Contingent, becoming recognized throughout the British Empire as a symbol of Canada. Canadian police, The Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) Red Serge dress uniform includes a Stetson® with a flat brim.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police
adopted flat brimmed Stetsons®


     John B. created not only a hat but an image, a daydream inducing piece of clothing that has survived into the 21st century. A cowboy today might carry a GPS gizmo on his belt rather than an 1851 Colt Navy, but the hat is still the same. Tonight I'll be dreaming of Stetsons® and the men who wear them!

Don't know if this is a Stetson®,
don't care!

            My late husband Gary and I spent many years re-enacting the Mountain Man Era, attending rendezvous and making our own clothes accouterments, and foofaraws. It was a brilliant learning experience for my writer’s treasure trove of sights, sounds, smells, and just plain old tales of adventures.

Gary and Gini Rifkin

       For me, the road to publication has been long and arduous, yet well worth the tears and effort. My best advice, if I dare presume to give any, would be to rise out of the ashes of your rejection letters, and like the heroines in your books, don’t give up. And write not only what you know, but what you love. Never let age determine your dreams. My first romance was released one month before my 60th birthday.            
    Please visit www.ginirifkin.com and http://ginirifkin.blogspot.com                

SPECIAL DELIVERY only $1.99
At Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/Special-Delivery-Love-Letters-ebook/dp/B00801Q3RK/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1339978207&sr=1-1&keywords=Gini+Rifkin

 and The Wild Rose Press
http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=176_146&products_id=4838

and other online stores.



Clover City, Colorado—1888

      A mysterious letter and the drop-dead handsome town marshal, are the last things Mariah expects to find making rounds as a midwife.

      Mariah McAllister plans to be married before her next birthday. Too bad Marshal Virgil Kincaid barely knows she’s alive. Not one to give up easily, she’s determined to show him she has an abiding passion for more than her work.

     Virgil Kincaid loved a woman once—after she broke his heart, he spent three years in prison. Women can’t be trusted, no matter how good they look. He’s sworn off relationships in favor of Saturday night poker games. Life is simple—the way he wants it…until a stranger turns up dead in the road.

     Forced to work side by side with Mariah, Virgil begins to wonder if she might be his second chance at love. As they trade kisses and oh so much more, he’s willing to take the gamble. But when a killer threatens their once peaceful town, all bets are off.

SPECIAL DELIVERY Excerpt:
        Virgil Kincaid was a prime cut of man. Over six feet tall, he made Mariah’s five-foot seven height seem less gawky and awkward. And he was built for action, long and lean with broad shoulders—shoulders she hankered to hold onto—and with narrow hips—hips she could easily envision pressed up against her own.

      And then there were his eyes. Gray as the sky in winter, full of secrets, revealing nothing. Virgil had been the town Marshal for nearly three years, yet no one knew where he’d come from or how long he intended to stay. What would it take to light a fire in those eyes and put settling down in his thoughts?

       Her gaze drifted lower and latched onto the front of his Levi’s. A picture of what he might look like naked skittered across her mind and her cheeks grew hot at the imagining.

       “You done lookin?” he asked.

        Her gaze snapped up to meet his and the heat of humiliation replaced the lustful warmth.

        “Yes,” she babbled, “there doesn’t seem to be anything of interest here.”

        “Really?” he challenged, with a cocky grin and a raised brow.

         He stepped closer and stood so near she could smell the man scent of him as she tried to ratchet her breathing down to a more normal rate.

        “You’re a very unusual woman, Miss McAllister.”

        “Is that good or bad?” she dared to ask.

        “I’m not sure yet.”


Gini Rifkin lives and plays in Colorado where the moon rises over the prairie and the sun sets over the Rocky Mountains. When she's not reading or writing, she's caring for her Noah’s Ark of rescued animals. At present she has a chaotic but happy family of ducks, geese, goats, donkeys and cats. If you see her in a crowd she’ll probably be the one wearing a hat. It’s not quite a fetish but she's working on it.