Thursday, January 29, 2015
PRESENTS. . .
Éire's Devil King
Book 3 of Éire's Viking Trilogy
by Sandi Layne
Release Date: April 2 , 2015
Published by The Writers Coffee Shop
A man of ability and ambition, Tuirgeis Erlingrson has nurtured the desire to carve a place of leadership for himself on the Green Island, Éire, that he has raided multiple times. After the death of his wife in Nordweg, he takes his surviving son to Éire. Having connections with his adopted brother, Cowan, and Agnarr, his former countryman, Tuirgeis feels he has the support he needs to make his claims strong.
Agnarr is torn. His promise to Aislinn to remain with her on Éire is still in force, and he resists Tuirgeis’s requests to join the conquering forces from Nordweg. He desires above all things to maintain a safe home for his wife and children in Dal Fíatach. Charis encourages Cowan to do the same, though this makes for tense moments between them.
After initial disastrous attempts to achieve his ambition, Tuirgeis comes to learn that there is more to claiming a kingship than merely overpowering the locals. Tuirgeis finds himself at odds with the very people he had hoped would reinforce him. In addition, he wants to establish his father-line. He has one son; he wants another to be born of Éire. Will the woman of his choice accept and support him. At length, Agnarr and Aislinn—though she is heavy with child—sail with Cowan and Charis to join Tuirgeis as he battles over one final summer to attain the High Kingship of the island.
Tuirgeis knows he doesn’t have long to make his claims; the Danes are coming in greater numbers than before. As he wins men of Éire to his cause, he has to maintain the relationships he has already fostered with Agnarr and Cowan. Charis finds that her Otherworldly gifts are needed by a man she considers her enemy.
It was dark in the langhús, save for the glowing of the coals banked in the fire ring. Agnarr enjoyed his wife’s responsiveness to him, and when they made love, he never forgot to thank his new God for letting her live through the births of the children their bodies made together. Before the sun crept under the door and through the shutters over the new windows, they were smiling and silent and relishing the moments—he knew there would only be moments—before the children stirred in the bench-bed they shared. Later, as their son and daughter began shifting restlessly prior to awakening, Agnarr sat up and blew out a breath. “Wife.” “Yes, husband?” She joined him, finding his hand with hers in the shadowy enclosure of their private area. “We need to be ready. You need to be ready. You and the children.” She sighed and shifted on the blankets so that she was looking directly at him. As was her habit, she continued to touch him with her fingers as she spoke. “I can fight. And you gave Dow a real knife at the Christ Mass.” Discomfort tightened his stomach as he shook his head. “You need to be able to escape, just in case.” He knew far too well what would happen if someone found his attractive wife. Someone whom he didn’t know. Someone who would find her dark hair appealing and the tatú on her cheek mysterious and alluring. Someone who would want to take her as their leman, as he had once taken Charis. Someone who might take his son as a slave. Jaw tightening in anger, he shook his head again. Hard. “You know what can happen to you.” Her eyes were on his face, and he met their steady gaze. “And the children. You need to be able to get away. We should find a way to make you safe.”
~~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~~
Award winning author of short Celtic fiction, Sandi Layne is the creator of the Éire's Viking Trilogy, as well as works of contemporary Christian romance.
She began by self-publishing her novels in 2000, garnering a loyal group of readers whom she continues to appreciate to this day.
Married for more than twenty years to a fantastic man, she has two sons, no pets, and a plethora of imaginary friends. Her interests range from ancient civilizations to science fiction. With degrees in English and Ministry, she also claims Theology’s crimson Masters collar which she has been known to don on rare occasions.
If you drive by her window before dawn, it is likely she’ll have a light on for you. Or at the very least, she’ll be alert on twitter. She invites you to visit her online space at http://sandyquill.com.
~~CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR~~
~~OTHER TITLES IN THE SERIES~~
at 1:28 AM
Monday, January 26, 2015
A Lady Shunned by All…
Lady Viola Oberbrook only wanted to forget the ill-fated early morning duel that took the lives of two young, wealthy, promising men of the ton and sent her fleeing for her father’s country estate. Eight years later, she has her life in order: a fulfilling business, a few trusted friends, and no plans to return to London society. What she doesn’t expect is to come face to face with her past.
A Lord Betrayed by One…
Brock Spencer, Earl of Haversham, only wants vengeance. Recently returned from his military service to the King, his plans include repairing his family estate, finding a bride, and destroying the girl responsible for the untimely death of his twin brothers. What he doesn’t anticipate is falling in love with the only woman who should never be part of his future.
An Impossible Match, Destined to Be…
8 years ago…
Viola clutched the handle of her pink parasol to her chest tightly in anticipation of the spectacle to come. Her gaze fixed on the two figures shrouded in the early morning fog of Hyde Park. The men, really only boys, began to count as they paced away from each other. Shiny, pearl-handled pistols positioned in their right hands were at the ready.
She clamped her lips tight to suppress the giggle that threatened to escape.
Who would have thought that she, Lady Viola Oberbrook, would have two men seeking her hand in marriage...and in the first week of her very first season, no less? That they were the twin sons of Lord Haversham was an even greater coup de grǎce for her. She’d be the envy of every debutante. The talk of the town. As well she should be! Her father was the Duke of Liperton, after all.
If only she’d found a way to get all of London here to witness the duel. She’d done what she could by leaving word with Mrs. Tenchard. The old gossipmonger was sure to spread the word more quickly than Vi could spend her monthly allowance at the milliner’s shop.
And Vi prided herself on her ability to spend her father’s money.
“Miss Viola, beg’n yer pardon, but it be wise to don ye wool kid gloves,” her lady’s maid, Sarah, whispered beside her.
“Shhhh,” Vi hissed in return, raising her hand for Sarah to hold her tongue. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of what was to come. She would remember this for the rest of her existence. The day two men of the haute ton battled in her honor. She sighed.
The twins—Cody, with his hair cut longer than the current fashion permitted, and sporting a determined glint in his eye, and Winston, with his smartly trimmed blond hair falling respectfully above his collar—reached the required twenty-pace distance and turned.
Their pistols fired in unison. Vi’s heart soared. Her first duel...and certainly not her last, if she had anything to say in the matter.
The swift morning breeze pushed the smoke from the scene as both men dropped to the ground, soggy with morning dew. Shouts of urgency rang out in the air. Men rushed in to assist the twins.
A cold chill inched up her spine; her breath caught in her lungs.
Neither man moved.
A sharp inhale of breath sounded next to her, but Vi was hesitant to remove her attention from the scene as the pungent smell of a spent firearm reached her.
“Call Doc Durpentire. Post haste!” bellowed Mr. Rodney Swiftenberg. As a distant relative of the Havershams’, Swiftenberg stood as Cody’s second during the duel. Others, vaguely familiar, knelt over both fallen men.
The gossip rags would have much to write about this day. Vi could hardly wait to see her name in print. Maybe her father would increase her dowry, seeing as she would be in high demand by the day’s end.
“Miss,” Sarah called. “I think it best we be head’n home. Ye Pa is going to be right mad when he finds you snuck out and now these poor men be lying dead at ye very feet.”
“Surely you jest. They are simply play acting for dramatics...in my honor, I do suppose.” Viola eyed the two groups of men where they stood, their heads shaking in turn. One took his coat off and laid it gently over Cody’s still body. Vi’s glare snapped to Winston, where another man shook out a horse blanket. The thick, coarse material drifted on the morning breeze and settled on the second body.
She studied the scene in front of her. It had the potential to be ever so romantic. A story she would regale her grandchildren with. It was a shame neither twin was the first born and, therefore, unworthy of her hand. But she’d seen no reason to inform them of this minor issue and spoil her fun. They’d find out soon enough.
Slowly, the eyes of every person present settled on her. She took a step back at the harshness of their stares. Her chilled hand rose to cover her mouth. She wanted to tell them to avert their eyes; she was the daughter of a Duke. They need show the respect due her. None of these men held a title higher than Baron. How dare they look at her thus?
A tall, slender man carrying a large cloth bag rushed to Winston. She assumed this was Doc Durpentire. He would have both men patched up in no time. But with both Cody and Winston taking a bullet, their feud would not be resolved. Viola imagined what the pair would think up next to prove one deserved her hand over the other. Perhaps a curricle race through Mayfair District. She knew she would be able to convince Cody to let her ride along on the adventure. She could practically feel the wind against her face as the carriage took the corners at a high speed, shifting across the seat so that her soft body might come to rest against Cody’s hard one.
Imagine what the silly, empty-brained young females would think. They’d envy her further. An unbidden smile played across her lips.
The doctor drew the heavy blanket aside and his hands moved over Winston’s body. Then, they stilled. His head dropped forward. He spoke to the men around him, but Vi was too far to hear their conversation.
Rodney, hands shoved deep in his pockets, moved in her direction.
“Whatever is the matter with them?” she asked when he was close enough to hear.
“I think you should go, Lady Viola. This is not a scene any innocent maiden should witness,” Rodney replied. His blond hair was so much like Cody and Winston’s, but his attitude had always struck her as arrogant for a man with no title or wealth to speak of.
“Who are you to order me about?” Viola closed her parasol with a swift click and handed it to Sarah, her hands coming to rest on her rounded hips.
“It is not the time for this. My cousins...they are both dead.” Rodney paused. “I must alert my uncle to his misfortune.”
“You are mistaken.”
“I assure you, no mistakes have been made this day.” He abruptly turned, stalking back to the crowd gathering between the fallen men.
He must be jesting, Viola thought. She looked between the fallen pair again, their motionless bodies so at odds with the twins she’d come to know in recent days. The heat of exhilaration drained from her as a hand settled at her elbow. Viola felt the calloused fingertips through her thin morning cloak.
“We should be going, Miss.”
Vi shook Sarah’s imploring touch from her arm and tried to focus her gaze on something—anything—other than the lifeless men on the ground.
“Well,” Viola stated. “This was…” Dread clawed at her insides, and her spirit shattered as she stared at the two men lying prone and unmoving before her. “…unexpected.” Her entire life had been leading up to this moment—a life of societal demands and the rigors one had to follow to be accepted. A life that had just stopped, as quickly as those of the two men who now lay dead. Dead. She had murdered these men—the realization came at her all at once, even as her mind rebelled. Cody and Winston, the silly twins who had entertained her so, were no more. Yet, she continued to breathe. With each breath, standing in the chill of early morning in Hyde Park, she felt the obligations of her station, its standards and protocols too powerful for a seventeen-year-old girl to overcome.
She glanced around her for help, for someone to tell her what to do, but all focus was on the boys on the ground. Years of being taught how to behave hadn’t prepared her for anything like this.
“Miss, what should we do?”
“I suppose we should…” She cleared her throat. “I suppose it is time to start over.” She sensed, somehow, that starting over might be impossible.
“Start over, Miss?” Her maid’s dark brow pulled low over her eyes.
Viola straightened her already impeccably postured back and forced her prized smile before continuing. “To find another suitor, you silly girl! This time, I intend to set my sights a bit higher.” She spun on her heels, determined not to stumble, to not falter before so many. She started back towards her carriage, moving through the men without meeting anyone’s eye, feeling the weight of their stares as she passed. It didn’t matter. She had the evening’s entertainments to prepare for and an image to uphold—no matter the cost to her soul.
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A lady forgotten by all...
Ruby St. Augustin must find the truth of her past to determine what her future holds. She only has a short time in London to uncover the identity of her real father and the secrets behind her birth. If anyone learns of her mission, she will disgrace everyone she holds dear. What she doesn't expect is to draw the attention of a man who doesn't care about his reputation or her past.
A man mesmerized by one...
Harold Jakeston is a man without wealth or title. Resigned to a life he loathes, Harold has the chance at a few weeks of freedom before being trapped in a future he wants no part of. When he's drawn into the mysterious quest of a woman from his past, he embraces the opportunity to forget the life that awaits him. What he never anticipated is falling in love with a woman who ignites his desire to create a new future for himself and for her.
A love neither can abandon..
Forgotten No More, A Lady Forsaken (Book Two)
Ruby took a deep breath before trying the final drawer that could hold all the answers to her past, her true heritage. Her lungs expanded; she held the air inside. She didn’t exhale until it burned. With trembling fingers, she reached for the last drawer and pulled.
Her nicely trimmed nails nearly snapped when her grasp on the handle slipped from the force of her tug. The drawer hadn’t budged.
“Oh, poppy cocks!” she hissed. Moving her hands to the folds of her evening gown, Ruby procured a small pouch tucked neatly into a hidden pocket. Setting it on the desk, she pulled out her array of lock-picking devices, really only hairpins and small wires she’d collected since her first night—and her first failed attempt at breaking into a desk—to help her disengage the drawer.
She had to know what secrets this lord held. Would she find an envelope inside labelled ‘Abandoned Daughter,’ or a report from the Bow Street Runners with details about herself—her hair color, the particular green shade of her eyes, places she’d been, perhaps the details of her activities over the course of her life?
Nothing worth finding was that simply ascertained.
No man, married or not, would leave record of their nefarious past. It was more likely her father had not spared her, or her mother, a second thought after throwing his pregnant mistress from his townhouse in the middle of the night with no coat and no means to get home.
Ruby was anything but a fool, but she found herself continuing to search regardless. She didn’t need a signed confession—she just needed that letter opener.
Picks in hand, she knelt before the locked drawer and eyed the keyhole, blowing a wayward strand of hair that had fallen across her face. She’d been unsuccessful more often than not when attempting to open locked drawers. But luck may have been on her side this evening. She’d entered the ball with little fuss, shortly after the host and hostess had quit the receiving line. It was surprising how similar the layout of most London townhouses were. Ruby had navigated the halls of the second floor and found the room she sought fairly quickly, encountering not a soul.
The pins slipped into the lock and her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick her lips as she concentrated on moving them exactly right to click the lock over. She fought to keep her hands steady when sweat broke out across her forehead. She was running out of time.
Ruby applied a bit too much pressure and the pin snapped, falling uselessly into the locked drawer. “Damn you to hell, mother!” she cursed and sat back, wiping her slick brow.
She’d always viewed herself as a sensible girl, a dutiful daughter, and an honest friend. She could only imagine the horror on Vi’s face if she saw her now. A common thief. A midnight prowler. A defiler of privacy.
Although, it could not be helped.
She sought answers and at the moment all she had was an endless list of questions.
Gaining her feet once more, she bundled her kit and slipped it back into her pocket. She turned her attention to the long table against the wall behind the desk. Leaning over, she ran her hand along the underside of the ornately carved piece, feeling for hidden compartments or—if her luck returned—a forgotten folder of papers.
“Sherry, Miss Ruby?” an oddly familiar voice asked behind her.
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Christina McKnight is a book lover turned writer. From a young age, her mother encouraged her to tell her own stories. She’s been writing ever since. Currently, she focuses on Historical Romance, Urban Fantasy, and Paranormal Romance.
Christina enjoys a quiet life in Northern California with her family, her wine, and lots of coffee. Oh, and her books…don’t forget her books! Most days she can be found writing, reading, or traveling the great state of California.
Follow her on Twitter: @CMcKnightWriter
Keep up to date on her releases: www.christinamcknight.com
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at 2:18 PM
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Publication Date: October 7, 2014
Cool Gus Publishing
Formats: eBook, Paperback
The William Shakespeare Detective Agency
Genre: Historical Mystery
"My name is William Shakespeare. No, not that Shakespeare; and no jests please, I’ve heard them all. I’m the other one, the ne’er do well cousin, the loafer, known to family and friends as the dunce, the one who could not recite Cicero or Horace, who could never be as good as his clever cuz, the one who has just come to Bishopsgate from Stratford with silly dreams in his head and a longing to make something more of himself than just a glover’s handyman.” What he finds in London is Lady Elizabeth Talbot, who is willing to pass a few shillings to this blundering brawler if he will help her find her husband. Poor William does not realize the trail will lead to the truth behind the death of Shakespeare’s great rival, Christopher Marlowe - or to a lifelong love affair with a woman far above his station. Each book tells the story of William’s adventures as England’s first gumshoe, set against turbulent Elizabethan politics; of his romantic pursuit of the impossible Elizabeth Talbot; while charting the career of his up and coming dramatist cousin, the bard of Stratford, but just Will to his family.
Buy the BookAmazon US
Barnes & Noble
About the AuthorBorn in London, Colin first trialed as a professional football player in England, and was eventually brought to Australia. He went to Sydney and worked in TV and radio and freelanced for many of Australia’s leading newspapers and magazines. He has published over twenty novels and his work has so far been translated into 23 languages. He travels regularly to research his novels and his quest for authenticity has led him to run with the bulls in Pamplona, pursue tornadoes across Oklahoma and black witches across Mexico, go cage shark diving in South Africa and get tear gassed in a riot in La Paz. He currently lives in Barcelona. For more information please visit Colin Falconer’s website. You can also find him on Facebook or follow on Twitter.
The School of Night Blog Tour ScheduleSaturday, January 10
Spotlight at Historical Readings and Views
Monday, January 12
Review at Flashlight Commentary
Tuesday, January 13
Spotlight at Layered Pages
Thursday, January 15
Interview at Teddy Rose Book Reviews
Friday, January 16
Spotlight at CelticLady's Reviews
Monday, January 19
Spotlight at Susan Heim on Writing
Tuesday, January 20
Review at Book Nerd
Thursday, January 22
Review at Just One More Chapter
Friday, January 23
Spotlight at A Literary Vacation
Saturday, January 24
Spotlight at Historical Fiction Obsession
Sunday, January 25
Review at Beth's Book Nook Blog
Monday, January 26
Review at Boom Baby Reviews
Wednesday, January 28
Review at Carpe Librum
Thursday, January 29
Interview at Mina's Bookshelf
Interview at Books and Benches
Spotlight at The Never-Ending Book
Friday, January 30
Review at Brooke Blogs
Friday, February 6
Spotlight at Passages to the Past
at 12:10 AM
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Date Published: November 5, 2014
Wesley Webb is at the pinnacle of his auto racing career when his main rival is murdered hours after their confrontation. That, along with evidence found at the scene, shades him as prime suspect. Now he’s under intense press scrutiny, particularly from Caitlyn Daniels, an ex-girlfriend who knows all about his secret past.
Caitlyn thought to never see Wesley again. Now, his life could be in her hands. Ten years ago, a tragedy tore apart everything she held dear, including their relationship. When she’s assigned to do an exclusive story with the reluctant race car driver she once loved, she believes this could be her purging. But chemistry tears apart her resolve to stay strong. Can they work out their differences and fall in love again, or will tragedy keep them apart?
She took a deep breath. Usually her interviews became more personal. She wasn’t sure how personal to get with him. She knew a lot about him—at least she used to—but she was scared of asking him the wrong thing. She didn’t want to set him off.
“What’s your favorite color?” Caitlyn held a pen in her hand, poised to write, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. Her focus, though, was Wesley’s deep green eyes. Eyes able to pierce her and reach a part of her no one had ever been able to touch before. Something about the way he looked at her, like he saw only her, deep down, clear to her soul.
A hint of danger lurked in his eyes, a predator-like stance that made her sense he was ready to devour her, sexually and otherwise. A vulnerability that made Caitlyn yearn to take him in her arms, to be as close to him as possible. His gaze held no arrogance, no indifference, and no deceit.
Her throat felt parched. His eyes devoured every morsel of her power and well-being.
She couldn’t think of a decent thing to say. Thank God it was his turn to talk.
“My favorite color,” he said as he leaned across the table, closer to Caitlyn, “is the capricious color of your eyes.”
His lips were only inches from hers so that his breath licked against her skin. His eyes possessed her.
She clutched her pen in midair, frozen in space for a mere second. He touched her hand.
The pen fell.
“Blueberry,” he said as he trailed a light kiss across her knuckle, his eyes still magnetizing hers. Her heart stopped in her throat. “Dark and wounded. Cornflower blue, tantalizing with banter and witticism.” He kissed the tip of her pinkie and went on to taste each finger, slowly taking his time with each one. “Sea blue, bright and sparkling like the waves catching a sunset, when you’re happy.”
Caitlyn, entranced with his words, was amazed he even noticed her eyes and more amazed he practically recited poetry. Where had he come up with this?
“Storm clouds,” he continued as he stroked the inside of her palm. “Brewing with a passion and desire you’re too afraid to feel. Sometimes periwinkle, sometimes almost lavender and sometimes a sultry gray. Right now though, they are definitely–”
She pulled her hand away and scooted back in her chair. Thoroughly aroused, she squeezed her thighs tighter in an attempt to bury the spark.
“You’re full of it,” she said. “My eyes don’t change colors that much and even if they did, you wouldn’t notice.”
“What makes you say that?” He leaned back in his chair, taking the two back legs to its haunches, something they both used to get in trouble for when they were kids.
She shook her head and didn’t answer. The touch of his warm mouth on her fingers still burned in her core.
“I always notice your eyes.”
About the Author
During her senior year in high school, Angela Smith was dubbed most likely to write a novel, and that has been her dream ever since her mother read stories of 'Brer Rabbit' to her and her sister so often that they were able to recite it back to each other before they learned to read. She hasn't stopped reading or writing since. A certified paralegal, work gives her perfect fodder for her romantic suspense stories. When not caring for her small farm or spending time with her husband of two decades, she enjoys 4-wheeling, crafting, reading, and dreaming of the places she'll visit one day.
at 5:50 PM
Saturday, January 17, 2015
GUEST POST & GIVEAWAY: Fair Rosamund, Mistress of Henry II by E.M. Powell Author of The Blood of the Fifth Knight
Fair Rosamund, Mistress of Henry II
King Henry II has a deserved infamous reputation for extra-marital affairs. By far the most well-known of his mistresses is Rosamund Clifford, the young woman who is often referred to as Fair Rosamund. I feature her as a character in my latest medieval thriller, The Blood of the Fifth Knight. Somebody has made an attempt on her life. Outraged, Henry calls on the only man he can trust to track down the would-be killer: Sir Benedict Palmer, my fictional hero from the previous book, The Fifth Knight.
When creating the character of Rosamund, I took my lead from Gerald of Wales, Henry's contemporary acid-penned chronicler, who refers to her as 'that rose of unchastity.' Such descriptions are a bit of a gift to a novelist. But it isn’t just me who decided to write a version of her. Rosamund’s story (or rather, the documented lack of it) has been embellished by layers of myths and legends over the last eight centuries.
Born to Sir Walter de Clifford, a knight who had served Henry faithfully, Rosamund may have begun her affair with Henry at a very young age. The affair became open and public in 1174 when Henry had imprisoned his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, for her part in a rebellion against him. Later chroniclers mistakenly claimed that Rosamund bore Henry children, but there is no evidence that she did so.
The bearing of children is one of the tamer stories that grew up around Rosamund. Ranulf Higdon, monk of Chester, born almost a century after her death, claimed that Henry had built pleasure gardens and a labyrinth or a maze for her at Woodstock in Oxfordshire. There is no evidence of such structures at the site which is located near Blenheim Palace. The spring and pond known as Rosamund's Well were not part of the buildings at Woodstock when Rosamund lived there.
But that didn't stop the rumour factory of popular imagination. A further embellishment was that Rosamund had been murdered by Eleanor, who had found her in the maze.
Thomas Deloney, a renowned writer of popular ballads who died about 1600, wrote 'The Ballad of Fair Rosamond'. An edition in circulation between 1658 and 1664 is titled: 'A mournful ditty of the lady Rosamond, king Henry the seconds concubine, who was poysoned to death by Queen Elenor in Woodstocst [sic] bower near Oxford.'
Poet Samuel Daniel wrote 'The Complaint of Rosamond' in 1592 and dedicated it to his wealthy patron, Mary, Countess of Pembroke. Again, the myth of Eleanor poisoning Rosamund endures, with Rosamund uttering such lines in the poem as:
‘And after all her vile reproches used,
She forc'd me take the poyson she had brought...
The poysoon soone disperc'd through all my vaines,
Had dispossess'd my living sences quite.’
There continued to be numerous references to Eleanor carrying out the ghastly murder of Rosamund. As well as poisoning, there was stabbing, burning, bleeding and doing something unmentionable with toads. In Alfred, Lord Tennyson's play, Becket, Rosamund becomes the reason for Archbishop Thomas Becket's murder in Canterbury Cathedral.
Rosamund's life certainly was cut short. She died at Godstow Nunnery in Oxford in 1176 to where she had retired. The cause of her death is not known. Henry paid for a highly decorated tomb to be erected before the altar at Godstow. The records also show Sir Walter de Clifford making grants of 'several mills and a meadow' to Godstow in memory of his wife and daughter.
Henry's generosity continued after his death in 1189. Bishop Hugh of Lincoln visited in 1191 and found the tomb still adorned with silk cloths and looked after by the nuns in accordance with Henry's wishes. Bishop Hugh, however, took a rather dim view of what he found. He ordered the removal of Rosamund's tomb to the nearby cemetery for 'she was a harlot.'
It was finally destroyed during Henry VIII's Dissolution. But even Henry VIII couldn't succeed in wiping out the memory of Fair Rosamund. She still endures today, through poetry, paintings and of course novels. My story of her is one among many. I hope you’ll come and check it out!
at 9:42 AM
Friday, January 16, 2015
Publication Date: January 1, 2015
Thomas & Mercer
Formats: eBook, Paperback
Genre: Historical Thriller
A triumphant sequel to Powell’s acclaimed historical thriller The Fifth Knight. A desperate king trusts a lone knight to unravel a web of murder. England, 1176. King Henry II has imprisoned his rebellious Queen for her failed attempt to overthrow him. But with her conspirators still at large and a failed assassination attempt on his beautiful mistress, Rosamund Clifford, the King must take action to preserve his reign. Desperate, Henry turns to the only man he trusts: a man whose skills have saved him once before. Sir Benedict Palmer answers the call, mistakenly believing that his family will remain safe while he attends to his King. As Palmer races to secure his King’s throne, neither man senses the hand of a brilliant schemer, a mystery figure loyal to Henry's traitorous Queen who will stop at nothing to see the King defeated. The Blood of the Fifth Knight is an intricate medieval murder mystery and worthy sequel to E.M. Powell's acclaimed historical thriller The Fifth Knight.
The Blood of the Fifth Knight by E.M. Powell is definitely my favorite read of the year so far. I know it’s early in the year, but I have a feeling it will remain a front runner, because it was truly a fantastic read. The book held me from beginning until end, and I was completely lost in the lives of Sir Benedict Palmer, his wife Theodosia, and King Henry II life and court. The author definitely has a knack when it comes to making the words on a page come to life for the reader, and making everything completely realistic. The setting was described in such amazing detail that I could imagine myself right there with the characters, and it’s been awhile since I’ve really gotten lost in a book like I did with this book. I loved that the author kept the reader guessing with different twists and turns in the action. You would think the plot was heading in one direction, and then something surprising would happen and take the plot in a totally different direction. I truly liked the characters Sir Benedict and Theodosia. They were well-written and impossible not to like. As a reader you were rooting for them and for their love to make it through any hardship that was put in their way. I did not realize that this was a sequel to the first book, The Fifth Knight. The author did a great job at creating this book to stand alone. I did not feel that I was missing anything from the first book, except maybe a little background on Palmer and Theodosia’s relationship and some other small details while I was reading. Overall I found The Blood of the Fifth Knight to be a great read, and I would definitely recommend it to any lover of historical fiction.
I give this book a FIVE out of FIVE stars!
Review Praise for The Fifth Knight"Powell does a masterful job. Highly recommended." Historical Novels Review
About the AuthorE.M. Powell is the author of medieval thriller THE FIFTH KNIGHT which was a #1 Amazon Bestseller. Born and raised in the Republic of Ireland into the family of Michael Collins (the legendary revolutionary and founder of the Irish Free State) she now lives in the north west of England with her husband and daughter and a Facebook-friendly dog. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society, International Thriller Writers and Romance Writers of America. She is a reviewer of fiction and non-fiction for the HNS. Find out more by visiting www.empowell.com. You can also connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.
The Blood of the Fifth Knight Blog Tour ScheduleThursday, January 1
Review at Flashlight Commentary
Friday, January 2
Spotlight at With Her Nose Stuck in a Book
Monday, January 5
Review at Beth's Book Nook Blog
Thursday, January 8
Spotlight & Giveaway at Passages to the Past
Monday, January 12
Review & Giveaway at Broken Teepee
Character Interview at Boom Baby Reviews
Tuesday, January 13
Review at Oh, For the Hook of a Book
Wednesday, January 14 Interview at Oh, For the Hook of a Book
Spotlight at A Literary Vacation
Friday, January 16
Review at Historical Fiction Obsession
Saturday, January 17
Interview at Dianne Ascroft
Guest Post & Giveaway at Historical Fiction Obsession
Monday, January 19
Review at Ageless Pages Reviews
Tuesday, January 20
Review at Books and Benches
Spotlight & Giveaway at Teddy Rose Book Reviews Plus More
Wednesday, January 21
Review at Just One More Chapter
Monday, January 26
Spotlight at Susan Heim on Writing
Wednesday, January 28
Review at Kinx's Book Nook
Friday, January 30
Review at Bookramblings
Saturday, January 31
Spotlight at Caroline Wilson Writes
Sunday, February 1
Review at Carole's Ramblings
Monday, February 2
Guest Post at The Lit Bitch
Tuesday, February 3
Review at Layered Pages
Spotlight at Let them Read Books
Wednesday, February 4
Spotlight at CelticLady's Reviews
Friday, February 6
Review at The Never-Ending Book
at 9:03 AM
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Crumpets and Cowpies
by Shanna Hatfield
Series: Baker City Brides, #1
Genre: Historical/Western Romance
Release Date: January 15, 2015
Rancher Thane Jordan reluctantly travels to England to settle his brother’s estate only to find he’s inherited much more than he could possibly have imagined.
Lady Jemma Bryan has no desire to spend a single minute in Thane Jordan’s insufferable presence much less live under the same roof with the handsome, arrogant American. Forced to choose between poverty or marriage to the man, she finds herself traveling across an ocean and America to reach his ranch in Oregon.
“I agree, Weston. The longer we wrangle with this won’t make it any easier.” Thane looked to Jemma and she gave an almost imperceptible nod for him to continue. “I’ve taken into consideration Henry’s wishes, the needs of the children, and what would be most beneficial to all parties involved.”
When Thane paused, Jemma leaned forward, waiting. “And…?”
“I think Weston’s idea holds merit. In the vein of doing what is best for the children, I’m requesting the honor of your hand in marriage, Miss Bryan.”
“You are what?” Jemma rocked back so hard in her chair, it nearly tipped over. A most unladylike grab for the edge of the table is all that kept her upright. “How could I possibly marry you? I don’t love you. I can’t even claim to like you, Mr. Jordan. You are quite possibly the most maddening man I’ve ever met.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, honey. I sure didn’t take one gander at you and fall madly in love. You’re the most opinionated, obstinate, razor-tongued woman I’ve had the misfortune of encountering.” Thane held up a hand to silence her when she opened her mouth in rebuttal. “However, you love my brother’s children with a fierce devotion and I don’t want to take them away from you. What I propose is a marriage of convenience, in name only. Your sterling reputation will remain untarnished. As my wife, I’d provide for you, protect you, and share whatever I have with you. Everything except my bed.”
Jemma drew a deep breath, prepared to lambast him, but Thane’s stoney glare held a warning.
“Before you insult me further or push my patience beyond endurance, I encourage you to think over your next words very carefully. If you need time to consider my offer, I plan to spend the day at Henry’s office, going over his accounts. You can give me your answer this evening.”
Without waiting for her response, Thane rose from the table and strode from the room.
A hopeless romantic with a bit of sarcasm thrown in for good measure, Shanna Hatfield is a best-selling author of clean romantic fiction written with a healthy dose of humor. In addition to blogging and eating too much chocolate, she is completely smitten with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller.
Shanna creates character-driven romances with realistic heroes and heroines. Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”
She is a member of Western Writers of America, Women Writing the West, and Romance Writers of America.
at 12:26 PM