Guest Blogger: Aleigha Siron

The world is fraught with miscommunication, and that failure of communication plays a central role between the love interests in every romance novel.

The basis for all breakdowns in communication stems from cultural differences, prior relationships, deeply ingrained methods of speaking or phrasing used to gauge another persons position on given topics, and a whole encyclopedia full of psychological issues.

Each party in any conversation sends out nonverbal cues, often without any awareness that they are doing so. It is nearly impossible to imagine the tangled mess two people from completely different time periods would find themselves in when attempting to converse about the simplest matters. Especially when a modern day woman finds herself dumped into a period where women had no rights, possessed no control over their destinies, and were often used as bargaining chips when settling disputes between warring factions.

The following excerpt from Finding My Highlander, is one of many examples where miscommunication reins. Yet in the end, a man and a woman strongly attracted to each other will find a means to connect and resolve their miscommunications.

Oh no, that might spell disaster, just as it does so often in modern day situations!

*****

Excerpt:

“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”

He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.

“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.

He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.

She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.

“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”

She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.

“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.

Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.

“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.

A growl? Really?

Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.

“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”

“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”

The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”

Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”

“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”

The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.

His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

*****

Blurb:

On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family's ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can't deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?

Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she's a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.


Buy Links

Amazon us: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01DFGYURE/ref=as_li_ss_tl

Amazon uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01DFGYURE

Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-my-highlander-aleigha-siron/1123595128

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/finding-my-highlander/id1097148126?mt=11

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/625227

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/finding-my-highlander

*****

Author Bio and Media Links

After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry. Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades. Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre. As she says, "who doesn't desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?" Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind. Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel. Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.

WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage): http://aleighasiron.com/

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Siron_Aleigha/finding-my-highlander.htm

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/index.htm

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AleighaSiron

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Aleigha-Siron/


*****

GIVEAWAY!

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New Release from Lucy Felthouse – City Nights: One Night in Budapest (@cw1985) #newrelease #erotica #romance #newadult #NA #tirgearr

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Guest Blogger: Mary O'Sullivan - The Bottom Line

The best advice I ever received as a writer was to apply the seat of my pants to a chair, pen to paper, and write. That was a long time ago. The technology has changed but the essence of the advice is still the same – stop talking about writing, sit down and do it.

So you get an idea for a novel. You let it stew in your head for a while. It develops characters, plots, begins to nag you into solidifying the idea into words, the words into a story. Eventually the day comes when you sit in front of your computer, open up a blank document and start typing. Enthusiasm will fuel you to begin a novel. The words flow, hours race by as the story clamours to be put on screen. Suddenly you realise you have forgotten to eat lunch. No time to cook, you shove some meat and mayo between two slices of bread , or maybe just pour some cereal into a bowl .You bring the food back to your desk , worried that inspiration will dry up if you leave your work for more than five minutes. You sit again .And eat. And type. And sit.

It has been my experience that the frenetic activity of novel beginnings soon fades away. Three thousand flowing words per writing session becomes three hundred words wrung out with blood sweat and tears. I always start my mornings by editing what I wrote the day before. During this slow phase of novel writing, which I think of as the settling in period, it often happens that I delete two hundred, or even all, of the previous day’s work. This is the stage I know that enthusiasm is not enough. Discipline, that glowering, ram rod straight, lettuce eating, old bore must be brought to bear. Without it, doubtless the story would never be finished. So I dutifully sit and stare as I produce a sentence in one hour , delete it the next, make sandwiches , pour cereal. Sit. And eat. And stare. And sit.

Once the words start to flow again, it’s all guns blazing towards the halfway point. I know every author’s experience is different , but I find I hit a dip at the 70,000 word mark. Treacherous doubt begins to nag. That sinister internal voice begins to whisper that the story is no good. In fact it’s rubbish and it had better be got rid of it before anyone sees it. I would be a laughing stock. My confidence drifts away. I sit and stare at the screen, debating between deletion or reconstructing it entirely from the beginning. Hunger gnaws but I know if I leave the desk long enough to cook a proper meal, I may never go back there again. So I grab a bar of chocolate. Comfort food. I sit. And eat. And draw comfort from the chocolate. And sit.

That phase eventually over, I knock sparks out of the keyboard. The writing hours become even longer. I belt out chapters, afraid to stop in case I lose the flow. In a chocolate, cereal and sandwich fuelled frenzy, me and my characters hurtle towards ‘The End’. I am so tired at the end of each day that it feels as if I have climbed a mountain. But of course I have not. I have been eating. And sitting. And then doing eating and sitting all over again.

Even as I type the magic words, ‘The End’, I know this is just another beginning. I must start again at Chapter One , deleting, correcting, tightening up , sending characters on a different course , realising that blue eyes in chapter two had become green eyes in chapter eleven , that a ‘there’ and a ‘their’ had been mixed up . This self-editing is very demanding. Some of my favourite, and over- used, words have to hit the deck. My mother told me my first word was ‘now’. I still love it and use it all the time. It’s such a versatile word, adaptable to many situations, but it really doesn’t need to be in every second sentence. And so I sit and edit. And grab some quick food. And sit.

Next stage, after two edits, is to print out the story. Strange how different a story reads on screen and on the printed page. I always pick up errors in print I would have missed on screen. Perhaps it has something to do with the speed your eye scans the screen as against the page. Whatever the reason, this is a process I find very necessary before I can finally say I have done my best for my story and my characters. And so I sit , in an arm chair this time , the manuscript on the coffee table beside me , red pen in hand , and trawl through it page by page. I sit and read. And have coffee and cake. And sit.

I have a theory that the story is never ready until you hate it because you have gone through it so often. When that happens, you let it go. Submit it to strangers to be completely ignored, rejected or accepted. As my work goes off to make its own way in the world, I finally stand up. It’s such a surprise to realise I am twice the woman I was when I started on Chapter One. Small wonder , since I have spent the best part of the year sitting at my desk, grabbing quick food every so often and chocolate in times of dire need . I must have known what was happening when I put my jeans away to the back of the wardrobe and began wearing jog pants with elasticated waists instead.

I promise myself that if I ever write another book, I will exercise assiduously and eat properly. But I know for sure, if inspiration comes calling, I will sit at my desk and work my way through from enthusiastic beginning to exhausted end.

Thank you to outrageousgirlrants for hosting me on their blogspot and also to Lucy Felthouse (Writer Marketing Services) for organising my visit here.

*****

Excerpt from Thicker Than Water

Here, in Rainbow Cottage high up over Ballyderg town, Jan had found relaxation. Ever since she could remember, possibly since she had been born, she was driven by an inner spring of energy that constantly bubbled up. She was always on the go. Tasks to be completed, decisions to be made, energy to be burned up. It was these hills, the still and brooding giants with wispy cloud hair, which first soothed her into sometimes slowing down. Changes swirled around them, the seasons, the weather, light and dark, but their core stood firm against outside influence. Eventually she had absorbed that lesson.

From the plate glass window of the lounge she watched a car wind its way up from the valley. She went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle, knowing from experience that the green tea they both enjoyed would be brewed by the time he arrived at the cottage.

Gerard Shannon parked in his usual place ten minutes climb on foot to Jan’s cottage. He stood and inhaled deeply before striding out. He always enjoyed the exercise but today he felt breathless, tormented, an iron band of tension squeezing his chest. If only the success and control he had in his business life applied to his private life also. If only he had been honest all those years ago. If only he could be honest now.

*****

Blurb

When local teenager, Keira Shannon and her father, business man Gerard Shannon, go missing, the town of Ballyderg unites to search for them.

As the search continues rumours of domestic violence, extramarital affairs and criminal behaviour are rife. The crisis causes families and lifelong friends to doubt each other.

The only certainty left is that the town has been visited by evil. Or has it? Could it be the evil one has always lived there sharing history, laughter and tears? And if so, who could it be?

Buy Links

Amazon buy links: http://authl.it/3st

Tirgearr Publishing http://bit.ly/1J6E7ZV

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1RpGnhf

*****

Author Biography:

Mary worked many years as a Laboratory Technician. Her hobby, her passion, has always been writing. Busy with family and career, she grabbed some moments here and there to write poetry and short stories. She also wrote a general interest column in a local newspaper.

As the demands on her time became more manageable she joined a local creative writing class. It was then, with the encouragement of tutor Vincent McDonald, that the idea of writing a novel took shape. She began to expand on a short story she had written some years previously. It was a shock for her to discover that enthusiasm and imagination are not enough. For the first time she learned that writing can be very hard work.

Mary now has six traditionally published novels, nine eBooks and hopefully more to come, inspiration permitting.

Social Media Links

Please visit my web page at: http://www.maryosullivanauthor.com

Chat to me on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/authormaryosullivan

Follow on Twitter at: https://twitter.com/authorosullivan


*****

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What My Characters Have Taught Me About Life and Love by Leigh Archer

All fans of romance novels know that readers of the genre are smart. According to The Romance Readers’ Advisory, women in full-time, executive-level jobs reported reading an average fourteen romances a month and, according to a study conducted by BBC Research and Consulting Inc., more than 3.5-million men are reading romance. Why? Because we know romances are pure escapism and good for our blood pressure, they’re often well-written, have solid plotlines and intriguing dilemmas and they introduce us to wonderful characters, particularly women who struggle but manage to win happy endings for themselves.

Romances are also where we get a lot of our ideas about love, sex and relationships.

The three romances I’ve written so far in the Untamed Safari Series have given me the opportunity to delve into some of the relationship dilemmas we all face at one time or another.

Pride and poor communication

Caro and Ben in The Alpha Match go on the defensive when feelings are hurt and instead of communicating, they pull up the proverbial drawbridge and it costs them dearly. Anyone who’s paged through a magazine knows that relationships are all about communication but such a simple concept turns into a difficulty when we feel hurt or betrayed and wonder if our trust in the person we love is misplaced. Caro and Ben’s story spotlighted again the need for good, honest communication and that straight, open channels mean allowing oneself to be vulnerable, choosing to trust and stubbornly believing the best of your partner (unless, of course, there is good reason not to).

Long-distance love

Sophie and Reuben in Moonflower (available for pre-launch order - Moonflower) must struggle to find common ground between two very different ways of life. Can an African game farm bridge the gap between wildest Africa and corporate London? Today there is a very real possibility that two people from opposite sides of the world can meet and fall in love. What a dilemma this poses if one person isn’t able to pull up roots and move across the world to be with the person they love. Life, career, responsibility versus love and that feeling of being truly alive. What is a job or a way of life compared to what could be a lifetime spent with the person you love? It’s a question only the individual can answer. I, being a romantic, would tend to pull out all the stops to be with the love of my life.

Uncommon values

In Wetlands, Adrian and Dani travel a near-impossible road when her property development company threaten the survival of a sensitive wetlands. While writing this book I’ve had a lot of time to reflect about the sharing of common values in a relationship. It would be boring to agree about everything, but I think it’s important to have a similar outlook when it comes to the big ones like loyalty, prejudice and whether coffee can be instant or should always be filter.

I wonder if you’ve also learned from the romances that you’ve read. Or perhaps you think the last place we should be taking advice about love and relationships is romance novels. If you’ve had any ah-hah moments lately, I’d love to hear about them.

EXCERPT

Pride and hurt feelings, Caro realised, were a dangerous combination. But it had been more than that. There was her loyalty to her family and respect for the sacrifices they had made to put her through an expensive university degree.

Ben didn’t understand that. There had always been more than enough money and opportunity in his life. It was he who should have been far more understanding than he had been back then; the person ready to compromise for the first time in his life. But he had expected all the compromise to come from her side.

Caro thought about that word—side. That’s what had changed in their relationship. They had become two sides. Both competing for the same sought-after position; their first mistake. Ben, South African; Caro’s life and family on the other side of the world. Until it had become all about Caro’s perspective versus his side of the story.

Caro became aware of Ben calling her name. She turned towards him.

‘You okay?’

She hesitated, then nodded. ‘Just brought back some memories,’ she said, holding up the photograph.

‘Well, don’t look so sad. That was a happy holiday.’ Ben gave a wry smile. ‘We did have some good times together, didn’t we?’

Was he trying to reassure himself or her? You still have to work with him. All the hurt feelings and pride bubbled to the surface again. Just play it cool. Don’t let yourself feel anything. Block it out. You know how to do that. ‘Yes, we did.’

‘And, there are more good things to come… like ice-cream, for instance.’ He held up a tub of chocolate and vanilla and Caro made a monumental effort to smile at him.

‘Ah-hah, you see, I can still bring a smile to your face. I remembered chocolate and vanilla’s your favourite. Let’s take it outside.’ He handed her the bowls and spoons.

She slipped the photograph into her bag.

BLURB AND BUY LINKS

English conservationist, Caro Hannah, and South African, Ben Duval, must work together to introduce endangered African wild dogs to a game reserve four years after their love affair ended. The challenges of their profession pale into insignificance beside the personal obstacles they must overcome to either bring closure to the events of four years before, or reignite a passion hot enough to burn up the African bush.

The Alpha Match at Amazon.com

The Alpha Match at Amazon UK

The Alpha Match at Tirgearr Publishing

The Alpha Match at Smashwords

The Alpha Match on Apple

The Alpha Match on Kobo

The Alpha Match on Nook

AUTHOR BIO AND LINKS      

Leigh writes romance novels set in her native South Africa. She has always had a love affair with Africa’s wild open spaces, the intensity of its people and sunsets. Her love of storytelling began as a child when she spent every spare moment playing barefoot in golden grass, watching wild creatures, learning to track spoor and dreaming up heroes and heroines dynamic enough to stand out in all the beauty and drama of the African landscape.

Always in search of adventure, Leigh’s journey as a writer has taken her from journalism through communications, to working as a novelist.

Website - http://leigharcher.net/

Blog - Leigh Archer

Twitter - Leigh Archer

Facebook - Leigh Archer

Tirgearr Publishing Author Page - Leigh Archer

Amazon Author Page - Leigh Archer

GIVEAWAY!

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Guest Blogger: Charlotte Howard

Thanks for hosting today! I write something in between contemporary and erotic romance. I’m a mum and I work part-time in a primary school, as well as volunteering for Girl Guiding. None of those things mix.

It’s something I hear all the time: “How can you write that stuff when you’re a mum?” My response is – I’m a woman as well. Sorry, but I’m married not dead, I like sex. I like reading erotic romances. I like writing hot sex scenes. But I wait until the kids are fast asleep before switching on my laptop or Kindle. Yes, I work in a school – I’m a responsible adult, and not all my conversations revolve around sex and relationships. In fact, most of the time I’m talking about Minecraft, FIFA, Star Wars, and Thunderbirds. (I work with a lot of 7 year old boys.) Even the adult conversation I get is mainly about the latest ICT programmes, session plans, and how to put new books onto the library system. My private Facebook page is full of pictures of my kids eating ice cream, playing in the park, or sleeping kittens. But that’s Charlotte Howard the mum, and who I am during the day.

The Facebook page you’ll see, the Twitter account you’ll read, and the Charlotte Howard you meet, is a flirt who writes smut and not ashamed of it. The Charlotte Howard you will get to know is married, but has a “special friend” (No, I do not cheat. He’s a friend who also writes smut, so we have a lot in common and talk a lot. But he’s not my husband...) Charlotte Howard likes to talk about sex, and her Facebook feed is not for the under 18s. Although there are still pictures of sleeping kittens...

Author me has a dark side. Author me likes new experiences, and touches upon them in the books, especially The Black Door, and my latest WIP, Educating Miss Beauchamp. Author me is planning on going to Torture Gardens in December, and regularly attends events like Smut by the Sea and Smut Luton. Author me is happy to divulge intimate details, it’s up to you to figure out if I’m telling the truth or not.

I am not friends with myself on Facebook – that would just be weird. And anyone who knows me is warned that they will see my split personality come to life, and that it is all about my books and life as an author. Sometimes I slip up. If you meet me in real life, at SmutFest for example, then the real me seeps through – and sometimes you will see Charlotte Howard the mum, not Charlotte Howard the author. Real me can be seen in Seven Dirty Words...

Excerpt:

“I’ve never seen a girl eat like you.” He laughed.

“I’m starving,” I said, in between mouthfuls of prawns and peas, trying to ignore the dimming room. A crash overhead started the storm’s symphony. Fat raindrops splattered against the window as the room lit with a sudden flash. Seconds later, another rumble filled the air. I shuddered.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t like thunder storms,” I admitted, finishing the last of my noodles. The truth was I was afraid of any loud noise.

“Don’t worry, I won’t force you out in this.”

“I forgot to bring a coat,” I grumbled, rubbing my arms as though it had suddenly got cold.

Matt stood and peered out the window. “It’ll be a while before this is over.” He picked up the plates and took them into the kitchen. I followed him, not wanting to be alone.

As I walked in, I suddenly remembered the large windows, and saw the dreary sky blanketing the village. My eyes widened in fear as another flash filled the sky.

Matt smiled at me.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are.” He laughed, nearing me. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

“Appearances can be deceptive.”

“They most certainly can!” He took my hand and led me back into the living room. “Well, it looks like we’ll be here a bit longer than intended.” We sat back down on the sofa.

“And no TV to kill the time,” I said, staring at the empty fireplace. “Look, if you want to get rid of me, I can make a mad dash to the car door. It’s only rain.”      

“I don’t want to get rid of you, Paige.” As he said my name, the hairs on my neck and arms stood on end. “But I’m not willing to share you either.”

Blurb & Buy Links:

Paige Holmes hides herself in a masculine world in a desperate attempt to remain safe.

Just as she is ready to face her fears and her past, she finds herself torn between Matt Jackson and Vance Ellery: handsome, rich, and safe – or handsome, rich, and dangerous?

Which will she choose?

The one who appears to be the most perfect, or the one who makes her use all Seven Dirty Words?

Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Howard_Charlotte/seven-dirty-words.htm

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1ExJtUx

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1dy702q

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seven-dirty-words-charlotte-howard/1114293556

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/seven-dirty-words-3

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/seven-dirty-words/id992996036

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/541059?ref=cw1985

Bio & Social Media Links:

My career as a writer started when I was young, writing poetry and flash fiction for my friends and family. After a few minor successes of having pieces published in anthologies, and later on-line, I decided to have a go at writing a full-length novel. My first attempt was a bit of a disaster, but after years of practice, I finally got that coveted First Contract. Since then, I've written several more novels and short stories, and I don't intend to retire for at least another 50 years.

Charlotte lives in Somerset with her husband, two children, and growing menagerie of pets and can always be found with a cup of tea in her hand. When she's not writing or running around after small people and animals, she loves to eat curry and watch action films.

Charlotte is an active (and vocal) member of the Yeovil Creative Writers.

http://www.charlottehowardauthor.co.uk

http://choward2614.wordpress.com

http://www.facebook.com/charlottehowardauthor

http://www.facebook.com/chowardauthor

http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Howard_Charlotte/index.htm

http://www.twitter.com/shy_tiger

https://www.pinterest.com/choward2614/

https://instagram.com/choward_author/

GIVEAWAY!

Make sure to follow the whole tour—the more posts you visit throughout, the more chances you’ll get to enter the giveaway. The tour dates are here: http://www.writermarketing.co.uk/prpromotion/blog-tours/currently-on-tour/charlotte-howard-3/

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Make Do and Mend by Lorna Peel (@peellorna)

At the outbreak of World War Two in September 1939, almost a quarter of the British population was entitled to wear some sort of uniform. The increased demand for uniforms put enormous pressure on Britain's textile and clothing industries and rationing was introduced in June 1941. Silk was one of the first fabrics to go as it was needed for the war effort, so Into The Unknown’s Kate Sheridan was very lucky to have been bought two sets of silk lingerie by her aunt Helen to replace her embarrassingly old-fashioned underwear.

Rationing worked by allocating each type of clothing item a value in points. Every adult was initially given an allocation of 66 points to last one year, but this allocation shrank as the war progressed. Eleven coupons were required for a dress, two needed for a pair of stockings, and eight coupons for a man's shirt or a pair of trousers. Women's shoes meant handing over five coupons, and for men's footwear seven.

Despite these shortages, people were encouraged to keep looking fashionable in order to keep up morale and the 'Make Do and Mend' campaign was launched to encourage people to make their existing clothes last longer. The ability to repair, alter and make clothes from scratch became increasingly important as the war went on. Kate would have studied needlework at school in Ireland, so she wouldn’t have found making clothes from a pattern too daunting a task.

Over 40 million gas masks had been distributed around Britain by the outbreak of war. The population were told to carry them at all times in the standard-issue cardboard box tied up with string. Fashion designers quickly saw a gap in the market, turned the ugly boxes into handbags at the top and a space at the bottom for the mask, and these were snapped up by many women like Kate.

Make-up was never rationed, but was taxed and very expensive. As with their clothes, women found imaginative ways around shortages. Bright red lipstick was a way to look glamorous, even if you couldn’t afford any other cosmetics. And when it just couldn’t be found, beetroot juice was used instead of both blusher and lipstick and boot polish instead of mascara. When stockings were in short supply, an eyeliner was used to draw a ‘seam’ up the back of the legs—which may also have been carefully painted with gravy browning to appear like a tan shade of stockings. So, instead of being moth-balled for the duration of the war, fashion became more inventive and individual—the colours brighter and the colours bolder.

Excerpt:

Following Helen into a department store’s lingerie department, and into a changing room, Kate stripped right down to her embarrassingly old-fashioned underwear. Catching sight of the shop girl’s smirking face in the mirror, Kate wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. The girl measured her before bringing a selection of bras and knickers for her to choose from. Kate stared in consternation. How could she choose? They were all beautiful. Thankfully, Helen decided for her.

“We’ll take the peach set and the white,” she said. “Would you like to wear the peach set now, Kate?”

Kate had been running her fingers over the silk in awe and jumped. “Yes, I will. Thank you.”

She changed into the lingerie and stared at herself for a long time in the mirror. Silk. She had never felt anything so soft before.

“Let’s see, Kate.” She heard her aunt’s voice, opened the curtains, and both women stared at her. “Good Lord.” Helen seemed astonished. “You do have a figure, after all.”

Passing a boutique a little later, Kate stopped and gazed at a suit in the window. Helen had walked on but returned to her and smiled. “That’s very smart, isn’t it? Do you want to try it on?”

“Oh, no, it looks very expensive.”

“It doesn’t cost anything to try it on.”

So the suit was tried on and Kate paraded up and down the shop examining herself from all angles. The suit was deep green and flattered her curvaceous figure.

“Do you like it?” Helen asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s lovely.”

“That’s just as well because it’s yours.”

“Mine?” Kate’s mouth fell open. It must have cost a fortune. “Oh, thank you.”

“Nonsense, you’re starting to look feminine at last. Shoes and a handbag next.”

They found a black handbag and matching shoes in a shop across the street. Again, Kate paraded up and down, but this time to get used to the high heels. Standing up in them for the first time, she had almost toppled over. Kate tottered along the street, finding herself much taller than Helen, and followed her into a hair salon.

“Your hair isn’t too bad, actually,” Helen told her before turning to the stylist. “A trim, and style it, please.”

Within an hour, Kate’s hair had been swept back from her face into a chignon. Her aunt leaned forward.

“Cheekbones, too,” she murmured and nodded. “Beauty salon next.”

A further hour passed with various powders and lipsticks being tried and tested before Kate opened her eyes and gazed at the film star in the mirror, hardly recognising herself.

“Oh, Kate,” Helen breathed. “You’re beautiful.” She turned to the three women standing behind Kate’s chair. “Whatever she’s got on, we’ll take it.”

Out on the street, Kate found herself being stared at and even attracted wolf whistles

from a group of soldiers. It felt strange—embarrassing—but flattering, too.

Blurb and buy Links

London on 3 September 1939 is in upheaval. War is inevitable. Into this turmoil steps Kate Sheridan, newly arrived from Ireland to live with her aunt and uncle, and look for work. When she meets Flight Lieutenant Charlie Butler sparks fly, but he is a notorious womaniser. Should she ignore all the warnings and get involved with a ladies man whose life will be in daily danger?

Charlie Butler has no intention of getting involved with a woman. But when he meets Kate his resolve is shattered. Should he allow his heart to rule his head and fall for a nineteen-year-old Irish girl while there is a war to fight?

Private conflicts and personal doubts are soon overshadowed. Will the horrors of war bring Kate and Charlie together or tear them apart?

Amazon UK - http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00UAY719Y

Amazon US - http://amzn.com/B00UAY719Y

iBooks UK - https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/id974054282?mt=11

iBooks US - https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/into-the-unknown/id974054282

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/525040

Kobo - https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/into-the-unknown-10

Nook UK - http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/into-the-unknown-by-lorna-peel/2940046616323

Barnes and Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1121346684

Author Bio and Links

Lorna Peel is an author of contemporary and historical romantic fiction. She has had work published in three Irish magazines – historical articles on The Stone of Scone in ‘Ireland’s Own’, on The Irish Potato Famine in the ‘Leitrim Guardian’ – and Lucy’s Lesson, a contemporary short story in ‘Woman’s Way’.

Her first novel, Only You, a contemporary romance, was published in 2014. Into The Unknown, an historical novel set during WWII, will be published on 5 May 2015.

Lorna was born in England and lived in North Wales until her family moved to Ireland to become farmers, which is a book in itself! She lives in rural Ireland, where she write, researches her family history, and grows fruit and vegetables. She also keeps chickens (and a Guinea Hen who now thinks she’s a chicken!).

http://lornapeel.com

http://twitter.com/PeelLorna

http://www.facebook.com/LornaPeelAuthor

http://pinterest.com/lornapeel

http://www.goodreads.com/LornaPeel

http://www.tsu.co/lornapeelauthor

https://plus.google.com/+LornaPeel

GIVEAWAY!

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The Importance of Being There: Looking For Charlotte by Jennifer Young (@jynovelist)

In another life (and, like every writer, I have many other lives) I’m a travel writer. I use words to describe the places I’ve been and the experiences I’ve had, and to try and pin down the essence of a place. And they’re different, not just in terms of language or culture. The rough volcanic rocks of the English Lakes have a totally different feel to the soft fields of southern Scotland, not too many miles away.

I’m telling you this because places are important to me. Almost without exception, the starting point for my novels is the location. Then come the characters and then, bringing up the rear, the plot. That’s why my books tend to be set in places that aren’t just scenic but are interesting as well (and are usually somewhere I’ve been on holiday because that’s when I have time to think).

Looking For Charlotte is different. The idea came from a newspaper cutting which gave me  both plot and characters, though obviously I tinkered with them. But it didn’t give me the location. The real life location, Pennsylvania, is somewhere I’ve never been and about which I know nothing so it clearly wouldn’t do. So I took my characters, Flora and Suzanne, and I moved them across the Atlantic to Scotland.

Perhaps I should tell you what it’s all about. Hearing that the police have abandoned the search for a toddler, Flora Wilson embarks on a search for the child’s body so as to bring closure to Charlotte’s mother, Suzanne — a quest which takes her through large and empty tracts of the Scottish Highlands.

Why Scotland? It’s where I live. The Highlands, the focus for most of the novel, is somewhere I spend a lot of time (though admittedly never enough). And the Scottish landscape fits the tone of the book to perfection.

In a search for a buried child, the land is the key. First, following the clues left in the killer’s suicide notes, Flora must identify the area where the body might be buried — she must read the landscape. It changes with the seasons; she must read that too. The book is set in winter where the mountains and moorlands are bleak, sometimes even hostile and Flora’s misreading of nature leads her into peril.

Looking For Charlotte isn’t a travel book, but the story is closely integrated with the land in which Flora lives — a land of brooding beauty and fierce contrasts, and a land I love.

Excerpt

They fell into silence as they thought about the past. Perhaps they’d rambled the same hills at the same time with their previous partners. Maybe she and Danny had straggled separately along rocky paths while Philip and Jo walked hand-in-hand a few hundred yards away. Perhaps. Perhaps. She looked sideways and saw that Philip had a pensive look on his face, as if he were thinking the same thing. But she didn’t ask. Philip made her feel young and happy, but the shadow of Jo scared her in some mad, inexplicable way, haunting the day out like a ghost of the Scottish hills. Always, surely, at the front of Philip’s mind, at the very kernel of his being.

They sat for a while longer in silence against the sun-warmed rock, looking to the south. Here, a window of perfect autumn weather had surprised them. To the south there was more of a haze, where a low glaze of cloud lay over the Great Glen and the hills around it. In the distance, if Flora looked hard, she could see faint scars on the landscape a short distance from the road, close to a glass-roofed extension to a crumbling house and a rusty old farm vehicle. If she hadn’t known what it was she’d never have guessed. The police had gone now, though they hadn’t quite been able to bring themselves to abandon their search site completely. When she and Philip had driven past on the way up, they’d seen the blue and white tape and the Keep Out signs. From a distance it just looked like another swathe of peat cutting, though one where there was no peat to cut.

Sitting beside her, Philip, who’d suggested this walk, glanced at his watch. His sigh was one of reluctance; she knew that, like her, he loved to walk but spent little enough time on the hills once work, football, and domestic chores were taken care of. She worried that he took a puritanical view of self-indulgence, felt guilty about enjoying himself too much or too often. She wanted to make him smile.

‘That’s three o’clock,’ he said reluctantly.

She glanced at her own watch for confirmation. ‘Should we head back?’ There was a tempting summit a little further on, but she’d spent enough time in the hills to know how false the promise of even the smallest detour could be.

‘I suppose so.’

Standing up, they dropped down below the ridge to where the elements once again became bearable. Out of the wind it was warm again. Flora unzipped her jacket and looked towards Loch Broom and the glittering jet and silver jigsaw which the light had made of the Summer Isles and the sea. The fretted outline of the coast always made her stop and think, and today it reminded her of something. ‘What was it Joanne said?’

Once again Philip’s mind was following her own; he answered without the slightest puzzlement. ‘When the tide goes out we’re all part of the same landscape.’

‘It’s a very nice idea. That we’re all interconnected.’

‘Apparently it’s a very strong Celtic concept. I must read up on the Celts.’

They were silent as they scrambled down the steepest part of the path. A quick glimpse to the south showed the fold of cloud had drifted a little closer. ‘You must miss her,’ she observed with daring, as they reached a flatter part and began making more rapid progress, side by side on the widening path.

Blurb

Divorced and lonely, Flora Wilson is distraught when she hears news of the death of little Charlotte Anderson. Charlotte’s father killed her and then himself, and although he left a letter with clues to her grave, his two-year-old daughter still hasn’t been found. Convinced that she failed her own children, now grown up and seldom at home, Flora embarks on a quest to find Charlotte’s body to give the child’s mother closure, believing that by doing so she can somehow atone for her own failings.

As she hunts in winter through the remote moors of the Scottish Highlands, her obsession comes to challenge the very fabric of her life — her job, her friendship with her colleague Philip Metcalfe, and her relationships with her three children.

Tirgearr Publishing: http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Young_Jennifer/looking-for-charlotte.htm

Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1D7pNY6

Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1JmAwBR

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/526032?ref=cw1985

Author bio

I live in Edinburgh and I write romance and contemporary women’s fiction. I’ve been writing all my life and my first book was published in February 2014, though I’ve had short stories published before then. The thing that runs through all my writing is an interest in the world around me. I love travel and geography and the locations of my stories is always important to me. And of course I love reading — anything and everything.

Links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jenniferyoungauthor

Twitter: @JYnovelist

Website: http://www.jenniferyoungauthor.com/