Thursday, December 19, 2019

Orion's Foot: Origin of the Title





I thought I'd tell you a bit about the title of my new mystery romance Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, and Romance in the Amazon:

Orion—along with Ursa Major and Ursa Minor—is one of the most recognizable constellations in the sky. Most people zero in on the three stars that make up his belt, but the brightest star in the constellation is Rigel—his left knee or foot. 

Orion was the son of Poseidon, who gave him the power to walk on water. He was a great hunter. In the excerpt below, Petra tells Emory why she wishes on Orion’s foot, and he in turn warns her to be careful of him.

Oddly enough, I came up with the title for Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery, & Romance in the Amazon, separately from the actual inspiration for the book. I was sitting outside on a beautiful night and saw Orion—I’m sorry to say one of the few constellations I can identify. I thought, what a neat title for a book. There you have it.


Blurb:



Excerpt: Orion’s Foot

After supper, she sought the hammock room,  hoping to see the capybaras again, but the lawn was  empty. For once, the sky was clear, and she wandered  out and down to the dock to enjoy the stars. Ah, there’s  Orion. Usually people chose Venus or Polaris, but Petra  always wished on Orion’s left foot. Nick had once asked her why. “Because it’s his foot that takes the first  stride across space.”
 “So what does that have to do with your wishes?”
 “Whenever I’m faced with a scary decision, Orion  gives me the courage to take the first step.”
 Nick had laughed at her. 
 As she closed her eyes and pondered her request, a  rustle sounded behind her. “Don’t fall in.”
Petra sprang forward and nearly did fall in, but a strong hand caught her around her waist and pulled her back. She felt warm breath in her ear. “Emory!”
He let go. “What are you doing anyway? You had one leg hovering over the water.”
“I guess the stars distracted me.” She glanced at him shyly. “I was wishing on Orion. Or rather, on his foot.” She pointed at the star twinkling below the famous belt.
“Why Orion?”
No need to let on how weird I am just yet. “It’s…uh…the only constellation I recognize?”
“It’s probably the only constellation most people recognize.” He looked down at her. “Okay, do you have a foot fetish, or what? Why wish on the foot?”
Just because Nick made fun of me doesn’t mean Emory will. “It brings me luck.”
“Like a rabbit’s foot, only better?”
She didn’t answer. The thing that had been simmering in the back of her mind for the last two days, obscured by the chaos of events, had made itself known. She knew what she wanted to wish for.
“Petra? Did you hear my question?”
Petra lowered her eyes to Emory. “I don’t know about better—but it serves the same function. See, everyone zeroes in on Orion’s belt, or his dog, or his manly physique, but his left foot—Rigel—is actually the brightest star in the constellation.”
He inspected the night sky. “True. And?”
“Well, it reminds me that when you have to take that first step into the unknown you…um…put your best foot forward. I look at Orion striding across the cosmos, and he helps me believe I can meet any challenge.”
Emory was silent for a minute. Petra was about to take her leave when he said, “Did you know that Orion claimed he was the greatest hunter of all time? Gaia sent a scorpion to kill him.”
“Huh. Who is Gaia?”
“Gaia means Earth—she’s the goddess the Greeks called the mother of all life—the primordial deity. The cool New Age kids all worship her. Don’t tell me you aren’t into crystals and yoga?”
“No. So why did Gaia want to kill Orion?”
“Because, to prove his prowess, he announced he was going to hunt down and kill all the animals in the world. Since Gaia is the guardian of every living thing, you might say his threat kinda ruffled her feathers.”
“I’ll bet. So she decided to kill him before he massacred her subjects. Did she succeed?”
“No. Another god—I forget his name—gave Orion the antidote. That’s why you never see both Orion and Scorpio in the sky at the same time.”
Hmm.”
“So,” he said softly, “Orion is hardly the hero you want to set your heart on. All the stories of him involve power, lust, and murder.”


Buy Links:


Wild Rose Press, October 30, 2019
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2019
442 pp; 101,601 words
Rating: Spicy (PG13) 

Genres: Cozy mystery, Romantic suspense, Contemporary romance


Thursday, December 12, 2019

Tena Stetler is my Guest with Charm Me Again


Please welcome Tena Stetler, Award-Winning Paranormal Author, and her new release, Charm Me Again.



Charm Me Again - Breaking the curse is only the first step to forever. 


Thank you so much for giving me a chance to chat about my new Romance/Mystery , Charm Me Again.  I hope your readers will enjoy the excerpt and a little about what inspired the book.

I first climbed to Hanging Lake in Glenwood Canyon, Colorado several years ago. Although it’s only a little over a mile, you gain one-thousand feet in altitude in the one mile climb. On top of that, it was pouring rain, making the trail’s scattered boulders slick and treacherous. But it was well worth the climb. It quit raining and we ate our lunch in the beautiful surroundings. Mother Nature outdid herself carving this fantastic lake into the side of the mountain. At the time, I figured someday it would end up in a book.  Well, it did and in spectacular fashion (don’t want to give anything away). The background and a few of the meme’s I’ve created feature the lake and surrounding vegetation.  

A little about Charm Me Again:

For several months a Scottish Highland ghost has haunted Daylan, in his personal life, his professional life, and at his forge. Yet, despite being a talented warlock, he is no closer to discovering what the ghost wants or why he chose Daylan. A trip to his estranged sister’s home in Colorado may have unforeseen consequences, especially when family history leads him to a shocking discovery.

As his attraction blooms for Josie, a yoga instructor in his sister’s studio, he realizes there may be more to Josie than he can imagine. When an ancient rogue Fae Warrior set on revenge kidnaps her in an attempt to claim her as his own, a devastating curse comes to light.

Daylan’s world spirals out of control as he searches for Josie. Can he break the age-old curse to save her and their future, or will she be lost to him forever?




Buy Links:

A sneak peek between the pages of Charm Me Again:

As they climbed, the trail became steeper and rockier. He grabbed hold of the handrails assuming they were provided for oxygen-deprived people like him. How do people breathe up here? Until now he’d prided himself in being in excellent shape.
She turned and peeked over her shoulder. “You all right back there? We’re almost to the top.”
About damn time. Huffing out another breath, he leaned against a large boulder. The trail opened up and the Lake came into view. He sucked in a breath at the geologic wonder before his eyes. Suspended on the edge of Glenwood Canyon’s cliff, waterfalls spilled into a clear turquoise lake. Lush green plants trailed from the outcropping of rock on the walls surrounding the water was like nothing he’d ever seen. “This is absolutely unbelievable.”
Suddenly, the wind changed direction, a thin maroon line formed along the flat bottom of the dark clouds spreading across the sky where moments before there’d been only a few fluffy cotton ball clouds in a sea of blue. The maroon line widened then switched to vertical and spread open to reveal a shimmering interior. Shadows emerged from the cloud then disappeared. As he was about to comment, huge raindrops plopped on the ground followed by pea size hail that grew to softball size.
Josie ran for cover and he followed. Protected under a ledge, she cupped her hands over her ears as the roaring of the storm combined with huge ice balls smashing against rocks echoed through the canyon. She elbowed him and cocked a brow in question, pointing to the vegetation that remained unharmed.
His eyes narrowed. Something isn’t right. I can feel it. Magic is spinning this storm. But who—how and why? At a loss for answers, he shrugged and urged her further under the ledge to wait out the storm. Brushing the wet strands of hair out of her face, he smiled. She looked like a drowned rat but the fragrance around her reminded him of sweet spring flowers.

About the author:
Tena Stetler is a best-selling author of award-winning paranormal romance novels. She has an overactive imagination, which led to writing her first vampire romance as a ‘tween, to the chagrin of her mother and delight of her friends.
With the Rocky Mountains outside her window, she sits at her computer surrounded by a wide array of paranormal creatures–with a Navy SEAL or two mixed in–telling their tales. Her books tell stories of magical kick-ass women and strong mystical males that dare to love them. Travel, adventure, and a bit of mystery flourish in her books along with a few companion animals to round out the tales.
Colorado is her home, shared with her husband of many moons, a brilliant Chow Chow, a spoiled parrot, and a forty-five-year-old box turtle.  Any winter evening, you can find Tena curled up in front of a crackling fire with a good book, a mug of hot chocolate, and a big bowl of popcorn.

Social Media Links:
My Say What Blog - http://www.tenastetler.com/category/my-say-what-blog/
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/tenastetler.author
Twitter Page: https://www.twitter.com/TenaStetler   



Monday, December 9, 2019

His Candy Christmas--New from Darlene Fredette


Please welcome my friend Darlene Fredette. Just in time for Christmas, Book 1 of her Redford Falls romantic series has been released. Do tell us about His Candy Christmas, if you would, Darlene.

Who knew returning home would contain a cool nip in the air, irresistible chocolate, and a Santa suit?



Blurb:

It’s going to take more than a few pieces of chocolate to fill this Scrooge’s heart with Christmas cheer. Luckily Candy has a whole shop full.

Jackson returned to his small hometown for one reason and one reason only. So, he’s not sure how he ended up in a Santa suit in the middle of a chocolate shop, at the behest of its beautiful owner, instead of high-tailing it back to the city as fast as he can.

Candice Cane is not proud of the way she acted after her last encounter with Jackson Frost. Sure revenge was fun, but now Jackson is angry and looking for answers, and standing on the welcome mat in her chocolate shop. He’s after some revenge of his own. 

His Candy Christmas
By Darlene Fredette
A Redford Falls Novel, Book 1
Amazon Digital Services, released November 27, 2019
67 p.


Excerpt:

An acquisition of her own popped in her head. He might be a bit too tall, but nothing a quick readjustment to a hem couldn’t fix.
Jackson walked to the supply shelf, picked up a pen, and offered it to her. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’m in a hurry.”
She tapped the pen against her chin. Yes, this plan could work.
“Why the hesitation?”
Not just yet. Candy had a problem and Jackson was her solution. “You need a divorce, I need a Santa.”
“What?” He raised an eyebrow.
She flashed a sinister smile and winked, pointing to the clothing bag hanging from a hook on the wall. A Santa hat peeked from the open zipper. “Give me your best ho ho ho.”
“No...no way!” Jackson stepped back, colliding with the wall. “If you think I’m going to dress up as Santa, you’re out of your mind!”

Buy Links:


His Candy Christmas will be available in both ebook and print-on-demand.

About the Author:

Darlene resides on the Atlantic Coast of Canada where the summers are too short and the winters are too long. An avid reader since childhood, Darlene loved to develop the many stories coming to life in her head. She writes contemporary romances with happy-ever-afters. When not working on her next book, she can be found with her husband, her daughter, and her yellow Labrador. Darlene’s favourite pastime is taking summer day-trips to the Valley to soak in the small-town feel.

 

Social media links:


Blog: http://findingthewritewords.blogspot.com

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DarleneLF

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/DarleneLF

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Darlene-Fredette/e/B005NAF660/



Sunday, December 8, 2019

Che Gelida Manina: A Christmas Story

For your reading pleasure at Christmas:




Che Gelida Manina: a Story of Second Chances
                                                By M. S. Spencer

"I don't want to stay here, Amelia."
"But Mother, you love Sarasota! You love the sun, the people, the beach. Why this sudden desire to move to Morocco?"
"It's always been a dream of mine." Grace knew her daughter wouldn't buy it, but didn't want to tell her how desperately she needed to get away from Florida. Since Jack died nine months before on Christmas Eve, she couldn't bear to go to the Gulf…or listen to his favorite opera, La Bohème…or even light candles at dinner.  Jack had been the most romantic man in the world and the love of her life. Now that he was gone, all desire for romance had gone with him. It was only because of her promise to him to stay through one last Christmas that she had remained.  I'll keep my promise, but I'll be out of here by Boxing Day.
"Well, it makes no sense." Amelia switched gears. "Just yesterday Brad was saying you should come up here to Portland—"
"Not on your life. I may be a doting grandmother but I don't think I could handle twin toddlers twenty-four-seven."
The woman at the other end of the phone sniffed. "Hmmph. Well, we don't want you alone on Christmas Eve, Mother. Brad would be happy to book a flight for you."
"You know I can't, dear."
"Oh, bother the promise. Dad would understand."
Grace thought of Jack's last whispered request. "No, he wouldn't."
"Okay, okay." Amelia paused. "Did you sign up for Friends.com yet?"
"No, and stop badgering me."
"All I ask is that you think about it. It's about time you got out of the house. The site's supposed to have a ninety-percent success rate in matching people."
"I doubt that. Gotta go, dear." Grace hung up and stared at the website on her computer screen. She hesitated, then clicked "Your Friends.com Profile." She wrote quickly and furiously, tossing her thoughts out before she lost her nerve.
   Recently widowed woman, 60, seeking companion for excursions—bird watching and sightseeing. Not interested in romance or personal confidences. No moonlit beach walkers please. No candlelight dinners. Love of opera a deal-breaker.
She typed in her credit card number and clicked 'Submit,' then returned to her profile and reread it.  "Oh dear, that sounds awfully negative…"
Her finger hovered over the 'Delete Post' button when a message popped up. "Edward Harper has emailed you." She opened it.
Widower, 62, happy to oblige. Coffee today?
Next to the message was a man's photograph. She studied it, trying to plumb its secrets—a broad face, the planes of the cheeks flat and tanned. Little crinkles of skin at each temple hinted at a quiet sense of humor. His bright hazel eyes under a thatch of brown hair smiled at her, as if willing her to say hello.  She pressed 'Reply' and typed in, "Yes."
An hour later she sat in a booth in the Gray Dolphin Café, wondering if she'd recognize him. A tall man came through the automatic doors and strode resolutely toward her. "Are you Grace?"
I can deny it. I can get up and walk out right now. The eyes held her. Cheerful, calm, intelligent. "Yes. Won't you join me?"
He slid onto the seat and ordered coffee for the two of them. Grace, used to dealing with the world on her own, found it refreshing. He had a way of making her feel comfortable and pampered at the same time. Two hours later they parted at the café door.
She didn't hear from him that day, or the next, or the next. Exactly one week later, an email popped up. "Coffee today?"
Fingers scampering quickly over the keys, she typed, "Yes."
They met at the café, but Edward drew her outside. "How about a walk through Robinson Preserve? I brought binoculars. And coffee."
"Sure."
Two hours later he left her at the café entrance. She almost asked if he'd like to see her again, but didn't.
Precisely a week later, he called. "Coffee?"
This time she was ready. "Would you care to go to Spanish Point with me? It's an historic site."
"Certainly—I was going to suggest something similar. I'll pick you up at the café."
And so it went for two months. The two of them met every Wednesday and toured local sights like Marie Selby Gardens, Ringling's Cà d'Zan, and Ybor City. Edward proved a perfect escort—knowledgeable, funny, interested in everything. Grace's life came to revolve around the weekly dates. She'd find herself thinking about him every day, wondering more and more often how he felt about her. After all, he never asked her personal questions. If she inquired about his past, he would demur. "We are but fellow travelers. That was the deal, wasn't it?"
Whenever his reticence grated on her, she would reread her Friends.com profile.  You asked for this, Grace. In fact, you insisted upon it. Then she would pour herself a drink and watch another re-run of Love Boat.
As the weeks passed, Grace sank deeper and deeper into a funk. Edward was careful to keep his distance—the occasional touch on the hand or squeeze of the elbow meant only that he wanted to draw her attention to something. She began to covet the delicate brush of his fingers across her skin. Sometimes she would even bump into him, pretending to be absorbed in a painting or view.
She had said goodbye to him one Wednesday, facing the emptiness of the week ahead. Sitting in her car, it suddenly struck her as unfair. Is this all he can give? One afternoon a week for the rest of my life? She checked her face in the rear view mirror. Wrinkles spiraled through the once blooming cheeks. Her hair had begun the gradual but depressing transformation to pure white, and her once cobalt blue eyes had faded to the cerulean of a misty morning sky. She started the engine. "I've got to do something."
But as the days dragged by, she did nothing. Time and again she would click on Edward's address, only to hesitate.  I'm not ready.
That Sunday Amelia called.  "I hope you'll reconsider and come for Christmas, Mother."
Christmas. Christ. In her preoccupation with Edward, she had lost track of the date. In three weeks her vow to Jack would be discharged. What difference would it make if I left a few days early? Unexpectedly, Edward's smiling face flashed before her. Yearning vied with terror, threatening to rip her heart apart.  I'm not ready. I need to get out of here. She finally managed, "Perhaps I will."
"Wonderful! Come a week early—that way we'll have plenty of time to catch up."
"All right."
As her departure approached, Grace put off informing Edward. I know him. He'll nod silently. He won't even ask if I need a ride to the airport. She stifled the stab of pain.
The day before she was to leave, she finally confessed. His eyes, for once, did not smile, but he said nothing. She waved him off at the café and went home to finish packing. As she locked the suitcase, cold reality sluiced like ice water down her back. I guess this is it. She looked around the cozy bungalow Edward had never entered. And yet he seemed so much a part of it, of her life now. The longing she'd felt for him—longing that she refused to acknowledge—exploded into desire. I want him. I want to hold him. And I want to talk—really talk—pour out all my thoughts and my childhood dreams, my needs, my fears.
To silence the pleas, she did something she hadn't done since Jack died—she took the shell path to the water. The beach was empty and she walked until her feet hurt—a mile, two miles, three. As she walked, the sun began to descend in one of those glorious Florida sunsets that make you wonder if you've landed on another planet. The white powdery sand crunched between her toes.  How I've missed this! Maybe I was wrong to cut myself off from the things I loved.
By the time she arrived back at the shell path it was nearly dark. She turned for one last look at the moon and stars. A beach chair sat forlornly on the shore, waves lapping at its legs. Something fluttered from it. Oh, right, I left my towel there.
As she approached, a silvery tenor began to croon Jack's favorite aria from La Bohème. In it, Rodolfo sings to his new love Mimi, 'Che gelida manina—What a cold little hand you have!'
She rounded on the chair. "Edward?"
He sat up. "Grace?"
She wanted to run into his arms. She wanted to kiss his lips, his forehead, his hands. Instead, she stood quietly, her arms at her sides. "Edward, what are you doing here? I thought you hated the beach."
His eyes bored into her. "Not me. You. You didn't want romance. You didn't want to hold my hand, or light a candle, or hear my music. I respected your wishes."
She ached to cry out, "I was wrong! Edward, I want to be with you!" but fear clogged her throat. I'm not ready. All she could manage was, "Yes."
His lips twisted. "Yes." Then he stood up and walked away across the sand. Grace watched helplessly as the second love of her life left her.
She went to bed, but the hours ticked by as she lay awake, by turns angry and despondent. The next morning she called Amelia. "I've decided to stay here for Christmas."
"Mother? Why? You'll be so lonely!"
"No! No, I'll be fine. I have a promise to keep."
She checked the calendar. Four days to go to Christmas Eve. She had to find Edward before she left. I can't leave without telling him about Jack—without explaining my aversion to romance. She turned on the laptop and typed his name in the search box.
The first list turned up three dozen Edward Harpers, ten of whom lived in the Sarasota area. She spent two days tracking them down, leaving messages at the most promising leads. Then she sat down to wait.
Christmas Eve arrived without any word from Edward. Her suitcase stood ready by the door. As the light faded, she went outside to her patio. La Bohème played softly from inside. I can't lose him. Why didn't I tell him? What was I afraid of? The pain? You fool, the pain found you anyway. At least she had the beach and the music back. Only one more thing to do. She rose, found some matches, and lit the Christmas candle. As she watched the flame flicker in the evening breeze, she savored an uneasy peace. Perhaps it's for the best. I'll leave tomorrow and forget all about him.
Someone moved from the darkness into the light. She sprang up to find bright hazel eyes smiling into hers. He touched her hand and sang softly, "Che gelida manina. What a cold little hand you have, my dear. May I warm it?"
She gave it to him, then led him down the path to the beach.