Cheryl Pierson here! I want to introduce you to a very special guest, a good friend of mine who writes some fantastic western adventures, Peter Brandvold! Pete has been gracious enough to take time from his busy schedule to answer a few interview questions for us and will be poking his head in every once in a while today to read and answer comments and questions. He’s got a couple of new releases to tell us about today as well as some insight as to how he got started writing and a few of his pet peeves.
How did you start your writing career?
I hated teaching so much so it was either writing or suicide the way Yukio Mishima did it–seppuku.
Tell us about your current release.
I have two current releases–a paranormal or “weird” western, DUST OF THE DAMNED, and a traditional western under my pen name Frank Leslie–THE LAST RIDE OF JED STRANGE. DUST is a werewolf western in which two ghoul-hunting bounty hunters, Uriah Zane and Angel Coffin, go after the Hell’s Angels–a pack of werewolves brought into the U.S. by Abe Lincoln to win the Civil War at Gettysburg. The Angels were supposed to go home when the job was done, but it seems you can’t trust a werewolf farther than you could throw your fattest aunt uphill against a cyclone. They came west and caused all kinds of trouble. A beautiful Mexican witch and necromancer is leading them across the Arizona desert in search of the werewolf-equivalent of the holy grail. (Jesse James makes an appearance as a ghoul-hunter, as well, because in my messed-up West there’s more money in hunting down vampires, aka, “swillers,” and hobgobbies and werewolves than there is in train robbing!)
JED STRANGE is about one of my series characters, young Colter Farrow, who wears the ‘S’ mark of Sapinero on his cheek–branded there by the vile Bill Rondo. In this one, he’s on the run in Mexico with a young girl, Bethel Strange, who’s looking for her outlaw father who was last seen running guns in the Sonora Desert.
Who is your favorite author?
I have tons of favorite authors, and the list moves around a lot. I like Leigh Brackett and C.L. Moore a lot–sci-fi writers from the pulp days. And I also like the fantasy novels of Jack Vance. For western writers I like Gordon D. Shirreffs, Richard Jessup, Luke Short, Lewis B. Patten, and H.A. DeRosso.
Has someone been instrumental in inspiring you as a writer?
The students I hated teaching.
Has someone helped or mentored you in your writing career?
My dogs have always been here for me. (Actually, my ex-wife taught me a lot by her incredibly gifted editing, but if you tell her I said that I’ll deny it and call you a raving lunatic!)
What was your first sale as an author?
ONCE A MARSHAL back in ’98. It was about the aging lawman Ben Stillman, whose career was cut short when a drunk whore shot him in the back by accident. Sigh. But Ben got himself dusted off and went back to work to solve the murder of his old hide-hunting pard, Milk River Bill Harmon. I really like that book. I wish someone would reprint it.
What is the hardest part of writing your books?
Editing. I really hate editing. I like to just keep moving forward. Going back to polish is like when you’re a little kid out playing cavalry and you got dead Injuns all around and only a few more to go and your mom calls you in for supper.
What are your pet peeves as a writer? As a reader?
As a writer, it’s editing. As a reader, it’s dull writing. Writers today seem more preoccupied with telling back stories than front stories–i.e, keeping things rolling. I mean, they’ll start a book off with, “Jessica gripped the gun in her fist and walked into the saloon. She’d just ridden into Dodge City that morning and found her father hanging from a gallows. That really miffed her, so the first thing she did was…” Know what I mean? The art of bringing all that stuff in through action and dialogue is an art and most writers today do it about as well as I can dance. Omniscient narrators should be killed en masse all over the writing world. There, I said it, and I don’t care if I hang for it!
Who are your books published with?
Berkley and Signet. At one time, Forge. They’ve been good to me.
Pete, thank you so much for being our guest today and giving us these personal glimpses into your career and how you got started writing. You’ve written so many wonderful action packed westerns, my new kindle is going to be loaded down. These latest two additions to your credits look absolutely wonderful. Again, thanks for being our guest today, and we hope you’ll come back again in the future!
I love romances. Really. I write them and read them. But there are some things in romance novels that just make me crazy, and I know I’m not the only one.
In no particular order these things irritate me:
1 . The heroine has tiny feet. How many people actually think of their own feet as tiny?
2 . The heroine falls asleep thinking about what’s going to happen. Yawn.
3. The heroine has “small perfect” teeth. Or pearl-like or even. Why does the writer feel the need to tell us that?
4. Jumping in and out of heads/point of view. Do readers notice or care when we know what the cab driver is thinking?
5. A couple jumping into bed before I care about them – or before they care about each other. :::yawn:::
6. The ending feels rushed, as though the author only had a few remaining pages in which to resolve everything.
7. A story that starts out with so much backstory that I feel as though I’ve missed the previous book.
8. Heroines who giggle.
9. Heroines who only need a shower and a little lip gloss to look like JLo. Yeah, right.
10. Heroes with bad attitudes and nobody ever calls them on it. He’s full of himself, bossy and arrogant. I just don’t like jerks.
11. Heroes who growl. Really? If a man growled at you would you fall all over him?
12. Heroines who purr or mewl. :::meow:::
13. Impossible dialogue tags: “He husked” How does one husk?
14. Ridiculous dialogue tags: “He barked” Excuse me? Are you barking at me? Down boy.
15. Euphemisms. You know the ones I mean. Call a body part by its name or simply elude to it, but don’t bring pomegranates or roots into a love scene.
16. A heroine who cries. A good cry once—maybe twice—is acceptable as long as it’s well motivated. For me, the black moment or an overdue confession is a good reason to cry. But please not weeping and tearing up all through the story. A lot more emotion can be conveyed if the character holds back tears. Strength can be great characterization.
17. Characters who say the other person’s name repeatedly. I understand all about keeping story people separate for the reader, but people don’t speak to each other that way—unless they’re angry, usually.
18. Couples who argue without good reason. This is not conflict, people, this is bickering!
19. Heroines who are too young. Ewww.
20. Purple eyes. Do you know ANYONE with purple eyes?
I doubt I’ve covered it all. Is there anything I missed that sets your teeth on edge?
I trust that Santa brought you lots of goodies and that you had a safe and happy New Year’s.
Now that we have the holidays out of the way I’m proud and happy to share that our sixth anthology, BE MY TEXAS VALENTINE, with Phyliss Miranda, Jodi Thomas, DeWanna Pace, and myself hits bookstores this week. Already we’ve gotten some great reviews.
My story is called CUPID’S ARROW. Rue Ann Spencer, the daughter of a high-powered Texas senator, has come home from a ladies finishing school. She’s busy planning her wedding to Theodore Greeley, her father’s hand-picked groom for her. The last person she wants to run into is rancher Logan Cutter. But as the fickle hand of fate would have it, that’s exactly who she plows into as she’s leaving the dressmaker’s shop.
Logan Spencer never knew why Rue Ann suddenly up and left town. One minute they’re planning their life together and the next he’s left high and dry with no explanation. He thought he had her out of his system….until he finds her unexpectedly in his arms. Looking into her beautiful green eyes he knows he’ll never be content with anyone else, not even if he lives to be a hundred.
Two matchmaking spinster sisters, a stray dog that’s looking for someone to love, and a sudden storm that traps Rue Ann and Logan gives Cupid a little extra help and gets everyone sorted out and with the ones they’re supposed to be with.
I hope all four of these stories reminds you how special Valentine’s Day is when you’re with the one you love.
Now here’s a short excerpt:
Rue Ann Spencer stepped from Mrs. Fitzhugh’s Dress Shop where she was being fitted for her wedding gown into the blinding afternoon sunlight.
She quickly raised her hand to shield her eyes but it wasn’t soon enough to keep her from plowing into the solid wall of a man’s body.
His quick grasp kept her on her feet.
“Pardon me. I didn’t see….” She stared up into the liquid brown eyes of none other than Logan Cutter. Her words trailed as she suddenly lost the ability to form coherent thought. Her blood chilled. Why did she have to run into the one person who still had the ability to drive a knife straight into her heart?
That’s why she’d stayed far away from Texas and Shiloh for three years. She’d never forgive him for what he’d done.
“I heard you were back in town, Rue Ann.” Logan’s deep growl indicated he wasn’t thrilled with the encounter either. “And I also hear congratulations are in order on your upcoming nuptials.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cutter,” she replied stiffly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to do to prepare for my wedding. Valentine’s Day will be here-”
“In exactly two weeks and five days,” he finished for her.
Shocked that he knew to the day how long before she’d become someone else’s wife, she gathered her shredded composure and turned in the direction of Whipple’s Dry Goods. Refusing to give Cutter the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’d affected her, she moved on, keeping her gaze glued to the sidewalk, never once glancing back.
Trembling, Rue Ann opened the door of the dry goods store and hurried inside. Thankfully, Mr. Whipple had his hands full with the spinster Barlow sisters.
Rue Ann headed for a dark corner and, there sagging against a shelf of men’s hats, she blinked back sudden tears and gave herself a stern talking to.
She would not shed one more tear on that man. Logan Cutter wasn’t worth it.
*********
This is going to be our last anthology for a while. We’ve decided to work on our own individual projects.
Do you have a favorite Valentine memory you’d like to share? I’m giving away a copy of the book to two people who leave a comment.
Elvis Presley’s famous holiday song, Blue Christmas dates back to 1957 when Russ Morgan, Hugo Winterhalter and Ernest Tubb also had hits with the song. Elvis recorded his slightly different “bluesy” pardon the pun, version at Radio Recorders in September 1957 with the Jordonaires singing back-up. The song was a part of Elvis’s Christmas album that year, but it wasn’t released as a single until 1964, seven years later. The Beach Boys also released a version of Blue Christmas in 1964. Their record made it to #3 on the charts, but The King’s rendition became a Christmas classic, shooting straight to the top as number one, even amid the British Invasion and changing tastes in music. To this day, Elvis Presley’s version of Blue Christmas continues to top the Christmas music charts.
I’ve always been fascinated with Elvis Presley. I have seen every movie he’s ever made and many of them, numerous times. I’ve seen him live in concert in Las Vegas in Lake Tahoe, where we were honeymooning, no less. And my running joke was that going to the Elvis concert was the Highlight of my honeymoon. Thankfully, dear hubby didn’t take offense. So when the Fillies decided on sharing holiday songs and their history for our Special Holiday Week, I knew Blue Christmas was just for me! (And you!) Here are the short lyrics and to make life even more grand, tune in to Elvis’s YouTube performance!
I’ll have a Blue Christmas without you I’ll be so blue just thinking about you Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree Won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me
And when those blue snowflakes start falling Thats when those blue memories start calling Youll be doing all right with your Christmas of white But Ill have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas
You’ll be doin’ all right, with your Christmas of white, But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas
Be sure to enter THE COWBOY’S PRIDE Contest on my Win Stuff page at www.charlenesands.com
When I began plotting my story for A Texas Christmas I knew that my hero was going to be a grouchy old blacksmith who wanted to celebrate Christmas in the only way he knew how … in solitude because of a tragedy he’d experienced during the holidays three years prior. It didn’t take me long to figure out that wasn’t gonna happen because of the blizzard that hit the Texas Panhandle in 1887.
My proposal had him snowed in with a lovely, pregnant woman who gives birth on Christmas Eve, thus the name Away in the Manger. But how I first envisioned my story and how it began unfolding was totally different. Yes, a pretty lady is stranded but instead of being with child she has three year old twins, a boy and a girl, who are precious, inquisitive and much harder for my hero to handle than a pregnant woman would have ever been. As I wrote my story, or as it wrote itself, I realized that my little girl was a mirror image of my youngest granddaughter, Addison Claire … thus the creation of Addie Claire and her brother Damon.
And, of course, once Rand and Sarah discover they love one another and want to be a family; and with one twin in each arm, Rand begins to sing Away in the Manager and is quickly joined by his new love and the children
Here’s a little history I found on the song.
It doesn’t have a clear-cut author, as it was written in counterpart, but it is one of the most popular hymns and also Christmas carols sang. Whatever the refrain, whichever of the variations; and/or whoever is the true composer, there can be no doubt that this sweet song is a favorite of children and adults alike.Most current publications of Away in a Manger indicate that the writer of the first two stanzas is unknown. Others name Martin Luther as the author. The song was first published in an 1885 Lutheran Sunday School book compiled by James R. Murray (1841-1905), who gave the song a subtitle of Luther’s Cradle Hymn. The third verse was written by John T. McFarland in 1904.
Some credit the music to Murray; others think he merely harmonized an old German folk song. The words are frequently sung to the tune of the Scottish song Flow Gently Sweet Afton.
The beloved children’s Christmas Carol is generally sung to one of two melodies. In the U.S. the most popular tune is Mueller, while the United Kingdom prefers the melody of Cradle Song.
Modern research confirms the words date back to the late 19th century and originated in America, not Germany. Richard S. Hill, librarian at the Library of Congress, found that the origins of Away in the Manager came from celebrations of Martin Luther’s 400th birthday among Lutheran churches in the United States in 1883. Hill concluded from his research that an unknown person or persons wrote the words of Away in the Manager as a poem for use in a children’s play at one such Luther birthday party.
There have been several variations of the song, including one or more of the following:
The first line of the 1st verse – exchange ‘no crib for a bed’ for ‘no room for his head’
The third line of the 1st verse – omit the word ‘bright’ or exchange ‘bright’ for ‘night’
The first line of the 2nd verse – exchange ‘the baby awakes’ for ‘the Babe awakes’ or add the word ‘poor’ and remove the (‘The poor baby wakes’)
The last line of the 2nd verse – exchange ‘stay by my cradle ’til’ for either ‘stay by my bed until’ or ‘stay by my bedside ’til’
The last line of the 3rd verse – exchange ‘And take us to Heaven’ for either ‘And fit us for Heaven’ or ‘And throw us to Heaven’
Away in a Manger
Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head.
The stars in the bright sky looked down where He lay,
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes;
I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle ’til morning is nigh.
Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray;
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care,
And take us to Heaven to live with Thee there.
And, from me to you, I pray each of you had a wonderful Christmas and are ready for a very prosperous and happy 2012!
This is my final blog for 2011 and I want to thank everyone for making my 2011 at Petticoats and Pistols so much fun. I thank you all for sharing your stories with us and look forward to a wonderful New Year here at Wildflower Junction.
Hidy, fillies! Thanks for inviting me in for a visit today. P&P is always such a fun group.
If you could live in the Old West, whereabouts would you choose and what would your occupation be?
Wow. That’s a hard one. Although I love the beauty and wildlife of the mountains, it would be hard trying to eek out an existence there with the short growing seasons, killer winters, isolation, and no malls or internet. And as much as I love mountains, I’d rather LOOK at them, than LIVE in them. Same with oceans. The flatlands are good because you can see a cloud coming for days and get ready for it, but all that flatness might get a little boring after a while. Plus, tornadoes give me a bad case of the heebie jeebies. The South is out because even though the people are a hoot, I don’t like cockroaches and humidity and being sweaty for no good reason. And I’ve already been through my share of hurricanes, thank you very much. So I guess I’d like to be where I am right now—on a hilltop looking at mountains and valleys, watching cockroach-free wildlife wander by, no humidity, lots of sunshine, and tapping away on my computer. I already had a bear on my deck a few months ago—that’s as close to nature as I need to be. It’s a great life.
What intrigues you the most about writing westerns?
The code. Honor, integrity, pride, independence, self-sufficiency, pitching in when needed, and of course, guys in tight jeans. There was no moral ambiguity back then. Just right and wrong. I feel of late we’ve lost sight of those basics. Baggy jeans hanging off a city-slicker’s tattooed butt just doesn’t do it for me. But a fine-looking man on a fine-looking horse, well… Plus, there were fewer politicians back then to mess up everything, which is always appealing.
What interesting places have you visited while doing research for your stories?
I’ve pretty much covered the West, so I don’t have to go anywhere to envision it. All I have to do is remember it. But I’ve traveled a lot on the cyber highway and have come across many interesting facts—some of which might even be true. Plus I’m a great people-watcher and brain-picker. If you’re a doctor, nurse, psychologist, historian, horse trainer, rancher, botanist, bird watcher, hiker, camper, outdoor survivalist, wildlife biologist, or anyone with a kind face—I’ll be on you like a hen on a June bug. Everyone I meet has something to offer.
Do you normally start with storyline or with character or with some combination of the two?
I think of a place I’d like to write about—then the time period—then the kind of people who might live there then. It’s the old “what if” scenario. What if there was this beautiful ranch in a mountain valley in New Mexico, and this guy and his brothers lived there…three really hot, lonely brothers…hmmm. Then I start posing questions: What haunts him? What does he fear? What does he want more than anything in the world and how can I keep him from getting it until he’s earned his “happily-ever-after”? It sort of snowballs from there.
Please tell us about your current projects. (Brief overview including any tidbits about your inspiration or interesting behind-the-scenes notes you care to share)
I just finished the third Runaway Brides book, BRIDE OF THE HIGH COUNTRY, which comes out next June, so I’m taking a short break. Instead of writing, I’ll be promoting the newly released mass market editions of the Blood Rose Trilogy (PIECES OF SKY, OPEN COUNTRY, and CHASING THE SUN), as well as the trade release of COLORADO DAWN, which comes out on January 3rd. These brides books have been a lot of fun—four women who head West to start new lives and get more than they bargained for when they’re stranded in a dying Colorado mining town. Fun stuff. Meanwhile, I’ll be busy with a huge giveaway on my blog (www.kakiwarner.wordpress.com). Throughout the month of December, I’m giving away twenty three-book mass market sets of the Blood Rose Trilogy, plus fifteen early copies of Colorado Dawn. Be sure to drop by.
As for current projects…there are always ideas bouncing around in my head…a Christmas Novella, a tie-in to the grooms of the bride series, a re-visit to the Wilkins ranch…lots of things I’d like to do. So we’ll see.
What was the inspiration behind Colorado Dawn?
Maddie (the heroine) had already appeared in HEARTBREAK CREEK, the first brides book, so I pretty much knew what she was about. But since she’s an English photographer and somewhat unconventional, I decided to pair her with a duty-bound, titled Scottish soldier who is so involved running around doing military things he doesn’t realize his wife has given up on him until he returned to find her gone. Then the chase is on. Ah…a Scotsman in the West. Two of my favorite things. My grandfather was Scottish and I still hear his brogue in my memory. He always seemed a boisterous, bigger-than-life character, so I suppose in many ways Angus Wallace came about because of him.
What would your readers be most surprised to learn about you?
That I’ve been married for forty-five years (and to the same man, no less—give me a freaking medal), and I sold the first book I wrote the same year I went on Medicare. How’s that for being a late bloomer baby bloomer? Plus, put me up in front of a crowd and watch the hives pop out. I’m pathetic. But I’ve learned to cover my pathological shyness with inappropriate remarks and out-of-control giggling, so at least onlookers aren’t bored.
Since you told me to ask–Why don’t you write sex scenes in your stories?
(You weren’t supposed to tell). But since you did…actually I do write sex scenes, just not graphic ones. I figure most of my readers already have an idea of what goes where, so I don’t need to spell it out in detail. There are manuals that do that a lot better than I could. Admittedly, sex is a vital and necessary part of the human condition, but I think overly graphic sex scenes desensitize readers and often trivialize what should be a moving, romantic, physical and spiritual joining. (I know. I’m a hopeless romantic). So I focus on the romance of it, not the mechanics. I don’t want readers flipping through my books to get to the spicy parts, nor do I want them skimming over the sex scenes to get back to the story. It’s a choice every writer has to make. Sure, I’ve gotten dinged for my “fade to black” sex scenes (I use a lot of cuss words, so that should help some, right?). But I’ve gotten many, many more e-mails and comments from readers who appreciate not having to suffer through yet another blow-by-blow (oops, did I say that?) account of two people getting it on. Rent a movie.
Am I wrong, readers? Is graphic better? Or fade to black? What do you prefer in your romances and why?
What were your favorite books as a child?
Favorite book? Where do I start. Every Christmas my parents gave me the current Newberry Prize winner and it was always a treasured gift. But the book I carried around
with me as a little kid was Petunia the Silly Goose. From there I went through Uncle Remus, The Secret Garden, any horse book, the Nancy Drew mysteries, Thomas Costain’s books. I even read
bad poetry. In fact, one Christmas I delighted my entire family and guests (I was seven) with a surprise reading of “The Old Bastard Is Dead”which was snatched out of my hands before I could finish (I didn’t know what a bastard was back then. Maybe that was my first step toward romances…you think?)
Thanks for coming by today and letting me spout off. And in the spirit of the season, I’m giving away a three-book set of the mass market editions of the Blood Rose Trilogy and an advance copy of COLORADO DAWN to two lucky commenters. Ho Ho Ho!
As I was writing this blog a week or so ago, nature decided to deck the halls in all its glory. Snow descended on the West Texas Plains and temperatures drastically dropped as shoppers scurried from store to store. In the midst of it all everyone was putting up Christmas trees, pretty lights and making their homes beautiful.
But back to the snow. Although we only got about two inches where I am, some surrounding areas received up to four.
It was simply gorgeous.
I can admire it as long as I’m warm and snug inside and only viewing it through a window with a cup of something hot in my hand. I’m not one for venturing out if there’s the slightest chance I might fall and break a bone.
This recent snow and frigid temperatures reminded me of the research Phyliss, Jodi, DeWanna, and I did when we decided to write a Christmas anthology.
The Texas Panhandle where our stories are set is no stranger to horrible blizzards.
Beginning in late December of 1885 until about 1890, a series of devastating blizzards occurred that struck a blow and brought the cattle rancher to his knees. Hundreds of thousands of cattle froze or starved to death. Some ranches were completely wiped out and unable to stay in operation.
What does some snow have to do to cause financial ruin you ask?
Cattle instinctively drift south (sometimes over 100 miles or more) seeking shelter when blue northers and blizzards hit. They’re no dummies. And it wouldn’t have posed such a huge problem normally. But members of the Panhandle Stock Association erected a drift fence in 1882 that ran from the New Mexico line eastward to the Canadian River breaks. When the blizzard hit, the cattle began their southward trek…until they got caught at the drift fences. Unable to go any farther they huddled against each other along the fence line in huge bunches and died.
Then, during the especially harsh winter of 1886-1887 cattle losses were as high as 75%. One cowboy of the LX Ranch reportedly skinned 250 carcasses a mile for 35 miles along one section of fence alone. Now, that’s a lot of dead cows!
So, when Phyliss, Jodi, DeWanna and I decided to write a Christmas book, we knew we wanted to incorporate a blizzard into each of the stories.
In my story, a train is stuck by the deep snow and there’s a pregnant woman, a very ill elderly man and three orphan children on board. If not for Sloan Sullivan, a nearby rancher, who brought much needed supplies and the courage of Tess Whitgrove they might not have survived.
So, remember this next time you’re caught in a blizzard…avoid fences and have plenty of hot stuff along to keep your blood pumping. Use your cell phone to call for help. Oh, and make sure you have a handsome rescuer not far off.
This is my last blog for 2011. My thanks to everyone who supports all of us here at P&P.
MERRY CHRISTMAS and Happy New Year!
Published at December 12th, 2011 in category Behind the Book
I love this book—more, I think, than any book I’ve ever written. And since it’s Christmastime again, I’m hoping more readers will discover it. It’s available in both paper and electronic formats.
First a word of apology to anyone who read CHRISTMAS MOON last year and was confused by the date on the epilogue (the story starts in 2010, but the epilogue is dated 2009). This was a mistake on my part and has been fixed in this year’s version. The epilogue is now dated 2011. Here’s a summary of the story:
Anything can happen under a Christmas Moon…
Pregnant, unwed and down on her luck, history teacher Emma Carlyle is facing the worst Christmas of her life. Needing some research for her master’s thesis on legendary Wyoming lawman J.D. McNulty, she makes a Christmas Eve drive to South Pass City, where J.D. was buried. Heading home, she loses her way in a storm. After her car vanishes, she ends up in 1871, half-frozen, on the doorstep of a remote mountain cabin. When J.D. himself opens the door with a pistol in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other…well, let’s just say that sparks start flying. These two lost souls are clearly meant for each other. But there’s one problem. Emma has studied everything about J.D.–and she knows he has only a few weeks to live.
Just for fun, here’s a short excerpt. This one tells what happens when J.D. opens his door and sees Emma for the first time.
The woman on J.D.’s porch looked as if she’d just staggered out of a nightmare. She was wild-eyed and tarnally spooked, gripping a stick of kindling as if she wanted to bash in his face. The fact that she was dressed like some kind of Chinaman, in sagging black trousers and an enormous, puffy green silk coat, only added to J.D.’s befuddlement. What lunatic asylum had this female escaped from?
“Easy, now, lady.” J.D. kept the Colt leveled at her collar bone, but mostly for show. “Put that stick down, and I’ll take my itchy finger off this trigger.”
Slowly and shakily she lowered her arm. He could see now that she was half-dead from cold and exhaustion. Her lips were the color of laundry bluing and her hair was plastered around her face in frozen strings. She was swaying on her feet like a drunkard.
J.D. cursed under his breath. He’d been looking forward to a peaceful night with his books, the old tomcat and a bottle of the finest rotgut whiskey in Glory Gulch. Maybe if he drank enough of the stuff, he might even forget it was Christmas Eve.
Now his plans were blown to hell. He wouldn’t have minded female company of the soft and willing variety. But this woman didn’t strike him as the sporting kind, and it appeared he was stuck with her. The devil himself wouldn’t close the door and leave her outside to freeze.
Muttering words unfit for a lady’s ears, he eased off the hammer and laid the Colt on the bookshelf. “Well don’t just stand there. Come on inside. And don’t expect any apologies for my state of undress. I wasn’t expecting company.”
The kindling stick clattered to the porch as she dragged herself across the threshold. She was tall for a woman, with a body that appeared too stout for her heart-shaped face. But maybe that was because of the coat. Her eyes, when she looked up at him, were the warm, translucent brown of sarsaparilla on a sunny day. They were staring at him as if she’d just seen Abraham Lincoln’s ghost.
Her chilled lips worked in an effort to speak. “Where…am I?”
J.D. bolted the door behind her. “Glory Gulch, Wyoming. The upper edge of it, at least. Main part of town’s further down the canyon.”
“Glory Gulch?” Her eyes widened. “People are living here?”
“A few score, maybe, most of us down on our luck. Not like the old days before the gold played out.” J.D. bit down hard on his cheroot as a new thought struck him. “Any other folks out there with you? Any of your family lost in the storm?” He didn’t relish searching in a blizzard but if there were other travelers with the woman, he’d rather find them alive tonight than dead tomorrow.
Distrust flickered across her face, and he realized she’d misread him. “Oh, there’ll be plenty of people looking for me by morning—police on snowmobiles, maybe even a helicopter or two. As long as they find me safe, there’ll be no trouble for you.”
J.D. shook his head. The woman was touched for sure. “You’re talking gibberish, lady. Sit down and have a whiskey. Maybe it’ll bring you around.”
He turned toward the hearth, where he’d set the jug next to the cat’s favorite warming spot. She stopped him with a touch on his arm. Her fingers were like icicles through his sleeve.
“Tell me one thing.” She was staring up at him, her wild, scared doe’s eyes searching his face. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
“McNulty, for whatever it’s worth to you. J.D. McNulty.”
Her eyes widened for an instant. Then the pupils rolled back in her head and she swayed to one side. J.D. lunged, catching her as she went down in a dead faint.
You’ll find a longer excerpt on my website, www.elizabethlaneauthor.com. Here’s a link to the Kindle version.
What’s your favorite Christmas Story, romantic or otherwise?I’ll be giving away a paperback edition of CHRISTMAS MOON to one reader who posts today. Good luck!
P.S. This has nothing to do with any of the above, but the cover for my March release just showed up on Amazon and I wanted to share it with you. More about this one later.
The year was 1885 and the town was called Pierce, Idaho Territory.
A merchant named David Fraser ran a mercantile mostly patronized by local miners. He lived in the back room. Across the street stood another mercantile run by a Chinaman and supported mostly by the local Chinese miners who outnumbered the whites in the area by about twenty to one that year.
Faithfully every morning, David Fraser breakfasted at the boarding house next door to his store. So on the September morning when he didn’t show up for breakfast, someone went to check on him. They found him brutally murdered – hacked to death, reports said – in a pool of his own blood.
An inquiry was launched, several Chinamen were arrested, and the events that followed would mark this story down permanently in the vigilante history of the Wild West.
Fast forward to 1997, same town, same locale, now a state, and a burgeoning writer who reads this tidbit of history and simply has to put the whole story down on paper. That’s how I first came to write my debut novel, Rocky Mountain Oasis.
There were many supporting historical facts that I could rely on. Newspaper articles from the time, I pulled up on microfiche at the local university in Moscow, Idaho. A good story needs, conflict, tension, suspense… this historical event had it all. The historical framework for my story was all laid out for me. I just had to weave my fictional characters in with the real, and voila! A story was born.
The second edition of Rocky Mountain Oasis will soon be available (the first edition is currently available at the link below) followed by the continuing sequels in the series. Leave a comment to get your name in a drawing for one of two e-copies of the 2nd edition of Rocky Mountain Oasis as a PDF.
From the back cover of the book: She’s been living in a desert all her life. Suddenly she’s come upon an oasis. But is it just a mirage?
Brooke Marie Baker, eighteen, has been sent west as a mail-order bride. As the stage nears Greer’s Ferry, where she is to meet the man she’s pledged to marry, she tries to swallow the lump of nervousness in her throat. “Can it be any worse than living with Uncle Jackson…or Hank?” she wonders. “All men are the same, aren’t they?” But with her parents and sister dead, she has no choice.
Sky Jordan, a rancher, holds a single yellow daisy in his hand as he watches the ferry cross the river. Ever since he’d found out his surly cousin, Jason, had sent for a mail-order bride, his mind and heart had been ill at ease.
“No woman deserves to be left with the likes of Jason.” But now he questions his own plans to claim the bride for himself. “Why am I drawn to this woman I don’t even know?”
A wounded heart. Desperate choices. Unfathomable love.
Set in the adventure and danger of the Wild Idaho Territory in 1885.
“An intriguing tale with the perfect blend of suspense, drama, and romance. Best keep your eyes on Lynnette Bonner. She’s a gifted storyteller.” -Sharlene MacLaren, Author, ‘Through Every Storm’, ‘Long Journey Home’, ‘Little Hickman Creek Series’, ‘The Daughters of Jacob Kane Series’ You can find out more about Rocky Mountain Oasis HERE
I’m giving away two copies of the 2nd edition of Rocky Mountain Oasis in a PDF format so be sure and leave a comment.
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Lynnette Bonner was born and raised in Africa and has been writing since the late 1990’s. Rocky Mountain Oasis is her first book. When she isn’t writing, she loves to watch her boys play sports or spend time lost in the world created by a great book.
BROKEN BLOSSOMS was my last book with Leisure Books, but it was the most fun to research. The title is taken from a 1919 silent movie starring Lillian Gish, a popular film star at the time. The film is a tragedy, set in the slums of London, and portrays the gentle romance between an opium-addicted Chinese man and a 15-year-old waif (played by Gish), who is eventually killed by her bigoted father.
While my book is far from a tragedy–it is a romance, after all!–the story depicts how opium had begun to grip the nation in its addicting fists. Opium smoking was first introduced to the West in the 1850s by European travellers, sailors and Chinese laborers who brought their habit to our shores. It didn’t take long for artists, writers and the wealthy to fall prey to the drug . . . or prostitutes, drifters and other low-lifes to follow suit.
Cocaine, hashish, ether, chloroform and absinthe became fashonable and exotic as society relished their new-found freedom to imbibe and experiment. Poets and novelists claimed opium stirred the muse and freed them from inhibition. Cinema exploited the craze and cashed in at the box-office. And so, too, did detective novels and true crime exposes, titillating their audiences by weaving danger and seduction into their tales.
Of course, in real life, opium has a darker side, and there were few places more dark than Chinatown in San Francisco in the mid- to late 1800s. Newspapers and government reporters painted horrific pictures of the poverty and filth in the opium dens. One hotel, the infamous Palace Hotel on Jackson Street, housed some 400 addicts living with a woeful shortage of privies, all contributing to the stench and deplorable conditions, veiled, of course, by the fumes from the ‘heavenly demon’ they lived for.
At this time, opium was not illegal–yet–but the drug was subject to stiff import taxes. Customs officials fought a never-ending battle to control the sheer volume of the shipments sliding into the San Francisco ports, and smugglers turned creative to maximize their profits.
And right about here is where BROKEN BLOSSOMS begins. Carleigh Chandler is the pampered daughter of a powerful and corrupt San Francisco judge who blackmails government agent, Trig Mathison, to keep his secret. The judge knows how to play dirty, and Trig puts up a good fight. Caught in between them, of course, is Carleigh, who does indeed learn her father’s secret and runs away to see for herself the woman she’s always been denied. Her mother.
Readers who delve into Trig and Carleigh’s story will see how opium consumed–and destroyed–lives. Trig learns that his fight against the evils which overpower the weak will never end, and Carleigh discovers there’s far more to life than comforts and money. They cling to the love they’ve found in each other and know there is little more important than that.
I’ve recently released BROKEN BLOSSOMS as an e-book, available now for only 99 cents! I can’t promise that price will last forever, so click here to buy a copy from Amazon for your Kindle!
So there you have it. A little history on opium in the 1800s. Believe me, I’ve barely scratched the surface, and maybe there’s a future blog about it, but for now, let’s talk opium. Do you know of any writers who were opium addicts? Can you give some of the slang for it? Seen any movies about it?
Join in the discussion! I don’t have author copies for BROKEN BLOSSOMS, but I’ll pick a winner for any of my backlist of Harlequin titles.
a good friend of mine who writes some fantastic western adventures, Peter Brandvold! Pete has been gracious enough to take time from his busy schedule to answer a few interview questions for us and will be poking his head in every once in a while today to read and answer comments and questions. He’s got a couple of new releases to tell us about today as well as some insight as to how he got started writing and a few of his pet peeves.
I have two current releases–a paranormal or “weird” western, DUST OF THE DAMNED, and a traditional western under my pen name Frank Leslie–THE LAST RIDE OF JED STRANGE. DUST is a werewolf western in which two ghoul-hunting bounty hunters, Uriah Zane and Angel Coffin, go after the Hell’s Angels–a pack of werewolves brought into the U.S. by Abe Lincoln to win the Civil War at Gettysburg. The Angels were supposed to go home when the job was done, but it seems you can’t trust a werewolf farther than you could throw your fattest aunt uphill against a cyclone. They came west and caused all kinds of trouble. A beautiful Mexican witch and necromancer is leading them across the Arizona desert in search of the werewolf-equivalent of the holy grail. (Jesse James makes an appearance as a ghoul-hunter, as well, because in my messed-up West there’s more money in hunting down vampires, aka, “swillers,” and hobgobbies and werewolves than there is in train robbing!) 
who wears the ‘S’ mark of Sapinero on his cheek–branded there by the vile Bill Rondo. In this one, he’s on the run in Mexico with a young girl, Bethel Strange, who’s looking for her outlaw father who was last seen running guns in the Sonora Desert.
I love romances. Really. I write them and read them. But there are some things in romance novels that just make me crazy, and I know I’m not the only one.
4. Jumping in and out of heads/point of view. Do readers notice or care when we know what the cab driver is thinking?
8. Heroines who giggle.
14. Ridiculous dialogue tags: “He barked” Excuse me? Are you barking at me? Down boy.
20. Purple eyes. Do you know ANYONE with purple eyes?
