Announcements

10 Year Anniverary & New Releases Winners: Carrie Fancett Pagels' Butterfly Cottage - Melanie B, Dogwood Plantation - Patty H R, Janet Grunst's winner is Connie S., Denise Weimer's Winner is Kay M., Naomi Musch's winner is Chappy Debbie, Angela Couch - Kathleen Maher, Pegg Thomas Beverly D. M. & Gracie Y., Christy Distler - Kailey B., Shannon McNear - Marilyn R.
Showing posts with label Historical romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Historical romance. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 30, 2019

Autumn Tea Party for CQ Authors' New Releases!


Welcome to our Colonial Quills Autumn Tea Party for our authors' new releases!!! Come on in and take a place by the fire as we serve you tea and treats!

Carrie Fancett Pagels:


Mercy in a Red Cloak audiobook



I'm delighted that my colonial-era suspenseful romance is available in paperback, ebook, and now audiobook! Set during the time of Pontiac's War, after the French-Indian War, it took me about seven years to finally have this story released. The audiobook narrator is Bill Anciaux, at fine narrator and he brought Shadrach Clark's and Mercy Clarke's story to life.

Storyline: Famed colonial scout, Shadrach Clark, is sought out in the Straits of Mackinac, when he has gone missing. His dear friend, Mercy, whose circuit-rider father is also missing, joins in the search. Set during the time of Pontiac's War, can love still blossom?

GIVEAWAY: An autographed paperback copy!



Four lovely stories in this collection from Barbour Publishing. I was delighted to write another Mackinac Island-set story. This novella begins right before my Maggie Award winning story My Heart Belongs on Mackinac Island. I had so much fun writing this story because I got to hang out with some of my favorite characters again, such as little Jack Welling.

In Desperate Straits by Carrie Fancett Pagels
Mackinac Island, Michigan, 1894

Desperate for work, Margaret Hadley dresses as a young man to secure a dray driver’s position. When soldiers at the fort threaten her, Mackinac Island’s newest teacher, Jesse Huntington, intervenes.


Denise Weimer:

Today I'm celebrating the release of The Witness Tree, my historical romance set in 1805 Cherokee Territory. 




Past betrayal has turned John Kliest’s passion to his work as a builder and surveyor in the Moravian town of Salem, North Carolina. Now, to satisfy the elders’ edict and fulfill his mission in Cherokee Territory, he needs a bride. But the one woman qualified to record the Cherokee language longs for a future with his younger brother.

Clarissa Vogler’s dream of a life with Daniel Kliest is shattered when she is chosen by lot to marry his older brother and venture into the uncharted frontier. Can she learn to love this stoic man who is now her husband? Her survival hinges on being able to trust him—but they both harbor secrets.


The Witness Tree on Amazon

I'll be sharing more about the Moravians and Cherokees during my 5:30 time slot on the Facebook party, when I'll also be giving away e-book copies of both The Witness Tree and my new contemporary romance, Fall Flip (Fall Flip on Amazon), plus a Moravian-themed goody pack. If you'd like to win a PRINT copy of The Witness Tree, leave a comment here on our blog (U.S.).


Janet Grunst:

Janet Grunst here. Thanks for joining us for our fall release party.

I’m privileged to be a part of THE HIGHLANDERS, the second Smitten Historical Romance Collection that releases November 15th. While the four stories are all about men from the Scottish Highlands, two are set in America and two are set during the Colonial period. They are all quite different from each other. My story The Year Without Summer takes place in 1816 in the Scottish Highlands and Northern Ireland. At the party, I'll share some fun details about the book's cover and more about the stories.

I will be giving away a signed copy of The Highlanders to one USA commenter on the blog. Enjoy the party. 


Naomi Musch

Hi there, Colonial Quills Readers! Everyone finished brewing their tea yet? I’ll just stir a dollop of honey into my cup while I tell you about my upcoming release, also in THE HIGHLANDERS collection, available for pre-order and going live on November 15th

In this novella collection spanning two centuries and featuring Highlander heroes, my story A TENDER SIEGE is about grieving widow Lachlan McRea of his Majesty’s 42 Highlanders wounded during Pontiac’s War in the Battle of Bushy Run. Begging God to take him, and longing only to see his lost wife and child again, Lachlan is discovered by Wenonah, an Odawa widow living on her own precarious edge of safety and need. In aiding one another, Lachlan and Wenonah’s perils increase, but if he can let go of the woman he once loved, he might yet find healing for both body and soul.

The Highlanders Collection is four novellas spanning two centuries, with four distinct authors’ voices, settings, and story styles. Pre-order is available, and by signing up for my newsletter, you can get a sneak peek at the complete first chapter of A TENDER SIEGE.
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Another recent release of mine isn’t Colonial, but I hope you’ll take a peek. THE BRIGHTEST HOPE concludes my Echoes of the Heart WWI and post war series. 

Holly Allen is a well-adjusted war widow who’s developed a knack for running the family press. Her world is turned upside down when she hires “front man” Hugh Phelps to give customers the man-in-charge image they want. With the ghosts of his past, Hugh is anything but a white knight riding in to sweep her away from her cares. Yet when new beginnings finally do seem possible, old heartaches from the war come calling. Now it might only be in letting go of everything dear that they both discover what real love is.



Want to enter to win a signed, full paperback set of the series? Copy and Share the image below on social media and tag me in the post, and I’ll add your name to the drawing. (If it’s easier, you can go to my FB author page or Twitter profile page and share it from there.)

https://amazon.com/author/naomimusch

Angela Couch 

Nothing like a tea party to warm spirits. Not that there was much time for tea or parties in the middle of the war for American freedom. After three years, my Hearts at War series is complete:




It started deep in the Mohawk Valley with the Battle of Oriskany, where Rachel Garnet looses her father and stumbles upon (quite literally) a wounded British captain. They don't expect him to last the night, but when he starts to recover, how will they keep his presence a secret?

 Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility meets the wilderness of Colonial America.



Book two took us south with Daniel Reid. After three years service in the Colonial Army, and he's still not ready to go home to the Mohawk Valley. He takes a message to the legendary Swamp Fox, and finds himself in a tangle of spies and intrigue, where he can't be certain who he can trust.




Book four brought us home. Burying his wife is the hardest thing Joseph Garnet has done, until he's called to leave his young son and baby daughter to fight Iroquois raiders. When one of the marauders tries to steal his horse, the last thing he expects is to end up tussling with a female. The girl is wounded, leaving Joseph little choice but to haul her home to heal—an act that seems all too familiar.


And finally, it all comes together.
The war for American freedom is over, and the British have gone back to England. Not knowing what has become of his family since he was forced into the Continental Army nine years earlier, Myles Cunningham wants to go home as well. He returns to the Mohawk Valley with the understanding that he is believed to have been shot for deserting—fiction that might be made real if anyone recognizes him as the son of a Tory and a King's Ranger.
Everything is wonderful in the growing community along the Mohawk River, except Nora Reid is still alone. With her brother happily settled and both her younger sisters starting families of their own, Nora feels the weight of her twenty-four years. A long walk leads her to the overgrown rubble of the Cunningham homestead where a bearded stranger begins to awaken feelings she'd lost hope of ever experiencing.
With secrets abounding—including whether Myles even cares for her—Nora must determine what she is ready to give up and how far she will go to secure his affections. She begins to break through his defenses, but Myles can't risk staying. Not if he loves her.

Read more and find buy links on my website: www.angelakcouch.com 

Between here and the facebook party, I will be giving away an e-book of each of these stories!
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Our Facebook Party begins at 5 pm Eastern Time tonight, October 30th, 2019.

Comment here on the blog for giveaways associated with this post and come by the Tea Party tonight for more fun and giveaways! As always, thank you so much for celebrating with us!

Monday, August 13, 2018

Who Were the Shawnee?


Artist's concept of a Shawnee warrior in the 1700's
Students of the colonial era are probably most familiar with the Iroquois Nation or the Cherokee, but the Shawnee were certainly a force to be reckoned with as well, especially when it came to settling the Ohio Valley. They have a bit of a reputation for fierceness, but—who exactly were they?

To begin with, the name “Shawnee” roots from a word that means “southerner” in many native languages. In the various migrations that occurred over North America, the tribe known as Shawnee were pushed southward by the Iroquois and settled for a while in South Carolina, eventually winding up as far south as Florida and Alabama. I found it interesting that there’s even a linguistic tie between Shawnee (Shaawanowi, from shawunogi—and understand that native spellings were as fluid as English ones in the time, mostly existing for the sake of capturing pronunciation) and the name Savannah, since according to at least one source that’s what the colonists of South Carolina called them. (Which is easy to see, if you soften the modern pronunciation and accent from emphasis on that hard short A in the second syllable, and consider how the Germanic V and W were often interchangeable.)

So who were the Shawnee, in the midst of other native tribes? Not only were they known as the “restless” people, with a loose social structure that probably evolved as a result of their wanderings, but they were known as proud, thoughtful, fiercely independent, in some cases shutting down the efforts of Christian missionaries before they could even get a good start. They regarded their own spirituality as superior to everyone else’s—including other native tribes, which is nothing new to human nature. William Penn, however, who took great care to treat native peoples with as much consideration and dignity as he would want shown himself, suggested that the Shawnee and others descended from some of the lost tribes of Israel. In addition to citing similarities to Hebrew in their language, he wrote:

“For their original, I am ready to believe them of the Jewish race; I mean of the stock of the ten tribes, and that for the following reasons: First, they were to go to a land not planted or known, which to be sure, Asia and Africa were, if not Europe, and he that intended that extraordinary judgment upon them, might make the passage not uneasy to them, as it is not impossible in itself, from the easternmost part of Asia, to the westernmost part of America. In the next place, I find them of like countenance, and their children of so lively resemblance, that a man would think himself in Dukes’ Palace, or in Berry Street, in London, when he seeth them; but this not all: they agree in rites; they reckon by moons; they offer their first fruits; they have a kind of feast of tabernacles; they are said to lay their altar upon twelve stones; their mourning a year; customs of women, with many other things that do not now occur.” (History of the Shawnee Indians from the year 1681, to the year 1701, as cited by Henry Harvey)

Whether we also believe this could be true, or not, they were a remarkable people, a study as many native tribes were in contradictions but with their own code of honor that in some ways could be considered amazingly biblical. Flaws and admirable qualities alike, they are definitely a fascinating people!

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For my upcoming release, The Cumberland Bride, set on the Wilderness Road into Kentucky in 1794, I did as much research on the Shawnee people as on the Wilderness Road itself, and found some great resources:

History of the Shawnee Indians, From the Year 1681 to 1854, Inclusive by Henry Harvey.

The Shawnees and the War for America, Colin G. Calloway.

Native American Tribes: The History and Culture of the Shawnee, by Charles River Editors

The Magic Moccasins: Life Among Ohio's Six Indian Tribes, Volume One, Delaware/Shawnee/Mingo, by Jane Barks Ross.








Monday, August 6, 2018

Sneak peak at The Tory's Daughter!

Take a sneak peek at The Tory's Daughter available this fall!



May 1781, Mohawk Valley

Nine months…and he still felt like a rotted-out stump. Hollow. Joseph Garnet lowered to his knees on the soft soil and glanced at his baby girl, nine months old today. She sat at the foot of her mother’s grave, gnawing on the end of the twig her brother had just handed her. 

James, now two-and-a-half, searched the immediate area for more treasure. A pebble came to hand, and he brought it to Joseph. “Papa, look.”

Joseph took the smooth rock and placed it near the roughhewn cross bearing Fannie’s name. “Should we leave it here for Mama?”

Little James, named for his grandfather, nodded. “Want Mama.”

“You and me both.” Joseph filled his lungs. The air was laden with the scent of moisture and earth. Spring. The season had done little to dull the loneliness winter had festered within him. He was busy with planting, but that also meant he had less time with his children.

“Joseph!”

He sighed. Rachel had probably forgotten something for the children. His sister worried too much. Did she not trust him to manage his own young’uns for a couple of hours? That was all he’d asked for this Sabbath day.

His name echoed closer now.

Joseph stood and plucked Martha and her twig from the ground. He didn’t need Rachel to find him here. Again. Judging from her frantic tone, he’d best hurry. A child in each arm, Joseph breached the edge of the grove to see Rachel rushing across the freshly turned earth of the garden, skirt pulled almost to her knees.

“The raiders. They’re back.”

Joseph faltered. “What? Where?”

Rachel pushed strands of blonde away from the perspiration moist on her face. “Down river, maybe ten miles. A boy came riding. They need help.”

“The Frankfort area? Where’s Andrew?”

She motioned behind to where her husband stepped from the small barn—hardly more than a shed—their own little girl in his arms. “You’ll meet the others at the old fort.” Rachel reached for the baby and James. “I’ll stay here with the children.”

Thoughts taking flight with his pulse, Joseph managed a nod before sprinting past her and shoving into the cabin. He grabbed the musket from over the door, and then snatched up his pistol and powder horn. His hunting knife he slid into his boot. Would there ever be an end to this fighting−this war? Joseph’s stomach already turned. Hadn’t there been enough bloodshed? Years ago he’d learned to despise this waste of life−even before a British officer became his closest friend…and family.

Andrew Wyndham met him outside with the horses. “Otetiani’s raiders by the sounds of it.” The rich tones of England still rolled from Andrew’s tongue despite his four years’ residence in the Mohawk valley. He handed Joseph the reins to Hunter, and then swung aboard the younger horse. “They rode from the lakes and have been killing and burning their route southward.”

Joseph mounted and clenched the reins.

The locals had come to call the Mohawk chief Bloody Bear for the death his warriors brought to the valley. The thought of the raiders coming anywhere near his home and family wrung a cold sweat from the back of Joseph’s neck. Last summer had become so dangerous, they’d set up makeshift shelters in Old Fort Schuyler, only venturing out during the day to work and harvest the land.

Winter’s reprieve was at an end.

With Joseph’s baby daughter in one arm and little James holding his younger cousin’s hand, Rachel shooed the children into the cabin, before she glanced back. Her free hand rose, but didn’t quite manage a wave. Rachel’s brown eyes mirrored Joseph’s fear…and his weakness, exposing him.
He spurred Hunter toward the road.

“Please be careful. Come back to me. Both of you.”

“We shall,” Andrew said, and then clicked his tongue.

Joseph beat him to the road, having saved himself from answering. He would not make promises that couldn’t be kept, and he’d learned all too well the extent of control he held over death.

The ex-British captain brought the sorrel gelding alongside Joseph’s stallion and kept pace with the dust-churning gallop. He looked at Joseph with a gaze far too searching.

Joseph ignored him and encouraged Hunter’s gait. Lives and farms were at stake−no time to wonder what went through the other man’s head.

Minutes later the trail broke past the thick spring foliage and the log walls of the old fort, a remnant of the French and Indian War, rose from the grassy meadow. The rush of the nearby river did nothing to drown out the raised voices of the seven men gathered near the gate.

“What’s going on?” Joseph reined Hunter into the center of the foray.

“The raid is all the way down near Frankfort,” Cyrus Acker grumbled. His grown son was also present, but, as always, remained in his father’s shadow. “By the time we ride that far, Bloody Bear and his renegades will likely be gone. Meanwhile, we leave our families unprotected and our fields unplanted. How do we know he’s not riding under Brant again?”

Even Brant’s name was enough to chill Joseph’s blood. No other Iroquois leader had caused so much devastation in the area, often commanding many of the other chiefs, and their warriors, against the Patriots who remained in the valley.

A couple of the men mumbled their agreement with Acker. Others made known their opposition.

Benjamin Reid, Joseph’s father-in-law, shook a finger at them. “And what of those families down river? Do we simply ignore them until the raiders reach our own settlement?” His hand rested on his cane which hung alongside his musket.

Voices again rose, and Joseph jerked Hunter’s head, spinning him away.

“Where are you going, Garnet?”

“To fight some Iroquois.” He kicked the animal to a run. He’d fight whoever came against this valley until there was no one left to fight. Talk wouldn’t save lives. Whoever felt the same way would follow or…he’d worry about that later.

PRE ORDER here!!! 
Or go back to the beginning with The Scarlet Coat: Click here

Monday, June 11, 2018

Writing Active Historical Fiction

A long-time reader of historical romance, I grew up in the literary fiction tradition. I dreamed of penning the next epic novel, a thick tome fortified by months of research, rife with details, and paced like a golden afternoon in the Victorian countryside. I scribbled many notebooks full of stories. I attended journalism school, where I learned AP style. I almost got my dreamed-of story published right out of college. Almost.

Rare post-college pic of me & the hubs
Life happened. Marriage. A job in public relations. Two daughters. Multiple moves. Editing, desktop publishing, and magazine writing from home. Then, I reached for my book writing once more. A novella came out, then a series. Yea! I was on my way. Wasn’t I?

Progress screeched to a halt as editors, publishers, and agents relayed shocking news. Writing had changed. I almost fainted when I got back my first manuscript marked in the unfamiliar track changes setting. The comments spoke an unsettling language.

Publishers like formulas, not rambling forever; scenes, not snapshots. Avoid information dumps. Start with the action. Cut the adverbs. Cut the unnecessary details. And most of all, don’t write in passive voice! What? My default setting? But wasn’t that my voice, an embodiment of old-fashioned-sounding historical fiction?

As an author, and then an editor myself, I began to open to the New Ways. Because who doesn’t want to read a historical where you can smell the horse lather and hear the gun go off in your ear and feel the swish of silk against your skin? Even stories designed as those golden afternoons in the Victorian countryside rather than nail-biters should immerse us. Here are some tips and tricks I learned to help write historical fiction with an active, rather than a passive or stagnant, tone:

       Ask yourself if each scene advances the plot by showing the reader something new, either internally or externally.
       Where possible, yes, change passive voice to active. (Her purse was stolen by someone. –to– Someone stole her purse.)
       Show with verbs and adjectives rather than telling with many adverbs. (He ran quickly and sneakily. –to– He darted.)
       Delete unnecessary speaker tags, or change to beats of action. (“I’m Sandy,” she said, flipping her hair. –to– “I’m Sandy.” She flipped her hair.)
       Search and rewrite instances of “she/he thought-felt-wondered-saw-heard-noticed.” The reader knows your character is the one doing these things.
       Use deep point of view rather than a narrator’s voice. (If Sandy is our third person heroine, and she and her friend are walking, say “they walked” rather than “the girls walked.” Relate only what Sandy would see/feel/hear/think, not what others would. Keep us in her head.)
       Add historical details rather than vague generalities (i.e. tell what type of dance, dinner service, car, dress, etc.). Here’s where your level of research shows, but keep it concise.
       Use sensory details to create historical setting—smell of wood smoke or leather, sounds of a particular song (name it), touch of a particular material or a pinching corset. Part of expanding deep point of view.

Writers, what helps you create fresh, active historical fiction? Readers, are there particular titles that do a great job of this? What are your pet peeves that fizzle out historicals? 


Friday, March 24, 2017

Author Interview with Pegg Thomas

Available in April of 2017, Pegg’s debut story, Embattled Hearts will be part of The Pony Express Romance Collection published by Barbour.

Alannah Fagan grew up learning how to take care of herself in the Kentucky wilderness. But when her mother’s death leaves her with a brutal stepfather, her only hope is escape. Together with Conn, her younger brother, she flees their westbound wagon train with no plan other than to survive. Stewart McCann is the middle son of a northern Virginia family with seven brothers. He moved west because he refused to take sides in the Civil War. But when a battered young woman and her brother take refuge at his Pony Express station, he finds himself in the middle of another type of battle. A battle for his heart.





Thank you for being with us today PEGG! I so enjoyed reading Embattled Hearts.

TR: What is your inspiration for Embattled Hearts?

PT: Thank you for hosting me!
I wish I had a really great answer for this, but I don’t. The story grew out of my research on the Pony Express. I knew I wanted to include the importance of the Pony Express in the Civil War effort. From there, it took turns I even I wasn’t expecting.

TR: Was there any traveling involved in your research, if so, where?

PT: In a backward sort of way. Horseshoe Station was located in an area of Wyoming I’d been through just a few years prior. I had some photos I’d taken, plus I found a hand-drawn picture of the station as it was in the 1860s.

TR: What was the most interesting or favorite thing you learned about the Pony Express?

PT: Most interesting in a weird sort of way was the original advertisement stating—right in print—that orphans were the preferred candidates for riders. Wow! Talk about transparency. You might not survive this, so if you’re an orphan, all the better.

TR: Do you have a favorite character?

PT: Absolutely, it's Cyclops. This horse is modeled—except for the one-eyed part—after my son’s first horse, Jason. He was an off-track thoroughbred, 16.2 hands, solid black, and one of the smartest horses I’ve ever known. I loved writing him into a story.

TR: Do you have a favorite scene?

PT: My favorite scene would be a spoiler. Here's one that tells a bit about the characters:

     If the blue-gray of her eye had been a lance, he'd be skewered to the wall behind the stove. That red hair of hers, wet and bedraggled as it was, warned of a temper loud and clear. He shook his head. What he knew about women would fit in a thimble and not crowd the finger. (Tweet This) Raised in a passel of boys on a remote tobacco plantation, he'd always thought of women as a foreign species. This one, however, looked more like a skinny grizzly bear with a bad grouch on.
     He stirred the mush until it bubbled and thickened, then set the frying pan on the table before scooping a pair of bowls and two spoons off the shelf. He also grabbed a pot of molasses. Maybe it would sweeten her up a bit.
     “Got any cream?” Conn's vivid green eyes held no animosity.
     Stewart grinned. The best way to a boy's heart was through his stomach. “Sorry.”
     Conn shrugged and filled his bowl. His sister remained behind the chair across the room, unmoved since she'd taken her post there. A blast of wind rattled the timbers that framed the cabin, followed by more ground-shaking thunder. She might relax if he left, but he wasn't about to go out in this storm.
     “Please, won't you sit and eat?” He pasted on what he hoped was a welcoming smile. Between her silent scowls and the threat of men coming after them, he'd be happy to see the pair ride off as soon as the weather cleared. But they had nothing to ride and apparently nothing to eat. Likely they didn't have a nickel between them either. He clenched his teeth to keep his smile in place.
     Her gaze flicked to the table and back to him, but she didn't move.
     What was he supposed to do? He couldn't make her eat. The way Conn slurped up the corn mush there wouldn't be any left if she didn't decide soon. She just stared at him. Then it dawned on him that he was staring at her. Oh. Maybe that was the problem.

TR: When did you first become interested in historical Colonial America? How has it impacted your writing? Do you usually blend factual historical events in with your fictional story

PT: I can’t remember ever not being interested in history. I remember visiting the Colonial Fort Michilimackinac as a kid and loving it. Since historical fiction is my favorite genre to read, it didn’t take any big leap to decide that’s what I wanted to write. And to me, historical fiction means there is real history in there. I’m always disappointed to pick up a book called historical fiction and find no historical content whatsoever.

TR: How important is it to you to have characters who live a godly life and a strong faith element woven within your storyline?

PT: My preferred story—mine or another author’s—is where the faith element is expressed in a very organic way throughout the story. I don’t like preachy writing. I don’t want to be beaten over the head with the Bible when I’m reading fiction. What I want to see is character growth and development, flawed characters who find their way to Christ, or hurting characters that find healing with Him.

TR: Just for fun question: Can you picture yourself and your horse, Trooper, speeding away from a Pony Express station across the wilderness toward the next Pony Express station? 

PT: My daredevil days are long behind me, and Trooper is now 25 years old. No, we don’t speed. We’re very happy just plodding along these days.

TR: What are you currently working on and when will it be released?

PT: I just finished In Sheep’s Clothing which is set in Colonial Connecticut Colony. My heroine is a spinner and weaver. The story takes place shortly after King William III signed the Wool Act. It will be published in the Bouquet of Brides Romance Collection in January of 2018.

TR: Anything else you would like to share?

PT: I do have some big news to share. I’ve accepted the Managing Editor position for Smitten, the Historical Romance imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. It’s still a bit overwhelming, but I’m looking forward to the challenge. And I’ll still keep plugging away at my own stories too. That ought to keep me busy enough.  ;)

Readers can connect with me at: