Hour of the Wolf (Steam and Stone Saga), Andrius B. Tapinas {$0.99}

Biggest SF bestseller in Lithuania – $.99 only this week

It is the year 1905 and Europe is not as we know it. Alchemists pilot steampunk airships over great cities, hardworking mechanics create automatons and deep in the dungeons secret societies of macabre wizards strive to create artificial intellect.

Powerful bankers created The Alliance of Free Cities – beacons of progress, art, science and freedom.

But…

Blood has been spilled

Former US Marine Antanas Sidabras is exceptional at his job – enforcing public order in the ancient Free City of Vilnius. But a gruesome murder mystery at an abandoned cemetery leaves him at a loss. No clues, no motive, no suspect.

And…

A shadow has been awoken

With the biggest social event of the year – The Summit – looming just a few days ahead frantic investigation turns out to be a complex mystery of political intrigue and Sidabras has everybody against him – mad doctors, corrupt officials, Russian agents and monsters from his personal nightmares. And then, the bells will toll the Hour of the Wolf.

Will you live to see another day?

If you like alternate history fiction stories, science fiction adventure, unrelenting storytelling and steampunk setting – Hour of the Wolf will not disappoint.

This powerful steampunk and alternative history adventure is the biggest science fiction bestseller in Lithuania for the last decade. Animation series is already in the works and Hour of the Wolf became a major inspiration for a groundbreaking computer game – The Howler.

Check it now – Look Inside feature is just above on the top left side of the page.

What readers are saying:

“To read this book is like to watch a super intensive Hollywood thriller”

“Hour of the Wolf will delight fans of mystery, international intrigue, and fantasy alike”

The average Amazon Review is currently 4.3 stars {58 reviews}.

 Click here to read more about and purchase Hour of the Wolf (Steam and Stone Saga) for  $0.99 from Amazon!

His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (Brides of Pemberley 1), Nancy Kelley {$0.99}

Mr. Darcy Speaks from the Heart:
Pride and Prejudice from his Point of View

Though tired of Society’s manipulations, Darcy never thought to be enchanted by a country maiden. Yet on a visit to rural Hertfordshire, Elizabeth Bennet captivates him. Lovely and vivacious, she is everything he is not, and everything he longs to have.

Unfortunately, her connections put her decidedly beneath him, and the improprieties he observes in her family do not win his favor. Putting her firmly out of his mind, Darcy returns to London, but Elizabeth is not so easily forgotten.

When chance throws them together, Darcy can no longer deny his love, but Elizabeth, put off by his manners, refuses him. To change her mind, he must set aside his proud ways and learn how to please a woman worthy of being pleased. It takes a serious incident for his true character to shine, and for Elizabeth to learn just how valuable is…

His Good Opinion

Includes an excerpt of Caroline Bingley by Jennifer Becton

What readers are saying:

A classic retold through the eyes of the sometimes pompous and often prideful Darcy Fitzwilliam. His Good Opinion answers the question, what was Darcy’s side of the story? Pride and Prejudice leaves much to the imagination. Was Darcy truly has prejudiced as he seemed and what were his intentions in his first proposal to Elizabeth Bennet? A true and timeless love story now told through the eyes of the undeniably dreamy Darcy.

Reading His Good Opinion by Nancy Kelley is similar to having the opportunity to re-read an old favorite classic all over again for the first time. Readers of Pride and Prejudice will fall in love all over again as your venture into the mind of the beloved Darcy. His prejudice, pride and pompous behavior are exactly what one would expect, but it’s his journey falling in love with Elizabeth that makes His Good Opinion a must read. This is a quintessential companion to the original “Chick Lit” novel Pride and Prejudice, and I’m certain long time fans as well as new readers will absolutely adore this new take on a classic love story.

Danielle M. Smith

The book follows the timeline of Pride and Prejudice, but because it is told from Darcy’s point of view, readers are treated to scenes that we have previously been imagined, such as Darcy’s hunt of Wickham and his eventual confrontation with him in London. We are also get to see the relationship between Darcy and his sister Georgiana, as well his relationship with his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam. All of this serves to flesh Darcy out and make him an even more desirable hero.

And here is where Nancy Kelley’s genius really shines. Darcy is already an incredibly loved, and if we are all honest with ourselves, desired, hero. She has managed in this story, to make him even more desirable while also injecting levels of sensitivity and vulnerability that are absolutely heart-wrenching. While this book could be given a G rating based on it’s content, Ms. Kelley manages to raise the reader’s temperature with a look or a gesture. In fact, every time Darcy loosened his cravat I melted into a tiny puddle of goo.

The tagline of this novel is “Mr. Darcy speaks from the heart,” and in the end that is what endears readers the most to this incarnation of Mr. Darcy. Yes, he’s tall, dark and handsome (and has ten thousand a year), and yes he is very, very hot. But in this retelling of Pride and Prejudice it is his heart that truly shines through. And I think it is that heart that will make readers fall in love with him all over again and wish that they too could be a woman worthy of… His Good Opinion.

Jessica Melendez

The average Amazon Reader Review Rating is currently 4 stars {104 reviews}.

 Click here to read more about and purchase His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (Brides of Pemberley 1) for $0.99!

Daughter of the Sky, Michelle Diener {$3.99}

The Victorian Empire has declared war on the Zulus if they don’t accede to their outrageous demands. The clock is ticking down to the appointed hour. With no idea why the British are marching three massive columns of men and guns towards them, one Zulu general is prepared to take an impossible risk. But the life he’s gambling with isn’t his own . . .

The sole survivor of a shipwreck off the Zululand coast, 15 year-old Elizabeth Jones is taken in by the Zulus, the people of the sky. Six years later, her white skin becomes useful to the Zulu army as they try to work out why the Victorian Empire has pointed their war-machine at the Zulu nation. Elizabeth is suddenly Zululand’s most important spy.

While infiltrating the British camp, Elizabeth’s disguise as a young soldier is uncovered almost immediately by Captain Jack Burdell. However, he believes the tale she spins of searching for a missing brother and shields her from discovery, allowing her to bunk in his tent and giving her a job as his batman. Burdell is war-weary and disillusioned – no longer willing to follow regulations at all costs.

But as Elizabeth and Jack explore their growing attraction to each other, the two armies move towards their inevitable clash. Elizabeth is torn between the guilt of betrayal and her fierce loyalty to her Zulu family, and when Zulu and British meet on the battlefield, both she and Jack find their hearts and their lives caught in the crossfire.

What readers are saying:

“If you like strong historical fiction with romantic themes and an unusual setting, this could be the book for you. I truly enjoyed it!” The Adventures of an Intrepid Reader

“I read this in one sitting, staying up late into the night to finish. It was a fascinating story woven by a writer who knows her history and knows how to bring that history to life.” Broken Teepee

” . . . it was just the read I needed. Easily losing myself in the story, it had a romance I was rooting for and a larger historical arc that was tense and fascinating.”Unabridged Chick

“Set in Victorian Africa, the winds of war are blowing across the grassy plains. Diener explores loyalty, passion, and morality to create a multidimensional romance that will appeal to historical fans who would like to explore outside the English Ballroom.” The Reading Reviewer The Reading Reviewer

The current Average Amazon Review Rating is 4.6 stars {8 reviews}.

 

Click here to read more about and purchase Daughter of the Sky for $3.99

 

 

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Scent of Triumph / Historical Fiction, Jan Moran {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

Jan Moran‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Scent of Triumph:

When French perfumer Danielle Bretancourt steps aboard a luxury ocean liner, she has no idea that her life is about to change forever. The year is 1939, and the declaration of war on the European continent soon threatens to devastate her beloved family and young children.

Traveling through London and Paris into occupied Poland, Danielle searches for the remains of her family until she is forced to flee to America.

Gathering the fragments of her impoverished family, Danielle begins life anew in 1940s Los Angeles. Through determination and talent, she rises from meager jobs in her quest for success as a perfumer and fashion designer to Hollywood elite. Through it all, the men she loves suffer mounting losses.

As the war continues to rage around the world, Danielle aids the French Resistance in its quest for freedom, and continues the search for her lost son, Nicky.

Can Danielle and her family overcome the devastation that haunts their life?

Set between privileged lifestyles and gritty realities, SCENT OF TRIUMPH is one woman’s story of courage, spirit, and resilience.

 

 Accolades:

“SCENT OF TRIUMPH offers action, suspense and romance as it follows its intrepid heroine through the turbulent years of World War II, from the depths of tragedy to the heights of success.”
- Nancy Arnott, A&E Television Networks

“[A] historical fiction carried by a complex, resourceful heroine with a nose for business.”
- Kirkus Reviews

“SCENT OF TRIUMPH [is a] World War II epic.”
- Los Angeles Times

“Jan Moran is the new queen of the epic romance.”
- USA Today Bestselling Author Rebecca Forster, Author of Expert Witness

“I absolutely loved this story!”
- Carrie, a reader from Goodreads

 

Reviews:

Scent of Triumph currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.5 stars from 61 reviews. Read the reviews here.


An excerpt from Scent of Triumph:

Danielle Bretancourt von Hoffman braced herself against the gleaming mahogany-paneled stateroom wall, striving for balance as she flung open a brass porthole. A damp kelp-scented wind whistled through the cabin, assaulting her nose with its raw intensity.
She kept her eyes focused on the horizon as the Newell-Grey Explorer slanted upward, slicing through the peak of a cresting wave. The sleek new 80,000 ton super liner creaked and pitched as it heaved through the turbulent grey waters of the icy Atlantic on its voyage from New York to England. Silently, Danielle urged it onward, anxious to return home.
A veil of salty spray prickled Danielle’s fevered brow, and her usually sturdy stomach churned in rhythm with the sea. Was it morning sickness, or the ravaging motion of the sea? Probably both, she thought, her hand cradling her gently curved abdomen. She gnawed her lip, the metallic taste of blood spreading on her tongue, thinking about the last few days.
Dabbing her mouth with the back of her hand, she blinked against the stiff breeze, her mind reeling. Had it been just two days since she’d heard the devastating news that Nazi forces had invaded Poland?
A staccato knock burst against the stateroom door. Gingerly crossing the room, Danielle opened the door and caught her breath at the sight of Jonathan Newell-Grey, vice president and heir apparent to the British shipping line that bore his name. His tie hung from his collar, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms taut from years of sailing. A rumpled wool jacket hung over one shoulder. Though they hadn’t been friends long, she was truly glad to see him.
“Is your husband in?” His hoarse voice held the wind of the sea.
“Max will be back soon. Any news?”
“None.” He pushed a hand through his unruly chestnut hair. “The captain has called a meeting at fifteen hundred hours for all passengers traveling on Polish and German passports.”
“But I hold a French passport.”
“You’ll still need to attend, Danielle.”
“Of course, but—” As another sharp pitch jerked through the ship, Jon caught her by the shoulders and kept her from falling.
“Steady now, lass,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
Feeling a little embarrassed, Danielle touched the wall for support. Suddenly, she recalled the strange sense of foreboding she’d had upon waking. She was blessed—or cursed—with an unusually keen prescience. Frowning, she asked, “Jon, can the ship withstand this storm?”
“Sure, she’s a fine, seaworthy vessel, one of the finest in the world. This weather’s no match for her.” He stared past her out the porthole, his deep blue eyes riveted on the ocean’s white-capped expanse. Dark, heavily laden clouds crossed the sun, casting angled shadows across his face. He turned back to her, his jaw set. “Might even be rougher seas ahead, but we’ll make England by morning.”
Danielle nodded, but still, she knew. Oh yes, she knew. Anxiety coursed through her; something seemed terribly wrong. Her intuition came in quiet flashes of pure knowledge. She couldn’t force it, couldn’t direct it, and knew better than to discuss it with anyone, especially her husband. She was only twenty-four; Max was older, wiser, and told her that her insights were simply rubbish.
Jon touched her arm in a small, sympathetic movement. “What a sorry predicament you’re in. Anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you can perform a miracle.” Jon’s rough fingers felt warm against her skin, and an ill-timed memory from a few days ago shot through her mind. On Max’s encouragement, they’d shared a dance while Max spoke to the captain at length after dinner, and Danielle remembered Jon’s soft breath, his musky skin, his hair curling just above his collar. He’d been interested in all she had to say, from her little boy to her work at Parfums Bretancourt, her family’s perfumery in France.
Danielle forced the memory from her mind, took a step back out of modesty. “I had a bad feeling about this trip from the beginning,” she started. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, her thick auburn hair in disarray, her lip rouge smeared against her pale cheek. She drew her fingers across her cheek, straightened her shoulders, and went on. “We’d planned to take care of our business in New York, then return to Poland to close the chateau. After that, we were to join Max’s mother, Sofia, and our little Nicky in Paris, for a brief visit with my family before returning to America.”
“Why didn’t you bring Nicky with you?”
“I wanted to, but he’s so young that Max thought he’d be better off in Paris with my family.” Why, oh why, had she agreed to leave Nicky? Max had made it sound so sensible. Wincing with remorse, she fought the panic that rose in her throat. “But now Sofia’s terribly ill, her last cable said that she and Nicky haven’t even left for Paris.”
Jon wiped a smudge from her cheek and said quietly, “Danielle, they’ve got to get to Paris as quickly as possible.”
Mon Dieu! she thought. They hadn’t realized Sofia was so ill. ‘It’s just a cold,’ her mother-in-law had told them as they left. What if Sofia isn’t well enough to travel?
The ship pitched, sending the porthole door banging against the paneled wall. Shifting easily with the vessel’s sharp motions, Jon caught it, secured the latch, then turned back to Danielle. “Max told me he thinks he has your immigration to the States sorted out.”
“That’s right, a senator from New York helped us secure a financial partner. Max plans to reestablish our crystal manufacturing facility there by the end of the year, but now, the workers he’d like to bring—” Her voice hitched as she thought of what their friends and family faced.
“You’ve done the best you could, Danielle.” But even as he spoke, his gaze trailed back to the sea, his eyes narrowed against the sun’s thinning rays, scanning the surface.
She matched his gaze. “Anything unusual out there?”
“Could be German U-Boats. Unterseeboots. The most treacherous of submarines. Bloody hell, they are.” He moved toward her, and leaning closer he lifted a strand of hair, damp with sea mist, from her forehead. “If I don’t see Max, you’ll tell him about the meeting?”
“We’ll be there.” She caught a whiff of his salt air-tinged skin, and as she did, a vivid sensory image flashed across her mind. A leather accord, patchouli, a heart of rose melding with the natural scent of his skin, warm, intriguing…then she recognized it—Spanish Leather. But the way he wore it was incredible. She was drawn in, but quickly retreated half a step.
His expression softened and he let her hair fall from his fingers. “Don’t worry, Danielle. The Newell-Greys always look after their passengers.” He left, closing the door behind him.
She touched a finger to her lips. Jon’s casual way with her sometimes made her uncomfortable. Fortunately, Max was too much the German aristocrat to make a fuss over nothing. And it was nothing, she told herself with a firm shake of her head. She loved her husband. But that scent…her mind whirred. Fresh, spicy, woody…she could recreate sea freshness and blend with patchouli.
Abruptly, the ship lurched. Cutlery clattered across a rimmed burl wood table, her books tumbled against a wall. She braced herself through the crashing swell, one hand on the doorjamb, another shielding her womb. She pushed all thoughts of her work from her mind, there were so many more urgent matters at hand. Her son, their family, their home.
When the ship leveled, she spied on the floor a navy blue cap she’d knitted for Nicky. He’d dropped it at the train station, and she’d forgotten to give it to Sofia. She pressed the cap to her cheek, drinking in the little boy smell that still clung to the woolen fibers. Redolent of milk and grass and straw and chocolates, it also called to mind sweet perspiration droplets glistening on his flushed cheeks. They often played tag in the garden, laughing and frolicking amidst thicketed ruins on their sprawling property. Oh, my poor, precious Nicky. The cherished memories enveloped her with sadness.
She picked up her purse to put his cap inside, then paused to look at the photo of Nicky she carried. His eyes crinkled with laughter, he’d posed with his favorite stuffed toy, Mr. Minkey, a red-striped monkey with black button eyes she’d sewn for him. At four years of age, Nicky was an adorable bundle of blond-headed energy. A streak of fear sliced through her. She stuffed the cap into her purse and snapped it shut.
The door opened and Max strode in, his proud face ashen.
Danielle turned. “Jon just left. There’s a meeting—”
“I know, he is behind me,” he said, clipping the words in his formal, German-accented English. He smacked his onyx pipe against his hand, releasing the sweet smoky scent of vanilla tobacco.
Jon appeared at the door. “Shall we go?”
The muscles in Max’s jaw tightened. He slipped his pipe into the pocket of his tailored wool jacket. “I need a drink first. You, Jon?”
“Not now.”
Max pushed past Danielle to the liquor cabinet. As he did, he brushed against her vanity and sent her red leather traveling case crashing to the floor, bottles bursting from within, smashing against one another.
“Max, my perfumes!” Danielle gathered the hem of her silk dress, and sank to her knees. The intoxicating aromas of jasmine, rose, orange blossom, bergamot, berries, vanilla, cedar, and sandalwood surged in the air, jumbling and exploding in her senses like brilliant fireworks. She sighed in exasperation. She knew Max hadn’t meant to destroy her precious potions, but she wished he’d been more careful. Now there was nothing she could do but pick up the pieces. With two fingers, she fished a crystal shard and a carnelian cap from the jagged mess. “Max, would you hand me the wastebasket?”
Instead, he turned away and reached for the vodka. “Leave it, Danielle. The cabin boy will see to it.”
Jon crossed the stateroom and knelt beside her. “Are these your creations?”
“Yes, I blended the perfumes at my family’s laboratory in Grasse. The case was Max’s wedding gift to me.”
Max poured a shot of vodka. “Get up, Danielle. And for God’s sake, open the porthole. That stench will kill us.”
Anger burned in her cheeks, but she said nothing. She angled her face from Jon and continued picking up slippery shards, though she was glad for his help.
Jon rested a callused hand on hers, sending a shiver through her. “These are beautiful works of art, Danielle. Max told me you were once regarded as the child prodigy of perfumery.” He took a sharp piece from her. “Don’t hurt yourself, I’ll send someone to clean this up while you’re gone.”
She caught his eye and mouthed a silent thank-you, then rose and opened the porthole. A gust caught her long hair and slapped it across her face, stinging her flushed cheeks. Staring at the ocean, a sudden thought gripped her, and she spun around. “Jon said there might be U-Boats out there.”
Max paused with his glass in mid-air. “Impossible.”
“Anything is possible.” Jon brushed broken crystal into the wastebasket and straightened.
Danielle arched an eyebrow. “Is that why we’re zigzagging?”
Jon shot a look at Max. “Smart one, your wife. I’ll grant you that, Danielle, but it’s just a safety measure. U-Boats aren’t a threat to passenger liners.”
Pressure built in her head. “Like the Lusitania?”
“That was a long time ago,” Jon said. “A disaster like that couldn’t happen today.”
“And why not?”
“There are measures to ensure against such errors,” Jon replied. “In times of war, every captain checks Lloyd’s Register to compare ships. It’s obvious that this is a passenger ship, not an armed destroyer. It’s virtually impossible to make such a mistake.”
Her mind whirred. “But you said anything is possible.”

 

Scent of Triumph is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

 

Connect with Jan Moran:

Author Website: http://www.janmoran.com

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/janmoranbooks

Author Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/janmoran

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Mummifier´s Daughter – A Novel in Ancient Egypt, Nathaniel Burns {FREE!}

Sponsored Post

Nathaniel Burns’ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of The Mummifier´s Daughter – A Novel in Ancient Egypt:

Ancient Egypt, 1233 BC

The Mummifier’s Daughter returns us to a land steeped in mystery and magic. The detailed storytelling paints a picture of ancient Egypt in all its glory.

Bestselling author Nathaniel Burns has woven a delightfully dark tale around what must have been the most remarkable period of Egyptian history.

So stoke up the fire, draw the curtains and put your feet up in order to enjoy this delightfull tale of love, intrigues and mummies in old Egypt…

 

Accolades:

5 Stars – Bottom line: I really, truly enjoyed this book and sincerely hope to see a sequel or series of books based on the main characters. The author has made ancient Egypt exciting and accessible in this fun book, and I look forward to seeing more!

5 Stars – I couldn’t put this book down! This is a fascinating and historically accurate depiction of life in ancient Egypt. It is an excellent novel full of surprises. I can’t recommend it highly enough for all readers, but especially those interested in ancient Egypt.

Reviews:

The Mummifier´s Daughter – A Novel in Ancient Egypt currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.5 stars from 4 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

The Mummifier´s Daughter – A Novel in Ancient Egypt is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for FREE!

 

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony (A Historical Novel Set in the Dark Ages), John Lincoln {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

John Lincoln‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony:

Europe, in the year of the Lord 772

Like a bloody storm, Charlemagne’s armies ravage early medieval Europe, leaving devastation and misery in their wake. They have subdued the kingdom of the Langobards, defeated the duchy of Bavaria; they threaten the Moors in the west and, in the south, the pope in Rome.

Yet Charlemagne has even more ambitious plans: he covets the Saxon territories in the north. The Saxons put up an unexpectedly fierce resistance. When Charlemagne’s troops destroy the Irminsul shrine, the Saxon holy of holies, there ensues a struggle to the death. Led by the legendary Duke Widukind, for decades the Saxons fight savagely for their beliefs and their independence. And they will have their revenge…

The Duke and the Kings will transport the reader right into this legend-shrouded part of the Early Middle Ages. With his story, John Lincoln has woven a rich, dark tapestry of one of the pivotal periods in medieval European history. His historically accurate descriptions rich in authentic detail bring this remote, mysterious world to life again before your very eyes.

So stoke the fire, draw your armchair closer and dive into this wonderful historical novel full of the love, the intrigue, the warriors and the battles of a bygone Europe…

 

Accolades:

“John Lincoln’s Blood And Honor, The Battle for Saxony, is an important piece in the puzzle of 8th century history. ” — Peter Prasad, Amazon.com

“Blood and Honour is an excellent and highly entertaining work of historical fiction.” — R.Lee Holz, Amazon.com

“Even though it is set in the dark ages, this story warms the heart with a deLIGHTful bond, trusting, and tumultuous. The characters’ relationship transcends time and you are drawn to them from the very beginning.” — TJ, Amazon.com

Reviews:

Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.1 stars from 19 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

An excerpt from Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony:

Prologue

West of the city stretched the May Field where the Franks who had been summoned to the general assembly and to wage war were camped. To their north, where a creek flowed into the Rhine, was housed an itinerant army of traders and craftsmen, of jugglers and whores who would flock together wherever the counts and nobles, the bishops and abbots, the freemen called to military duty, the soldiers and the servants assembled in obedience to the king’s command.

Abbot Sturmius rode through the chaos of booths and shacks, of carts and wagons forming a labyrinth of crooked passageways. Each of the craft guilds was grouped together. Over there, in the open booths of the saddlers and shoemakers, all kinds of footwear were on display, from riding boots to fine women’s slippers. Not a few of the fighters spent their pay earned by blood and sweat on fine leather goods for their lovers of a few nights. Next to their carts, the saddlers displayed belts and harnesses, while all around lay pieces in various states of repair.

The blacksmiths made a contrast, with smithies and tents that were more impressive and more solidly built lining their lane in straight rows. Not a tear or spot blemished the canvas, not a loose board or bent nail was to be seen on them.

The abbot slowed his horse to a leisurely pace, the better to take in the varied products on view. Stirrups and spurs expertly inlaid with silver were there to tempt any knight. Wherever there was haggling over a sale, small crowds would form to exchange lively opinions about the quality of an item and its price.

Warriors thronged around the armorers’ stands. Among them were nobles, shopping for a battle-ax or sword.

Here, Sturmius quickly dismounted, throwing the reins to his companion. He could use a new chain mail shirt and iron helmet for the battle with the Saxons. The crowd readily parted for his imposing figure as he strode along the booths. “The Abbot of Fulda,” whispered this or that warrior to another. “A mighty champion of the Lord!”

Sturmius carefully inspected the individual pieces, soon found what he was looking for and paid the asking price without haggling. Before leaving, he ordered the master to deliver his purchase, saying, “You will find that some of my men’s armor needs fixing and improving, so bring one or two of your assistants along.”

Mounting up again, the abbot rode toward the shacks of the lowlifes. Here the chaos and noise were even greater. Soldiers and servants sat at rough-hewn tables, some with girls on their laps, rattling dice cups or raising tankards and others spooning out their earthen bowls. The shrill cries of women in the embrace of rough men blended with the bawling of drunks.

On the grass, jugglers were showing off their tricks, and sellers of sausages and baked goods carried on poles made their way through the crowd.

The abbot’s ears picked up many a coarse or mocking shout unchristian oath and nasty joke. His face showed no emotion as he slowly rode through the mass of people. His eyes swept searchingly over the groups of people surging this way or that.

He came on a dense crowd that forced him to rein in his mount. Sitting on a tree stump in its midst was a curious figure of a man, very thin and tall, with a narrow, aristocratic face dominated by a mighty hooknose. Flashing grey eyes and a mocking expression around severe, thin lips half hidden under a drooping blond mustache completed a remarkable face.

His long, blond hair stirred in the breeze, his plain leather jerkin lacked decoration of any kind, as did his leggings that were untied up to the knees. The man held a lyre of remarkable size in his arm. Nimbly plucking its strings with long, slender fingers, the odd fellow sang, in a soft, resonant voice that gripped the abbot, of Hildebrand, forced by his son’s defiance into killing the only issue of his blood.

It was not a Christian tune that monks would sing, but these familiar, harsh verses and the force of the minstrel’s delivery deeply moved Sturmius nonetheless.

As the song ended, the abbot threw a gold piece to the singer over the heads of the crowd, but the gaunt one ignored it to leave it lying in the grass. The look he cast toward the cleric was one of pride alloyed with silent contempt.

Before Sturmius had a chance to give his anger free rein, suddenly laughter and shouting rose up around him. What looked like a large ball, pushed and urged on, was rolling toward him, but it had legs and a head that sat like a second ball on the bigger ball made by the body. The arms were not visible, for the man, and that is what the object of the laughter was, had hung pelts all over him!

“Furs, pelts! Buy my beautiful furs! Ferret and mink! Otter and sable, even our Lord King wears no better! Furs! Pelts! Buy these beautiful furs!”

The merchant’s deep voice ended every one of these appeals in a falsetto that made a hilarious contrast with the short man’s rotund figure. His small, watery eyes, sliding rapidly and slyly over the crowd, became round when they fixed on the abbot. Pushed back and forth, the potbellied fellow tried a bow before the august personage, but tripped and rolled onto the ground, to the crowd’s great amusement. With surprising alacrity, he was back on his short legs. “Pelts! Beautiful pelts, worthy sir, buy my otter and sable, the same worn by the king!”

The abbot had to stifle the impulse to join in the laughter. As the human ball had rolled toward him, he had immediately recognized Brother Franciscus, the cleverest of all his monks, whom he had sent north into the land of the Saxons. Brother Potbelly, whom the monastery kitchen had to feed extra rations, seemed to have become even bulkier, but he knew how to play his role perfectly. “Pelts, beautiful pelts! Exalted sir! The Holy Church is rich! Buy my otter and sable! You can afford it, most honorable abbot, even if you just take a tenth of my furs as your tithe!” The bystanders rewarded these words with another round of loud guffaws.

Playing on the sarcasm, Sturmius said to him, “Bring a tenth part to my tent, and you shall receive back double in gold!”

Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with John Lincoln:

Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/john.lincoln.9081

Author Twitter Page: http://twitter.com/lincoln_writer

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Able Seaman’s Mate, William Cheevers {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

William Cheevers‘ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of The Able Seaman’s Mate:

“The Able Seaman’s Mate” follows the odyssey of a young Irish immigrant through the landscape of America at the turn of the twentieth century. Jimmy Delaney - willful, reflective, determined – is thrust into the hectic drive and conflict of American life, and his journey of discovery absorbs a cast of characters, places, exultation and tragedy and finally leads him into the path of a momentous event that tests him as nothing else could.


Accolades:

“A fascinating immigrant’s tale of the turmoil and restlessness that come from beginning life anew.” – Kirkus Reviews

“Excellent demographic descriptions and character development. A very entertaining read.” –Amazon Reader Review

Unique and palpable characters, fresh image-dense narrative, an exquisitely written, poignant read – 5-star IndieReader Review


 

Reviews:

The Able Seaman’s Mate currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.2 stars from 5 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

The Able Seaman’s Mate is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99


An excerpt from The Able Seaman’s Mate:

This excerpt describes the friendship between the main character, Jimmy Delaney, and his boss, Tommy Monaghan, the dock foreman of a stove factory near the Brooklyn Bridge.  The scene portrays one aspect of life in the Lower East Side of Manhattan at the turn of the twentieth century.

At eighteen, Jimmy Delaney was six feet tall and his build foretold the muscular bulk of the Delaney men. His arms were wrapped around a crate when Tommy Monaghan came out of the warehouse onto the loading dock, which spanned the back end of an alley between the stove factory and the adjacent building. Tommy Monaghan took the clay pipe out of this mouth and quelled his hacking cough with a fist beating against his chest. He launched a wad of phlegm laden with coal dust into the alley. Even on a warm day in June, Tommy Monaghan wore a wool hat pulled down over his ears. Tommy Monaghan took off the hat several times a day and rapped it against the wall and still the muddy black threads were permeated with coal dust. He pointed the clay pipe toward Jimmy Delaney.

“Off with ye, lad,” he said. “It’s dark soon.”

“Not afraid of the dark, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Ye go, lad an’ stay out of the old neighborhood,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Ye cross the Bowery on this side of Bayard. Better, ye take the Park Row streetcar an’ stay on t’other side of the Bowery.”

“You tell me that every day, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Well, there’s hardly any micks left in the old neighborhood, Jimmy,” said Tommy Monaghan. “The chinks is all right, as haythen go, but the wops are batty. Now, ye listen to Tommy, lad.”

“Aye, Tommy, I’ll take the streetcar,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“An’ ye’ll stay on t’other side of the Bowery.”

“Aye, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“There’s a good lad,” said Tommy Monaghan.

“I’m after washing and I’ll be on my way,” said Jimmy Delaney.

Washing his face, hands and arms was the last thing Jimmy Delaney did at the end of the day. Warm water was pleasurable and heating the water in the tenement wasted coal. He draped the towel over the nail in the bathroom, went out onto the dock and jumped into the bed of a wagon and onto the cobblestones of Peck Slip.

“I’m going, Tommy,” he called, waving to Tommy Monaghan. “I forgot my gloves in the privy. Will you put them away for me?”

“Aye, lad,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Don’t forget, ye stay out of the old neighborhood.”

“Aye, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

Jimmy Delaney made his way through the wagons and carts in Peck Slip toward the docks along the East River. Pausing at South Street, he caught the smell of fish from the Fulton Market and realized he had gone the wrong way on Peck Slip. He looked toward the stone tower of the Brooklyn Bridge. Deciding not to turn around, he continued on South Street toward the bridge. He would sometimes walk under the bridge and out to end of Pier 29, as close as he could get to the tower. Tommy Monaghan had told him that the cables holding up the bridge were made of fourteen thousand miles of wire. He would stand at the end of Pier 29 and look at the tower and listen to the trains rumble overhead, fascinated still that such a thing could be built. On this unseasonably muggy day he turned into Dover Street. Remembering his promise to Tommy Monaghan, he crossed Pearl Street next to the anchorage for the bridge cables, continued along New Frankfort Street and emerged into the noisy haste of Park Row from a narrow alley between Pulitzer’s skyscraper and the terminal for the Brooklyn Bridge train. He went into the terminal and looked at the clock set on a pedestal at the base of a ramp with ornate stone banisters. The ramp rose gradually out of the cavernous terminal and merged with the promenade in the center of the bridge. Jimmy Delaney had walked across the bridge many times, fascinated by the new skyscrapers which seemed to rise overnight and ever higher. City Hall was not yet in shadow and Jimmy Delaney knew that he would spend the trolley fare for an egg roll at Wo Kee’s grocery.

Crossing Park Row, Jimmy Delaney walked under the elevated railway, continued along Park Row past Pearl, Baxter and Mulberry and turned into Mott Street at Chatham Square, Tommy Monaghan’s old neighborhood. The air was drenched in the pungent, sweet smell of opium and egg rolls.

Wo Kee accepted two pennies in exchange for an egg roll and a cup of tea. He had lately made subtle allusions to the fan tan parlor in the back; Jimmy Delaney, who was comfortable with the Chinese way, declined by not responding. He took the egg roll and tea outside and sat on a bench across the street from the Transfiguration Church. He smiled, thinking of Tommy Monaghan’s story about the old priest who finally died.

“The priest, him an’ the hierarchy, they was fretting about the Chinamen takin’ over the neighborhood,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Here’s the flock makin’ their way through an army of haythen on Sunday, an’ naturally they’re after gettin’ rid of the chinks.”

“Always there is somebody after getting rid of somebody,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Well, the church…somehow they buy up the tenements in Mott Street between Park an’ Pell an’ naturally they commence expelling the chinks,” said Tommy Monaghan. “They couldn’t do that acourse with Most Precious Blood up on Baxter. Up there, the ones runnin’ off the micks was wops, an’ all of ‘em was Catholics.”

Tommy Monaghan chuckled to himself, knocked his clay pipe against his leg and went through the ritual of packing and lighting the pipe.

“The chinks, though, they was smart, always was,” he said. “They stayed in the neighborhood, just moved around the corner and set up shop on Park and Pell. Well, by an’ by the micks, they start fightin’ among themselves just like ye’d figure, an’ the chinks, they was right back on Mott Street.”

Jimmy Delaney gulped the last of the tea and left the small cup on the bench. He continued along Mott Street past Fatty Walsh’s old place and turned right into Pell Street. He passed Nigger Mike’s Saloon, which featured singing waiters, and turned into Bowery.

“See, Tommy, I’m south of Bayard,” he said.


The Able Seaman’s Mate is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Able Seaman’s Mate, William Cheevers {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

William Cheevers‘ Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of The Able Seaman’s Mate:

“The Able Seaman’s Mate” follows the odyssey of a young Irish immigrant through the landscape of America at the turn of the twentieth century. Jimmy Delaney - willful, reflective, determined – is thrust into the hectic drive and conflict of American life, and his journey of discovery absorbs a cast of characters, places, exultation and tragedy and finally leads him into the path of a momentous event that tests him as nothing else could.


Accolades:

“A fascinating immigrant’s tale of the turmoil and restlessness that come from beginning life anew.” – Kirkus Reviews

“Excellent demographic descriptions and character development. A very entertaining read.” –Amazon Reader Review

Unique and palpable characters, fresh image-dense narrative, an exquisitely written, poignant read – 5-star IndieReader Review


 

Reviews:

The Able Seaman’s Mate currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.2 stars from 5 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

The Able Seaman’s Mate is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99


An excerpt from The Able Seaman’s Mate:

This excerpt describes the friendship between the main character, Jimmy Delaney, and his boss, Tommy Monaghan, the dock foreman of a stove factory near the Brooklyn Bridge.  The scene portrays one aspect of life in the Lower East Side of Manhattan at the turn of the twentieth century.

At eighteen, Jimmy Delaney was six feet tall and his build foretold the muscular bulk of the Delaney men. His arms were wrapped around a crate when Tommy Monaghan came out of the warehouse onto the loading dock, which spanned the back end of an alley between the stove factory and the adjacent building. Tommy Monaghan took the clay pipe out of this mouth and quelled his hacking cough with a fist beating against his chest. He launched a wad of phlegm laden with coal dust into the alley. Even on a warm day in June, Tommy Monaghan wore a wool hat pulled down over his ears. Tommy Monaghan took off the hat several times a day and rapped it against the wall and still the muddy black threads were permeated with coal dust. He pointed the clay pipe toward Jimmy Delaney.

“Off with ye, lad,” he said. “It’s dark soon.”

“Not afraid of the dark, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Ye go, lad an’ stay out of the old neighborhood,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Ye cross the Bowery on this side of Bayard. Better, ye take the Park Row streetcar an’ stay on t’other side of the Bowery.”

“You tell me that every day, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Well, there’s hardly any micks left in the old neighborhood, Jimmy,” said Tommy Monaghan. “The chinks is all right, as haythen go, but the wops are batty. Now, ye listen to Tommy, lad.”

“Aye, Tommy, I’ll take the streetcar,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“An’ ye’ll stay on t’other side of the Bowery.”

“Aye, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“There’s a good lad,” said Tommy Monaghan.

“I’m after washing and I’ll be on my way,” said Jimmy Delaney.

Washing his face, hands and arms was the last thing Jimmy Delaney did at the end of the day. Warm water was pleasurable and heating the water in the tenement wasted coal. He draped the towel over the nail in the bathroom, went out onto the dock and jumped into the bed of a wagon and onto the cobblestones of Peck Slip.

“I’m going, Tommy,” he called, waving to Tommy Monaghan. “I forgot my gloves in the privy. Will you put them away for me?”

“Aye, lad,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Don’t forget, ye stay out of the old neighborhood.”

“Aye, Tommy,” said Jimmy Delaney.

Jimmy Delaney made his way through the wagons and carts in Peck Slip toward the docks along the East River. Pausing at South Street, he caught the smell of fish from the Fulton Market and realized he had gone the wrong way on Peck Slip. He looked toward the stone tower of the Brooklyn Bridge. Deciding not to turn around, he continued on South Street toward the bridge. He would sometimes walk under the bridge and out to end of Pier 29, as close as he could get to the tower. Tommy Monaghan had told him that the cables holding up the bridge were made of fourteen thousand miles of wire. He would stand at the end of Pier 29 and look at the tower and listen to the trains rumble overhead, fascinated still that such a thing could be built. On this unseasonably muggy day he turned into Dover Street. Remembering his promise to Tommy Monaghan, he crossed Pearl Street next to the anchorage for the bridge cables, continued along New Frankfort Street and emerged into the noisy haste of Park Row from a narrow alley between Pulitzer’s skyscraper and the terminal for the Brooklyn Bridge train. He went into the terminal and looked at the clock set on a pedestal at the base of a ramp with ornate stone banisters. The ramp rose gradually out of the cavernous terminal and merged with the promenade in the center of the bridge. Jimmy Delaney had walked across the bridge many times, fascinated by the new skyscrapers which seemed to rise overnight and ever higher. City Hall was not yet in shadow and Jimmy Delaney knew that he would spend the trolley fare for an egg roll at Wo Kee’s grocery.

Crossing Park Row, Jimmy Delaney walked under the elevated railway, continued along Park Row past Pearl, Baxter and Mulberry and turned into Mott Street at Chatham Square, Tommy Monaghan’s old neighborhood. The air was drenched in the pungent, sweet smell of opium and egg rolls.

Wo Kee accepted two pennies in exchange for an egg roll and a cup of tea. He had lately made subtle allusions to the fan tan parlor in the back; Jimmy Delaney, who was comfortable with the Chinese way, declined by not responding. He took the egg roll and tea outside and sat on a bench across the street from the Transfiguration Church. He smiled, thinking of Tommy Monaghan’s story about the old priest who finally died.

“The priest, him an’ the hierarchy, they was fretting about the Chinamen takin’ over the neighborhood,” said Tommy Monaghan. “Here’s the flock makin’ their way through an army of haythen on Sunday, an’ naturally they’re after gettin’ rid of the chinks.”

“Always there is somebody after getting rid of somebody,” said Jimmy Delaney.

“Well, the church…somehow they buy up the tenements in Mott Street between Park an’ Pell an’ naturally they commence expelling the chinks,” said Tommy Monaghan. “They couldn’t do that acourse with Most Precious Blood up on Baxter. Up there, the ones runnin’ off the micks was wops, an’ all of ‘em was Catholics.”

Tommy Monaghan chuckled to himself, knocked his clay pipe against his leg and went through the ritual of packing and lighting the pipe.

“The chinks, though, they was smart, always was,” he said. “They stayed in the neighborhood, just moved around the corner and set up shop on Park and Pell. Well, by an’ by the micks, they start fightin’ among themselves just like ye’d figure, an’ the chinks, they was right back on Mott Street.”

Jimmy Delaney gulped the last of the tea and left the small cup on the bench. He continued along Mott Street past Fatty Walsh’s old place and turned right into Pell Street. He passed Nigger Mike’s Saloon, which featured singing waiters, and turned into Bowery.

“See, Tommy, I’m south of Bayard,” he said.


The Able Seaman’s Mate is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

The Governor’s Sons, Maria McKenzie {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Providing a different glimpse into the lives of “the (hired) help,” The Governor’s Sons is a heart thumping account of forbidden love and political ambition in the deep South, a suspenseful tale of romance, deception, racial tension and ultimately, racial reconciliation within the powerful Kroth family.

During the summer of 1936, Ash Kroth, a young law student from a southern family of wealth and political prestige, falls in love with the help, beautiful “Negro” college girl Catherine Wilkes.

Nearly thirty years later, as a segregationist governor in the midst of civil rights turmoil, Ash is forced to confront the inevitable consequences of his love for her.

In 1965, Harland Hall, a black Civil Rights leader, moves to the capital city in an effort to quell the racial violence occurring not far from his mother’s home. But what mysterious link does this young man have to the Governor’s past?

What readers are saying:

“The Governor’s Sons is tender and touching, and also quite terribly and frighteningly true. Maria McKenzie is definitely a young novelist to watch.” – Stephen Birmingham, New York Times bestselling novelist

“…McKenzie proves herself to be an effortless storyteller who sympathetically portrays the ironies and hypocrisies of those precarious times.” – Kirkus Reviews

“This book is amazing. The story is well told with well developed characters that are easy to fall in love with in spite of, or because of their frailties…It is definitely a captivating and thought provoking tale, examining love and the destructiveness of hate, well worth reading.” – Mela, United Kingdom

The average Amazon review rating is currently 4.5 stars {39 reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase The Governor’s Sons for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime from Amazon!

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Zemsta, Victoria Brown {$4.99}

Sponsored Post

Victoria Brown‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Zemsta:

What Drives Good People to Do Something Bad? As terrible revelations come to light, four people join together to commit an unspeakable act…

When a member of the privileged upper class frames a Polish immigrant for a socialite’s murder in 1920s Akron, the heart-pounding events that follow lead to a stunning and unexpected conclusion. This gripping tale of bigotry and class distinctions includes political corruption, greed, injustice, murder, and betrayal. While Albo Jablonski endures the atrocious conditions of the state penitentiary, his son Nickels, daughter Antonia, and their friends Kurt and Charlie are tormented by the knowledge that he is innocent. Zemsta is a powerful, character-driven story of three boyhood friends during the tumultuous days of Prohibition that explores the meaning of friendship, family, love, and loyalty.

 

Accolades:

Kirkus Reviews:
Brown’s debut novel recounts how a young woman’s murder affects the lives of childhood friends. But it is the portrayal of real-world history–the height of Prohibition, the early days of cinema–that makes the book such a gem. A nostalgic, authentic novel that charms with its vintage hue.

A Must-Read for Historical Fiction and Suspense Fans!
Masterly crafted and peppered with historical facts, Zemsta takes place during the years of Prohibition in the unlikely setting of Akron, Ohio. Brown knows how to write a fast-paced suspense novel that will keep you reading. Her prose is lean, and the pages move quickly in and out of Cleveland Indians baseball games, the Cotton Club, speakeasies, and bootlegging stills in the Ohio countryside. It’s evident that Brownmeticulously researched the era.

A Must-Read for Historical Fiction and Suspense Fans!
Masterly crafted and peppered with historical facts, Victoria Brown’s debut novel takes place during the years of Prohibition in the unlikely setting of Akron, Ohio. Brown knows how to write a fast-paced suspense novel that will keep you reading.

An Unputdownable, Face-Paced Read
I started reading Zemsta yesterday, stayed up until 2 a.m., and just finished it. Once it gets going, it’s unputdownable!

Great Historical Fiction
I read this book in 2 days and when I get through a book this quickly, it rates high for me. The author brings to life the heroes and heroines in the story, as well as the horrendous villains. Our book club read “Zemsta” and all agreed that it was well worth their time.

English Reader in NY
This is a first novel by a very promising writer set in Ohio in 1920s. The plot is well thought out, engaging and satisfying at the end. The author provides an excellent background to set the scene for a very interesting period of history. All the characters come to life and are well developed.


Review Ratings:

Zemsta currently has a review rating of 4.5 stars from 38 reviews. Read the reviews here.


Zemsta is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $4.99

 

An excerpt from Zemsta:

Prologue

In that colorless time right before sunset, in the woods bordering the fairway, there was a glint, a flash of light, and the sound of someone struggling. The following morning, behind the country club pool house, they found a young woman beaten so badly she was unrecognizable.
It would be twelve years before they knew who really killed her.

My name is Patty Henry. I’m sixty years old, and this is the story my grandfather told me thirty years ago about his friends Kurt and Charlie and the murder of Catherine Block at Rosewood Hills Country Club on October 24, 1920.

The Early 1900s

At the beginning of the twentieth century, there was a tremendous sense of well-being and satisfaction in the United States and especially in Akron, Ohio, the fastest growing city in the country. After Henry Ford’s 1905 deal with Harvey Firestone to supply tires for his Model-A cars, the rubber industry was booming, and each day hundreds of immigrants and “barefoot people”—the poor from West Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee—arrived at the railroad station. From 1910 to 1920, Akron’s population exploded, growing by over sixty percent to 208,000.

Chapter 1

It was November 1914. Three twelve-year-old boys huddled together on a weatherworn bench at the city-sponsored ball field where they had met three years ago. They were best friends.

“The Tribe. Let’s call it The Tribe.”

“Yeah, I like that. That’s great.”

So that’s what Kurt Becker, Nickels Jablonski, and Charlie O’Brien called their new club—The Tribe. Die-hard Cleveland Indians fans, the club’s name was in honor of their favorite team, which had changed its name from the Molly Maguires to the Indians at the end of the season. The team owner asked local newspapers to come up with a new name, and they chose “Indians” after the Boston Braves pulled off a miracle by coming back from last place in July to win the World Series.

After they got back from the ball field and clamored through the kitchen of the boardinghouse, they headed for their hideout under the stairs. They often sat under the stairs between the front hall and the parlor for hours—laughing and scheming like only twelve-year-old boys can.

The war in Europe had begun in July. Sitting in their hideout shoulder to shoulder, they played war and made believe they were soldiers fighting in the trenches. They imitated the stuttering sounds of machine guns and shouted to each other in loud whispers.

“Watch out.”

“That was a close one.”

Charlie said, “Good thing we didn’t get hit. I need a cigarette. Got a light?” They sat back and smoked their imaginary cigarettes. They laughed so hard, they could be heard throughout the boardinghouse.

Someone was playing a record in the parlor. “Can you hear that?” said Charlie. “What a stupid song.” Through the wall, they could hear “The Aba Daba Honeymoon” playing on the old Victrola. The tinny sound blended with the sounds of several people talking.

Knowing they could trust each other, the boys agreed that anything they said in their “dugout” was secret, shared only among the three of them. To declare their loyalty and secrecy, they stacked their hands, one by one on top of the other and said together, “Swear.”

That was the first thing my grandfather Nicky told me about Kurt and Charlie. He always remembered the dugout and said they spent some wonderful times holed up under the stairs. It was the beginning of their lifelong friendship.

Grandpa said, “Even when we were boys, I knew I could depend on Kurt and Charlie, and as it turned out, I was right.”

 

Zemsta is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $4.99


Connect with Victoria Brown:

Author Website: www.woodchuckpublishers.com

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Woodchuck-Publishers/379257952093261

Author Twitter Page: @VBrownWriter

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...