Bell Bridge Books

Oh, What Fun: Diving into an 18^th Century Christmas

by Katherine Scott Crawford

Christmastime in the eighteenth century: This was something I had to research in order to write the Christmas scenes in my historical novel, Keowee Valley, which opens in the year 1768.

I say “had to,” but really—it was a blast! I’m a research hound and a history nut, and to top it off, Christmas happens to be my favorite time of year. Diving into the details of a Christmas nearly 250 years past was a job for which I’ll happily volunteer any day of the week.

But it wasn’t easy. For one, Keowee Valley is set in the American colonies during a time of great upheaval—the American Revolution is brewing—and not only that, the particular Christmas I was writing about takes place on the Southern frontier, in the then-wilderness of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The woman hosting the Christmas festivities—my protagonist, 25 year-old Quinn MacFadden—is a bit of a conundrum: she’s a quick-tempered bluestocking who rides a horse like a man, speaks a couple of long-dead languages, takes off into the back-country in search of her kidnapped cousin, barters for land from the Cherokee Indians and builds a settlement which functions as an egalitarian community, and is (at this point in the story) falling in rather complicated love with a mysterious half-Cherokee, half-Irish tracker with conundrums of his own.

While we know a bit of the Christmas traditions of the American colonists during this time, most of that comes from the diaries of people living in towns and cities like Savannah, Charleston, Wilmington, Philadelphia and New York. During a time of war, everything is thrown off kilter, even the holidays. And in the wild Carolina back-country, where Quinn lives with a handful of settlers, her faithful horse, and her Cherokee neighbors, we don’t really know what went on this time of year. We can assume folks of European descent celebrated much like they did wherever they were originally from. Perhaps they sang songs, made a special meal, lit precious candles, and spent time with family. After all, throughout history people have always attempted to hold on to tradition, no matter where they are when Christmastime rolls around.

For Quinn, this means the giving of simple, carefully-chosen gifts for the settlers with whom she shares her wild new home: people who were once strangers, and whom she has come to love.

There’s the leather gloves for a freed slave, a corncob pipe for a disgraced English lord, a tea kettle for a hard-working couple and a wood flute for their young sons. But it’s the two gifts Quinn receives in the middle of the deep, cold, holy night—one, the gift of a saved life, and two, a rather perfect surprise from a man who’s swiftly becoming much more than a stranger—that make it a very merry Christmas indeed.

Pick up KEOWEE VALLEY by Katherine Scott Crawford for just $1.99 through December 31st!

3,500 Posts

by Melissa Ford

This summer will mark 10 years of writing my blog, Stirrup Queens. I publish a post at least 5 times per week, though I write more posts than I publish. What this means is that for the last 10 years, I’ve sat down in front of my computer almost every single day and written down a record of a thought or event, polished it, and hit publish.

I write on my birthday and holidays and weekends. I write when I’m sick and when I’m in a terrible mood and when I only have 15 minutes before school pickup. Blog posts are the warm up for my regular 6 hour book writing day.

They’re not always good. I don’t always enjoy it.

But I like having 3,500 posts. They are 3,500 pieces of evidence that I showed up, even when I didn’t feel like it, even when I didn’t know what I was going to say when I turned on the computer.

They’re proof that showing up matters. That showing up is how work gets done. That showing up moves things forward. If I didn’t show up, I wouldn’t have 3,500 posts. I might only have 2,000 posts. Or 1,000 posts. Or be writing about how I’m hitting my 500th post, and isn’t that a terrific milestone?

And yes, it would be. But 3,500 is better, no? 3,500 over almost 10 years means that I have written every day. Slow and steady, bit by bit. Always showing up, and then continuing on to write six books, too.

That is the number one piece of advice I can give to new writers. Show up. Even when there are holidays, even when you’re sick, even when you’re in a terrible mood. Sit down with your book or your blog and put words on the screen. It’s okay if it isn’t what you feel like doing in the moment. Do it anyway.

Because maybe all of that work will mean that something good happens, like having your book chosen by Amazon to be one of their December deals.

Pick up APART AT THE SEAMS for just $1.99 through December!

MUMMIFICATION AT THE TIME OF MIRIAM BAT ISAAC

by June Trop

In The Deadliest Lie, Miriam explains why the Jewish quarter of Alexandria is the finest residential district in the city: “We’re on the coast and farthest from the main necropolis… [so] we can inhale the scent of the sea instead of the stench of the embalming workshops.”

Mummification was the embalming method practiced most notably in Ancient Egypt. Although unintentional mummification occurred as early as prehistoric times in Egypt’s dry climate and sandy soil, deliberate mummification, the process of embalming the dead in an extensive ritualistic practice, began three thousand years before Miriam’s time, reached its peak of refinement by 1000 B.C.E., and continued well into the Roman Period.

The process began with the removal of the lungs, stomach, intestines, and liver. Each organ was then stored in one of four canopic jars that would accompany the body in the coffin. The heart, the organ where the soul was believed to reside, was kept intact.

The brain was usually removed as well. The embalmers would insert a sharp object into the nostrils to break into the cranium and draw out pieces of the brain with an iron hook. Then the skull was filled with plant-based resins to prevent decay.

Next the body was left for about forty days covered with natural salts and the salt-like substance natron. This process dehydrated the body and prevented decomposition. Finally the body was rubbed with unguents and resins and wrapped first in strips of white linen and then in sheets of canvas.

The purpose of mummification among the Egyptians was to preserve the body for the afterlife. Only then would the spirit have a home and be spared from having to wander throughout eternity. Fortunately for Miriam, living at the opposite end of the city, she and her Aunt Hannah could step into the brilliant afternoon light, hear the clack of their sandals against the cobblestones, and enjoy the scent of the sea.

Pick up THE DEADLIEST LIE for just $1.99 through December!

And don’t forget to grab the sequel – THE DEADLIEST HATE! 

Val Shapiro’s 10 tips for living as a part succubus (lust demon)

 by Parker Blue

1. Never tell full humans about the demon part of you—unless you want to be treated like a monster.

2. Find the closest Demon Underground to meet other demons. They’ll understand what you’re going through and help keep you sane.

3. Don’t use your powers too much or they’ll become addictive. Unless you want to go around hoovering up lustful energy from every guy you meet. And don’t let men get too close—they can’t control their urges around you.

4. On the other hand, don’t suppress your demon side too much or it could burst free at the worst possible time, like when you’re with a guy you really, really want to impress.

5. Find a healthy, safe way to express your lust . . . like slaying vampires.

6. Remember, not all vampires are evil. Some are even rather sexy. Slay the bad ones. Leave the members of the New Blood Movement alone.

7. Don’t date full humans. They don’t understand your need for sucking up lustful energy and it’s too easy to drain them by accident. It’s not a good idea to leave mindless husks in your wake.

8. Never forget that while you can force men to do whatever you want, women are immune to your powers. Well, your lustful ones anyway. You can still use your strength and speed against them. Unless they’re female vampires. Then use male vampires against them.

9. Don’t cash your V-card too early—unless you want to lose your powers.

10. Find a hellhound to partner with. They can be a pain, but they’re great at watching your back and providing a furry shoulder to cuddle with when you need it.

BITE ME is free to buy til January! Pick it up quick!

And don’t forget to finish off the rest of the Demon Underground Series! Just click the links below! 

MEMORY LOSS: THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE UGLY

by Don Donaldson

I once saw a guy on TV who could tell you what the weather had been every day of his life since he was six years old. He was what they call a Savant.  He wasn’t normal.  The normal brain is supposed to forget experiences like that, thereby keeping itself uncluttered enough that it can remember more important things. For example, while driving your car, it’s always good to remember which pedal works the gas and which one stops the vehicle. When crossing the street on foot, does the upraised hand on the signal across from you mean stop or go? Okay, I think you get the idea.  So forgetting what you had for breakfast on Sept. 15, five years ago, is nothing to worry about.  And nobody does.  (Except for detectives who are always asking people where they were or what they were doing so long ago nobody could give them a satisfactory answer.)

It takes a lot of memory to function normally.  What does my car look like?  Where do I live?  What’s my name? People generally don’t have trouble with questions like that because those memories are extremely important and they get reinforced practically every day.  But for many of us, anniversaries and birthdays sometimes get lost in the myriad of activities a typical day requires. If asked, we could recite the date of those special events, but we just forget to remember them at the appropriate time.  For men, those memory slips can be classified as bad or very bad depending on the temperament of their spouse.

In contrast to what I’ve described above, suppose you look at the clock one day and discover that you’ve lost four hours and have no idea what you did or where you were during that time. That’s not only an example of an ugly kind of memory loss, it’s one that would terrify you.  Now imagine that it happened for the first time shortly after you started your new job at a mental hospital where some of your patients were criminally insane. Did you leave any of the insanity wards unlocked?  Were you alone with any of the dangerous inmates?  What the h… is happening to you?

That’s the situation facing the lead character in my book, THE MEMORY THIEF. Marti Segerson has accepted a job as staff psychiatrist at an old mental hospital in a rural area of Tennessee.  She’s there to seek revenge on one of the inmates for something that happened to her when she was a child. She has a good plan, but couldn’t have anticipated the horrific events that soon overtake her.

In all my medical thrillers I try to push the existing frontiers of knowledge just a bit farther into the future.  It’s interesting to me that some readers will not accept such a thing.  They judge an event or situation in a novel to be believable only if it has already really happened somewhere.  But where’s the fun in that? To me that’s like preferring to get a nap in the hotel while the rest of the group is climbing on a bus for a sightseeing trip to some exotic location. When it comes to writing, I’d rather get out of the hotel.  In THE MEMORY THIEF, The nature of memory, how it’s captured, how it’s recalled, where in the brain it’s stored; all provided fertile ground for the kind of story I like to tell. I hope it’s one you won’t soon forget.

So who wants to go sightseeing with me?

Don Donaldson’s THE MEMORY THIEF is on sale for just $1.99 til the 15th! Pick it up today! 

Click the cover to view:

The Pawleys

A brief episode in the British family history of Lady Toria Cash, the feline fatale of Downton Tabby

 by Sparkle Abbey

“Can you believe that alley cat?” Lady Meow Grandcatham lifted her whiskers in distain. “Thinking I’d simply fall under the spell of his gorgeous green eyes.”

I shook my head. “He does seem rather cheeky.” I’m Annakatrina, Lady’s Meow’s lady’s maid, and the alley cat she was referring to was Alexander Kittingham who’d apparently made a play for Lady Meow in a big way.

I carefully folded the lace frill she’d worn to dinner and reached for the brush I used every night on her silky black fur. Though I would never bring it up to Lady Meow, talk below stairs was that Alexander Kittingham was not actually a purebred British shorthair. He was often referred to as “Alley” in a disparaging tone, by Thomas Cat, Lord Grandcatham’s valet. Alexander was quite a handsome fellow and a favorite of the ladies around the dinner bowl.

He was nice looking with dark brown fur and deep green eyes, but I was not impressed. You see I’m madly in love with Mr. Bait. Poor Mr. Bait is currently locked up in the pound, but I had no doubt he would be freed.

“Beyond cheeky, I’d say.” Lady Meow lifted her paw to her neck. “Would you help me get out of this collar?”

I pulled on the diamond collar with my teeth and it snapped off easily. Carefully placing it in the ornate trinket box, I picked up the brush again.

Suddenly, there was a scratch at the door and I moved quickly to open it.  Lady Vi, Meow’s grandmother, stepped into the room. She was a formidable feline and referred to as the Dogwagger Countess because even the dogs at the neighboring estates were afraid of her. I don’t believe she’d ever actually bitten anyone canine or otherwise, but all it took was a hiss and the very slight unsheathing of her claws and it was clear she meant business.

“Grandmother.” Lady Meow purred. “What a surprise.”

“Not an unpleasant one, I hope.” The older feline stepped closer so Lady Meow could bump noses with her.

“I’ll leave you.” I moved quietly on soft paws toward the door.

“No, please stay.” The Dogwagger waved her tail in my direction. “I know Meow trusts you.”

“What is it, Grandmama?” Lady Meow dropped on her haunches. “Is something wrong?”

“What is wrong is my sources tell me someone is publishing a catty tell all tome about the Britain’s aristocats. I am told there’s a whole chapter devoted to the Grandcatham Family.” She leaned on the edge of Lady’s Meow’s bed and smoothed her fur.

Lady Meow began to pace. “Have you told Pappa’?

The Dogwagger shook her head. “No, nor your mother. It will be up to us to sort this out.” She gave a deep sigh and tipped her head to look at me. “We must find out who this low-life is and stop him or her before our good name is dragged through the litter box.” Sharp blue eyes pinned me in place.

“What can I do to help, M ‘lady?”

“My dear, you must be our eyes and ears.” The Dogwagger put her paws together as if it were all settled. “You can go places we must not and you will never be noticed.”

I had the thought that not being noticed was hardly complimentary, but knew she was right.

“You will help us, won’t you, Anna?” Lady Meow crossed the room in a single smooth leap to stand in front of me. Her golden eyes searched my face.

“Of course, I will.” I bowed my head.

And thus began my new career as Annakatrina, Cat Sleuth.

What would Mr. Bait think?

*

Downton Tabby, book seven in The Pampered Pets Mysteries by Sparkle Abbey, is now available for pre-order at Amazon. Visit Sparkle Abbey at sparkleabbey.com.

And don’t forget to grab your other favorite Sparkle Abbey titles, on sale til the 10th! 

Writing About Friendship

by Melissa Ford

Writers are supposed to write about what they know, right?  And what do we know better than our friendships?  There were the friendships our parents set up for us; the children of their friends that we were expected to share our toys with simply because our parents wanted to hang out.  (Yes, I am guilty of passing along this fine tradition to my own children.)

There were the first friendships we formed on our own on the playground.  The friends that broke our heart or didn’t return our affection or were too clingy.  The ones that dumped us.  The ones we drifted away from.  The ones that saved our lives.  The ones that we whispered our secrets to in the dark during a sleepover.

There are the old friends that we’ve been together with for more years than we haven’t been friends, and the new friends that we’ve intensely connected with in the last year or two.

See?  As a subject, it’s pretty ripe for the write-what-you-know rule.

But being close to the subject is tricky.  No one wants to see themselves show up on the page, and it’s bad form to dissect your friendships in front of an audience.  Sometimes we can’t really explain why we’re friends with someone, or why we’re not.  We may not know what we did right or what went wrong.

Sometimes friendships defy words, though I never stop trying to write about the topic.

Life from Scratch is about a woman named Rachel finding herself after the dissolution of a marriage.  She finds her voice through the act of writing but also seeing what she wants reflected in her relationship with her best friend, Arianna.  Where do we first learn how we want to be loved? Our friendships.  And it’s where we constantly return to measure our relationships.

LIFE FROM SCRATCH is Amazon’s monthly deal for March for only $1.99.  Read it with a friend and discuss it over coffee.  Don’t forget to tell your friend how you could never get by without her.

Today is National Cherry Pie Day! So to celebrate, we are giving you a delicious cherry pie recipe to create and share with family and friends today!

Ingredients
4 cups fresh or frozen tart cherries
1 to 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
4 tablespoons cornstarch
1/8 tablespoon almond extract (optional)
Pie crust or pie dough recipe for 2 crust pie
1 1/2 tablespoons butter, to dot
1 tablespoon granulated sugar, to sprinkle

Cook cherries in medium saucepan over low heat and cover. Remove the pan after the cherries have lost much of their juice. Mix the sugar and cornstarch into a small bowl, then pour the sugar and cornstarch into the pan of heated cherries and mix. (You can also add in the almond extract now if you would like). After mixing, put the pan back onto the burner and continue cooking over low heat, stirring frequently until the mixture has thickened. Take off the burner and let the mixture cool. If your mix is too thin, you may add more cornstarch; however, if it is too thick, you should add a little water to thin it.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Now time to prepare your crust. Cut your crust in half and flatten or roll each half into a piece that will be big enough to fit into a pan that is 8 to 9 inches. After preparing your crust,  pour your (now cool) cherry mixture inside of it. Use the butter to dot and to moisten the edge of your crust bottom. Now place your crust top on top and crimp your edges. Use a knife to make a cut into the middle of the top crust to let steam escape (and also for decoration ;)).  Sprinkle the pie with sugar and bake for 50 minutes before removing and letting it cool.

I recommend setting on top of a windowsill like they do in movies. Haha. 🙂

Also in honor of National Cherry Pie Day, we are putting Trish Jensen’s STUCK WITH YOU on promotion for only $0.99!! Just click the link and grab it now!

And while you’re there, make sure you grab the rest of Trish Jensen’s fabulous romances! 

And coming soon….

Brain, Be Mindful of What the Heart Knows

by: Kathleen Eagle

WHAT THE HEART KNOWS is dedicated to two men who helped me grow up.  One was my father.  The other was a fine student who represents all my students, for I have learned so much more from them than I could possibly have taught.  The book is about a man whose heart condition forced him to retire from his pro basketball career.  The story opens when his father’s mysterious death brings him home, where he runs into the woman he left behind.  Full circle.  Once we’ve grown up, full circle can be full of surprises.

How often do we find ourselves saying, “We (or I) have come full circle”?  The answer probably has a lot to do with how old we are, or maybe how introspective we’re feeling at a given moment, or how often we’re given to taking a step back from the moment in order to have a look at the big picture.  Having married into the Eagle clan, I’ve come to appreciate the Lakota view that life’s journey is not, as I once thought, linear—think time line—but rather it is circular, and at the center is the heart.

Picture a dance circle.  The step is simple—side to side—and the rhythm is the most natural beat we know.  Lub-dub, lub-dub.   I haven’t fully researched this claim, but I’m willing to bet that every culture, every human society has a traditional circle dance.  And every circle has a center.  When we speak of the center, we often say at the heart of.  Laughter, love, life—we say these things come from the heart.  When the heart stops beating, life “passes away.”  But we also say, “life goes on.”  Once again, picture the circle.  People holding hands and moving in unison.  They’re not marching in straight lines.  They’re moving side to side, bodies keeping time with the rhythm of life—lub-dub, lub-dub—and life goes on, passed parent to child, hand to hand.

My father died of a heart attack when he was 48.  He had become a teacher after he retired from the Air Force, and he was pleased with my decision to become a teacher.  Since Daddy was a stickler for good grammar and never hesitated to correct mine, I was probably destined to become an English teacher.  I have always loved basketball (Go Timberwolves!) but didn’t know until I was grown that Daddy’s high school basketball team from tiny Colonial Beach, VA won the state championship in the early 40’s.  I met the other four members of his team (they had no bench) at Daddy’s funeral at Arlington National Cemetery.

Robert Eaglestaff was one of my students the first year I taught at the Standing Rock Sioux Indian Reservation.  I taught juniors and seniors that year, and the kids were quite patient with the new fresh-out-of-college teacher from the East. Oh! I was so young, and so naïve.  Bob was the star basketball player.  He went on to play college basketball, became a teacher, later a highly-respected principal.  He died of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy—a common cause of sudden death in young athletes—when he was in his early 40’s.  He was dancing at a powwow.

And now, here’s icing for the circular cake.  Among some pictures my cousin sent me was one of a basketball team that traveled around the country back in the 40’s playing exhibition games against high school teams.  The Sioux Travelers.  The picture was taken at Colonial Beach High School, probably by my uncle.  My brother-in-law told me that there was such a team from South Dakota that was organized by a man from Standing Rock in the 40’s and 50’s.

How’s that for full circle?

Visit Kathleen Eagle on Facebook and read an excerpt from WHAT THE HEART KNOWS and other Bell Bridge Books publications by Kathleen Eagle at www.kathleeneagle.com.

Make sure you grab WHAT THE HEART KNOWS from Amazon for only $1.99!!

Just click the link!