Musa Blog Hop - Moon Over Alcatrez

Since this blog is all about confessions, I'm going to make a biggie. Although I write for the vibrant new publishing house, Musa, I have yet to read any of the books written by my fellow authors. There, I've said it! Now I feel cleansed. In my own defence, I do write three full length books a year so I don't have much time for anything else. One day I will get a life.

I might not have read other authors' books but that doesn't stop me having a wish list. Near the top is Moon Over Alcatrez by talented author Patricia Yager Delagrange. Here's how Musa describe this novel:

Weston and Brandy’s marriage splinters beneath the burden of sorrow following the death of their child, and after an accidental meeting with her high school friend, Brandy ends up carrying more than just the weight of grief inside her heart.

Following the death of their baby during a difficult birth, Brandy and Weston Chambers are grief-stricken and withdraw from each other, both seeking solace outside of their marriage; however, they vow to work through their painful disloyalty.  But when the man Brandy slept with moves back to their hometown, three lives are forever changed by his return.

Excerpt

Three days later we were standing at the edge of a hole in the ground at Holy Sepulcher Cemetery in Hayward, the silence so thick, the insides of my ears buzzed like a distant swarm of angry bees.  Mr. Peralta and another gentleman stood off to the side while Weston and I held hands next to the tiny casket.

Weston had chosen a simple mahogany box with gold handles, and a bouquet of white lilies graced the top of the small box.  I knelt down and laid a kiss on the smooth wood then wiped off the tears that had fallen on the dark, shiny surface.  Weston joined me and placed a single red rose in the middle of the lilies.

He helped me up and we stood side-by-side in silence, my guilt over her death like a stone in my empty belly.  I missed everything I’d dreamed would be happening right now, yearned for all that could have been.
Weston nodded at the man standing next to Mr. Peralta and our baby was slowly lowered into the gaping maw.  She reached the bottom, and a bird landed on the rich brown dirt piled next to the grave.  It pecked around, chirping a little song then flew off - as if saying goodbye.  My heart squeezed inside my chest.
I picked up a small handful of soft dirt.

“Goodbye, Christine,” I whispered, throwing it on top of her casket.

Weston wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in close to his side.  Why her?  Why my baby?  Was this supposed to make sense?  And, if so, to whom?

We drove home in silence.  No words existed to express my grief.

Power and emotive stuff! I shall definitely read this one.

 Since we're talking romance, I'm giving away a copy of my novel, Downsizing, for Valentine's day. This book features - brace yourselves - an overweight heroine. She's invisible in a crowded room because no one can see through her bulk to the sensitive, intelligent chick lurking beneath. No one except local heartthrob Noah Fenwick, that is, but even he lets her down when he marries her pretty, slim best friend.

Still, revenge is a dish best served cold. Who says fat girls can't have fun?

If you want to know how Maxine fights back on behalf of the silent majority who don't have perfect bodies, simply follow this blog and leave a comment to say you've done so. Then your name will go in the hat.

Good luck and happy valentine's day.

Wendy

http://musapublishingbloghops.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-love-musa-books-hop.html

A Smuggler by Trade

Reflecting upon the sacrifices made by men and women in the defence of our freedom, it seem to me that the more things change, the more they remain the same. The only thing we learn from history is that we don’t learn. If we did, why would we still have wars that cost thousands of lives and never seem to resolve anything?

The loss of life in the Napoleonic wars was especially horrific. Those that survived had a right to expect gainful employment when they returned to England. Of course, it didn’t happen. Perhaps that’s why those who came from coastal towns were tempted into smuggling. It was a way of life anyway, made almost respectable by tradition, something to be proud of. Men unloading illegal contraband for one night could earn the equivalent of one week’s wages from a legal job. Not hard to see why they were tempted. Their methods of hiding their cargo were pretty ingenious too. ‘Burying’ at sea and hauling it out again when the coast was clear often kept them one step ahead of the law. They constantly changed their landing sites and often the customs men were in on it anyway.

It was thoughts of these displaced men, almost being forced into a life of petty crime, that got me plotting Duty’s Destiny. I actually worked out the finer details whilst riding pillion on my husband’s Harley across Spain, but that’s another story. (Great place to plot, by the way. No one can talk to you, phones can’t distract you and you’re legitimately alone with your active imagination).

Felix, Viscount Western, is outraged when he learns that his father’s shipping line is being used to import ex-slaves from the Indies into England, where they’ll once again be forced into lives of servitude. Determined to put an end to the evil trade, he hot foot’s it to the coast, convinced that Saskia Eden isn’t the innocent widow she makes herself out to be and that she’s somehow orchestrating matters on behalf of her father.

Within half a day of meeting Saskia and her feisty twins, Felix already has doubts about her culpability. Drawn into a web of lies and deceit, passion simmers between them as Felix fights against time to get to the truth and protect the woman he’s fall in love with…

Go to my website at http://www.wendysoliman.com where you can read the entire first chapter of Duty’s Destiny.

Duty’s Destiny now available to download from Musa Publishinghttp://bit.ly/s7zdNw Price $4.99

Wendy

Fat Girls Never Have Fun?

 Says who? It's true though. Have you noticed that overweight people either hide in a corner or are excessively jolly? But let's take a step back here. Who decides who's overweight and who isn't? the media have a lot to answer for. So too does the fashion industry. All those skeleton-like waifs on the catwalk making us think it's natural to look that way. And don't get me started on the damage the junk food industry has done over the last couple of decades.

I hate to admit it, but I've become as paranoid as the next girl about the way I look. Sadly I'm not longer in my twenties - or my thirties or forties either, if I'm being honest - but I still worry about how I'm supposed to look. I'm five foot six and weigh 135 lbs. Pretty ideal, you'd think. Except that not so long ago I was 130lbs. How did that happen? Where did the extra come from? Know what I'm saying?

In Downsizing, my heroine Maxine is well overweight. She's also intelligent, funny and full of life, but no one can see that in her except local heartthrob Noah Fenwick. But he lets her down too, proving to Maxine that Fat Girls Aren't Supposed to have Fun. Her best friend - her pretty, skinny best-friend Cassie - is jealous of Maxine's friendship with Noah. Here's now she get's her revenge during a holiday in the South of France.

Maxine was the only female in the pool not wearing a minuscule bikini that displayed a perfectly proportioned body. Instead, she wore a costume that resembled something from an Edwardian postcard in a futile attempt to cover the worst of her bulk. She learned to block out the cutting remarks and scathing glances by retreating into a fictional world where no one could reach her except Noah, and counted the seconds until she was due to return home.

That was still eight long days away and in the meantime she wasn’t even permitted to escape from playing tennis. She’d been compelled to play at school, had a good eye for a ball and a thumping forehand, but her immobility was her undoing and she’d never risen to Cassie’s lofty heights on the tennis court. Tennis was Charles Turner’s passion. Cassie’s father was a proficient player, and tennis was the one activity he had insisted his daughter take up as soon as she was tall enough to hold a racket. Whether or not Cassie enjoyed the game Maxine couldn’t have said. She had a habit of taking up activities on a whim and dropping them again just as casually when she got bored. Tennis was the one thing she’d stuck at, enduring endless hours of private coaching in an effort to please her father.

In a baggy pair of shorts and over-sized tee-shirt, Maxine tired ineffectually to blend into the background. When partners were selected she fervently hoped that the numbers would be uneven, letting her off the hook, because no one would partner themselves with her by choice. There were several lads at the villa, all proficient players, but Mr Turner, twenty years their senior, was better than them all. Cassie looked thunderous when her father, instead of selecting her as he partner, turned toward Maxine.

“Shall we show them how it’s done, Maxine?” he asked, smiling.

Unable to think of an excuse, Maxine miserably dragged her feet onto the court.

“Poor Daddy!” Cassie’s throwaway remark reached everyone’s ears. “He’s only doing it to be kind.”

“Come on, Cassie,” said Rob Simmonds, a good looking, over-confident guy and one of Maxine’s main tormentors. “This is going to be a piece of cake.”

Tentatively at first, Maxine returned the killer shots Rob aimed directly at her. Mr Turner, or Charles as she’d been encouraged to call him, made no comment upon her appalling immobility. Instead, he darted all over the court covering shots that ought to have been hers. He praised her when she got her forehand going, and admired her quick thinking at the net. By a combination of Charles’s tenacity and a healthy portion of luck, they came out winners.

Maxine knew Cassie wouldn’t allow her to get away with that, and didn’t have to wait long for her to exact revenge. They had lunch on the terrace the following afternoon with a crowd of hangers-on. A plate of cakes circulated at the end of the meal but all the slinkies waved them away as though they were poisoned. Maxine’s mouth watered at the mere sight of them, and her gaze continuously returned to the plate. She clasped her hands together to stop from reaching out to take one without her permission. Cassie, watching her closely, smiled maliciously and pushed the plate closer.

“Go on, Max,” she said. “Someone’s got to eat them or they’ll go off.”

Everyone tittered. Maxine blushed  but by an act of supreme self-discipline managed not to eat a single one. The others looked disappointed, like she’d spoiled their fun, and drifted away from the table. Whatever plans they had for the afternoon clearly did not include her. That left her with a whole afternoon and just a book for company. Bliss!

Furtively she stole a cake, sighing with pleasure as she licked the thick cream from her fingers and reached for a second. Only when it was too late did she realize that Cassie and several of the others were peeping round the side of the house, watching her and laughing themselves silly. Worse, money openly changed hands between Cassie and Rob.

Isn't Cassie a spiteful witch?

Downsizing by W. Soliman now available from Musa Publishing http://bit.ly/tDzp4U or Amazon.com.

Read the first chapter on my website http://www.wsoliman.com

Hope you enjoy Maxine's revenge.

Wendy

My first born

Do you think kids instinctively know what they want to be when they grow up, or does it take time for their natural talents to emerge? I recall my sister picking wild flowers and arranging them in jars when she was still a toddler. She’s now a florist with a whole string of letters after her name. A kid in my class used to bring his guitar into school and serenade us. He’s now a newspaper editor in Australia, where his employees benefit from free recitals.

Me, every spare second was spent either on horseback, reading or scribbling stories. Nothing’s changed, except that I don’t have horses anymore.

I wrote my first book at fifteen, my second ten years later. Then life, husbands and horses took over for quite a while but the desire to put pen to paper never left me. Eight years ago, with time on my hands, I took it up again. Lady Hartley’s Inheritance – a fun regency romp and my first serious attempt at novel writing– was accepted for publication by a house in London. So too were the next four but, as all you mothers out there will know, your first born holds a special place in your heart.

Lady Hartley is now making another appearance. This time it’s in digital form with Musa, the impressive and innovate new e-publisher, and has benefited greatly from the attentions of their sharp editing team. Here’s the striking cover.

Clarissa Hartley is distraught when she discovers that her late husband left his entire estate to a son she knows nothing about. Her godmother’s son, Luc Deverill, the Earl of Newbury, suspects fraud.

Thrown together during the social whirl of a Regency season in full swing, Luc is increasingly drawn towards Clarissa, but she thinks him an idle dissipate and finds little to admire in the ways of high society …

Go to my website at http://www.wendysoliman.com to read an excerpt.

Lady Hartley’s Inheritance, available from Musa Publishing http://www.musapublishing.com/  or Amazon.com from October 14^th.

Visit my Facebook author’s page,https://www.facebook.com/wendy.soliman.author?ref=ts 
click like, leave a message mentioning Lady Hartley’s Inheritance and you could win a copy of the book.

Last week I talked about Halloween and asked for suggestions about Father Christmas’s leisure activities. Here’s what Alison Runham said.

Father Christmas is, of course, a kindly soul. So he spends much of his year caring for the other supernatural creatures that don't get out much - you know, ghouls, the Easter Bunny, the occasional Tooth Fairy whose patch is just a tiny hamlet in the Hebrides. And of course when Mrs Christmas demands her sunshine break (well wouldn't YOU, if you lived at the North Pole?), they have to invite Jack Frost to their Barbados villa too. "He's at a loose end," Father Christmas explains to his wife. She wraps her beach kimono around herself and pouts.

"It's intolerable, Crimbo!" she cries, batting her eyelashes at her twinkle-eyed hubby. "He drips all over the floor!"

"He can't help it, dear" says Father Christmas gently. "It's in his nature."

Mrs C sniffs. "You wouldn't say that if YOU were the one who spent the rest of the year scooping up Easter Bunny's pellets. Easter Bummy, that's what I'd call him."
The conversation always ends the same way. She stalks out and Father C sighs, knowing once again his generosity will cost him a brand new 'Mary Christmas by Chanel' suit for Mrs C.

Congratulations, Alison. You win a copy of my novel, A Class Apart.

Wendy

A Fresh, Exciting new publisher hits the digital airwaves

Okay, I promise this isn't about my books this week - well not directly.

Have you heard about Musa Publishing? They're an exciting new epublisher set to open their doors on October 1st. Better yet, they're actively seeking submissions. Check out their website for guidelines at http://www.musapublishing.com/

 As well as nurturing fresh new talent, Musa has also taken over the Aurora Regency line from ailing AMP. In celebration of their first anniversary they will be releasing my first ever published regency, Lady Hartley's Inheritance, in digital form. Sorry, couldn't resist getting that one in! Their cover art is pretty cool, too.

See what I mean?

Anyway, here's wishing Musa a successful launch. Be sure to check out their blog. They'll be lots of launch day fun and giveaways.

Wendy